'A little learning is a dangerous thing;Drink deep or taste not the Pierian spring;There shallow draughts intoxicate the brain,And drinking largely sobers us again.'
'A little learning is a dangerous thing;Drink deep or taste not the Pierian spring;There shallow draughts intoxicate the brain,And drinking largely sobers us again.'
"I can not turn back. I will stifle my love for the one who lies there helpless. I will consecrate my life to the customs of his people, that I may leave a legacy to my people—the inheritance which civilization brings."
Mechanically sheperformedthe rest of her duties; nurses had taken the unconscious form away in its swaths of bandages, while she remained to administer to other patients and begin the long siege of love's starvation, until her heart should capitulate and turn to stone.
The day following the operation, Chiquita's first duties were to take Jack's temperature and respiration, and note other conditions. She performed the latter with perfect composure, but when she essayed the counting of those "little blood knocks upon the wrist," her own heart beat so furiously that she was fearful of making an error, and was obliged to ask another nurse to take that record. Afterward, however, she was able to control her feelings, and take Jack's temperature with composure.
Upon the fifth day, when the internes were dressing Jack's wound, it was discovered that another operation would have to be performed. The surgeon had overlooked a portion of the affected tract, and the wound would again have to be reopened and rescarified with a burning white hot electric wire. This discovery was made Saturday, and Jack was at once informed.
Hazel tried to encourage him, but despondency seemed to take possession of him, and all day Sunday, as the church bells clanged their discordant soul-racking peals, he tossed restlessly upon his bed. The terrific winds from the southwest blew their breath to the north in sweltering blasts, and poor humanity had to endure it. Tuesday, Chiquita once more was called upon to watch Jack as he succumbed to the influence of the anesthetic. Once more she counted his heart throbs as the surgeon scraped, burned and annihilated germs, bugs and septic tissue, and once more her heart wildly stampeded in its ecstatic throbbing of love for him whose life she literally held in her own hands, as his hallowed form reposed unconscious on the glass slab.
Oh, what joy to her! what an entrancing, ravishing hour! As she afterwards lived those minutes over and over again, allowing her stony heart to grow tender as the impulse swayed her, she was carried back in vivid memory to the camp on Rock Creek where she first learned of the medicine tepee queen.
The second operation was successful, and although Jack's convalescence was prolonged for months, he was fully cured of an ailment which in days of less scientific skill had invariably resulted fatally.
With the culmination of her hospital education, Chiquita turned her attention to the study of the economics of city life, and investigation of the details relating to her future enterprise.
She found herself domiciled in a rather pretentious establishment in a fashionable and aristocratic neighborhood.
"Yes, Señorita Chiquita, I shall be pleased to have you make your home with my family, as they call themselves, and we are a happy houseful." So spake the little black-eyed proprietor of the "Addington." She was Mrs. Pickett. Pickett was a speculator. The whole atmosphere in and about Pickett reflected the market; if he was on the right side of corn or wheat or provisions one could feel it, hear it, see it in Pickett's handshake, voice and clothes. If, however, he was "bull" on a "bear" movement, the Pickett barometer dropped accordingly.
"Pshaw! that wheat is worth a dollar any day. Buy five thousand at 72." But "puts" went to 68 cents at the close of the "privileges" and Pickett was glum.
Pickett was not a big plunger, only one of the ten million poor, hungry hangers on who watch the "ticker," listen to the reports made up for the masses by the master hand of manipulators, out of storm centers, visible supply, and world's consumption, and then gorge the bait.
Pickett was a winner one day on a pork deal and among other commodities in the "pit" which seemed a "good thing" was corn at 31 cents. He bought a small line and then forgot it in the strenuous circumstances which followed. At the close of the day's pork business he pocketed a big roll of bills and went out with the boys for a good time, only to fall down stairs and break his ankle. After three weeks' suffering he hobbled into the broker's office. Greetings were exchanged with the regulars, then he sought the cashier to draw the balance of his pork money. This account being settled the cashier said to him, "Pickett, what are you going to do with that corn?"
"What corn?"
"Why that corn you bought at 31 cents the day you broke your ankle."
"I did not buy any corn, did I?"
"Yes, you did, and there is to your credit $7,000."
"Seven thousand dollars!" shouted Pickett, and before any answer could be made he ordered the deal closed, then went out and bought a fast "hoss," a pair of checked trousers, a silk hat, and hunted up the girl who immediately became Mrs. Pickett as soon as the necessary formalities could be arranged. But the seven thousand dollars did not last long and the support of a wife was more than Pickett bargained for. Matters grew very serious and Mrs. Pickett found she had either to go to work in some clerkship capacity, or start a boarding house or peanut and candy store near some school house. She chose the boarding house, which soon merged into a swell private hotel, and it was in the "Addington" that Chiquita saw a phase of life so common to the man of the world and the bachelor girl charging full tilt into the twentieth century.
"Mrs. Pickett, please tell me a little of yourself, that I may understand why the white sister has no husband to care for her as other white sisters have."
It was about three months after Chiquita had taken up her residence at the "Addington." The two were on one of the porches which overlook the lake on the north shore in a most beautiful location near Sheridan drive.
"It is a long story, but I can make it very brief in words, although the years have been filled with events which handicap a woman of my age in looks and spirit, and that handicap will make the story seem longer to me than to a listener."
"Don't skip any of the incidents, will you? I mean those portions where the Christian spirit upheld you in your grief and sadness."
"I was young. Mr. Pickett's fast horse must share the blame for a portion of the admiration I became possessed of for Mr. Pickett. Then he was such a swell dresser, a good singer and at that time a Board of Trade man, at least I thought so, and when he showed me that pile of money and said 'Junie, let's get married,' I said, 'Pickett, give my father a home and I will marry you tomorrow.'
"We were married, but the money did not last long and poor Pickett lost all ambition save that of watching the 'ticker,' reading the market reports, and living in the fascinating atmosphere of 'bucket shops,' gambling in grain, stocks and provisions, as do an army of poor, deluded would-be speculators.
"There was but one course for me—a boarding-house, and here I have lived. My father died, and soon after, my husband was stricken with a lingering illness, which lasted six years ere death relieved him of his sufferings. It has been a bitter cup, but after all, as my good father often said, 'It is all for the best. He waters the corn and weeds alike, and burns up the roses as well as the thistles; trust in God, Junie,' and so I try to make the most of what I have."
"Mrs. Pickett, it is so hard for me, an Indian born girl, a daughter taught to pray to the wind, the sun, the rain as animate gods, capable of doing good or harm, to have that faith you possess—that beautiful faith in the hereafter, in a God whose heaven and home you know not of, yet where, you acknowledge, there are no flowers, no birds, no deer, no giving in marriage, no thirst, and no hunger. What, then, can my uneducated people be expected to relinquish—that great and Happy Hunting Ground, which is to be returned to us as it was before the white man drove us to the setting sun, drove the buffalo into the great sea and destroyed our homes, our villages, and killed our warriors? It is hard for Chiquita with all her learning and life among her palefaced sisters to say, 'Lord, into Thy hands I commend my spirit.' But I try to believe that your life is the better one for the world, for the human race, and that in the end there will be no more savages, no more heathens, no more unbelievers."
In one of the large wholesale houses, a junior partner, much interested in municipal affairs and whose endorsement was sought by many a candidate seeking election—for the junior partner wielded a vast interest in both the secular and Christian life—was presented to Chiquita and she spent many an hour, at convenient times, discussing the affairs of mutual interest, he seeking to establish the superiority of the ways of education and civilization, she accepting the teachings and attempting to persuade herself that he was right and that savagery was nothing more nor less than animal life in the woods.
"Mr. Dunbar," she said one day, "the red man of the forest is sometimes a gambler, and when the spirit moves him he seeks one of his kind and they spread a blanket under a tree or near the wigwam and there follow their inclination, open and above board, without fear of police interference. I am told that the young white man sometimes has a similar temptation in the big city, but that you have laws which forbid gambling. Nevertheless, because of political influence, there are booths and rooms where gambling in its civilized conditions can be found. Will you take Chiquita to a gambling den that she may see the class of men found at the tables?"
The brows of the merchant contracted, he hesitated and stammered as he attempted to reply.
"Why—er—my dear Señorita, you know I am a pillar of the church, an active member in one of the largest wholesale houses in the west, and my example to my young men, if I were to appear in a gambling room, would be horrifying. I—er—"
"Oh, never mind if it would prove such a heinous offense; but why, Mr. Dunbar, is it allowed, if respectable people can not go there without contaminating themselves? Is it possible that the people of a great city like this make laws and elect men to enforce those laws, and yet take no notice of law breakers except to protect them?"
"Señorita, it is useless to make any defense. Our officeholders are corrupt. The blush of shame rises to the face of respectable citizens when they have to acknowledge that they elect men to office simply because the candidate stands for party principles, only to make use of the office for private gain or personal spite. Of course, there are exceptions, but men do not go into political battles without expecting a reward, and that reward must be a greater inducement than the one offered in private life. But I will escort you to a gambling den and we will see for ourselves."
"You certainly are brave to attempt it, and I shall thank you so much."
At ten o'clock a carriage drove up to a corner. Mr. Dunbar and Chiquita alighted—"an English tourist and his valet." It was but a few steps to the middle of the block where a pair of green covered swinging doors, on polished brass hinges, continually but noiselessly opened and closed. The bright glare of arc lights made the street as midday. The throngs of pedestrians glanced at the green doors, and either passed by without comment, or one would say to the other, "Great game up in Doll's." "Why don't the police shut it off?" "Got a pull with the high chief now."
Mr. Dunbar and his protegé found themselves in a long entry at the head of the stairs which led to a door at its farther end, where at a little window sat a fat gentleman with gray mustache.
"Walk in, right this way. No danger. Suppose you are looking for a little game. Go through the doors at the right."
The great baize covered screens opened as if by magic, revealing a large square room, carpeted with velvet and smothered with deep piled rugs. Magnificent landscapes by Bierstadt, Colby and Elkins hung from the walls, depicting the Rocky Mountains and the plains. Immense chandeliers, festooned with prisms which scintillated the colors of the rainbow, hung from the ceilings. Mahogany and rosewood sideboards glistened with cut glass decanters, tumblers and fine chinaware, while the sable attendant served dainty refreshments and thirst-assuaging liquids to those who asked for them. Leather upholstered tête-a-têtes graced corners and bay windows, while in an anteroom long racks were filled with files of newspapers and magazines. A wainscot of highly polished black walnut surrounded the room, and rich India draperies deadened the walls. At a table near the entrance were three young men playing poker, while the keeper of the game, in accents harsh, urged newcomers to "take a hand, only a quarter to draw cards." At a side table five cattlemen, just from the stock yards, were killing time in a game of draw, while on the opposite side a roulette wheel spun round and round until the little ball settled into its space and the announcement "the red wins" was greeted by clicking of chips as the croupier paid out or raked in.
But the great throng was at the far end of the room, where, around a table some seven feet long and four feet wide, were men three to five deep, craning, pushing, reaching, to place a bet or receive their chips on a winning card. The air was close and hot, just the slightest murmuring, the low indistinct utterings of questions asked and answered: "How many times has the queen been loser?" "The tray is a case," "Copper the jack for a blue chip," "Play ace to lose and king to win," "Last turn in the box, gentlemen, four for one on the call." A scruffing of feet, a sigh of relief, the tension eased up for a few moments while the dealer shuffles his cards. Some change seats, others quit the game, new ones buy chips, and again the "soda" card appears and another deal is on. The suppressed excitement is again apparent in feature and action; the flushed face of the winner and the cold sweat on the brow of the loser make no impression on the calm, self-satisfied face of dealer or lookout, each of whom wears a light slouch hat, the brim shading the eyes. Both are dressed neatly and in good taste, except for the enormous diamonds they show in shirt bosoms and on the little finger. There is no tragedy here. The sequel of the life in a city gambling den is the wife at home without food, or suffering from dyspepsia because of its plenteousness, or perhaps in the counting-room of some Board of Trade office, directors' room of a bank, or a police station, to which the embezzler is taken after the confession. The mining camp and frontier gambling dens differ in respect to lawlessness, but the atmosphere after all is about the same.
"I am ready to go, Mr. Dunbar," said Chiquita.
"While we are at it, suppose we take in one of the theater restaurants and then at midnight see the worst sink hole of iniquity on the American continent," replied Mr. Dunbar, a look of "do or die'" changing his usually kind face to that of uncompromising severity.
"I trust, Mr. Dunbar, I have not offended by asking a sacrifice of your self-respect, and—"
"No, no, do not mention it," interrupted he, quickly. "I am glad of this opportunity. To be sure it has taken a great deal of resolution on my part, not only to satisfy my consciousness of the propriety in the first place, but to feel that it is consistent with a Christian life to allow one's self on any pretext to come in contact with evil just to gratify curiosity. I am not in sympathy with the so-called slumming parties, either for the good such investigations may bring about, or for the benefit that such visitations might result in to the inmates. There are other methods by which the same end may be accomplished and not appear so drastic. I have sometimes wondered if there are really any grounds for the flings made at Chicago, and if there be any truth in the oft heard remark, 'Chicago's down town resorts have no counterpart in any other city in the world.' Of course I expect we will see a mild form of dissipation and possibly one or two who may have taken a drop too much, but as those stories go from one to another they are exaggerated until one has to make allowance for these word pictures. But here we are."
"Have a private room, sir?" asked an attendant, for they had stepped into a hallway leading to private dining rooms up stairs. "We have nice rooms for private parties. If you expect ladies you can wait for them there."
Just then a lady, unaccompanied, came through the swinging doors and darted to the elevator. In a low tone she told the attendant to show her to No. 7, where she would wait. Mr. Dunbar and Chiquita rather undecidedly followed into the elevator and were whisked up to the second floor, where they sauntered along toward an open door. Merry peals of laughter wafted over transoms and a sudden opening of one door showed a party of five seated round a table, while a sixth member, one of the fair sex, was standing on the table. Then the door shut out the scene. Mr. Dunbar gasped a little, but concluded to go back to the ground floor and have a lunch in the main restaurant. They were shown seats well back from the front of the place, in a position commanding a good view of the tables, all of which seemed crowded.
"While we are waiting for our lunch we can study the people," said Chiquita. "I guess the rooms up stairs are used by theatrical people and they give little dramas of their own."
"Yes, I should judge it to be dramatic," answered Mr. Dunbar grimly. "Do you notice at every table in the room some one is drinking, either a malt beverage or wine, and at a majority of the tables some one is smoking?" asked he of Chiquita.
"Yes, I presume they came here to forget the dark spots of a day's life and to drown sorrow in drink and music. You have not spoken of the classic strains coming from that harp and two fiddles."
Mr. Dunbar smiled audibly at the reference to music.
"Well, I don't consider this such an awful place for a wicked man, a man of the world; every one is well behaved and there is no loud noise, but these scenes lead to others still worse and the temptations offered here require a goodly sized purse and larger salaries to support this extravagance than the average man commands. But it is midnight and we must make our way to the resort in the next block."
Descending a steep stairway they found themselves at the end of a long room. The air was reeking with the fumes of smoke, stale beer and sickening perfumery. Shouts and loud guffaws mingled with shrill peals of screamy laughter. Glasses tinkled amid the disconsolate strains of a discordant piano, but above all other sounds were the harsh orders of waiters. "Draw six," "one green seal," "two martinis," "four straight whiskies," "high ball and two gin fizzes." Down the long line of tables they passed men and women who leered at each other, drinking to each other's health, both sexes smoking cigarettes, some singing, some arguing, some swearing such oaths that the visitors fain would have fled the place. At the foot of the staircase, commanding the whole place and surrounded by painted creatures in the latest wraps, sat the proprietor, a man of fifty, dark and swarthy, with black curly hair and mustache. His face was filled with lines, the accumulations of years of debauchery. Upon his hands were diamond rings, seemingly too numerous to count, a watch fob with more gems than a fashionably dressed ball attendant would wear, hung below his vest, and his shirt front was literally ablaze with "sparklers." The poor dupes about him in this whirling vortex of hell were receiving their infamous commissions for inducing men who visited the resort to purchase drinks.
"And from whence come these sisters and daughters?" asked Chiquita.
"Go to the great sales counters of some of the cheaper grade of stores and follow the life of some poor unfortunate; seek the divorce court and find a victim of misplaced affection; go to the political fountain and gaze at the high chief whose influence restrains the guardian of the public peace from interfering with these dens of vice where voters congregate to do honor to the chief. Seven thousand saloons in the city, with a following of twenty to each saloon to vote for their master who wields the baton of wide-open hell holes to the end of obtaining blood money from those who are protected! Señorita, this is the black spot on our fair Christian land. It is so to a greater or lesser degree in all cities, in all lands, where civilization endures. This bartering of and in human souls within the business districts of Chicago must come to an end. Now we will step into the police headquarters, only a block away, while I ask the desk sergeant a couple of questions."
As they started up the steps leading to the central detail headquarters a cab drove up to the curb, and a young man, whom Mr. Dunbar immediately recognized, stepped to the walk, followed by a detective in plain clothes. They lifted a good-sized sack of something from the cab and carried it past the late visitors. A clinking of silver was easily recognized and Mr. Dunbar became interested. He presumed the young man had just been arrested and naturally inquired the cause.
"Tommy, are you in trouble that you come in with an officer at this hour?" inquired Mr. Dunbar of the supposed prisoner.
Tommy stopped and walked up to the speaker. It was some seconds before he recognized Mr. Dunbar in the disguise of a tourist. When he did so he hesitated to confide the truth of the circumstances, but finally acknowledged, under promise that the informant should never be known, that the sack contained over five thousand dollars, which had been collected from the proprietors of just such dens of vice as Mr. Dunbar had just visited.
"And my business is to count it, divide it into halves and quarters and deliver the respective bundles to those who are high on the throne of police authority."
"How often are you called upon to make this collection, division and delivery?" asked Mr. Dunbar.
"Oh, once every six weeks or so."
With that Mr. Dunbar stepped up to the desk and with a bow naively asked, "Can you tell me where there is a first-class gambling hall? I am a stranger to the calling, but would like to visit one of these dens said to be run in Chicago."
"An' who be ye thot ye want a gamblin' house at this time o' night? Get out o' here, there be's not a gamblin' din in all Chicago fer the last three years thot I've been on the cintral detail, is there, Jawn?"
And Mr. Dunbar took his departure with Chiquita. In her diary Chiquita entered this: "Visited the most horrible dens of vice imaginable, the refinement of educated debauchery, literally sitting in the lap of political lechery, hurling defiance at virtue, decency and respectability."
During her hospital career Chiquita had many experiences outside of the varied occurrences in the life of a nurse, which added to rather than detracted from the perplexities of civilizing her people. These other scenes enacted in the great empire of industry swept all minor attractions away, leaving a dreadful negative photographed indelibly upon her sensitive mind, whose films reproduced with startling detail not only the foreground of drastic events, but the background reproduction of unswerving determination on the part of political demagoguery which brought ruination to millions of people and even threatened the financial fabric of the entire world; a photograph more in accord with the despotic days of fiddling Nero than those of advanced civilization under the constitution of the new republic.
While waiting for a car that would take her to the hospital, Chiquita noticed numbers of men in rather shabby attire approach better clad individuals and after a little conversation each would go his way. In some instances the better dressed speaker put his hand in his pocket and handed the other a coin. Then the latter waited a time before accosting another and then another. Oftener would the better dressed individual shake his head, even savagely repulsing the appeal of his less fortunate brother. One of these solicitors-at-alms, for such they were, approached Chiquita, and as she presented no frowning or repellant mien, he politely doffed his cap and explained in a few words his mission.
"Pardon me, lady, I am unfortunate, I am out of work and have no place to sleep tonight. I have three cents; for five cents I can get a bed. Will you give me a penny? I will get another somewhere."
Closely scanning the man's face she saw not the hardened lines of dissipation, not the pallor of the convict nor the attenuated features of a cripple, but a young man in good health, decently clad, though in rather threadbare clothing. Chiquita had seen hundreds of men brought into the hospital of all grades and callings and had become an adept as a student of human nature. The man before her did not shift his eyes nor stand irresolute, but the mournful voice and drooping mouth told only too plainly that discouraging, despondent tale thrust so suddenly upon a prosperous nation in 1893.
"Why are you without work?" asked Chiquita.
"Canceled orders and help laid off indefinitely," replied the young man.
"Why were the orders canceled?"
"I don't know exactly, but Wall street and free silver had something to do with it."
"Had you no money saved up to fall back upon at such a time?"
"Yes, ma'am; but the savings bank went to the wall and my three hundred, which I had been five years getting together, went with it."
"Can't you get a job as porter rather than beg?"
"There's a thousand men waitin' for all the 'porter' jobs. Lady, you don't know it, but half the population of this country is out of work."
"Where can you get a bed for a nickel?" asked Chiquita, dubiously.
"On the west side at one of the 'Friendship' houses."
"You mean a whole bed and room by yourself?"
"Oh, no, lady, just a shelf to lie on, perhaps an old quilt to cover up with. This costs a nickel; in some places we get a 'claim' on the floor for two cents."
"You say a 'claim' on the floor; you don't pay for sleeping on the floor?" said Chiquita, drawing back in amazement.
"Yes, we have to pay for everything but air in Chicago. We pick out our claim, first come, first served, and put down a newspaper for bed, cover up with another, all for two cents; but I don't like the floor. The other fellows step on you when they come in late."
"Are these places clean?" timidly inquired Chiquita.
"Not very, ma'am; not like the hospital."
"Well, my poor fellow, here is a quarter; I hope it will do you some good."
"Thank you, lady."
Instead of going to the hospital Chiquita made a pilgrimage to one of those well-known better class lodging houses, not far from the Board of Trade. Here she saw every chair of a hundred or more occupied by men similarly dressed and evidently looking for work. Of the numbers accosted all told the same tale of misfortune and all emphasized the deplorable condition of the great manufacturing industries throughout the United States. There was no work to be had at any price. Large firms reduced their forces to the lowest capacity possible. Many curtailed the working hours of all rather than discharge half the number, while one colossal corporation ran their works at a loss, despite the wide spreading distrust prevalent during the panic, which crippled every occupation, profession and calling. Banks closed their doors, regardless of the suffering inflicted, business houses, shorn of their credit, dropped all attempts to sustain relations with the world, and armies of men thrown out of employment had to provide for themselves and their families as best they could.
Money could not be borrowed. Even the gold-bearing bonds of the United States fell under the ban of suspicion; and nothing but gold, gold, gold, had any intrinsic value. The new word which wrought such dire disaster wasCoin, and the bank notes presented day after day by Wall street sapped the gold of the treasury until repudiation seemed inevitable. The one man upon whose shoulders the burden of disaster fell, took the oath of office as President of the United States, on March 4th, 1893, the responsibility of a bond issue being thrown upon him by the outgoing administration. The new official refused to declare his policy. Wall street wanted knowledge positive as to the issuance of bonds with which to buy gold to maintain the reserve. Day followed day before the tension was relieved by a bond issue, which was succeeded by other bond issues. The harm had been done. Financial institutions bridged the torrent at one place only to succumb and plunge into the yawning abyss at another. Stagnation followed disaster. Had the new administration declined to give gold for the "coin" notes and tendered silver, could any greater ruin have overtaken American commerce?
Following in the wake of the ghastly spectre of commercial ruin, that cruel, remorseless and vindictive vulture, discontent, swooped down upon a far reaching industry, shrieked its defiant and soul curdling edict "Strike," and to the consternation of the world, labor organizations refused to temporize. The steam pulses ceased to beat, machinery came to a standstill, the great factory doors closed against wage earners and the stupendous battle between iron handed men of toil and iron gloved employer was on.
Aided by sympathetic city and state officials the wage earners grew insolent and arbitrary. Pitying the unfortunate, misguided mechanic, artisan and laborer, the iron gloved employer awaited until the devouring flame of jealousy and strife consumed itself. It was under a broiling July sun that Chiquita and Jack visited the scene to see for themselves the effects of newsboys' hoarse cries, "Extra! Extra!All about the bloody strike! The Stock Yards in danger!"
Regiments of soldiers were bivouacked about the postoffice, on the lake front, and at the yards. Dismantled, untrucked, costly palace cars blocked railroad tracks from Van Buren street to the city limits. In the vicinity of Thirty-ninth street turbulent masses of muttering, riotous, eye-inflamed sympathizers congregated to watch the incoming United States troops from Fort Sheridan.
Women, carrying babies, mingled with the angry, unruly, drink-maddened throng, urging, aye, even commanding more devastation, more wrecking of property. As the snail moving train of army equipment was pulled along the siding, coupling pins were drawn by the lawless, and as one car was recoupled another was detached. Soldiers, in United States uniform, endured insults of every nature.
A woman, acting as bodyguard to a crowd of jeering, taunting idlers, stepped up to a guard and spat in his face, then slapped him and in vulgar language derided him for wearing the uniform of liberty. The soldier was powerless to resent the affront, and this emboldened the vindictive throng to acts of greater violence. Turning to Chiquita, Jack said, with shamefaced candor, "Never did I expect to see my country's flag humiliated in such a manner."
The officer of the day approached. It was the seeming signal for an outbreak; a hundred throats responded to the one voiced cry, "The torch!" "Burn the train!" "Burn the Yards!" The woman pushed the man in front of her along the railroad track to within a few feet of the officers. The crowd behind drew closer, their jeers dropped to sullen, discontented murmurings. The officer held up his hand.
"Halt! Disperse!"
He waved his hand for the mob to go back, but they made no movement. The woman cried out, "You have no business to stop us;" the man in front made a rough remark and roared to his followers, "Come on, we'll show 'em." The officer backed away, calling to a guard to take a position on a near-by fence. "Load with ball, make ready, aim," pointing his sword at the oncoming law-breaking, infuriated ruffian who had stopped a sword's length away. The striker heard the words of the officer.
"When I count three I shall give the command, 'Fire!' if you and your mob have not obeyed my order to disperse. One—two"—
The man looked at the soldier, at the carbine and the cold gray eye that followed along the barrel as the muzzle sought the breast of the leader, he measured the distance, he heard the word "two," then with despairing yell turned and fled.
The success of the mob at another place met with cheers and shouts of approval as an engineer was borne from the cab of his engine to a saloon across the way, a new recruit to the army of disorganized, rebellious workmen, fed by the ever ready impromptu orator seeking opportunity to air his views—a near friend and close imitator of the agitator commissioned "walking delegate."
"Jack," said Chiquita, "are these scenes, these property-destroying conflicts between employer and employe necessary for the advancement of civilization and fulfillment of that commandment that 'Ye love one another?'"
The holiday recesses were spent by Chiquita in the great eastern cities, where she attended theater, opera, and many social functions of greater or lesser magnitude.
After Jack's wedding she came to rely upon his wife—who found the Indian Señorita always included in the invitations sent the Sheppard house—to smooth the difficult paths of etiquette and to instruct her in the many formalities necessarily omitted in her college life, that were imperative upon being presented in the whirl of fashionable circles. She was welcomed by various clubs, literary folk, and at state receptions—this grandly intellectual daughter of a savage chief.
The first great effort she made in behalf of her people was an attempt to forestall the opening of the great expanse of land in the Indian Territory to settlement by the white people. A venerable senator from Massachusetts espoused her cause sufficiently to awaken a hope in her inexperienced breast that the object could be accomplished. Another, from a western state, gladly joined in the undertaking, while a brilliant ex-secretary of state devoted his energies in her behalf.
At a memorable cabinet meeting the question was discussed, and in the presence of that august body, and of the President himself, Chiquita delivered her appeal, recounting step by step the claims under which the prerogative of the Indian to the land in question should be forever recognized:
"Mr. President, and gentlemen who constitute his advisers, you ask whence come my people?
"For ages, as countless as the sands of the Big River, the fresh waters of the great inland seas skirting the first lofty range of the Rocky Mountains washed in torrents and torrents the salt deposited by the great upheavals of the western continent, through the yawning cañons which were created by these torrents' own irresistible force, to the bases of the great barrier where the sun disappears. The fresh waters' encroaching left their alluvial deposits further and further toward the setting sun in the same manner as the white settlers dispossessed the noble red warrior and primeval possessor of the Western hemisphere. The fresh waters divided and subdivided into smaller and smaller compasses. In these grand forest-grown, grass-covered areas herds of wild horses, buffalo, deer, elk and mountain sheep found subsistence. The fertile valleys and meadows were thronged with villages of beaver, otter and mink, whose dams were overgrown with the silvery-leafed aspen upon which these busy families existed. The forests were fragrant with fir, cedar and pine, among whose branches the birds of the wood built their nests.
"But before these were other possessors of this great mass of tangled volcanic eruptions, at a time so remote that the mind becomes a mist, a fog bank in its endeavor to locate the date, and then only as an age, it being impossible to determine the century. The fossils of these prehistoric creatures have been found in deposits over three thousand feet in thickness, species until recently unknown to science. Here man inhabited dwellings of unhewn stone cemented with mortar containing volcanic ashes, at a period so long ago that the waters were supposed to wash the face of the cliffs upon whose precipitous side these ancient people lived, in evidence of which are the fossilized human bones.
"In this legacy is found the answer, 'Whence come my people?' And what nation has ever disputed the title of land conveyed by the Indians? As early as 1851, when Colorado was organized as a territory, a treaty was made at Fort Laramie with several tribes of Indians, by which the latter gave up all the lands east of the Rocky Mountains. West of the continental divide were the great warlike tribes of Utes extending to the Sierra Nevadas, 15,000 free-born American savages to whose necks the galling yoke of civilization was to be adjusted.
"The Arapahoes, Cheyennes, Comanches and Kiowas, plains Indians, were mild and tractable in comparison with the Utes. These latter were fearless, indomitable warriors, who owned the forest, the river beds and mountain crags by inheritance from Almighty God, and whose disestablishment is written in letters of blood where the forest man was the aggressor by retaliation. But the outrages of the new people, the educated, civilized white man, must be forever unrecorded. Repudiation, shameless duplicity, political and martial perfidy, local and national, followed each other year after year until 1865, when the final treaties effected the abandonment of Colorado by the plains Indians, who were removed to the Indian Territory, where the government agreed to pay each Indian $40 annually for forty years.
"My people, the White River Utes, had taken no part in the plains Indian controversies with the white people, and, while the Utes' territory bordered that of the Arapahoes and Cheyennes, the only courtesies were the exchanging of scalps and horses whenever they met. The time arrived when agents were appointed by the government to reside with each Indian tribe. These agents were generally respected and settled many jealousies which sprang up between the various bands of the tribe.
"Nevava, the great Ute chief of the White River tribes, had passed into the Happy Hunting Grounds and his sons each claimed the inheritance of ruler. There were many in the tribes who would gladly have accepted the distinction, but Ouray was appointed chief over all, the lesser chiefs being forced to content themselves with such following as their individual qualities could command. This caused great jealousy and in 1875 many conspired against Ouray. The neglect of the government to pay the annuities was charged against the big head chief, who was said to be in collusion with certain white men in depriving the Utes of their goods, and the question was ofttimes asked, 'How comes Ouray to be so rich?'
"In 1879, the venerable N. C. Meeker was appointed to take charge, as agent, of my people at White River. He undertook the task of educating the Ute warriors to plow. Opposition met him at the start, for the soil is no more Ute soil when once broken by the white man's plow.
"Aid from the war department was expected to force the warriors to till the soil.
"Runners carried the news to the agency that a band of Utes who had set out to hunt had ambushed the cavalry. The final outcome of this outbreak cost us our home in Colorado, for soon after the relief of the cavalry the White River agency was abandoned and my people removed to the Uintah Reservation in Utah. It is too late now to undo the wrong which resulted in the removal of the Utes from Colorado, but, gentlemen, the land given over and set apart by your own government in the Indian Territory for those tribes now occupying the domain should be held sacred. I appeal to you to keep this land intact and forbid its being thrown into the hands of speculating spoilers. The Indian is not able to cope with the cunning of the white brother, and he is unable to endure the conditions by which his white brother naturally adapts himself to the cultivation of the soil, the marketing of produce and protection of estate."
The appeal was in vain. The political influence of cattle barons proved too great, and the concourse of settlers swallowed the territory in question. The result was very disheartening to Chiquita, but she bore up and turned her attention to other duties, preparing for the final establishment of her home for the aged and infirm Indians. This home she decided to model after a plan of her own, unlike anything in any city, possibly in the world. Persistent effort among the political leaders of both great parties resulted in Congress setting apart, in western Colorado, a large tract equal to one hundred miles square, to include a portion of the land on the north side of the Grand River, where it cut the Park or Gore range, taking in the old Ute trail, the camp in the willows, the junction of Rock and Toponas Creeks and the high divide along the edge of Egeria Park, where Jack froze his feet.
The tract of land became by law the National Hunting Ground of the Blanket Indian, provision being made for the maintaining of the park, policing, stocking with game and fish, as the same might be killed or disappear. No white man was to be allowed to hunt or fish under any circumstances within the domain, no squaw with white man husband and no descendants of any but full-blooded Indians were to be allowed to take up residence within its established lines. No cultivation of the soil for domestic purposes, no harvesting of any crop whatsoever, no institutions of learning, no mercantile establishments, no Indian agency to obtain footing, no railroad, no stage line for tourists, no telegraph or telephone poles and no vehicles of any kind were to be tolerated. Tourists afoot or on horseback accompanied by an Indian guide, a resident of the park, could travel and camp, the guide allowed to kill game or catch fish for his party as food supply, but no game or fish to be taken from the park. The one exception to all this was the immense hospital and necessary minor buildings, an ambulance, vehicles and paraphernalia for conveying disabled persons, supplies for the hospital, and nurses to and from the nearest railway. All food products, supplies and clothing were to be obtained outside of the park lines and all annuities due the Indians were to be paid them at agencies established without the park.
When the bill making these provisions came before the upper house for a final vote, a tall, white-haired senator responded to his name and arose. Pointing with outstretched hand to the gallery, where a group of aged, wrinkled chiefs congregated about a fair Indian girl, he said, in part:
"Tardy as this action of the great American people may seem, I think I echo the sentiments of both friends and foes of this persecuted race when I raise my voice in their behalf. The foes of the Indian are but the natural result of broken faith, and while it may be good logic to say one white man is worth more than all the Indians ever created, it does not condone the trespass committed when the white man became the usurper and confiscator of the very thing given voluntarily by his fathers and forefathers. Follow the patient man of the forest as the dogs of civilization barked at his heels, worrying him the same as the doe becomes affrighted when she hears the deep bay of the hound upon her track. Look at the primitive means of defense with which the noble red man attempted to defend his domain against the onward march of civilization. The pages of the record of this chamber, of the war department, of the department of the interior are dripping with the blood of this race, defrauded of their homes, their hunting grounds, aye, gentlemen, even theirburyinggrounds. 'Move on! Move on!' has been the command since 1620, until this handful of a great and brave nation are today but remnants of cowardly and degraded tribes, made so by the damnable treachery of American white people and their civilized methods of aggression. I consider it one of the greatest honors of my life to be able to face that faithful, devoted Indian girl, Chiquita, and cast my vote 'aye' in this weak and tardy attempt at remuneration."
Two tiny red spots burned in Chiquita's cheeks as the senator finished. She smiled at the applause which greeted the venerable member and prepared to listen to the rest of the voting. When the last name was called, before the teller could announce the result, a cheer from the galleries burst forth, every eye was directed toward Chiquita, and in response to the wave of applause she arose and bowed her appreciation of the action of that august body.
But the excitement proved too great a strain upon her temperament, and she was carried to the hotel in a fainting condition. As she recovered consciousness, she said to Hazel, "Chiquita will be one of the first to leave the National Hunting Ground for the great Happy Hunting Ground above." She realized that her vitality was weakened, that overwork and exposure had made her vulnerable to insidious disease, whose progress would be rapid now that the weakened spots had succumbed to its ravages. But she would not give up the cherished hopes of seeing her one aim in life accomplished, the forest-grown reservation where her people could forever hunt and fish without further molestation or dividing up of the land, and in its center wigwams, lodges, tepees and her great hospital for the sick, helpless and aged when they would be unable to take care of themselves.
Immediate preparations were made to carry out her cherished wish, which had been so many years her aim. With Jack to aid her the purchases of material were made. Contracts were entered into for the erection of the buildings and equipment therefor. Nurses and attendants were engaged for the hospitals, and for a year she watched the accumulating results which her education and fortune were bringing about.
But the task of civilization was one which nature condemned in such a short period. The overwork and confinement was more than she could endure and she sought rest from the weary toil inflicted upon herself in behalf of her people.