The reference to the Hudson Bay Company reminds us of a speech made by Smohalla, chief of the Wa Napum, or "Columbia River" Nez Perces. Said he, "I know all kinds of men. First there were my people (the Indians); God made them first. Then he made a Frenchman (referring to the Canadian voyagers of the Hudson Bay Company), and then he made a priest (priests accompanied these expeditions). A long time after that came Boston men (Americans are thus called because the first of our nation came into the Columbia River in 1796 in a ship from Boston), and then King George men (the English). Later came black men, and last God made a Chinaman with a tail. He is of no account and has to work all the time like a woman. All these are new people. Only the Indians are of the old stock. After a while, when God is ready, he will drive away all the people except those who have obeyed his laws. Those who cut up the lands or sign papers for lands will be defrauded of their rights and will be punished by God's anger.
"It is a bad word that comes from Washington. It is not a good law that would take my people away from me to make them sin against the laws of God.
"You ask me to plow the ground! Shall I take a knife and tear my mother's bosom? Then when I die she will not take me to her bosom to rest. You ask me to dig for stone! Shall I dig under her skin for her bones? Then when I die I can not enter her body to be born again.
"You ask me to cut grass and make hay and sell it, and be rich, like white men! But how dare I cut off my mother's hair? It is a bad law and my people can not obey it. I want my people to stay with me here. All the dead men will come to life again. Their spirits will come back to their bodies again. We must wait here in the homes of our fathers and be ready to meet them in the bosom of our mother." {FN}
{FN} MacMurray's Notes.
Chief Charles Journey Cake, the aged Baptist minister and head of the Delawares, of Indian Territory, was credited with the following account of the origin of the three races of people known to the Indians, the Chinese, or yellow race, being unknown at the time this was spoken.
Said Journey Cake, "In the beginning the Great Spirit created three men and placed them on the earth. As they were all made, in the image of God, they were all white.
"Wishing to test their endurance, courage and intelligence, he sent them on a long journey of many sleeps. In the course of their travels they came to a wide, muddy stream. Here two of the men hesitated, but the third plunged bravely in and made for the opposite bank. Seeing that the stream was sufficiently shallow to wade, the others followed their leader, one behind the other. When the first man reached the further shore he was still white, being only slightly discolored by the muddy water. The second man came out red or copper-colored, while the last, crossing behind the others after the stream was thoroughly stirred up, came out black. The trio found three packages awaiting them on the further shore. The white man was disposed to be generous, and gave the others their choice. {FN} The red man gave the same privilege to the black, who promptly selected the largest package, and found it contained a shovel, spade and hoe; the red man chose the next largest, which contained a tomahawk, bow and quiver of arrows; this left the smallest for the white man, and behold it contained a book, pen, ink-horn and paper; and as the pen is mightier than the tomahawk or spade, it indicated that he should rule over both the red and black man."
{FN} He afterward departed from this precedent in his dealings with both his red and black brothers.
THIS INDIAN MADE A DECIDED "HIT."
During a football game at Cambridge between the Harvard eleven and the Carlise Indian School team Malcomn Donald was playing opposite a splendidly built Indian. The play was exceedingly rough, and Donald had in the course of the play landed some pretty hard elbow blows on the slower moving Indian.
Presently the Indian began to take notice of the punishment he was receiving and during a pause between plays walked slowly over to Donald and said with a certain note of remonstrance in his voice:
"You hit me three times. I think I shall have to hit you."
Donald thanked him for his courteous warning and resolved to be on his guard, but during the heat of the play he wholly forgot the little matter. Presently, at the end of a scrimmage, while Donald was standing watching the crowd. The Indian strode up to him and deliberately dealt him a blow over the head which stretched him out.
With difficulty Donald picked himself up and resumed the play. At the end of the game the Indian came up to him again and said rather apologetically. "I hit you."
"So I noticed." said Donald, rubbing his head ruefully.
"Well, I guess we are square now. Shake!"
And the Indian stretched out a brawny fist.
THEY WERE WINED AND DINED AT THE EXPENSE OF THE GOVERNMENT.
They were two big burly Indians. The long eagle feather in the hat of one who is known as "chief" and the bright red ostrich tip in the sombrero of the other would have told that if the unmistakable features had not evidenced it. A government employee, it matters not who, but one who may possibly in certain events happening make a "stake" out of the tribe to which these Indians belong, was doing the honors of the capitol and showing the braves about the corridors. They left the Indian committee-room and came to the door of the house restaurant.
"Let's have a bite to eat," suggested the man with the graft.
"All right," was the quick reply of the aborigines.
At the luncheon counter the one who could master the most English asked, "Guv'munt pay?"
"Oh, yes," responded the host thinking that the quickest way to inform them that they would not have to stand good for the bill.
"Ugh!" grunted the brave, "we eat lot, Guv'munt pay." And they did—four cups of coffee each, half a dozen hard-boiled eggs, three ham sandwiches, one dozen doughnuts, a whole baked chicken, ice cream, a whole pie each and besides that a thirst for fire-water that was absolutely appalling. The luncheon counter looked as though a cyclone might have paid it a visit by the time the Indians got through, and the bill that the "Guv'munt" clerk had to foot made his week's salary look like 30 cents.
"Guv'munt heap good," grunted the brave as he picked his teeth in true "white brother" fashion in the corridor. "We eat here again." But it will not be in company with that particular clerk.
AN INDIAN'S GLASS WAGON.
The Osages as a people are the richest on earth. From the interest on the money which the United States Government borrowed from them as a nation and from the rental of their grasslands the Osages, men, women and children, collect about $80 each every three months. In addition to this they have extensive oil wells. The Osages, therefore, are very fond of large families, and it is to the material interest of every Indian to have as many children as possible. In this case the new child does not represent another mouth to feed, but another source of income. The father on payday collects from the Government paymaster the money coming to his family, and this often amounts to a considerable sum. The Indian has never fully realized the value of money—it comes too easily. When he gets his funds he goes around and pays his debts, for he is always given credit by the traders, and he settles his accounts because he will shortly need credit again until payday comes around once more. With the money he has leftover he buys anything that takes his fancy, and sometimes he makes remarkable and ludicrous purchases.
An Osage who had missed payday until he had accumulated riches beyond his most avaricious dreams went to Coffeyville, in southern Kansas, one day with his pockets bulging with money. He shopped around in the stores, buying everything he fancied, until he had accumulated a larger load than his pony could carry. He was wandering along the street wondering how he would transport it to his home, when he saw a large black wagon with glass sides standing in front of a store. He looked at it wistfully for some time, examined the horses and harness, and wagged his head in an appreciative way. The undertaker, who had observed him, came out.
"How much?" asked the Indian. The undertaker, for a joke, named a price. The Indian went into his pocket, counted out the money, mounted the box of the hearse and drove away before the undertaker could remonstrate. And now Mr. Indian comes to town in style, with his squaw beside him on the seat and the inside of the hearse full of very lively pappooses, who lookout through the glass sides of their strange carriage. The hearse also does service when the Indian comes to town with a load of wheat, which looks very nice through the glass sides.
By nature the Indian is a perfect child; when he wants anything he wants it with all his heart and mind and soul, immediately. Like the child who would gladly exchange the $5 bill given him as a Christmas present for a doll or toy, the Indian will give anything he possesses for the merest bauble to which he takes a fancy. A novelty has the greatest charm, and he will pay a hundred times its value for an article new to him.
Colonel Dodge states that while he was in command of Fort Sedgwick "a Sioux Indian came in having in his possession a very fine and elaborately painted buffalo robe. Many efforts were made by the officers to purchase it; money, sugar, coffee, flour, etc., to the amount of $20 were offered and refused.
"Some time after a sergeant passed who had in his hand a paper containing two or three pounds of loaf sugar, cut into cubic blocks (cut-loaf, then new to frontier people and to Indians).
"He gave the Indian a few lumps and passed on. In a few moments the Indian came running after him, took the robe from his shoulders and offered it for the paper of sugar. The exchange being made, he sat down on the ground and deliberately ate up every lump."
"Years ago, when matches were not so universally known and used as now, a Lapwai Indian was visiting Fort Martin Scott, in Texas. One day an officer to whom he was talking took from his pocket a box of what, to the Indian, were merely little sticks, and scratching one on a stone, lit his pipe. The Indian eagerly inquired into this mystery, and looked on with astonishment while several matches were lighted for his gratification. Going to his camp near by, he soon came back, bringing half a dozen beautifully dressed wildcat skins, which he offered for the wonderful box. The exchange was accepted, and he went off greatly pleased. Some time after the Indian was found sitting by a large stone, on which he was gravely striking match after match, holding each in his fingers until forced to drop it, and then, carefully inspecting the scorched finger, as if to assure himself that it was real fire. This he continued until every match was burned."
The Indian has a keen appreciation of humor, and is like a child in his mirthfulness. No orator can see the weak points in his adversary's armor, or silence a foolish speaker, more quickly.
According to Bishop Whipple, "Old Shah-Bah-Skong, the head chief of Mille Lac, brought all his warriors to defend Fort Ripley in 1862. The Secretary of the Interior and the Governor and Legislature of Minnesota promised these Indians that for this act of bravery they should have the special care of the Government and never be removed."
Dr. Montezuma
"A few years later, in spite of these solemn promises, a special agent was sent from Washington to ask these Ojibways to cede their lands and remove to a country north of Leech Lake. The agent asked my help. I said, 'I know that country. I have camped on it. It is the most utterly worthless land in Minnesota. Don't attempt that folly; you will surely fail.'
"The agent determined, however, to make the effort to induce the Indians to give up their good land and accept the other tract, which nobody wanted. Accordingly he called a council of the chiefs and principal men and thus addressed them: 'My red brothers, your Great Father at Washington said he was determined to send an honest man to treat with his red children. He looked toward the North, the East, the South and West to find this honest man. When he saw me he said, "this is the honest man whom I will send to treat with my red children." Brothers, look at me; the winds of more than fifty-five winters have blown over my head and silvered it with gray, but during all these years, I have never wronged any man. Brothers, as your friend and as an honest man, I ask you to sign this treaty.' After the usual meditative pause. Old Shah-Bah-Skong arose and answered as follows: 'The winds of more than fifty-five years have blown over my head and silvered my hair, but they have notblown away my brains.' This ended the council."
An agent who had won the distinction of a militia general desired to impress the Indians. Dressed in uniform with chapeau, epaulets and dangling sword, he said: "Your Great Father thinks that one reason why he has had so much trouble with the Indians is that he has always sent to them civilians. This time he said, 'These red men are warriors; I will send to them a warrior,' and he sent me." An old chief arose, drew a long breath, and said: "I have heard ever since I was a boy that white men had their great warriors. I have always wanted to see one. I have looked at him, andI am now ready to die."
Bishop Whipple, while on a visit to a Dacotah mission, was horrified at a scalp dance which was held near the mission-house. Said he: "I was indignant. I went to Wabasha, the head chief, and said 'Wabasha, you asked me for a missionary and teacher. I gave them to you. I visited you, and the first sight is this brutal scalp-dance. I knew the Chippewa whom your young men have murdered; he had a wife and children; his wife is crying for her husband; his children are asking for their father. Wabasha, the Great Spirit hears his children cry. He is angry. Some day he will ask Wabasha, 'Where is your red brother?' The old chief smiled, drew his pipe from his mouth, blew a cloud of smoke upward and said: 'White man go to war with his own brother in the same country [this was during the Rebellion]; kill more men than Wabasha can count in all his life. Great Spirit smiles; says, "Good, white man; he has my book; I love him very much; I have a good place for him by and by." The Indian is a wild man; he has no Great Spirit book; he kills one man; has a scalp-dance; Great Spirit is mad, and says, "Bad Indian; I will put him in a bad place by and by;" Wabasha don't believe it.'"
The Commissioner of Indian Affairs says that from March 4, 1780, to June 30, 1900, this Government has spent $368,360,000 for the benefit of the Indians. The expenditures for 1899 were $10,175,000, of which one-third was for education. There are nearly sixty thousand Indians who are now receiving rations or help to some extent. The report urges that hereafter rations should be given only to the aged or otherwise helpless, as the system of promiscuous relief breeds idleness and unthrift. The Indians now have in the Treasury to their credit $33,300,000 of trust funds, on which the Government pays them four and five per cent interest.
There are two hundred and fifty Government Indian schools, and the enrollment and attendance in them is increasing, though eight thousand of the thirty-four thousand Indian children are still unprovided for. The report combats the popular idea that the Indian population necessarily decreases when in contact with the whites. It asserts that the Indian population has decreased very little since the days of Columbus and other early explorers.
Major Pratt, the United States army officer who founded the Carlisle Indian School, admits that many of his graduates who return to tribal life fall into Indian ways again. Therefore he believed in doing all he could to prevent the educated Indians from going back to the reservations.
He tells of an incident he saw at a western Indian agency. A squaw entered a trader's store, wrapped in a blanket, pointed to a straw hat and asked: "How muchee?"
"Fifty cents," said the merchant.
"How muchee?" she asked again, pointing to another article. The price was quoted and was followed by another query of "How muchee?"
Then she suddenly gazed blandly at the merchant and asked, mildly:
"Do you not regard such prices as extortionate for articles of such palpably and unmistakably inferior quality? Do you not really believe that a reduction in your charges would materially enhance your pecuniary profits, as well as be ethically proper? I beg you to consider my suggestion."
She was a graduate of the Carlisle Indian School.
A teacher in an Indian school in Michigan writes as follows: "It is especially interesting to study these children, especially as we have them from four different tribes, and I should very much like to write up my impressions, only that I can scarcely keep up with my work as it is. These boys have a sense of humor. In my flag drill last Friday the partners were a boy and girl, and where the lines intersect to form the cross I taught the boys to let their partners go first, and hard trouble I had to do it, too. After the exercises Isaac Crane came up to me, and, in his solemn way, said: 'Miss B. . . . in letting the girls pass in front of the boys, you have struck at the root of an Indian national custom.' I said: 'How so, Isaac?' and he answered: 'It is the custom for the man to go first, carrying his dignity, and for the woman to follow, carrying everything else.'"
"HEAP SMELL."THE INDIAN KNEW WHAT HE WANTED AND WHERE TO GET IT.
Some Indians from "Buffalo Bill's Wild West," arrayed in bright colored blankets and an exceptional amount of face paint, were taking in the sights of Kansas City one afternoon. They strolled down Walnut street, single file, and headed by a brave who now and then gave a grunt of satisfaction when something that pleased him caught his eye, they halted in front of a drug store and gazed at the window display for a moment. Then the band filed into the establishment and began to look around.
The clerk thought the place was going to be besieged and that he was likely to lose his scalp, but when the "big chief," who acted as spokesman, addressed him with the customary Indian greeting of "How!" the clerk regained his composure enough to ask the Indian what he wanted.
"Heap smell," was the reply.
Directed by the Indian's finger to a showcase, the clerk produced a bar of soap. The brave took it gingerly, removed the wrapper, smelled it and bit into the toothsome-looking article. With a deep grunt of displeasure he handed it back to the drug clerk. With a disgusted look he remarked, "Heap smell!"
The clerk began to tremble, and the Indian pointed to a perfume bottle in the showcase. The bottle of perfume was handed to him. The Indian held it in both hands for a moment, closely scrutinizing it. He slowly removed the stopper, closely watching it as if he expected it to explode, and took a big sniff at the bottle, gave a grunt of satisfaction, handed the clerk some money and led his band of braves out of the store, to the delight of the frightened clerk, who had not been in the practice of waiting on real Indians.
TRUTH OF THE CHOCTAWS.WHEN THEY GIVE THEIR WORD THEY KEEP IT.
Probably there is no other class of people in the world so faithful as the Choctaws. They believe in each other as a child believes in its mother. When one Choctaw Indian tells another that a certain thing will be done, it can be depended upon that it will be done. The custom of turning a prisoner loose without bail commenced among the Choctaws half a century ago. An Indian murdered his sister. There was no jail, and the Choctaws had no money to hire a guard. After the Indian judge had sentenced him to be shot, the former said: "Now you can go free until your execution day. Then I want you to come without being told. If you fail to obey it will disgrace your family." The Indian gave his promise and appeared at the appointed time. Ever since then it has been the custom to allow condemned Indians to run loose. Never but once has a prisoner failed to come freely and alone to his execution. The number of Indians thus shot within the last half century is over one hundred.
A NULL AND VOID DRINK.
In theSunset Magazinefor a recent month a writer gives some interesting reminiscences of the late Johnson Sides, Indian. He was born in the sagebrush, and throughout his long life he was a friend of the paleface and a peacemaker. It is recalled to his credit that many a band of immigrants passing over the plains in the early rush for California owed it to Johnson that they were not waylaid and murdered.
He became quite influential with the national authorities as well as with his tribe, and to his sagacity considerable legislation beneficial to the aborigines in the last quarter of a century is attributed. He was one of those Indians who saw that much of the trouble which befell the red man was due to fire-water, and, a temperance man himself, he seldom missed an opportunity of preaching temperance to his tribesmen. "My friends," he would say, "I think whisky no good, but very bad. Mebbe you take a drink it not much bad, but you take two drinks you kill somebody. Mebbe you want more, you hurt your brother or you lickem squaw, or you burn down a wickiup. Mebbe sheriff catch you and workem on the streets in the chain-gang, with big iron ball hitched on your leg, in the hot sun. Not much good any of this. Indian who drink whisky, no good."
Sad to relate, Johnson Sides was once caught in the act of Swallowing a glass of whisky, a serious offense, made so by reason of the danger which was likely to ensue when an Indian lost control of himself in a white settlement. He pleaded guilty, but contended that he drank because he was very sick. Being a popular Indian he was subjected to a fine of only $1, but the sagebrush papers made fun of him and called him a fallen reformer, which wounded his feelings greatly. In his distress he asked a friend in the Nevada Legislature, Senator Doolin, to set him right by passing some sort of a bill and Senator Doolin introduced and carried through "Senate Joint Concurrent Resolution No. 11," which was as follows:
Resolved,By the Senate, the people of the State of Nevada concurring. That the drink of whisky taken by Johnson Sides on the 17th day of September, in the city of Virginia, county of Story, be and is hereby declared null and void.
This was entirely satisfactory to Johnson Sides. His wounded pride was healed; he held his head up again, and resumed his temperance lectures as though nothing had happened. Moreover, the act of the Legislature restored his standing among all classes, white and red, in Nevada, and he was everywhere respected and looked up to as a vindicated reformer, for these were simple days, when the West was young and trustful and charitable and kind.
It would have been a blessed thing indeed if all the whisky sold to Indians in violation of law, had been "null and void and without effect," but unfortunately it had the same debasing effect with the Indian as upon the white man, as the following eloquent appeal from an Indian would seem to indicate:
Simon Pokagon, mentioned in the previous chapter, of Hartford, Michigan, was chief of the Pottawatomie band of Indians of his State. In an address to the white people, he employed this very remarkable language in denunciation of the evil of drunkenness:
"While I appreciate and laud those noble Christian missionaries, I can not do otherwise than openly condemn those white traders who, dog-like, tagged them into the wilderness and beside the Christian altars they had built, stuck out their signs, and dealt out to our young men and old men that liquid hell which lures but to destroy. Could you see what I have seen and feel what I have felt, as this snake, born of the white man, has coiled itself closer and tighter like a vise around the heartstrings of your own family, you would cry out: 'Pokagon, we do not blame, but pity you!' And well you may, for the blood of my people, as the blood of Abel, is crying from the ground against the Cains of humanity who, for paltry gold in times past and even now, are dealing out to our race that cursed abomination of misery and death. You send missionaries across the great deep to save Hindoo children from being drowned in the Ganges, or crushed under the wheels of Juggernaut, and yet in your own Christian land thousands are yearly being drowned in the American Ganges of fire-water, while the great Juggernaut of King Alcohol is ever rolling on night and day, crushing its victims without mercy. Hark! Do you hear that agonizing wail on every side? Fathers and sons are falling into drunkards' graves; mothers and daughters are weeping over them; wives are lamenting as they bend over the bruised heads of their husbands as they return from the midnight brawl; and briars of bitter disappointment encumber the bridal garden; brave men and women who have fought long and well to redeem and save the fallen are beginning to fear the power of the saloon and its votaries, while the pious who in faith have prayed long and well are beginning to doubt the favor of God.
"Soon I will stand in the presence of the Great Spirit and shall there plead with him in heaven, as I have plead with him on earth, that he will take those by the hand who have so bravely fought against the old dragon, Drink, the destroyer of your children and ours, and lead them on to glorious victory."
Said a missionary to a chief of the Little Ottawas, "I am glad that you do not drink whisky; but it grieves me to find that your people use so much of it." "Ah, yes," replied the chief, and he fixed an arch and impressive eye upon the missionary which communicated the reproof before he uttered it "we Indians use a great deal of whisky, but we do not make it."
While going through the Indian village of the World's Fair at Chicago, in 1903, the author of this book made the acquaintance of Deerfoot, the famous runner, the Indian who defeated all human racers and outstripped horses. Concerning this remarkable man, the BuffaloNewshad this to say:
"The death of Louis Bennett, known all over the world as Deerfoot, removes the most picturesque character from the native tribes of this State.
"In 1850, having outdone all the runners of his tribe, he thought he would try conclusions with white athletes. The conclusions were invariably in favor of the native and his fame as a long-distance runner became in a short time the talk of the land. Backed by a well known 'sport' of those days, he made a tour of American cities, easily outdoing all the local champions. Then his fame spread to England, whose athletics were then much more firmly established than those of this country. He visited the brawny islands in 1861.
"Despite the boastful predictions the remarkable Indian, with his peculiar stride, met and defeated the English champions, although he was given a couple of hard brushes. His endurance was nothing less than wonderful and he always ended a race fresh, and while his antagonist was running on sheer pluck Deerfoot was still running on wind. He remained in England almost two years and came back loaded with medals.
"On his return to America, not finding any men for a contest, he turned his attention to horses, and at Chicago he actually beat a number of horses in races. Since that time he receded from the public view, living quietly at his farm. Up to his death, however, he retained his remarkable powers and he was accustomed to take, as an old man, walks that would tax the endurance of an average youth.
"His fastest recorded time was when in 1862, in England, he ran ten miles in fifty-two minutes. This time, he claimed, was never beaten, though it is said an Englishman named Cummings, in 1885, did the distance a trifle under this figure. But he was certainly never beaten in a race."
The Last Shot
TIGER TAIL, THE SEMINOLE CHIEF, AND THE PLATE-GLASS WINDOW.
Mr. C. 0. Livingston had an ambition to have the first plate-glass front in the Everglades. So when his brick block in West Palm Beach was nearing completion he made a special trip down from Jacksonville and personally superintended the placing of the polished plates in the frames. They were of large size and reached nearly to the level of the sidewalk. He was standing outside with his chest in the air, swelled with gratified ambition, admiring the crystal sheets, when along came Tiger-Tail, big chief of the once powerful but now fast disappearing Seminoles.
When his foot treads his native heath Tiger-Tail scorns to hide his noble form with any of the habiliments affected by his civilized brethren, but he has a white shirt hung up in his wigwam, which was given him by a commercial drummer in the early 70s and which he was wont to don when he made his monthly pilgrimages to Palm Beach for "fire-water," "fire-powder" and lead. He was thus attired when he walked up to Mr. Livingston and exchanged "Hows."
This was a good opportunity for the proud builder to impress the savage red man with the march of civilization, so he pointed out the building to Tiger-Tail, calling his particular attention to the plate-glass front.
Tiger-Tail looked at the polished surfaces, but his unpracticed eye could see nothing except openings in the front windows.
He walked up close, and thinking to get a better view, he tried to step through the window inside. His Roman nose came in contact with the glass, which surprised him very much. He rubbed his nose, gave a grunt and looked hard at the window, and still, not seeing any reason why he could not step inside, made a second essay. He bumped his nose harder this time, which caused Mr. Livingston to laugh long and loud.
Now the Indian is essentially a man of action and without emotions. Without the least sign of anger visible in his face, Tiger-Tail backed away to the edge of the sidewalk, picked up a scantling and went for that plate-glass front—the first in the Everglades—and before the owner could protest there wasn't a piece left big enough for a paper-weight.
Mr. Livingston stormed and cursed, but the big chief, adjusting his shirt, and explaining the whole matter by uttering the single word "Huh!" continued his search for more mysteries to unravel.
In telling this experience while on a visit to Boston, one of Mr. Livingston's friends asked him why he did not sue the Indian.
"What," he exclaimed, "sue Tiger-Tail? Sue a man who ain't got nothing but a shirt? What would I get? The shirt?"
INDIAN ETIQUETTE.
TheRed Man and Helper,published by the students at the Carlisle (Pa.) Indian School, has this to say on Indian etiquette: "It was an actual desire for information and no attempt to be funny that a boy in looking up from reading about 'squaw men' asked if the white women who marry Indian men were called 'buck women.' We could not answer why they were not. Such a name would be no more insulting to a woman than the first appellation is to a man. All Indian women are no more squaws than white women are wenches. The name squaw emanated from 'squa,' an Indian word of a Massachusetts tribe meaning woman, but it has since come to be used commonly by illiterate people for Indian women of any tribe. No educated or refined people use the words 'squaw' or 'buck,' and we advise our students when they hear them not to pay any attention to the speaker, but to mark him or her down in their minds as a person of low breeding."
DOLL AVERTED WAR.KINDNESS TO APACHE CHILD PREVENTED TROUBLE WITH THE INDIANS.
A doll once averted a war with redskins. An American general was trying to put a band of Apaches back on their own territory, from which they had persisted in breaking out, but could not catch them without killing them, and that he did not wish to do.
His men captured a little Indian girl and took her to the fort. She was quiet all day, but her beady black eyes watched everything. When night came, however, she broke down, just as any white child would have done. The men tried in vain to comfort her, but finally the agent borrowed a beautiful doll from an officer's wife, which had belonged to her little daughter, and promised the Apache girl that she could have it if her sobs ceased. She then fell asleep.
When morning came the doll was clasped in her arms. Eventually the little Apache girl, with her doll, was sent back to her people. When the child reached the Indians with the doll in her chubby hands it made a great sensation among them, and the next day the mother came with the child to the post. She was hospitably received, and through her the tribe was persuaded to move back to its own territory.
MOVING PICTURES AMAZE THE INDIANS.
Burton Holmes, the lecturer, visited the home of the Moki Indians in Arizona to witness the weird snake-dance, which those Indians have practiced at intervals for centuries. While near the home of the Mokis he set up his moving picture machine and made a film showing Apache Indians and cowboys in horse races and in feats of daring while on horseback. The film was developed and proved to be excellent. A year later Mr. Holmes visited the same region again and one night gave an exhibition for the benefit of the natives. The Indians observed the pictures which Mr. Holmes threw on the screen, which was stretched on the side of a store building, with stolidity, and made no comment until the moving picture machine was started and the film made in the neighborhood a year before was thrown on the screen.
"Then there was almost a riot," said Mr. Holmes in telling of the affair. "Several of the Indians who had taken part in the races the year before had died, and when they were shown on the screen, riding for dear life, their friends were amazed. The dead had been brought to life. It was astounding. The Indians gazed at the picture, then looked at each other as if uncertain that they saw what they saw. Then they began to talk excitedly, pointing at the moving images of those who were dead. It did not strike the savage mind as unusual that live men should appear on the screen and be moving, but with dead men it was different.
"When the film had all gone through the machine the Indians hastened forward to examine the white cloth on which the pictures had been shown. They raised it to look behind it, in a vain endeavor to find the solution to what was to them a mystery. They paid no attention at all to the machine that had projected the picture."
A WITTY RED MAN WHO WAS GRATEFUL FOR KINDNESS.
In "Travels in New England and New York," President Dwight, of Yale College, tells a good story of Indian wit and friendship.
In the early days of Litchfield, Connecticut, an Indian called at the tavern and asked the landlady for food, frankly stating that he had no money with which to pay for it. She refused him harshly, but a white man who sat by noted the red man's half-famished state, and offered to pay for his supper.
The meal was furnished, and the Indian, his hunger satisfied, returned to the fire and told his benefactor a story.
"You know Bible?" said the Indian.
The man assented.
"Well," said the Indian, "the Bible say, God made world, and then He took him and look at him and say, 'He good, very good.' He made light, and he took him and look at him and say, 'He good, very good.' Then he made dry land and water and sun and moon and grass and trees, band took him and look at him and say, 'He good, very good.' Then he made beast and birds and fishes, and took him and look at him and say, 'He good, very good.'
"Then he made man, and took him and look at him and say, 'He good, very, very good.' Then he make woman, and took him and look at him, and he no dare say one such word!"
This last conclusion was uttered with a meaning glance at the landlady.
Some years after this occurrence, the man who had paid for the Indian's supper was captured by redskins and carried to Canada, where he was made to work like a slave. One day an Indian came to him, recalled to his mind the occurrence at the Litchfield tavern, and ended by saying:
"I that Indian. Now my turn pay. I see you home. Come with me."
And the Indian guided the white man back to Litchfield.
Medicine Hat, an enterprising little city in the heart of the wheat belt of the Northwest Territory of Canada, took its name from the following legend:
It seems that many years ago the young and beautiful daughter of a great chief, while strolling along the banks of the Saskatchewan one day, accidentally lost her footing and fell into the raging torrent. She was a good swimmer and managed to keep herself afloat for a long time as the stream swept her along, but finally her strength began to fail her, and she would have been drowned if a young Indian brave had not happened to catch sight of her in the stream. He immediately leaped from the high bank into the stream, and after a hard struggle managed to bear the maiden to the bank and to safety.
GAVE THE BRAVE HIS HAT.
The grateful father, as a mark of his appreciation of this heroic deed, took off his own hat and placed it upon the head of the young brave. Possibly the latter would have been better satisfied if the father had given him the maiden, but of this history does not tell, and therefore the romantic side of the story will have to remain incomplete. The hat, though, was the distinctive mark of a chief among the Indians, and therefore its bestowal upon the young brave at once raised him to the highest dignity known to his people. The rescue of the girl took place at the point where the railroad bridge crosses the river, and when the white people founded the town here they commemorated this legend by the name they gave the town.
"THE BLACK WHITE MAN."
The following story was told by Black Horse, second chief of the Comanches, to Special Indian Agent White:
"A long time ago—maybe so thirty snows, maybe so forty, I dunno—I went with a large war party on a raid into Mexico. We went far enough south to see hundreds of monkeys and parrots. We thought the monkeys were a kind of people and captured two of them one day. That night we whipped them nearly to death trying to make them talk, but they would not say a word, just cry, and finally we turned them loose, more puzzled than ever to know what they were.
"On the return trip we came back through Texas. One day I was scouting off to one side alone, and met a man riding through the mesquite timber. He started to run and my first thought was to kill him, but just as I was about to send an arrow he looked back over his shoulder and I saw that his skin was as black as a crow and that he had great big white eyes. I had never seen or heard of that kind of a man, and seeing that he was unarmed, I determined to catch him and take him to camp alive, so that all the other Indians could see him. I galloped around in front of him with my bow and arrow drawn, and he was heap scared. He fell off his mule pony and sit down on his knees and hold his hands up high and heap cry and say: 'Please,massa Injun, don't kill poor nigger!Please,massa Injun, don't kill poor nigger! Bi-yi-yi!Please,massa Injun, don't kill poor nigger! Bi-yi-yi.'"
Although at that time Black Horse did not know a word of English, the Negro's crying and begging made such an impression on him that, with his common Indian gift of mimicry, he could imitate it in a wonderfully natural manner. Continuing, he said: "The 'black white man' was heap poor. His pony was an old mule that could not run fast at all. His saddle was 'broke' all over and his bridle was made of ropes. His clothes were dirty and all 'broke' full of holes, and his shoes were all gone—got none at all.
"I started back with him and on the way we came to a deep water-hole. I was nearly dead for a drink, and motioned to the 'black white man' to get down and drink, too. He got down but shook his head to say that he did not want to drink. He was heap scared—just all time shake and teeth rattle, and all time cry, and maybe so pray to Great Spirit to make Indian turn him loose, and he be a good man and never make it (the Great Spirit) mad any more, and heap o' things like that. I lay down to drink. The bank was sloping and my feet were considerably higher than my head. Suddenly, the 'black white man' caught my back hair with one hand and my belt with the other and raised me way up over his head with my face upward. Before I could do a thing he pitched me head foremost away out in the middle of the water hole. {FN} I went clear to the bottom, and when I came to the top and rubbed the water out of my eyes, I saw the 'black white man' running off on my pony, kicking with both feet and whipping with his hat. I rode his old 'mule pony' back to camp and all the Indians heap laugh at Black Horse."
{FN} Black Horse, though a great fighter, is a comparatively small Indian.
INDIAN MODE OF GETTING A WIFE.
An aged Indian, who had spent many years in a white settlement, remarked one day that the Indians had not only a much easier way of getting a wife than the whites, but were also more certain of getting a good one; "for," said he, in his broken English, "white man court—court—maybe so one whole year! Maybe so two, before he marry! Well! Maybe so then getvery goodwife—but, maybe so not—maybe sovery cross!Well, now, suppose cross! Scold so soon as get wake in the morning! Scold all day! Scold until sleep! All one; he must keephim!White people have law forbidding throwing away wife, be he ever so cross! Must keephimalways! {FN} Well, how does Indian do? Indian when he see industrious squaw, which he like, he go tohim,place his two forefingers close aside each other, make two look like one—look squaw in the face—seehimsmile—which is all onehesay, yes! so he takehimhome—no dangerhebe cross! No! no! Squaw know too well what Indian do ifhebe cross! Throwhimaway and take another! Squaw love to eat meat. No husband, no meat. Squaw do everything to please husband; he do the same to please squaw! Live happy!"
{FN} This was in 1770. Laws concerning divorce have changed materially since.
John Elliot, the great apostle to the Indians, had been preaching on the Trinity, when one of his auditors, after a long and thoughtful pause, thus addressed him: "I believe, Mr. Minister, I understand you. The trinity is just like water and ice and snow. The water is one, the ice another, and the snow is another; and yet they are all one water."
This illustration of the Trinity is fully equal to St. Patrick's use of the Shamrock.