Full text of "C. Hart Merriam papers relating to work with California Indians, 1850-1974. (bulk 1898-1938)"

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C. Hart Merriam

Papers

BANCMSS

80/18 c

nni««ioa.

1883

THE SPORTSMAN'S JOURNAL

Ties for second, Ave birds, twenty-eix yards :

109

Stice 11111—5

Dr. Hutchinson .^ 11111—5

Sexton ■ 11111—5

P088 11111—5

(iilleapie 11111—5

Howe 11111—5

Doxey 11111—5

F.lton 1 1110— 4

M vnns 11110—4

Holland inOw

smond ties for second, three birds, thirty one yards:

Stl.H .... Ill— 8 Gillespie

Kim* no— « llowo

t>r ftutcniaton lOw I Doxey

>"\t<m : Ow I

•f . H. Htlce, of thH Audubon Olnb, Jacksonville, 111., w

Ttiii for third, Ave birds, twitnty xix yards:

Strawn

Henry, P . .
Loveday ...

Lincoln

Orvis ,

Hands

Hloau......

Turtle ...

Thompson

Mosher....

Kl»«inmaon, J. J 11111-5

Trivlor 11111-5

NVattK 11111—5

Wlllard 11111-5

I'ayson 11111-5

MorrlB 11111-5

Tunnicllffe 01111-4

Palm 11110-4

Hauworth 11110-4

Sarirent 11110—4

Johnson lllQw

Second ties for third, three birds, thirty-one yards :

Klelnman, J.J .' 111—3 Willard "

Taylor 110—2 Payeon

Watts 110—2 Morris

J. J. Kleinman, of the Audubon Club of Chicago,

Shooting Club, won third.

Ties for fourth, five birds, twenty-six yards :

Brady

Ja«>if»'r

Mlllor....,

Gauiuion..

Bushwali.

Ilotrhklss.

(hrintlan.

Wheoler..

Boeber . . .

Gore

Airey

Kleinman, A

Silsby

Lydston

Clark

Canfield. ..
Burton

Rowe 11111—5

Comley Ill 11 - 5

Dr. Henry 11011—4

Dr. Britton 10110—3

Cleaver 01001—2

A lien mow

N. C Rowe, of the First Lee County Gun Club, ar
vided fourth.

Shoot No. 2.— Teams of four, members of same cli
each contestant, plunge traps, twenty-one yards rise
birds, twenty-six yards, balance of ties, three birds,
Entrance, price of birds. First prize, gold medal en
championship, value $100, and four gold medals, v£
prize, $75 and 1,200 U. S. paper shells, value $84.60
and 800 U. S. paper shells, value $56.40; fourth priz
S. paper shells, value $28.20; special prize, gold me(
dividual score, value $25.

FORESTER CLUB.

W. G.Payson 11111 11011

E.Price 11111 11111

G. C. Mosher 11111 11111

A.Price 11111 11111

SOUTH END SHOOTING CLUB.

VV.L. Church 11111 11110

J. H. Palm 11111 mil

(;. N. Lvdston 10101 11111

M.J. Ekh mil mil

CHICAGO SHOOTING CLUB.

C.E. Willard 11111 10111

R. B. Organ 11111 01111

J.J. Kleinman 11111 llOll ^

A. Kleinman 11111 11111 \

AUDUBON CLUB, OF JACKSONVILLE

T.W.Taylor OIlll

C. strawn 11111

J. M. Sargent 11011

J. K. Stice llin

MAKSAWBA GUN CLUB.

11011

mil

11011
01111

J. B. Wiggins 11111 01011

W. H. naakell 11111 01111

Henry Sloan 11111 11111

C. H. Mears 11111 11111

DELAVAK PRAIRIE SHOOTING CLUB.

P.Clark mil 01011

J. Haines,Jr 11111 mn

D. G. Cunningham 11111 01111

T. Watts 01111 mil

DIANA HUNTING CLUB.

H. Ehlers 10111 11111

L. Heisler 10101 11110

A. M. Heisler 01011 11111

H. F. Neidbardt 11110 11111

LAKE GEORGE SPORTSMEN'S ASSOCIATl

R. A. Turtle 11111 00111

E. Hunter 11011 10111

J. H. Brady 11111 nm

C.N. Holden 11111 ilOll «

CUMBERLAND GUN CLUB.

Dr. J. M. Hutchinson OHIO 11111 C

C. D. Gammon 11111 llllO 1

H. W. Loveday 11101 01111 1

J. A. Sexton 11110 11111 1

BLUE ISLAND GUN CLUB.

Geo. Airev 11101 11111 1

F. L. Bnshnell 11111 Hill l.

G. H. Hausberg 10111 11111 li

G. Boeber 11110 01110 0'

AUSTIN GUN CLUB.

M.J. Ballou 10111 11011 f

G.M.Davis 11111 11111 l

J. R. Mavberry 11111 OHIO 1

A. Redfern 11111111111

sportsmen's CLUB, OF CHICAGO.

H.F.Orvis 11111 11111 1

Phillips 10111 11110 C

A. J.Jaes^Pr Hill Hill 1

F. Barnard Hill 01100 1

PEORIA SHOOTING CLUB.

Geo. Hotchkise*! Hill OHIO 1

V. M. Lincoln 11011 10001 1

C. F. Stock 11101 01111 0

F.Kimble.... Hill Hill 1

AUDUBON CLUB, OF CHICAGO.

H. Silsby 10001 Hill

O.K. Felton 0111100111

W. W. Foes Hill 11110

W. T. Johnson HIH mil

gUINCY SHOOTING CLUB.

Dr. C. Henry HlOl HOH

Dr. C). F. Britton Hill HOH

D. G. Tunnicllffe HlOl 01100

W. B. Hauworth Hill Hill

.MACOMU GUN CLUB.

Fahneetock \un\ moi

Watson mil lllH

Thomas, Jr oim loioi

Mc.Xrthur 10111 lioio

KIHMT I.KK COirNTV UUS CLUB.

Fri Hates 10001 01001 ](

J. <). Allon HHl lOHl <K

P. StevHiirt mil 111100

N. ('. Rowe HHl 11111 1

(iRNKHEO sportsmen's ILUB.

VVm. Morris HHl 10111

VVm. Harhaagh 10110 oilH

14 ^ands imo lom

11.
Oil
UV
111.

01
1

01
11

son refused $1,000 for his dog, Cavalier. Mr. Kraft has
offered a reward of $100 for any information that may lead
to the conviction of the scoundrel who committed the deed.
In this, it is hoped, he will prove successful, as he will test
the laws of Indiana and let the scoundrel know the value
of a good and noble dog. Hindoo.

C0HPU8 CuHiSTi, Texas.— Tliere has been a good deal
said by Mr. Arnold Burges about choosing puppies, but Jie
failed to state how to know and select the best puppy In a
litter. What I am about to say concerns breeders only, as
outsiders do not have th© chanca. When puppies are about
six weeks old, observe them .closely, and you will see at
feeding time, when called, one out o! every litter will be
the first to come. It will always be the same punpy first
out to meet you. This Is the puopy to choose without re-

gard to color, for he will make tlie best dog in the litter. I
ave tried It for many years In Prussia, and also In Amerl-
ca, and And this mode of choosing never to fall.

J. N. Raudneu.

The Easteun Field Trial Deruy Entries.— Mr. W.
A. Coster, Secretary of the Eastern Field Trials Club,
writes us that by a delay in going to the Brooklyn post
office, the following additional entry was not received
in time to appear in the list sent for publication: Mr. E.
S. Wanmaker*s lemon and white pointer dog Evening Star,
by Robert Lee — Darkness. Mr. Jesse M. Whaite's entry.
May Dawn, is a dog instead of a bitch as appears in the
list of entries. One of Mr. J. M. Avent's entries should be
Countess C, entered by Messrs. Isaac Yearsley, Jr., and J.
M. Avent.

The National Trials. — Mr. D. Bryson, the secretary of
the National American Kennel Club, writes us that Captain
Patrick Henry, Clarksville, Tenn., Dr. Wm. Jarvis, Clare-
mont, N. H., and Captain W. H. Key, Florence, Ala., have
accepted the invitation to judge the club^s trials to be run
at Grand .Junction, Tenn., commencing December 3. Cer-
tainly three better judges could not be found. Mr. Bryson
also writes that the quails on the grounds preserved are
more plentiful this year than ever before, and are doing
well, the weather having been very favorable for hatching
and raising. Some bevies are large enough to fly now.

HoRicoN, Wis.— I lost my foxhound bitch Starlight July
15, from poisoning. She had just weaned a fine fitter of
puppies by Watchman, and was allowed unusual liberty in
order to recuperate for the Fall campaign. Venus, an-
other imported foxhound bitch, was let out of my kennel
about one year ago, under the same circumstances, having
reared a litter by Watchman. Thus the dog killer has been
able to do his work the second time on the sly. It is per-
haps well that I do not know who the fiend is.

W. A. Van Brunt.

Bradnek, Ohio. — To those whose dogs an^vfeennels are
infested with fleas, I can recommend the free tts^ of coal
oil. I can exterminate more fleas with one gMlon of
coal oil than with any amount of insect powder.s My

method is to sprinkle, with a brush, the ground around the ' ' —

kennel, and a little inside the kennel as well. Then I mix Buckellew— Sat.ly, orange and white setter bitch puppy, to Mr. C.

Blaze)— Lady Elgin (Carlowitz— Queen Bees).
Daisy M., for lemon belton setter bitch puppy, by Qleam (Lincoln-
Blaze)— Lady Elgin (Carlowitz— Queen Bess).
Bklle M., for lemon belton setter bitch. puppy, by Gleam (Lincoln-
Blaze)— Lady Elgin (Carlowitz— Queen Bess).
Smart M., for lemon belton setter bitch puppy, by Qleam (Lincoln-
Blaze)— Lady Elgin (Carlowitz— Queen Bess).
Mr. Wayne Cboate, East Saginaw, Mich., claims the name
Obkuon, for black, white and tan setter do|: puppy, whelped Aug.,

188SJ, by Count Noble-Rosalind. •

TiTANU, for black, whlttand tan letter bitch puppy, whelped July,

IHMa, by Daslilng Berwyn- Prairie Belle.
Hii»iH)TVTo, for liver and whit© polnt<»r bitch puppy, wholped Feb.,
188^, hy Hindoo— Priucist Bow.
Mr. E. H. Bird, Hockland, Me., clalmi the namg
DotrnLK Daxxi.k, for black and white cocker epaniel bitch, by »nlpe

— Arthia.
Dblioht, for black and whit© cocker epantel bitch, by Snipe— Arthla.
DisroiTNTKBJ*, for brindlo bull terrier bitch.
CLir* .NO, for black and whit© bull terrier bitch.
Mr.,E. D. Shultz, Danville, 111., claims the name
Neitune II, for Irish water spaniel dog puppy, whelped June 5, 18S8,

by Neptune— Daisy.
Rival, Jr., for liver and white pointer dog puppy, whelped May 16,
1883, by Croxteth— Countess Rival.
Mr. T. II. Gibbes, Colusa, Cal., claims the name
Bill, for black, white and tan setter dog puppy, by Rex^Bess.
Lou, for English setter bitch puppy, by Rex— Bess.
Bonnie, for English setter bitch puppy, by Rex— Dot.
Mr. R. L. Henry, Hamden, Conn., claims the name
Blue Victress, for blue belton setter bitch, whelped Jan. 2, 1883, by
Lava Rock— Lady Beaconsfield.
Mr. Wm. Jenkins. Mendota, 111., claims the name
Patti Pembroke, for black, white and tan setter bitch puppy, by
Pembroke (Gladstone— Blanche)— Lady Rake (Rake— Phil lis).
Mr. Frank Mastin, Huptsville, Ala., claims the name
Coles, for liver and white pointer puppy, whelped April 3, 1883, by
MacD.-MegC.
Mr. W. J. Raymond, San Antonio, Texas, claims the name
Lord Trava, for red Irish setter dog puppy, by Border Ruffian—
Lucy.
Colonel John M. Barbour, Louisville, Ky., claims the name
Fly II, for black, white and tan setter bitch puppy, by Pembroke
(Gladstone— Blanche)— Lady Rake (Rake— Phyllis).
Mr. Harry Woodman, Harrisburgh, Pa., claims the name
MclNTYRE, for red Irish setter dog puppy, whelped April 27, 1883, by
Irish Chief— Pride.
Mr. A. WynesB, Jr., Toronto, Can., claims the name

Cambridge II, for English setter dog puppy, by Cambridge— Belle.
Dr. S. E. Burroughs, Allison, Iowa, claims the name
DuLA, for black and tan setter bitch, by Judg— Floss. ^^'

SALES. j-"^

Mr. J. H. Clark, Philadelphia, Pa., has sold
Druid— Princess Draco, black and white setter dog puppy, to Mr.
R. W. Shaw, Galveston, Texas.

WHELPS.

Whrlpn, Halbm, Etc.— We make no charge for luaertlni; whelps,
sales, namns claimed, visits, deaths ; and all owners and breeders of
dou's are rt^ciunsted to send them in.
Mr. <). W. Donnor'i
Faiuv Hkm.b, Knglish tttltr bitch, hy Uanger II Mallards llfllf,
whtdpnd July ••»«, elght-MV«n d<»g* nnd on.* hiuu^ by champion
Kmporor Fred.
Mr. (leortfe E. llrownd*i
Nkli.ik IIouton, black nn<t tan Mltor bitch, by Diiko of GordM-
Drpiun, wholp«Ml July 'i?, eight four dogs and four blt( lies, by
(Jlenir.
Dr. Allen B. Clayton'e
Mbnkkaunk, English setter bitch, by Paris U Homp, whelped, Juno
29, eleven seven dogs and four biti hos, hy IV'mbroko ((iladstone
Blanche).
Mr. J. T. Cable's

Nellie, fox terrier bitch, by Trap -Nettie, whelped July 9, efght-
flve dogs and three bitches, by Nailer (Buff -Activity).
Mr. J. F. Scholes'
T0P8Y, black and tan terrier bitch, ))y Dazzaler— Stella, whelpnd
July 9, seven— four dogs and three bitches, by imported Nip.
Mr. Henry Muss'
Kate, black and tan terrier, by General— Maber, whelped Juile 29,
two— one dog and one bitch, by Vortigern.
Mr. Jineas Falkiner Nuttairs
Lady Maybe, red Irish setter .bitch, by champion Cornet (Palmer-
ston— Belle)— champion Maybe, to champion Garryowen.
Mr. C. DuBois Wagstaff's

Rose, red Irish setter bitch, by Ranger— Rose, whelped July 18,
twelve— six dogs and six bitches, by Taffy.
Mr. E. S. Bird's

Black Colt^ess, black setter bitch, by Dash -Sparkle, to Dot

(Lelaps- Daisy).
Mr. J. W. Jackson's
Nig, black setter bitch, by Dash— Vida, whelped July 14, ten-four

dogs and six bitches, by Cyrus (Rake— Phyllis).

VISITS.

Sales, Names Claimed, Etc.— We make no charge for inserting sales
names claimed, visits, whelps, deaths ; and all owners and breeders
of dogs are requested to send them in. y

Mr. H. H. Winslow, Liberty, Mo., has sold ,/
Buckellew— Sally, orange and white setter^og puppy, to Mr. J.

D. Blood, Hannibal, Mo. y^

Buckellew— Sally, orange and white setter bitch puppy, to Mr. J.
D. Blood, Hannibal, Mo.

the oil with lard, and with a comb dipped into the mixture ^' ^^^^scom, MaysviUe, M^.

comb up through the hair of the dog. If this is done once |\^ Buckellew- Sally, lemoy1)elton

a week, there will be no further annoyance from fleas.

J. Haskell.

St. Louis, Mo.— In looking over the pedigree of Lome
I find that he is out of June, and not the bitch I supposed'
when I wrote a few lines in defense of Faust in the Ameri'
CAN Field of July 7. Of course the description I gave of
his dam then does not fit June at all. I make this correc-
tion in justice to all concerned. Canis

L.\NCASTER, Pa.— I have sold all my puppies advertis^
in the American Field, with entire satisfaction to the d&
ties who purchased them. But I am still receiving letters
and if it not asking too much, I wish you would iake a
small note of the fact, as it would save me lots oi time in
answering letters. Jos. R. Tbissler.

, setter dog puppy, to Mr. A.

\ Wylly, Savannah, Oa.y^

BtK?KELLBW— Sally, leni on belton setter dog puppy, to Mr. H.

Batoey, Ashland, Wis.
BucKWi4^w— SA1.LY, orange and white setter dog puppy, to Mr. W.
A. CosW, Flatbush, L. L
Mr. J. K. Trimler, Lancaster, Pa., has sold
Irish 9HIEF— ^ide, red Irish setter dog puppy, to Mr. John Noble,

Jr^ Greenwood" ^nd.
Ibish Chief- PRiD^^red Irish setter dog puppy, to Mr. Harry
,. ' Woodman, Harrisbii^g, Pa.
^ r^ Irish Chief, red Irish seh^r puppies, a brace of dogs and a brace of

Visrrtj, Whelps, Etc.— We make no charge for Inserting visits, wheJps,
names claimed, sales, deaths : and all owners and breeders of dogs are

, requested to send them in.

The Borstall Kenners
Daisy Dean, liver and white pointer bitch, to Bang Bang.
Eileen, liver and white pointer bitch by champion Sensation-
Daisy, to Don (Sensation— Psyche II).

Mr. J. W. Jackson's

Louise, liver and white pointer bitch, by Bow— ,Iaunty, to Joe (Bow
Keswick).
The Westminster Kennel Club's
Queen May, black and white ticked pointer bitch by Native— Fan, to
champion Sensation.
Mr. E. Ilathawvy's

Dora, foxhound bitch, July 25, to Imported Wat^hm.m.
Mr- VVm. Vaughn's
RousTY, foxhound bitch. May 30, to imported Watchman.

DEATHS.

NAMES CLAIHEI).

0
1

Sales, Nambs Claimed, Etc.— We make no charge for inserting sales
namesclaimed, visits, whelps, deaths; and all owners and breeders
of dogs are requested to send them in.

Col. B. Ridgway, Philadelphia, Pa., claims the name
PocoNO, for lemon belton setter dog puppy, whelped April 12 1883
by Jester— Kathleen. * *

MiLLBOURNE, for black and white setter dog puppv, whelped April 12
1883, by Jester— Kathleen. * *

Darby, for black and white setter dog puppy, whelped April 12
1883, by Jester- Kathleen. '

Idlbwood, for black and white setter bitch puppy, whelped April 12
1883, by Jester— Kathleen. *

Casino, for black and white setter bitch puppy, whelped April 12

1883, by Jester— Kathleen. '

Minne-ha-ha, black and white setter bitch puppy, whelped April 12

1883, by Jester— Kathleen. '

Bessie, for black and white setter bitch puppy, whelped April 12

1883, by Jester-Kathleen. *

Kate, for black and white setter bitch puppy, whelped April 12 1888

by Jester— Kathleen. • * »

Jersey Bell, for black and white setter bitch puppy, whelped April

12, 1888, by Jester-Kathleen.
Mr. J. A. Rockwood, West Medford, Mass., claims the name
Lady Berwyn, for black, white and tan setter bitch puppy, whelped

June 2, 1883, by Dashing Berwyn— May Druid.
May Bbrwyn, for black, white and tan setter bitch puppy, whelped

June 2, 1888, by Dashing Berwyn— May Druid.
Mr. Otto Moebes, Rowland, Ala., claims the name
RoLLo Jr., for black, white and tan setter dog puppy, by Rollo (LIfly

Maud Muller) Margo— (Lincoln— Queen).
Maud Buumhy, for black, white and tan setter bitch puppy, by Rollo

(Lofty— Maud Muller)— Margo (Lincoln— Queen).
Prince Lofty, for lemon and white setter dog puppy, by Rollo

(Lofty -Maud Muller)— Margo (Lincoln -Queen).
Count Lincx)ln, for lemon .and white setter dog puppy, by Rollo

(Lofty— Maud Muller)- Margo (Lincoln -Queen).
Fancy M., for black, white and tan setter bitch puppy, by Gleam (Lin-
coln-Bla/.e)-Lady Elgin (Carlowitz— Queen Bess).
Flirt M., for lemon belton setter bitch puppy, by Gleam (Lincoln—

onx

bitches, to Mr. E. W. Jeste^vSt. Georges, Del.
Irish Chief— Pride, red Irish ^^tter bitch puppy, to Mr. A. P. Hart
Charlevoix, Mich. >.

Irish Chief— Pride, red Irish setterXtch puppy, to Mr. H. H. U&w,
man, Sioux City, Iowa. ^v^

Red Chief, red Irish setter dog puppy, to ik, H. H. Hawman,

City, Iowa. . >ij^

Mr. H. H. Winslow, Liberty, Mo., has presented a
Buckellew— Sally, orange and white setter dog puppy, to fLr. J. M.

Sturges, Philadelphia, Pa.

Buckellew— Sally, orairge and white setter dog puppy, t#Dr. E. H.

Miller, Liberty, Mo.
Buckellew— Sally, orange and white setter bitch pupfy, to Mr.

G. Markland, Warrensburg, Mo.
Mr. W. C. Niblett, Dundas, Can., has sold ,♦

Argus— Medea, black and tan setter dog puppy, to Mr. B R. Niblett,
Dunville, Can. j

Argus— Medea, black and tan setter bitch puppies (a l*ace), to Mr.
R. J. McKill, Simcoe, Can. f

Argus— Medea, black and tan setter bitch puppy, to Mf. R. V. Som-
erville, Dundas, Can. I

Mr. J. A. Rockwood, West Medford, Mass., has sold ? *

Lady Berwyn, black, white and tan setter bitch pnppyl by Dashing

Berwyn -May Druid, to Mr. W. B. Peck, Pawtucket, i I.
May Berwyn, black, white and tan setter bitch puppyf by Dashing
i Berwyn— May Druid, to Mr. C. Fred Crawford, Pawtudket, R. I.
Mr. Otto Moebes, Rowland, Ala., has sold ('

Rollo Jr., black, white and tan setter dog puppy, by ^llo— Margo,

to Mr. T. M. Brumby, Marietta, Ga. T

Count Lincoln, lemon and white setter dog puppy, by AoUo— Margo,
to Major E. D. Lawrence, Louisville, Ky. T

Mr. E. 8. Wanmaker, Elm wood, N. C, has sold
Dusk, black and white ticked pointer dog puppy, by ^tobert Lee-
Darkness, to Mr. B. F. Long, Pittsburgh, Pa.
Twilight, black and white ticked pointer puppy, by Koliert Lee-
Darkness.
Mr. Ed Shultz, Danville, 111., has exchanged i

Daisy Queen, liver and white pointer bitch puppy, by Clipper -Bow
Queen, with the Sioux City Kennels, for Neptune II,', Irish water
spaniel dog puppy, by Neptune- Daisy. \

Mr. B. M. Stephenson, La Grange, Tenn., has presented
Patrick Henry, blue belton setter dog puppy, by Gladstone— Fawn
to Dr. Wm. J. Cannon, Lambert, Tenn. \

Mr. R. M. Boyd, Racine, Wis., has sold \

Dictator, English setter dog, by Rake-Phyllls, to Mr. J. I. Case.
Racine, Wis. u

Mr. T. H. Gibbes, Colusa, Cal., has presented • \

Ebx— Countess Bbss, black, white and tan setter dog puApy, to Mr

Geo. R. Wright, Wilkesbarre, Pa.

Deaths, Etc.— We make no charge for Inserting deaths, sales, names
claimed, visits, whelps ; and all owners and breeders of dogs are re-
quested to send them in.

Mr. P. W. Schuyler, Saratoga Springs, N. Y., has lost by death
Sam, black and tan setter dog, from poisoning.

Tattycoram, English setter bitch, by Breckinridge's Dan— Grouse
Fly, from poisoning.

Dr. J. J^^JThornton, MarshalUown, Iowa, has lost by death
.IE Grant, English setter bitch, from heart disease,
jr. Wm. VanBrunt, Horicon, Wis., has lost by death
Starlight, imported foxhound bitch, from poisoning.

THE RUGGED ROCKS OF THE ACCOMAS.

To visit the old rock-rooted town of Accoma, I took the
Atlantic and Pacific Railroad from Alberquerque westward
some eighty miles to McCarthy, where I arrived in the
middle of the night. There is as yet no hotel accommoda-
tion at McCarthy, but having telegraphed ahead I was pro-
vided with a perfectly neat little room at the section house.

The place is pleasantly situated on a stream on the Acco-
ma reservation. Some of these townspeople live in stone
or adobe houses in the neighborhood of McCarthy during
the farming season, and cultivate by irrigation fields of con-
siderable extent. But at the time of my visit, which is the
dry season, there was much more water than is now utilized
in this manner. There are in the place the potentialities
of an e.xceedingly pleasant resort. To the south there are
bluffs, to the north there are mountains on one lofty peak
of which, was still remaining a bed of snow in the middle
of June. Since the sand rock of the sea has been carefully
lifted in its natural horizontal position many thousand feet
in height, since the watery elements and the agencies of
the air, with a duration and force of which we can form no
adequate conception, have eroded these rocks into a series
of plains one below the level of another for thousands of
feet in depth, and from the lowest of these plains or tables
has cut out the valley where now fiows the only prominent
stream of the Immediate neighborhood, the Internal fires
have sent forth rivers of molten lava wlilch have rolle<l
down from the craters over table after table, and finally In
places over this last formed little valley. This volcanic ac-
tlon has been recent, but how recent It would be difficult U)
say. It would be Interesting to follow the lava to Its sources,
to prospect Its sharp fissures and caverns, and It would'
be nice to drink of a Summer day of the Ice-water trickling
from the edge of a soft bed of snow, and then to descend in
the cool of the evening to a homelike hostelry among
shaied lawns and flowers and rippling waters. Time and
money will doubtless accomplish all this, but for the pres-
ent the traveler must be content with such facilities as a

I lO

THE AMERICAN FIELD!

Aug. 4, J

substantial purse and the good will of the people can give
him in the desert.

The next morning was cool and delightful, in the air
there was something like the volatile essence of champaigne
which, when drawn into the well-expanded lungs vivi-
fied the blood and caused a mild feeling of exhilaration to
l>ervade the whole system. I mounted my broncho with a
feeling akin to delight, and leisurely started southwardly
across that valley, not forgetting to pluck a wild red rose on
the banks of the stream as I crossed it.

I had intended to procure a guide, but the fortunate
owner of tlie broncho assured me that the road was plain,
and a guide quite unnecessary. I had some slight misgiv-
ings, nevertheless, and when I met with a pictures({ue
irroup (»f Accomas at a spring, I managed after a fashion
to iisk them whether I was taking the right course. Re-
assured on this point, I proceeded at a fair gallop, some-
times near a wagon track, sometimes following one of the
numerous trails of the Accoma flocks. My broncho was
barefooted and tender of hoof, and I allowed him to take
such a course as was most merciful to his feet. The high
«»r(Kled walls were ev.^r changing inform, and the monotony
of the valley was also relieved with the dwarf cedar, the
t ane cactus and other bushes and plants that struggle for
existence in a dry land.

I had never had an opportunity to examine the cane
< H(!tus lM»fore and It Interested me much. Let the reader
imagine a slender cucumber, some four or five Inches long,
of the dull green color of the sage leaf. Its warts of an
oval shape three times as long as they are wide, and Its
little thorns elongated and strengthened into formidable
weapons. This seems to be what I raav call the unit of
irrowth of the cane cactus. On the ena of this formidable
Httle womly cucumber grows another, and another on that,
till the string of cucumbers reaches from five or even six
teet in height. At the base other little cucumbers start out
sidewise, joint after joint, and grow nearly as high as the
central series. And occasionally at various distances from
the ground, erratic cucumbers will start out sidewise from
the cucumber joints of the cactus stems. The result is a
thick bush of thorns without leaves, bearing yellow flowers
on its terminal points, and having a circumference four to
six times its heiffht. When it dies and the softer parts de-
cay, the woody fiber is found to be a strong and beautiful
open network, the intricacies of which remind one of the
elaborate carving of India and China. I imagine that it is
but seldom that any of the stems are straight and perfect,
and of the proper size, but when such ones are found they
make strong and serviceable and most beautiful canes.

In a little while I found the wagon trail at times entirely
obliterated by drifting sand, but the general direction of
the valley seemed to me to be correct, and I followed it till
in an hour or so after starting I found that the wagon trail
was entirely gone. What was to be done V Should I re-
trace my steps and start again with a guide ? No; I would
rather gain tiie high table land to the right and take an
observation. Accoma is upon a lofty rock. Perhaps my
field glass will enable me to see it In the distance, and thus
to find my way. There was a break in the wall to the
right where a side cafion came down, and toward that there
seemed to be a concentration of sheep trails. Thither I
picked my way, and found in the cafion a well-beaten trail
of sheep and of horses. This trail grew more and more
(lithcult, and in some places my horse refused it till I dis-
mounted and led him, while In other places I must needs
dismount because the close low limbs of the cedars would
not otherwise permit me to pass. The last portion of the
ascent was the worst of all, but this surmounted in safety,
I found no signs of ancient Accoma. The table land was
covered with dwarf cedars obscuring the view; but from
its highest points I could see over the tops of the cedars
for many miles. In front, however, it rose gently into a
hill, beyond which only the tops of some mountain .tables
were seen in the far distance. And to the left at the dis-
tance of perhaps a mile was a lofty table towering above
this a thousand feet at the least. That was the direction in
which I had hoped to find the object of my search. Should
I mount that table and find it ? Was it not impossible ? I
could not tell. Near the top was a wall, perpendicular, at
least 100 feet high, and I ccmld not see a break in it for a
mile or more, the whole distance that I could confer with
my glass. But beyond that there was a long ridge which
seemed to unite the table on which I stood with the one I
would like to surmount. At the top of the ridge there
might be a gap through that perpendicular wall. Could I
but reach the high table, I was satisfied that the extended
view to be obtained would well reward the effort, and that
I should have an excellent chance of finding Accoma into
the bargain. My own powers of climbing are good. I had
no misgiving as to my being able to mount to the upper
table myself. But I could not carry the broncho, although
he was of moilerate size, nor could I leave him behind to
return and find him in the cedar brush with nothing but a
broken pocket knife with which to blaze my trail upon the
trees for miles. I galloped my broncho to the crest in
front, perhaps a couple of miles. No sign of Accoma was
there and I turned to thread ray way through the thick
^^rowih of cedai's on the ridge. Sometimes the interlock-
fng l)ranches were impassable, and I had to get around
them as bei^t I could. Sometimes I had to remove a
fallen cedar; sometimes to roll away the larger atones of a
r«Nkv slide before my horiie would venture his feet upon
it i lore amlthere Ideiieended Into an unexpected gulch
to toll up the oppoiilt© wide In the blazing sun. And at last
iiM I near^d the tfrent perpendlcuUr wall, and Hftw with
pliMiMur^ whut mluht prove a paH-iabl© gap, I eami to n
heavy »»IUI^ <d' hiv^» rtH^ki*. U would have h^m^ n trlHe for
mt* to climb over; rtml 1 hnvn rhUbn rtn m\\m\ that emUd
taki» m« iHf#ly t^v^r It tm \\U \mk. My broncho w^i not ^
bad oBi, but for him thii ulld© waw utterly ImpaMftbl^, nnd
I wap* mimpellwUo return aft^r I had almogt gained the
Mummlt of my impeii. And the return Itself, though more
raphl than the ancent, was none too easy. I could not very
\\k\ return upim my trail. I came upon a perpendicular
wall which I had avohled In the ascent and upon the top of
which I had to tliread the mazes of a stout growth of cedars
till I found a gap. But I gained the plain at last, my horse
felt happy In l>elng turned from the dlftlcultles of the
mountain climb. I made for the open, found my back
trail, reached the canon and descended again to the valley.
>lv mouth was parched, my lips was cracke<l ; it was with
soine difficulty tliat I could move my tongue. But I sped
on, and at the end of two long miles I came across four
Accomas herding a drove of horses, some of them quite
tine ones. One of the men bore a fiat jug, which contained
the elixir of life, of wliich I partook freely and was
happy again. The bearer of the water jug was a stroncly-
built good-looking, intelligent young fellow, and I tried to

make him understand that I was looking for Accoma---that
I had lost mv way — and that 1 had a dollar for him if he
would ride with me to the town. The only words we knew
in common Accoma and the Spanish for horse, water, and
dollar. But pantomime and good will helped us out. He
said he couldn't go with me because he had to take care of
the horses. I told him the horses weren't worth a button,
and I would give him a whole dollar if he would go with
me, and besides that, if he cared for those miserable brutes,
there were three ojher fellows to leave with them, any-
how. Perhaps it was just as convenient that he didn't un-
derstand the whole of this ; but he understood peeos (dollar),
and he good-naturedly told me he would show me the wav.
A brisk gallop soon put us in a well-defined wagon track,
and he told me that Accoma was over the hill. I urged
that he should go clear to Accoma with me, but on that
point he was inflexible, he could not leave the horses. So
I gave him his dollar and went it ahme. The hill was a
long one. It brought me almost out of the valley on top
of the next table land. At the top I fully expected to see
Accoma In the distance, but I did not, the road was plain,
and I galloped down another long slope Into another deep
valley, also bounded by high tables with Inaccessible walls.
Out of the deep valley again a long upward slope brought
me to the high table with still a plain road.

Here for the first time I saw in bloom a most beautiful
cluster cactus with, as It seemed to me, a thousand buds
and velvet flowers of the richest crimson, i^ull of rich
juices in a land of poverty and utter drouth, it reclined In
more.than regal splendor, and my fancy recalled the chur-
lish words of the Khan Allgettl of eastern fame:

** I have gathered and I keep,
Hunger, thirst, are naught to me;
Passer oy, you must not touch,
But my glory you may see.''

But there is a marked difference between the royal cac-
tus and the regal Khan, for the former has gathered by the
proper and most wonderful use of its own natural powers,
and is so terribly armed only in self defence ; while the
war-like array of the Khan was for robbing his weaker fel-
lows; and for holding as his own what he coulli never have
claimed as a matter of right.

But I had little time for the beautiful cactus; I urged on
my jaded beast till on reaching the highest point on the
table, I saw a deep valley ahead in which were many de-
tached towers and lofty pinnacles of rock. Somewhere
among these, said I, is the rock of Accoma. But now my
road turned off far to the right, and I dared not forsake it,
although a very distinct trail led straight for the valley,
which contained these wonderful erosions. Onward I gal-
loped, mile after mile, and at last, by a steep descent, I
turned into the head of this same valley, which I followed
' down for some miles. The road bore again to the right,
toward a huge rock, and still I could see nothing of Accoma,
nothing that to my eye resembled a place of human habita-
tion. I passed some of the wonderful pillars and rocks, I
passed through a field of corn, and Accoma was on the
rock before me. To the right, partly burled, in a sand
drift, was a wagon, and beyond it extended nearly to the
top of the rock, a hu^e drift of sand, for a distance of three
hundred yards. I climbed the sand drift, following the
tracks of burros and of horses that had gone before me ;
but at the very top my broncho was confronted by a perpen-
dicular wall. What should I do? Tired, hungry and
thirsty, my horse played out, must I retrace my steps and
hunt for the entrance to Accoma? Not if I could help it.
On a rock I discovered three timbers. I mounted to them,
turned one so as to overhang, and to it I fastened my horse.
I then climbed to the top, saw the town, and made ray
rough way over the rugged rocks toward it. At a little
distance I saw sorae of the picturesaue belles of the town.
I called and beckoned, and maae the pleasantest face I
could possibly muster, but all in vain. They scampered
away like a herd of young colts from a big, black, snorting
locomotive. I saw others, and tried with no better success.
But I came to a house where a man was standing outside.
In pantomime and bad Spanish I asked him to show me
the way to " la casa de Signor Bibo," the house of Mr. Bibo,
the trader. But he understood neither the Spanish nor the
pantomirae. Luckily another man came down frora the
roof, or to speak raore accurately, from the house above,
built upon the roof of that one, and whether he understood
my Spanish or my pantomirae, or both, or whether he
sagely concluded that whatever my desires Mr. Bibo was
the man to understand them ; he took me at once to the
store of the trader, and this store, by the way, is on top of a
house. It was just upon 5 o'clock. I and my poor beast
had been b"oiling in the hot sun the livelong day, and we
had got just about sixteen miles from eur starting point. A
man was dispatched for the horse, and I speedily assumed
a recumbent position while a substantial repast was being
prepared.

When thirst was assuaged and hunger appeased, and I
was somewhat rested withal, I learned what I could of
queer old Accoma. Like the castles on the high hills of
the Rhine, Accoma was built on a rock in the a^es before
the advent of the Spaniard, the better to protect it from the
attacks of its enemies. But its natural defences are far
better than theirs ever were. The little town might easily
be laid In ruins by modern artillery, but the rock Itself and
the lives of Its people, well defended even with small arms,
would be safe against any assaults. The rock Is, I should
think, about HOO feet high ; It Is perpendicular, Irregular,
and eroded Into bastions, ' and pinnacles, and arches, and
various fantastic forms, In som© places gre»t clefts run
from the top to the bottom. The top Is flat, hut by no
means smooth. It Is of some fifty or sixty aeres In extent, and
the town Is built on the smoothest part of It. Three rows
of houses, mi ^t right angles by a cross street or alley, com^
prise the town. Tie houses are tliree stories high, they
have scarcely an opening to the outside In a whole block,
and as they are of !ne same color with the rock, It Is
not strange that 1 did not recognl/.e the town In
the distance. There was nothing to distinguish It
froni a long natural wall of perpendicular rock, with
an eroded gap In the center where It is bisected by the
alley. Strictly speaking, a three-story house Is three
houses. The first story is finished complete with strong
timbers overhead, a willow stick celling above the timbers
and a heavy dirt roof on the top. The small windows are
glazed with mica or gypsum. I saw one slieet of mica
which I judged to measure about twenty inches by twelve.
The entrance to the lower story is from above. The front of
the second story is flush with that of the fir.st, but it does not
run so far back, thus it leaves a little bac^k yard on tlie top
of the first story. And the third story is fiush at the front and
recedes from the rear like the second, so that in general
outline a house in Accoma is like stone horse-blocks of

three steps. Between the houses the walls run up two
feet or more, thus separating the several back-yards. Tliere
being no outside door in the'first story and the whole house
being accessible only by ladders, it follows that when these
are drawn up each house becomes a somewhat formidable
castle.

The people seemed to have a sufficiency of room in their
several dwellings; and yet they were overcrowded. This
comes of the fact that the lower and larger story is dark,
dismal and inconvenient. They hybernate in the lower
story, but in the Summer they prefer overcrowding above to
the discomforts of the regions below.

The water supply is a great curiosity. It consists of a
natural reservoir in the rock, some thirty feet or more be-
low the general level of the top. I should think it at least
a quarter of a mile from the nearest house, and it takes
some clambering up and down the rocks and over a big
sand drift to get to the water, which is nice and cool, evi-
dently a living fountain or spring. I suppose that nearly
on a level with this reservoir Is a stratum of almost Im-
pervious rock, and that In the rainy seascm much of the
water that falls sinks Into the sand rock, from which It very
gradually seeps into the reservoir during the rest of the
year. I had not time to examine Into this as an actual
fact, but I can account for the ((uantlty of the water In no
other way. It would seem also that the strata must hollow
or cup slightly toward the center of the rock, else the water
would seep out at many places and be lost. From the
burying ground to the water is a long way, but I fear tliere
may be some connection between them, and this may possi-
bly go far to account for the slender number of the people
of Accoma.

The old church is a large substantial structure In partial
decay, built where it is with very great patience, pains and
trouble, when, no doubt, these people were considered as
the peons or slaves of the church. It is surrounded by
cloisters, and it is probable that here dwelt manv' a
monk. Whether their presence had any substantial effect
upon the blood of the race is for others to determine, but
ignorant as they are I consider the Accomas on the whole
a handsomer race than the common Mexicans. That these
people, naturally quick-witted and intelligent, know noth-
ing of Spanish, that none of them can read, write or cipher,
is an ineffable disgrace to the branch of the Catholic church
which pretends to have converted them, and which
certainly reduced them to subjection, and made use of their
unrequited labor. It seems to have taught the poor
Accomas nothing but a few foolish mummeries, less
impressive than their own rites, and which these people
politely received and secretly despised. What must have
been the toil with which these poor slaves bore to the top
of this high rock the heavy timbers which support the
roof of the church. There is now but little to be gained
from them and an occasional call from a wandering priest
is sufficient for a town whose spiritual needs were formerly
supplied by a bevy of monks.

The cemetery is a small plat close to the church, partly
made ground on a sloping portion of the rock on which its
outer wall is built up some forty feet from below. The
dead are buried in their clothes wrapped in a blanket.
After they are slightly covered in the sand, and in the dust
of their ancestors, it is trodden well down around and
above them till the grave is completely filled. So the whole
space is dug over, and then burial begins anew at the first
point. Thus the remains get very much mixed, and small
human bones might be gathered in considerable quantities
from the top of the ground. However revolting this may
seem, it is probably the best that is available for the
Accomas as long as they bury their dead on the top of the
rock. The dry dust and sand coming in close contact with
the body absorb and destroy the poisons of decomposition
much more rapidly and thoroughly than they would do If
coffins were used ; and the health of the community is less
jeopardized in consequence.

I met the governor and head men in a sort of council
They told me that they had been defrauded out of a por-
tion of the land that was assured to them by a Spanish
grant. I told them frankly that they were open to all
species of overreaching and fraud as long as they could
neither speak, read, nor write the English language. The
governor said if they could get a good school they would
learn English. He stated that fifty or sixty children would
constantly attend a good school in the valley below. I sin-
cerely wish they had a good school in the valley, and that
they could be induced to build houses there, and gradually
to desert the desolate rock. The raere labor of carrying
water there is a drudgery tnat I fancy few can quite realize
without trying it themselves. And the wood has all to be
brought from a distance, and packed to the top on the backs
of the burros. There is no way by which a wagon can
reach the top, and there is one trail only for burros and
horses. The people themselves clamber over the rock with
surprising agility, and they delight in going where no one
else would care to follow. But is not always safe even for
them. Recently a young woman missed her footing in de-
scending an almost perpendicular cleft and she was in-
stantly dashed to pieces below.

I visited the water 'tanks" in the morning and was much
Interested in the lithesome maidens, bearing well-balanced
upon their heads, large and shapely jars of water, with
which they scaled the rocks with apparent ease, and with
natural gracefulness of motion. Such was Rachel at the
well, and such the water vessel that she carried, and I
doubt If that dusky maiden was any more comely to look
upon than one or two of the equally Ignorant, equally well,
taught children of Aceoma.

Tliese people are but two or three hundred souls living
apart froni»all the world, speaking a language not well m
derstood even by the other townspeople aborigines of the
West. Close and eonitantly recurring Intermarriages are
the necessary result. Are they the belter or the worse In
consequence ? They live In what Is really a garrlscm town,
overcrowded In necessary drudgery and dirt, and with a
scant supply of water. Occasional ccmtact with the whites

{elves themsmall-pox and other diseases that they know
Ittle about. They are decimated In consejpience. Does
the "survival of the fittest," which we suppose on the ave-
rage to result, leave a better resldum, or are the remain-
der so much deteriorated In the cruel process of selection
that tliey are mentally and physically no better, or are per
haps even worse on the average tlian tlie whole race would
be if living in a happier environment? These are ques-
tions for the philosophers to answer, but for one I would
give tliem the happier environment if I could, and take my
chances on the increase and deterioration of tlie Accoma

tlie men were aw ay for the day, but I had an excellent op-
portunity for observing the women at the trader's store. A
strong, neat, and comely young matron came in. She was
shy of a stranger. I admired her trinkets. She was not
displeased at the admiration, and she allowed me to ex-
amine them. The trader assured me that a necklace of hol-
low silver bemls of native workmanship that she wore w^as
worth a good pony. Besides this she had the value of a
cow and a calf on her neck, in the shape of a necklace of
coral.

A few nickels that I gave to young children were
clutched with eager shyness. I offered a trifiing trinket to
the pretty young maiden who had brought the water for
the trader's use. She w^ould not take it. He explained to
her that I offered it because I thought she was a nice and
honest young girl ; her brother, a man of thirty or more
years, approved, and she gladly made away with the
bauble. A critical taste for finery Is innate in every true
woman's heart. The dress of the Accoma belles is made up
with a fine eye for effect. It is modest and plcturesfpie,
but a full (fescrlpticm would ])rovoke a smile from the
belles of the East. Yet, why should they laugh at their
dusky sisters? In the true icsthetlcs of dress is there any
necessary place for a fancy apron ? When It takes Its turn
in the round of fashion, being entirely for ornament and
nothing for use, might It not just as well be placed on the
hip, or the shoulders, or anywhere else, as In front? And
what is prettier than a bright colored printed silk 'kerchief
worth from two to three dollars? Why should It not
make a very fine fancy apron with very little trouble? And
why should It not, as a bright cotton makeshift. If the silk
is not to be had, be worn squarely behind, as by the belles
of Accoma, instead of in front, like the girls of Gotham ?

In a family that I visited with the trader a pretty married
daughter was cooking bread. This bread is a preparation
of simple salt, water and flour, baked in a manner unhjue,
on a sandstone prepared in a peculiar way. A small fire
under the sandstone keeps it of an even temperature. The
hand is dipped into the batter and brushed lightly over the
stone, leaving a thin film like translucent paper, which
cooks immediately, is removed by both hands, and replaced
by another. It is a long, tedious job to bake a good sup-
ply of this filmy family bread. But when prepared it is
palatable and nice, and notwithstanding the want of leaven
it is easily digested. Aft<?r the necessary introductions, I
became quite chatty with the family, in the awkward
fashion which requires an interpreter. As I rose to depart
I had to shake hands all round. As I came to the baker of
bread, she deliberately dipped her hand in the batter, and
offered the grasp of friendship. I did not fiinch from the
ordeal, but gave a hearty shake, and they till thought It an
excellent joke on the part of the demure young madam.

In the course of the afternoon the shorter trail across the
valley and up the side of the opposite table, was pointed
out to rae by the courteous trader, and I took my departure.
I went down by the burro trail, forgetting that, as I had
scaled the rock by another way, I should very likely in*
out of my reckoning when I got to the bottom. It was a
descent of which my horse did not at all approve, and I
had to lead him a portion of the way. Once arrived at the
bottom I found pillars of Hercules, (.\>lossi of Hhcxles,
AVashlngton Monuments, Bunker Hill Obelisks and Ueo-
patra's needles very much mixed. I wandered about
anumg them with great admiration, and thoroughly nriystl-
fied as to the trail which had appeared so clear through my
field glass from the rock of Accoma. But at last I found
the two Colossi, which had been pointed out to guide me,
and between them the trail that I sought. Thence I crossed
the sandy plain to a spring or little water *'tank," whence
I made my way up the almost perpendicular face of the
cliff to the table above, close to a ledge of igneous rock,
which filled a huge perpendicular fissure in the horizontal
sandstone of the cliff.

I have visited the Garden of the Gods, made famous m
descriptions of Colorado, and it interested me much, but
these pillars and towers and lofty pinnacles in the valley of
Accoma are much finer, much more worthy of a visit than
those, and I trust that steps will be taken to make them
more accessible to the traveling public.

When to the attractions of these curious rocks we add
,those of the strangest little city on the continent, it certain-
Iv behooves the railway company whose line goes so near
to Accoma, to be prompt in obtaining comfortable facilities
for travelers to visit the strange valley and the wonderful
rock of Accoma. With such facilities this should become
a very important resort of tourists and trans-continental
travelers. And I trust that the railway company in dealing
with these poor ignorant townspeople of Accoma will not
attempt to overreach them, but will freely give t/> them as
much for the facilities obtained as a white man could
exact Let them deal liberally with the townspeople, and
let the public know how they deal. It will be ^ no loss to
the railway company, but it will be an advertisement al-
most unique and exceedingly profitable.

I returned to McCarthy well pleased with my trip, not-
withstanding my little misadventures on the outward jour-
ney. I P«id six dollars for the use of the broncho, which
was too dear. He was not worth forty dollars, all told, and
he costs nothing to keep.

It might be a good plan for the railway people to Iniluce
the Accomas to undertake the letting of ponies and the
guiding of travelers till such time as regular stages are set
to running. They have some good ponies, they could be
trusteil In the service, I think they would l)e satisfied with
a dollar each way for the ponies, and a dollar each way for
the guide, and even If It were much more there would h*^
soma satisfaction to tht* trav^l#r In knowing that so much
of his exi)**ndlture at least w#nt to the l>eneflt of tlieNe poor
people of tht* City of th^ hofty U<Hik.

Fl.OlilDA <

Oranges,'' whl

Tlv

is,c4l<iP».— Head the X'lvertlsement •' Klorldu
ppears In thls/ssue.

Amkutcan FiKi.i);

UKmths. Clubs of tl
year each.

iptlon, %\ per year, f2 for six
to any address, $Jl per

race.

The people are not all of them poor, some of them own a
considerable number of horses and sheep. Nearly all of

Our PiKKiUK'^s.— Ai Btav;*»8 are quicKiy ai)Hn<i(>mstl with tlin coinpl**
tion of railroadfl, «n the hue**, (Irawtir, cathartic plUn, coniposed of
crude and bulkv m*»diclnee, are quickly abandoned with the intro-
duction of Dr. PierceB " Piet«ant Purgative l»ellete," which are suirar
coated, and little lar!;er than mustard seedfl, but conipoeed of highly
concentrated vei^'etable extracts. By druggists.- .4rf/V. g

Journal of the Waahinp^ton Academy of
Sciences. Yol> 19. No/ 6. Proceedings:
Anthropological Society, pp 128-129^
March 19,^929.

On Tuesday, November 20, 1928, Dr. Matthew W. Stirling, Chief of
the Bureau of American Ethnology, spoke to the Society on The Acoma Origin
and Migration Legend, This legend tells the story of two girls, children of the
Sun, who were nurtured in the darkness within the earth. They were given
by their father two baskets containing miniature images by means of which
they were to create all living things on earth. On their emergence into the
light they began this work, creating also the gods which were to be of use to
the people. One of the sisters gave birth to twins, sons of the Rainbow.
Eventually the two sisters quarreled and separated, one, Nautciti, going
away to become mother of the white people. The other, latiku, married
Tiamuni, one of the sons of her sister, and remained to become mother of the
Aooma people. Each of her daughters when born was given a clan name.
After helping her children for many years latiku finally left them to their own
devices, after having given them full instructions as to their proper religious
observances. They were told that they must travel southward until they
reached a place called Hako which was to be their permanent home. Seven
times they stopped and built their pueblo only to have catastrophe overtake
them, when they would move on. During these periods many of their
medicine altars, ceremonies and societies had their origin. Their mythologi-
cal heroes were born and had their adventures. Other gods were added to
their pantheon. Finally Hako was located and the present Acoma built on
the rock where it now stands.

^O'VvveL

THB LAMOa

TMC ft4fM KX9AMD TMK

THE LAND OP-ewS

SUNSHINE

VOL. 15, NO. 5

NOVCMBFR. 1901

A Week of Wonders

BY CHMS. r. LVMMiS

URELY, if slowly, an almost human in-
telligence as to our own country beg^ins
to penetrate the Darkest East. To those
of us who have been for well-nigh twenty
years belaboring that preoccupied skull with
a certain Idea, there has been perhaps rather
much suggestion of the processes alleged to be
necessary to introduce a joke to the Scotch noggin
— or of the sequel to one of Depew'^s after-dinner
stories at a London banquet. A fortnight
later he met Lord Blank. **D'je know, Mr. Depew, it
has just come to me that you were joking-.**

" By freight, I see/' answered Chauncey blandly.
But if by freight rather than express, it is at last really
coming to" the more permeable Kastemer that we were
not joking all these years when we assured him that the
World's Wonderland is not in Kurope, not in Egypt, not in
Asia, but in the West of our own United States ; that area
for area no other land on earth is half so crowded with
marvels of the first magnitude and of such range — in anti-
quities, scenery, anthropology and picturesquenesses in
every sort. On a modest scale, at last — heretofore, the
scale was immodestly small to such as care for the good
name of a country believed to have brains — Americans are
beginning to peck at this incomparable treasure-house.
No man now young might hope to exhaust its infinite
variety ; not half a hundred people have ever seriously
entered upon large comprehension of it ; tens of millions

316

LAND OF SUNSHINE.

of Americans know as much about it as the)^ do of Mars.
But it is a distinct gain when even a few thousands arouse
suflBcientl)' to attempt its A, B, C.

A party by no means to be reckoned as ''tenderfoot,"
nor open to the general reproach of unpatriotic neglect
and ignorance of our own Wonder-Book, has just made a
Little Journey in the Wilderness — by which others might
profit. They had no supernatural powers. They were
just People, like the rest of us. They came out alive and
hearty — neither *' scalped by Indians," of whom they saw
some thousand, nor murdered by Western desperados, two
or three of whom ministered unto their thirst for archaeo-
logic knowledge : nor even overtaken with the crack of
doom because of remotenesses from railroads and hotels.
They came out richer for sights and experiences they will
not forget. A hasty sketch of what they did in a week,
and how, in " hitting the high places" of a little part of
the Southwestern Wonderland, may be of use in pricking
others. There is no structural reason why anyone of toler-
able mind and body may not go and do likewise — and even
more. One does not have to be a railroad magnate or a
retired millionaire in order to ''see things." All it takes
is brains enough to care to see them, pluck enough to
follow where women and children have led, and about the
same money one would expect to spend in the same time in
jumping the usual shadows with the rest of the sheep.

A special train of four private cars left Albuquerque,
N. M., by the "Santa Fe Route" at 11.45 p.m., Oct. 21,
carrying E. P. Ripley, President of the Atchison, Topeka
& Santa Fe R.R., his wife, son Frederick, daughters Miss
Ripley and Mrs. Jerome A. Ellis, Jerome A. Ellis, Miss
Snyder, Miss Payson, Mrs. J. R. McColl ; Paul Morton,
First Vice-President (son of J. Sterling Morton, of Cleve-
land's Cabinet, the founder of Arbor Day); J. W. Kendrick,
Third Vice-President, with his wife ; Howel Jones, a
director ; J. A. Post ; A. G. Wells, General Superintendent
of the Santa Fe Pacific R.R., and his wife; Ford C.
Harvey, head of the longest and best line of railway eat-
ing-houses in the world ; H. Maratta, the well-known
artist, a "pilot," and the inseparable corps of stenog-
raphers.

Sidetracked at the lone section-house of Cubero, 72 miles
west of Albuquerque, we saw the sun rise on the 22nd.
Robert Marmon, a reliable "old-timer," was at the train
at 7.30 with his caravan of comfortable wagons and good
teams driven by their Indian owners, and a few saddle-
horses — all from the Indian pueblo of Laguna, where he
lives. The tail-end of October is alread)^ late for an alti-

The "Split Trail/' Acoma.

Photo, by Chas. F. Lummis.

The Camino Del Padke, Acoma

Phoio. bvChas. F. LumIlli^».

A WEEK OF WONDERS.

319

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Photo, by Chas. F. Lumniis.
LoKENSO Lino, Goveknok of Acoma in 19J1.

tude of near 7,000 feet, and a faint ^^^==1^ was on ; but it
could not dampen people who see such sifjhts through it.

Up the cliff-rimmed valley which opens southward from
Cub?ro (named for the Spanish Governor of the Territory
in 1696) past mesas [table rocks] still crowned with the
iuins of stone towns whose story was already forgotten
when Coronado came by here in 1540 ; past the Ventana (a
wind-eroded "window" in a fine and lofty butte of sand-

320

LAND OF SUNSHINE.

stone; past the superb cliff-'' island'' of the Enchanted
Mesa, on which a Princeton Professor tried to kill an
Indian legend, and succeeded only in killing^ his own repu-
tation ; and on to the peerless Rock of Acoma, "the City in
the Sky," the procession wound, amid the titan peSoles
which sentinel that enchanted vMey.

Leaving: their " transportation" at the foot of the great
cliflf, the party clambered up the Camino del Padre — the
wonderfully picturesque "stone ladder" by which the
Apostle of the Acomas, Fray Juan Ramirez, ascended in
1629 amid a hail of arrows and with a famous miracle.
But now there were no embattled warriors. When the
party had scaled the wild trail they were received at the
top by the Principales and Lorenso Lino, governor of this
little cliff-republic, in all the circumstance of a drab
"stove-pipe" and the hereditary cane presented to the
governor of Acoma nearly 40 years ago by one A. Lincoln.

The Acomas have their own (though not eccentric) ideas
as to the average tourist, and I have known them many
times to turn unceremonious visitors away from the foot of
their lofty rock ; so it is well to come introduced. Several
good Acoma friends of mine, now, were most active in
" running me off" 17 years ago.

Thanks to arrangements through Simon Bibo, the long-
time trader at Laguna, we had not only welcome but accom-
modations. The governor's big living-room was prepared
for the ladies. The men were housed in the home of that
dear and wise old man, now nine years dead, Martin Valle,
Principal Mayor, and many times governor of Acoma. A
third very large room was devoted to eating.

In spite of such a Scotch mist as very rarely befalls in
New Mexico, the party enjoyed every moment of its sojourn
in this strange aerial town, exploring, as thoroughly as
might be in so brief a time, a place in which any active
person could find some new wonder every hour of every
day for a month. The pueblo of Acoma stands on a
roughly-oval table-rock, with sides perpendicular or over-
hanging, 357 feet high. Its area on top is about 70 acres.
Its huge old church and monastery — with walls seven and a
half feet thick and forty feet high, with great timbers
brought on men's shoulders from Mt. San Mateo, 30 miles
away ; its graveyard nearly 200 feet square, over 40 feet
deep at the outer edge, boxed with a stone wall and filled
with sand brought up from the plain a man-load at a time ;
its famous old painting of San Jose, presented to the pueblo
by the King of Spain nearly three centuries ago,
and cause of a lawsuit (and almost a war) with
the pueblo of Laguna ; its terraced houses, three stories

Intp:rior of thk Old Church at Acoma. Photo, by Chas>. F. Luniino:>.

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The "Staircase Trail,"^ Acom \.

Photo, bj Ctaa<^ F. Lnmmis.

324

LAND OF SUNSHINE.

hijrh and in three blocks hundreds of yards long-
are a few of the things the party saw. Thev visited the
gentle, happy people at home, saw their way of life,
bought Navajo blankets, gay tinajas, silver bracelets and
earrings made by Vicente the silversmith, prehistoric
arrowheads of obsidian or brilliant agates, and other real
curios such as one does not find in the shops ; and had
many other experiences the average traveler would not ex-
pect to find in America and never did find elsewhere.

After lunch, all eight ladies of the party— and one gen-
tleman—descended the dizzy '* Split Trail,'' down which, I
believe, only six white women ever passed before. With
Mrs. Ripley in the lead, one by one and step by step they
were let down the precipitous throat of that wild cleft ;
were swung by main strength down and around a perpen-
dicular drop whose landing was a boulder 20 inches across,
and were handed around the precarious footholds of the
lower ledges. It was really a record to be proud of when
all stood safely at the bottom of that terrific precipice,
which not even a mountain sheep could climb.

One best understands both the beauty and the signific-
ance of Acoma only after proving the trails by which the
town is reached. The erosion of this, " the noblest single
rock in America/' has no known parallel, and certainly no
other town in the world is approachable only by such fear-
some paths.

From the foot of the '' Split Trair'— which cannot be
photographed reasonably— we turned a few hundred feet
south and came up the beautifully picturesque ''Staircase
Trail," with its little stone-hewn steps under towering
columns, under sacrificial caves, and close to the chasm
across which the soldier-poet Villagran made his wonderful
leap Jan. 23, 1599.

By the time we had ascended this third trail, we were
summoned to witness the dance Gov. Lino had ordered in
honor of the party. There is no space here to describe the
strange and impressive ceremonial we call ''an Indian
dance''— the measured beat of the (omhe, the perfect rhythm
of feet and voices, the symbolic gesturings, the dignity and
reverence of the whole rite. But those who have seen such
a function— even a hasty ''scratch" performance— do not
soon forget it. nor yet the kaleidoscopic groups of hushed
spectators upon the castellated housetops.

At 4 p.m. the officials felt constrained to return to the
world, and their wives accompanied them ; but five of the
ladies, the younger Mr. Ripley, Mr. Ellis and Mr. Maratta
remained on Acoma— and profited. The governor haled-in
two young braves in eagle-feather war-bonnets, who did a

The "*Stqi^-ove.ks " ax Acoma.
Ac tbv ouNmKrr olt tlftc OQd Mixia-^U'ry.

IMioio. by Clias. F. Lunitnis.

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i4 IVEEK OF WONDERS.

k1^ I

1-5

remarkable war-dance — a marvel of precision and rapidity
— in the spacious room. Later in the nigfht I found in an
upper dwelling — and was allowed to bring: the party to wit-
ness— a private performance worth crossing: the continent
to see- Alon;^ the north wall of the larg-e living-room an
Indian family sat lauo:hino: and applauding:. Upon a
blanket spread in front, full in the firelig:ht gflow, the four-
jear-old son, with eag:le feathers in his hair and no other
incumbrance than a slender G-string:, stepped a sacred
dance to the s^ng: and pat-pat of his father. The other
face!»> shone with love and pride, and white teeth flashed in
fond laugrhter, but the little man who danced before God
was ini&nitely serious. Not one of our wide-traveled audi-
ence preteimded to have seen a more perfect bab}^ body ; and
head and face were in keeping:. The stateliness and g:race
with which this dimpled child stepped his measures ; the
jnreat dark eyes of him ; the poise with which he faced a
strang^er audience and never fluttered an eyelid ; and that
wonderful baby form — I think none of us ever saw a more
exquisite picture. And all of us who were aliens smiled —
but all were too touched to laug:h.

The ladies slept well in the g:overnor's beds, and the men
camped upon whatever came handiest at Martin's. There
was no need to lock doors and windows, nor to watch
valisesv cameras, wraps or purchases. Everything: was safe
in this Indian town.

On the momin^" of the 23rd we sent our properties down
the cliff by uimchecked Indians; and with due leave-taking:s,
and thanks fc»r the hospitality which had so g:enerously
entreated us, we descended b_v a fourth way — the impressive
^'^ Burro Trail,'' built within a century, over a massive
causeway, and between beetling: crag:s, up which the
Acomas brin^ their stock to be herded at nig-ht on the
mesa-top. Walking: half a mile around the foot of the
Rock„ we came to the north end, where Zaldivar made his
feint in IS'W. Here runs the most terrific path to Acoma
— '''' Dead Man^s^ Trail — its last fifty feet practically im-
possible to whites (thoug:h one fool has climbed it twice
with adeHjjuate witnesses), and almost never used l)y the
Indians. Several Acomas have lost their lives on it, spat-
tering: down on the rocks 350 feet below. But the plucky
women of the party did all the possible part of it ; round-
ing '^''Cape Honu^ and < which is more difficult) coming:
down as bravely as thev went up. These trail nicknames,
be it undeirst<ood, are m^- own ticketing: for convenience'
sake,, and mot compulsory. The Camino del Padre is the
onlv O'lme which has a historic name.

The wag:ons had been broug:ht around to the foot of this

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JuANico, one of the PrincipaUs of Aconia.

Copyriffht l!f*2 by Cha«». F. Lummis.

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A WEEK OF WONDERS. 331

last and most desperate trail ; and we rolled awav to Cubero
with no more adventure than the dishing of a whee^ where^

Potshe'r ds tV/S*^"'^"' ^""^'^ ^" '"-^- '^^ -- 'mashed to
potsherds. The drive is about three and a half hours

After a ffratetul dinner on the cars, the special was pulled
back to Lacuna, six miles east, and sidetracked the?esW

seSdtautiJS tS"t' '^\P^-'-^--<^-^ Pueb^a'd
selected beautitul tinajas to be shipped us bv Don Simon

Laguna is he newest of all the pueblos, h^^yinT^^n
founded in 1699 by sundry refugees after Di^^ode virus's
reconquest of xXew Mexico. It lies on the s^unward s,ope
of a fine dome of rock, about 4(K. feet above the little S^n
iTl "\^!^V"d half that height above the Santa F? rail"
road which skirts its base. The ledge-built, terrlJed
homes of these 500 brown farmers are eminentlv oTctur
esque and interesting. So are their farming ^oTonLsl^on;
the creek and the big reservoir they have buT But few
passengers on the transcontinental jaunt ever have th^
spunk to stop over" there and look. There is no Sotel
of course; and large parties, or fussy ones of any size
should not come unforeseen. But reasonable arrangement^
could doubtless be made with Simon Bibo or Robert Kmon
for a brief stop here or for the trip to Acoma ^*™on

Between Laguna (which we left at 8 p.m Oct 2^^ anA
our next stop, is a whole book of things worth seeing-the
summer colonies of the two Oueres pueblos, the tremendous
lava-flows which end near McCarty's, the beautiful pre-
historic ruins at Ceboilita, the nest of volcanos near Agua

llfh^^'T ^Tu^^f ^"** ^^f^"**"^ **f ^^^ Zuni mountains
and ban Mateo the famous Stone Autograph Album" of
Inscription Rock, and many another thing which in the
£.ast would be cause for a score of summer hotels apiece.
But we were People in a Hurry, and after only the bieeest
game ; so our berths were made down that night on the
siding at Thoreau (formerly Mitchell) 129 miles west of

Divr''''"^' ^"'^ ^^"^ *** *^^ ^^'P ""^ ^^^ Continental

[to be continued.]

..V

Ib attempting to aooount for the present disoon-
f nected distrlbntiot of tribes of a single stock* sereral
explanations are possible, bnt who shall say which is

oorreet?

Were outlying bands separated fron the nain body
by a superior ene^y ib foroed to flee to distant parts?

Did certain dia|)ntented bands — perhaps tnm
failure of food or quarrels — voluntarily seek new
hones?

Or are the present outlying tribes to be regarded
as outposts marking the limits of territ ryemoe contin-
uously occupied by a single people?

Doubtless all three explanations apply, according
to the circumstances of the particular case.

(XLq f^ ^-^^^i^'^'^-^

C. Hart Merriam

Papers

BANCMSS

a(yi8c

^ KUokV/vD^^

FOREST AND STREAM

The American Indian Language

By R. J. Fraser.

HE Indian language is a perfect
one— it cannot be altered to be ^
improved upon." Thus fpoke
Pere Richard. Jesuit mission-
ary to the Ojibways of Lake
Superior. We' were seated in
the cabin of the -'Missionary/'
the little auxiliary sailboat in
which the Father patrolled the shores of the lake,
visiting and ministering to the scattered mem-
bers of his dark-skinned flock. **But one would
suppose. Father, that during the many years and
generations in which the two races, Indian and
white, have intermingled and intermarried, the
native tongue would have been greatly aflfected
by the other, and have suffered many changes.
We presume the Indian to have been an illiterate
person until he came under the influence of the
white race, and that the teaching of your prede-
cessors and yourself would have introduced a
new and improved method— a more scientific and
modern one— of construction of their language."
'*You are wrong there, very wrong," replied
the missionary. "In spite of the intimate knowl-
edge which we have gained through several cen-
turies of intercourse between our northern
Indians and the white man, our people still have
many false ideas about the former. Canadians
in general are very ignorant regarding the noble
language of the American Red Man.

"The American Indian, notwithstanding his
long connection and intimacy with the whites
has been generally considered as coming under
the head of a class of untutored savages. A
study of his language dispels such illusions and
leads one to raise him from this degrading desig-

nation to his rank among our species. His men-
tal pov/er.^ are of a far higher order than is com-
monly su|)posed.

''Of all the Indian tribes perhaps the Algon-
quins and the Iroquois have been to us the most
interesting— certainly so from a historical view-
point. The former race stood out in relief as
one of the most conspicuous among the many
nations of northern America. From their great
numbers and stibdivisions as well as the large ex-
tent of territory which they at one time ruled
and inhabited, they derived a paramount distinc-
tion. Because of their long intercourse with our
race, commercially and otherwise, they ought to
have a strong hold on our affections. Theirs,
the *Algic' tongue, is the mother tongue of a
great many of the northern tribes. The Mon-
tagnais of Quebec, the Ottawas, Pottawatomies,
Ojibways and Chippewas. the great Cree family,
the Chippewyans, and others, all speak dialects
which are derived from the Algonquin language.
"No Indian dialects present more similitude
than the Santeux, or Otchipwe dialect, which is
the correct name of the language of the Canadian
Ojibways and Chippewas, and the Cree language.
This latter dialect is the one spoken by the
Indians and half breeds of Manitoba and Kee-
watin. The Otchipwe, which is nothing else
(with but few variations) than the Algonquin
tongue, forms one of the daughters of the great
Algic family. Otchipwe harangues were heard,
in olden times, on the borders of the St. Lawrence
and Mississippi rivers, on the shores of Lake
Superior and Hudson Bay. and even as far west
as the immense plains of the Red River and the
Saskatchewan. The names of rivers, lakes and of

divers places are still in use to attest, in future
times, to the existence of these languages, and
reclaim their rights of just possession."

Henry R. Schoolcraft, a prominent student of
Indianology, said: "The true history of the
Indian tribes and their international relations,
must rest, as a basis, upon the light obtained
from their languages."

BiSiYop Baraga, an Oblate missionary to the
Chippewas, published in 1885, a grammar and dic-
tionary of that (or more correctly, the Otchipwe)
language. He claimed that fifteen thousand
natives, scattered about the shores of Lake Su-
perior, and the surrounding inland tracts, spoke
this tongue. Several other tribes spoke the same
tongue with very Uttle alterations.

"He who can understand Otchipwe." he
wrote, "can readily converse with Indians of
these other tribes, and besides, quickly gain a
speaking knowledge of the dialects of several

others."

*'It is a perfect language," repeated Father
Richard. "That is why it has not been altered.
It is a natural one; as Hebrew, Greek, and Latin
are natural languages, differing from French
and English which are artificial ones.

"Why," he continued, '*I have manuscripts
written in the Otchipwe tongue three hundred
years ago, and the language is that of to-day.
The Indian learns to read and write it quite
readily, in the native characters, of course. Un-
fortunately the Indians are dying off so rapidly
that the language is fast disappearing. There
are not now so many true bloods left, and the
half-breeds, though speaking their own tongue
fluently, prefer the French gr English.

"The Indian's language again is a natural one
because he has never been taught it. He has
really acquired it. It is, in its largest sense, a
matter of progressive and systematic learning
from childhood up to the age of maturity. He
arrives at this latter age without any artificial
helps, but instead, by a natural, necessary pro-
gressive development. Here, now, he has his
stock of materials, his nouns and descriptive ad-

FOREST AND STREAM

237

A. C. A. Membership.

New Members Proposed.

Atlantic Division :— Charles J. Meagher, 343
East 195th St., New York, N. Y., by B. M. Hene-
mier; Stephen B. Brigham, 1380 Ogden Ave.,
Highbridge, New York City, by Jas. B. McMahon,
Jr.; Ernest Stein, 526 West 130th St., New York.
N. Y., by Thomas Zuk.; Chas. P. Wolff, 593 W.
178th St., New York, N. Y., by Clemens Schroed-
er; Emerson F. Parker, 255 Audubon Ave., New
York, N. Y.; by J. B. McMahon, Jr.; Claude S.
DaCosta, 522 West 174th St., New York, N. Y..
by L. B. Morgan ; William F. Marty, 436 Somer-
ville Ave., Olney, Philadelphia, Pa., by Theodor
Quasebart.

Central Division : — J. Lucien Gravel, 28 John-
son Pk., Buffalo, N. Y., Joseph D. Kahn, 320
Hudson St., Buffalo, N. Y., and Jos. V. Bach-
mann, 351 E. Eagle St., Buffalo, N. Y., all by
C. A. Spaulding; Vincent O'Connell, 20 Irving
Place, Buffalo, N. Y., and Charles A. Wall, Jr.,
306 Hudson St., Buffalo, N. Y., both by C. A.
Spaulding; George H. Warwick, 107 Onondaga
Ave., Syracuse, N. Y., by Francis Hall.

Eastern Division: — Clarence L. Reed, 11 1
Ridge St., Fall River, Mass., by Charles A. Mac-
Donald; Earle M. Marston, 30 Greenville St.,
Roxbury, Mass., by Benj. F. DeCosta; Edward
L. Singsen, 100 Greenwood Ave., Rumford, R.
I., by Wm. A. Heath.

Western Division: — A. Herbert Packer, 7112
Lafayette Ave., Chicago, 111., by John B. Bcrge-
son; Geo. H. Blake, Byron, 111., by H. L. Boyn-
ton; Henry Earl Taylor, 7446 Dante Ave., Chi-
cago, 111., by John B. Bergeson.

Resignations.
Atlantic Division: — 6604, Harry I. Wood; 61 16,
Edward Baker.

Central Division :— 5440, Ralph H. Watson;
5486, William I. Reich.

Eastern Division : — 6622, George H. Holland ;
6397, Emil P. Schmidt; 5351, Edward L. Dum-
mer; 6931, Raymond T. Mills; 6393, Leo Weise;
6088, Augustus K. Worcester; 6935, Carl Law-

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youmal of American Folk-Lore.

RECORD OF AMERICAN FOLK-LORE.

NORTH AMERICA.

Algonkian. New England. In the " American Anthropologist "
(vol. vii, n. s., pp. 490-508) for July-September, 1905, Charles C.
Willoughby writes of " Dress and Ornament of the New England
Indians." The topics treated are : Hair-dressing (considerable va-
riety, styles due to age and station), tattooing (" confined principally
to the cheeks, upon which totemic figures were made "), face-paint-
ing (" common with both sexes, and among the men more especially
when on war raids ; " various colors used ; women painted for mourn-
ing), clothing; headdress (eagle and turkey feathers; curious head
ornament of colored deer hair), ornaments in general (bracelets, neck-
laces, head-bands, common especially among the women ; native cop-
per ornaments never common ; shell beads, wampum. Of wampum
the author says (p. 508) : "Besides its use as currency, wampum was
woven into garters, belts, bracelets, collars, ear-pendants, neck-orna-
ments, head-bands, etc. It was used for ornamenting bags, wallets,
and various articles of dress. The wampum belt, woven of purple
and white beads in symbolic figures, served as an inviolable and
sacred pledge, which guaranteed messages, promises, and treaties."
Also : " Both discoidal and tubular beads of shell were used in New
England at an early date, but they were probably rare and highly
prized in prehistoric days." — Virginian. In the same periodical
(pp. 524-528) Mr. W. W. Tooker has an article, " Some More about
Virginia Names," in which he discusses the etymologies proposed
in a previous number by Mr. W. R. Gerard. The words considered
are : Winauk, Chickahominyy Werowacomaco^ Powcohicora, MoekannUy
Wunnananoumick. In all of these, according to Mr. Tooker, Mr.
Gerard is radically mistaken as to etymological analyses. — Mr. Ge-
rard's paper, entitled "Some Virginia Indians' Words," appeared in
the number for April, 1905 (vol. vii, n. s., pp. 222-249) and treated
the subject in considerable detail in criticism of a previous article by
Mr. Tooker.

J«j»*93-1 BOOK NOTICES. 101

chntttcicisrlSeskles. the writings of Bandelier, "^H. H. Bancroft,
Winsor, Bourke, and Gregg, and in this compilation the }ytiter's
ability to separate the wheat from the chaff is well displayed. "But
the principal part of the work is the result of personal observation
in the main and tributary valleys of the Rio San Juan. Although
the Tolame does not claim to be a scientific treatise, the archeologist
may well rejoice in the possession of a hundred pages or more of
accurate description of the vestiges of an ancient pueblo culture,
which vandalism threatens soon to destroy.

Many of the author's conditions are refreshing, for he rejects
the old theory that the dwellersr^in the cliffs were other than the
ancestois of our living Pueblos. He asserts, in accordance with
newly dbcoveied evidence, that the ** Montezuma" of the Pueblos
is poiely mythic, and that New Mexico was not discovered by
Cabeza de Vaca, but by the negro Estevan under Marcos de Niza.

Accompanying the descriptive text are thr^e maps, a dozen
excellent fbll>page heliot}^e engravings, besides some fifty-five half-
tone plates illustrative mainly of cliff villages or of various features
of their architecture, pottery, basketry, etc., from photographs by
the anthor. The scientific value of the work will increase with its
As a specimen of the book-maker's art it could scarcely be

F. W. Hodge.

BibSografhf €f the Algonquian Languages. By James Constantine
PilUmg. Washington: Gai^ernment Printing Office. j8gi\i8g2\.

What book can be drier, duller, or drearier than a catalogue of
books? Even when the catalogue is excellent, even when it rises to
the higher level of bibliography, and on this higher plane rises to
the summit of excellence, how can it be interesting? The street
directory is a most useful book, and so is the dictionary, and the
gazetteer; but is it not a strain on the imagination to call these
books interesting? They may be likened to our ticket agents at the
transfer stations, to whom we hurriedly go in rain or shine or cold
or wet and from whom we unconsciously expect instant and perfect
attention to duty, and only become conscious of the man in the rare
instances when the usual routine duty is not instantly and perfectly
done. The bibliographer is our transfer man, and when he does
his work thoroughly, completely, and unceasingly we are hardly
conscious of his existence.

For more than twelve years the Bureau of Ethnology has had its

102

THE AMERICAN A^fTHROFOLOGIST.

(VoLVL

faithful transfer man unceasingly on duty. He is its bibUographer,
and his name is James Constantine Pilling, Ae sixA of whose ex-
cellent bibliographies on Indian languages has recently awjeared.

Beginning in 1879 with the preparation of a list of boots giving
information about Indian languages, the work grew and grew, and
finally, in 1885, a fat quarto volume of 1,200 pages, the «'Proof-
Sheets of a Bibliography," was born. Had this been the end of the
work begun six years before, it would stiU have been a worthy end.
But it was not the end ; it was rather the finish of bat one chapter,
the preparation and completion of which pointed the *ay to other
and better chapters. The world gained a prosy bat very usefal
document, and Mr. Pilling and the Boteaa of Ethnology gained a
valuable experience, which clearly pointed the way to a stiU more
useful work, upon which he promptly entered.

The new work was classification and separate poblication. When
the work of collecting was begun nobody could goess how big a pile
would be gathered. The publication of an nnwieldly qoarto and
the quantity of material which flowed in after printing b^an showed
clearly that classification must be begun. It was therenpon decided
that a series of bibliographies should be prepared. Each one was
to consist of a list, as complete as possible, of all the books, papers,
manuscripts, magazine articles, reviews, etc, CTcr known or heard
of, containing information about the langoage of some one group of
North American Indians whose language was the same or simply vari-
ants or varieties of the same— in the language of the anthropologist,
one linguistic stock. Now, there are fifty-seven sach stocks, and the
Algonquian bibliography before us is the fifth one that has been
compiled by Mr. Pilling and published by the Barean of Ethnology.
It is the largest and in some respects the most important of the
series. It deals with those Indians with whom the whites were first
and longest in contact and who dwelt in the regions now so thickly
settled by the whites. If one would know the meanings of the In-
dian words scattered over all the northeastern and northern middle
United States and around the Great Lakes and in Canada, here he
will find th'e key to the literature. If he caies not for Indians or
their language, he will find interesting details aboat early printing
in New England and nearly a hundred fac-amile reproductions of
title-pages of curious and rare old pamphlets and books in the rugged
and forbidding gutturals of New England Indians; and even if
book-making does not interest him, he can see here concrete illus-
t-„f;-.„c ^f the arim reliffious views of our fore&theis, and how de-

Jan. 1893.1

BOOK NOTICES.

103

voted they were to the saving of red men's souls. Thanks to their
zeal in this, they learned the Indian's language, manners, and cus-
toms, translated the Bible into his language, wrote pious primers
and sermons in his tongue, and so unintentionally gathered and
preserved material which the scholar can now use in formulating
the laws of man's progress from savagery onward and upward
through barbarism to civilization.

The 82 fac-simile title-pages scattered through this 600-page book
are full of instruction. For the antiquary they are more, they are
interesting. The writer who would make a good title-page can here
find numerous examples— ;w/ to be followed. Witness the fac similes
of the title-pages of Adriaen van der Donck's Description of New
Netheriand, with its seal containing the frightful and frightened
mammal that may pass for cat, fox, porcupine, or — ?

The book called TAe Hatchets, printed at Boston in 1705, solves
the title-page problem. by having none at all ; but beginning without
it or dedication or introduction or preface or contents or anything,
we have page i. and without head-lines :

The Hatchets, to hew down the Tree of Sin,
which bears the Fruit of Death.

OR,

The LAWS, by which the Magistrates are
to punish Offences, among the Indians,
as well as among the English.

The writings of apostle John Eliot naturally occupy a conspicu-
ous place in the work. These pious books, the outcome of a bum-
mg zeal to save pagan souls, have in our time become exceeding
scarce and are eageriy sought and prized. Of the 1,000 copies con-
stituting the first edition (i66i-'63) of Eliot's Indian Bible and the
2,000 copies constituting the second edition (i68o-'85), perhaps 100
more or less complete copies have 'survived two centuries. Mr.
Pilling, who has pursued these bibles with an ardor only equalled by
that of the apostle himself, has succeeded ni discovering the loca-
tion and history of 39 of the first edition and 55 of the second, a
total of 94 copies. Of each of these 94 copies minute and detailed
description is given, ending with the statement that " Further re-
search will bring to light many more copies of the Indian bible."
When we run over the prices paid in recent years for copies of th^
books, prices varying from I30 to $3,000, we may be pardoned for
a little skepticism about the many yet to be revealed. Many Indian
bibles were lost or destroyed during the Indian war of i675-'76, and

104

THE AMERICAN ANTHROPOLOGIST.

[Vol. VI.

this destruction became the incentive for a second edition. Eliot's
Indian converts, called ''praying Indians,'* like modern Indians,
made known their wants, and the old man, full of zeal for the cause
to which he had devoted his entire life, set about preparing for a
new edition of the whole bible. Whatever may be said of his argu-
ments, his zeal won — a zeal which wholly hid from him the humor
of the statement that *' thousands of souls, some true believers, some
learners, and some still infants, all of them beg, cry, entreat for
bibles, having already enjoyed that blessing, but now are in great
want." In 1685, when nearly 80 years old, the venerable apostle
saw the new edition of 2,000 copies completed.

Use of the Eliot bible ceased about the middle of the last century,
and it is said but one man now living can and no man does read it.
Yet it is a very poor specimen of an Eliot bible that will not sell for
I250. Thus we see this book utterly neglected for the purposes
intended by its author, but eagerly sought for quite other purposes.
It is not unique in this respect, and suggests a theme for those who
think great libraries should keep useful books only, destroying the
worthless trash.

No less than 57 pages of this elaborate bibliography are devoted
to Eliot's writings, and so completely and fully is the field worked
over and the golden grain extracted that even patient John China-
man would starve over the tailings.

Of the 1,926 titles of printed articles embraced in this bibliography
the compiler has seen and described from personal inspection 1,850,
or 96 per cent. Of the remaining 4 per cent, quite a number no
longer exist. Similarly Mr. Pilling has described from personal
inspection 184 of the 319 manuscripts embraced in the list, or 57
per cent. Dealing with rare, old, choice, and highly prized books,
access to which is sedulously guarded, has perhaps led to the print-
ing of a few copies of this book as an edition de luxe on fine paper
and with broad margins. It is only in this style of imprint that the
beautiful fac-similes can be seen to their full advantage.

The bibliographies which have preceded this relate to the Eski-
mauan, Siouan, Iroquoian, and Muskhogean stocks, and the next
following one relates to the Athapascan languages. Still others are
in preparation, and it is earnestly to be hoped that the compiler,
who in impaired health has lost neither heart nor interest in this
laborious work, may be long spared to continue it and to realize
his dream of a ** Bibliography of the Indian Languages of North
America." Marcus Baker.

^-vr

88 Journal of American Folk-Lore.

RECORD OF AMERICAN INDIAN FOLK-LORE.

NORTH AMERICA.

Algonkian. — Ojibwa. In the ** American Anthropologist" (n. s. ix,
pp. 443, 444) fo^ April- June, 1907, Frances Densmore describes **An
Ojibwa Prayer Ceremony," performed by the Indians of Grand Portage,
Minnesota, in the summer of 1905, under the direction of "an old chief,
Minagunz ('Little Spruce') by name, who still clung to the old tradi-
tions of his tribe." In the ceremony figured a blue and white painted
pole, with feathers at the top. Dance and song to the poundmg of the
drum were also part of the rite. The dance was always followed by a
feast. The drum used by the chief he had made for himself. Special
dress was worn. The entire spirit of the ceremony was reverent and
smcere.—Natick. In the *' American Anthropologist" (n. s. ix,493-498)
for July -September, 1907, Professor J. Dyneley Prince writes of the
"Last Livmg Echoes of the Natick," giving, with etymological explana-
tions, etc., a list of twenty-nine "distinctly Natick words obtained by
Mr. Frank G. Speck in the spring of 1907 from five aged mem-
bers of the Indian community at Mashpee." A survival of ancient
practices in connection with the ** spirit lodges" of the Indians of
former times is reported, for *'such Mashpee of to-day as are su-
perstitiously inclined still observe the custom of throwing a twig
or branch upon the rotting framework, or on the former site of
these spirit lodges, whenever they pass by" (p. 49S)- Under the
word Icipai (spirit) is the note: ''Tcipai survives also in tcipai
wankcas, * spirit fox,' referring to the phosphorescent glow of rotten
wood. As a sign of death to the beholder, this is known in Cape
Cod folk-lore as 'fox-fire'" (p. 497)- The word tdcdnt, "child" (p. 457)i
which seems to puzzle Professor Prince, is not an error on the part of
Mr. Speck, but is evidently the reduced correspondent of Natick (in
Trumbull ; used by Eliot) muttasdns, " the youngest child (son)," as the
term toshens or torshent, once in use in the English of certain parts of
Massachusetts, proves. — Arapaho. In the '* American Anthropologist"
(n. s. ix, pp. 545-560) for July-September, 1907, H. L. Scott discusses
"The Early History and the Names of the Arapaho." So far there is
"no tradition that definitely places the Arapaho in a territory farther
east than the Missouri River." The first white men, probably, to see
the Arapaho were members of La Verendeye's expedition in 1742-43.
The French name for the Arapaho, Gros Ventres, is first recorded in
1751 (they were then in the Blackfoot country — and are the **Fall
Indians" of Mackenzie in 1789, so called from living then near the
falls of the Saskatchewan; other names of this and later times are
"Paunch Indians," Gens de Panse, "Big Bellies," "Rapid Indians,"

Reviews.

journals and periodicals of all descriptions, has rendered it a herculean
undertaking merely to look up the material in a single department of either
of these two subjects, and the special investigator is always in danger of
missing some article of cardinal importance. From the present time on, so
far as the British Isles and their dependencies are concerned, this need will
evidently be met, for the pamphlet before us is announced as "the first
annual issue." " It is a continuation," w^e are informed, " of the Bibliography
of Folk-Lore issued by the Folk-Lore Society in Y^ot, It deals, as before,
only with works and periodicals published in the British Empire ; but a few
periodicals, etc., published in English in non^fiuropean countries such as
China are also included. There is no atteiiipt to include more than pre-
historic Archaeology; and only unwritten lailguages are noticed."

The bibliography proper occupies fifty- J^o pages, and is arranged under six
main headings, — General, Europe, Aj»fa, Africa, America, and Oceania, —
each of the geographical divisions b^ng again divided under general and
regional subheads. Whef^ possible/in citing each work or article the name
of the author is given first ip bla^ type; but where the title of the journal
or periodical has to precede^ ijL-ls in italics, and all others are in ordinary
type. The more important amcjes, or those in which the title does not suf-
ficiently indicate the nature/bf th^ contents, are accompanied by a few ex-
planatory words in brac^ts. Important works and papers which could
not be fully indexed are parked by ai\asterisk. Following the bibliography
is an Index of Periodic^s, and finally a'Subject-Index preceded by an excel-
lent general key to ^able the student to pick out at once all the articles
in his particular srUb-department of Antliropology, — Archaeology, Eth-
nology, Folk-Lore, Linguistics, Religion and Magic, Psychology, Sociology,
Somatology, and Technology. The whole is printed on good paper in clear
type, and bound in neat paper covers. Although excellent work along the
same line is being done on this side of the Atlantic by. Professor Alexander F.
Chamberlain in connection with the "American Anthropologist," it is to be
hoped that we shall some time see our way clear to the publication of a sepa-
rate bibliography parallel with this English undertaking.

/. R. Swanion.

Record of American Indian Folk-Lore.

etc.)- Lewis and Clark (1806) term them Kanenavish, or " Gens des
Vaches;" Henry, "Buffalo Indians." In the sign language of many
tribes the Arapaho are known as "belly (or gut) people." The term
Arapaho is foreign to the language, which has no r, and "the peo-
ple of that tribe cannot pronounce it correctly, invariably saying
•N'appaho,' which they believe to be the white man's name for their
tribe." Several derivations of the word have been suggested, and the
author adopts the view that "Arapaho is a Crow word, signifying
•tattooed-on-the-breast people,'" "and that the sign for the Northern
Arapaho does not mean 'parent' or 'mother' band, but has the same
meaning as the word Arapaho itself." Mr Scott thinks that "the
Northern and Southern Arapaho, as well as the Northern and Southern
Cheyenne, separated at least as early as 1816." On page 558 is given
a sketch of the Arapaho medicine-pipe, made for the author by Sitting
Bull, the Northern Arapaho, who in 1890 spread the Messiah craze
over' the southern plains; and at pages 558-560 a historical account
of his people by Left Hand, chief of the Southern Arapaho. — Gros
Ventre. Vol. i, part iii (May, 1907, pp. 5S-i39) of the "Anthropological
Papers of the American Museum of Natural History" consists of " Gros
Ventre Myths and Tales" by Dr. A. L. Kroeber, collected in the early
spring of 1 901 at the Fort Belknap Reservation in northern Montana,
as part of the work of the Mrs. Morris K. Jesup Expedition. English
texts (also, pp. 130-139, abstracts) of 50 myths and tales are given, -
creation legends, animal stories, origin myths, etc. The Gros Ventre
"distinguish between myths and tales, which they call ha"ta'a°tya" and
waatsea'a", respectively." To the former class belong the first 30,
to the latter the last 20 of the traditions here recorded. Dr. Kroeber
notes the fact that " the traditions told by Flea, one of the youngest of
the informants, are of a higher character than the others." Some 16
of the traditions relate to the doings of Nix'a"t, who figures krgely m
the creation and origin myths. Others figuring in these tradjtions are
«Found-in-the-Grass," " Clotted -Blood," "Moon-Child/' "The Boy
who was raised by the Seven Bulls," "White Stone," "The Women
who married the Moon," "The Women who married a Star, Ihe
Girl who became a Bear," "Shell-spitter," "The Bear Women, etc.
The foUowing animals are prominent: eagle, loon, buffalo, rnouse,
rabbit, kit-fox, crow, bear, swallow, snake, dog, horse, hawk Water-
monsters also occur. Three tales account, respectively, for the origm
of the highest degree of the dog-dance, the chief piF, and for the separa-
tion of the tribe. A number of important Arapaho traditions and epi-
sodes, such, e. g. as the story of the origin of death the woman who
married a dog, the turtle's war-party, etc. (p. 57), have not yet been
found among the Gros Ventre, but some of these will doubtless be
recorded later on, - in all likelihood those telling of the ongin of death.

go Journal of American Folk-Lore.

"Seven Heads," etc. On the other hand, some important stories and
incidents on record for the Arapaho, such, e. g. as the separation of the
tribe while crossing the ice, the hero swallowed by a monster, which is
kUled by him by cutting its heart, the boy abandoned by his parents
and raised by buffalo bulls, etc., are wanting from the Gros Ventre.
Other mythical mcidents again (p. 58), "that have the most common
distribution in central North America, such, e. g. as the theft of light or
of the sun, theft of water, hero who transforms himself mto a leaf or
small object and is reborn as the son of the woman who swallows it,
the visit far to the east of the sun, etc., have not yet been found among
either the Arapaho or the Gros Ventre." In the origin myth (p. 59) it is
stated : "The people before the present people were wild. They did not
know how to do anything." The idea of a previous race occurs m an
Arapaho tale and is well known from certain California tnbes, etc.,
though not with the same implications. In another tale the " magic
flight" appears with pursuit by a round rolling object. The disastrous
consequences of shooting an arrow figure in the tale of " Found-m-the-
CTass" (p 79). The story of "The Girl who became a Bear accounts
for Ursa Major and the Pleiades (p. 108). One of the tales relatmg to
Nix'a"t records how he obtained summer and the buffalo.

CAiajEaBiiiA.^=*.E^*««»«--Ji^- lii^^ (Unir.- Gafif . PuU. ; ^mer.
Arch, and Ethnol. vol. iv, no. 6, September, 1907, PP- S^^S^) on
"The Religion of the Indians of California," Dr. A. L. KropKer treats of
customary observance by individuals (as strongly devekJ^d as farther
north along the Pacific slope, — in California by far the most important
relate to death, next come those connected with sexual functions,
including birth ; in N. W. California there is a/pecial development of
spoken formulae); shamanism (common way^ett obtaining power is by
dreaming, but waking vision, etc., also recognized ; in the N. W. the
deliberate seekmg oi a guardian spirit'^is especially prevalent, and
here as m parts of the South, the conQ<fption of a guardian spirit is not
well developed ; in the Ceiitce and NriV., more or less pubUc ceremonies
of initiation are found ; the sWalJed " bear doctors of the Central tnbes
are wanting in the N. W. an4^ South ; success in war and m love is
less often the result of supematurah^wer personally acquired among the
California Indians than .among th^of the Plains; the rattlesnake
doctor was usually distinct from other sft&jnans ; the killing of medicine-
men was of frequent occurrence, — curersX<iisease were thought also
to be the causers, of it); public ceremonies (toouming, initiation mto
secret societies, dances and other observances fbr causmg good crops,
avoiding disease, calamities, etc. ; in S. Cahfomia mourning ceremonies
are everywhere the most prominent, initiation ceremonies occur in
the whole State except in the N. W. region and amon^ the agricultural
tribes at the extreme S. E., and the tribal dances differ thoroughly m the

[^.^vjbV.o^WVA.&^^l^. i' ^^'^^ ^"^^2)

BOOK REVIEWS

351

Kulbskap the Master and other Algonkin Poems, Translated Metrically
by Charles Godfrey Leland, Hon. F.R.S.L., M.A., and John
Dyneley Prince, Ph.D. New York and London: Funk & Wag-
nails Co. 1902. 12°, 370 pp., ills.

This neat volume, which gives a much clearer insight into Indian
thought and poetry than most books written for the same purpose, consists
of a metrical version of Indian myths and legends which were recounted
to the authors in the three Abenaki dialects of the northeastern part of
the Algonquian area — the Penobscot of southwestern Maine, the Eas-
samaquoddy or Melisit (properly Amalisit) of eastern Maine and St
Johns river. New Brunswick, and the Micmac of Nova Scotia and the
eastern coast of New Brunswick.

The stories relating to Kuloskap, Kuloskabi, or Gldskap, form a
mythic cycle which has not yet been fully recorded and translated, but
it is known to exhibit that charming imagery and that freshness and
originality which always concentrates one's interest in a people who have
been little in contact with the whites. The somber and sometimes
ossianic character of some of their songs naturally recalls the cloudy winter
skies of the land which produced them, yet there are many others which
reflect the gladdening influence of the northland summer.

Of the two authors of the volume one is a poet and romancist,^ the
other a philological scholar, and its readers will find that the peculiar
qualifications of both have successfully combined in bringing forth a book
which is unique of its kind. It consists of three parts : The Epic of
Kuloskap, Witchcraft Lore, and Lyrics and Miscellany. The name of
the mythic hero is explained by Professor Prince as '* one who is clever
enough to lead his enemies astray,'* this being the highest virtue to the
Indian mind. Kuloskap ^Ms at once the creator and the friend of man,
and, strangely enough, he made man from the ash tree." A proper
translation of the cognomen is '' the deceiving man," for as the genius
of nature he is constantly transforming the elements, of which he as-
sumes to be the controlling power. He is also aptly known in the songs
as '' Lord of Beasts and Men," '' Chief of Men and Beasts," '' Master
of Beasts and Men who was born in the Sunrise Land."

The tales of this mythic cycle are each introduced by the set formula,
'' Of the olden times this tale is," and are, or aim to be, worded in an
archaic form of dialect. Some of the full-page illustrations represent
native drawings on birch-bark.

1 News has been received of the unfortunate death of Mr Leland at Florence, Italy,
on March 20. — Editor.

352

AMERICAN ANTHROPOLOGIST

[N. s., 5, 1903

Two of the '' creation legends '' describe the naming of the principal
animals by Kuloskap, and of these the loon, the black wolf, and the
white wolf enjoy the distinction of being enlisted in his special service.
He in turn hunts and roams around with the loons, the beaver, the ser-
pent, the turtle, and the great bull-frog ; he also goes on a whaling
expedition and races with the Wind-Eagle or Wuchosen — the hurricane
personified. The '* Master's" intercourse with the witches and giant
sorcerers forms another section of Kuloskap' s adventures.

The rhapsodies of the *' Witchcraft Lore " are thirteen in number, all
of which deal with wdtches, \\4zards, and the irresistible powers by which
all creatures submit to their will, especially the wizard snake, the measur-
ing worm, the P'mula or Air-Demon, and the river-elves.

The third or miscellaneous section deals with romances about seasons,
the beauty of the stars and of Indian maidens. A portion of the contents
are worded in Passamaquoddy w4th the English translation opposite. The
queerest creature treated is the Indian '' Devil," or Loks (the wolverine
of the whites), celebrated for its gluttony and many other coarse quali-
ties, which make of it the most detestable being of that region.

That Kuloskap always was animated by the desire to be the protec-
tor and benevolent ruler of his subjects, men and beasts, appears through-
out the stories of his life, and in one part of the epic, '' How Kuloskap
granted gifts and favors to many Indians" (pp. 64-89), he is extolled
for this quality. In a meeting called by him he notifies the loons, his
faithful servants, that he would remain on earth for many years to come,
and any of them might in this time have their wishes granted if they came
to visit him. So one Milicite and two Penobscots from Old To\^ti under-
took this dangerous pilgrimage, which was to occupy seven years, in order
to visit the '' Master" personally. Near the end of their long journey
the three began to hear the bark of his dogs ; shortly after they found the
lord of men and beasts, who entertained them well. To one of them,
who never had been successful in hunting game, he offered a magic pipe
with which to hold or attract animals. To another, an amorous young
man, but alw^ays unfortunate in his attempts to win the love of women, he
gave a bag which was not to be opened before he reached home.

Professor Prince varies the meter according to the character of the
episodes which he presents. The legends are given in blank verse, but
it may be generally said that his diction approaches the iambic meter.
The numerous Indian terms from the three Wabanaki dialects given are

defined in a copious glossary (pp. 361-370).

A. S. Gatschet.

■r

Apc^U,

C. Hart MerHam

Papers

BANC MSS

8<V18c

m;^^

/Ipcwlu,

C. Hart MerHam

Papois

BANC KISS

8(V18c

/^7i '/^«'

42d Coitgbess, > HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES.
3d Sestiom. i

i Ex. Doc.
\ No. 105.

APACHES Df ARIZONA AND NEW MEXICO.

LETTER

FROM THE

ACTING SECRETARY OF THE INTERIOR,

RELATIVE TO

An appropriation to snppljf a deficiency in the appropriation for collecting
and ^uMsting Apa^es in Arizona and Neic Mexico for the fiscal year
ending June 30, 1873.

January 18, 1^13.— Referred to the Committee on Appropriations and ordered to be

printed.

Department of the Interior,

Washington^ D. C, January 13, 1873.

SrK : I have the honor to transmit, herewith, a copy of a communica-
tion from the Acting Commissioner of Indian Affairs, dated the 11th in-
stant, inclosing an estimate of appropriation, amounting to $150,000,
required to supply a deficiency in the appropriation for "collecting and
subsisting Apaches in Arizona and New Mexico '' for the year ending
June 30, 1873, (Stat, vol. 17, p. 160.)

The necessity for this appropriation is fully explained by the Acting
Commissioner, and I recommend that the subject receive the favorable
consideration of Congress.

Very respeetfullT, your obedient servant,

B. E. COWEN,

Acting secretary.

Hon. J. G. Blaine,

Spealer of the Home of Represcntatires.

Department of the Interior,
Office of Indian Affairs,

Washington^ 1). C, January 11, 1873.

Sir : To subsist and properly care for the Apache Indians in Arizona

. and New Mexico, who have been or may be gathered on reservations,

the sum of $250,000 was appropriated for the fiscal year endmg June

30, 1873, (Stat., vol. 17, p. 166,) in accordance with the general estimate

for the Indian service for that year.

•

2 APACHES IN ARIZONA AND NEW MEXICO.

At the time said estimate was made there had been, according to
official reports, about 7,500 Apaches collected withm the ap"5»«f, «*
the Iudia.1 Department, and the estimate was based «PO\t Je ^eli^f that
with economy and careful management the sum of $33^i for the sub-
sistence of each person would prove sufficient for the year. That
this calculation was too close, the result of six mouths' experience has
fuly demonstrated. The appropriation of $250,000 is "ow "early ex-
hausted, and to meet the requirements which have not a ready been
pSvided for up to the 30th June next, will require an additional som
J.f ot ipocif S^TiO 000 makine the total expenditure for the year in this
Er'anch S ihe sSeTqu^^^ $400,000, oJ 853.334 for each of the 7,500

Dersons above referred to. ^ , «:«4.:^«

For the Sioux Indians, numbering 27,000, the annual appropriation
for subsistence alone is $1,314,000, equal to $48.66§ ^r each individaal
The excess of $4.66§ against the xVpaches is readily accounted for by
tlie greater cost of provisions in Arizona than in Dakota, and by the
fact Ssjecfal provision is made in the case of the Sioux for e^en^s
of transportation, purchase of clothing, pay of employ«?»f «;'jl^^« t^«
appropriation for 'the Apaches must necessarily ^^ applied "ot only in
providing necessary articles of susistence, but also to meet all incidental
expenses connected with the care and support of said Indians.

It is not claimed that the number of Apaches reported as brought
under the control of our agencies in Arizona and ^ew ^eaco is strictly
correct. The Indians occasionally come upon the reser\ation^ *"-i{^ft
numbers, remain a while apparently contented, ^ud leave a^in,^thout
permission, to resume their predatory, habits of life ; ^"*^ >* »» 5*J»«3
that the number referred to is a fair average of those subsisted and
likely to be subsisted during the present fiscal year.

In accordance with the above, I have the honor herewith, to s« W
an estimate for the sum of $150,000, or so much t^^reot as. may b«
necessarv to meet the deficiency in the appropriation for "collecting antt
sXsfsS Apaches of Arizona' and New ^^exico" for the year e^ing
June 30, 1873, and to request that the same may receive the favorable
consideration of the Department and of Congress.

Very respectfully, your obedient servant, ^^ CLOI

Acting Commimiotier.

The Hon. Seouetary of the Interioe.

Estimate of appropriation required for coUeeliHg and snbsisiin, the Apache ImUa„s in Jrizoua

and Xew Mexico.

For this amount, or so mnch thereof as may be necessary, to meet the
(leficicucv in the appropriation for the fiscal year endmg Jnne 30, lsi6,
o s?S ami prop^irly^care for the Apache Indians in Anzona and Ne^
Mexico who have been or may be collected on reservations m New
Mexico and Arizona, provided that this appropriation shall l'* «P«n:»«»
only in behalf of those Indians who go and remain upon said re!,er\a-

tions, and refrain from hostilities

$ir.o,ooo oo

421) Congress, \ HOUSE OF REPRESENT A.TIYES. i Ex. Doc

ir^x. uoc
No. 95.

CLALM OF WALXUT GROVE MINING CO^MPANY.

LETTER

FROM

THE SECRETARY OF THE INTERIOR,

RELATIVE TO

The claim of the Walnut Grove Mining Company of Arizona, on account

of depredations committed by Apache Indians,

Jantary 15, 1873. — ^Referred to the Committee of Claims and ordered to be printed.

Department of the Interior,

Washington^ I). C, January 14, 1873.

Sir: I have the houor to transiait herewith, as required by the
seventh section of the act makin^i: ap])ropriations for the Indian de-
partment^ approved May 29, 1872, the eltiini of the Walnut Grove Min-
ing Company, of Arizona, amounting to $292,800, on account of depre-
dations committed by Ajiache Indians between August 1, 18G5, and
July 9, 1SC9.

The seventeenth section of the trade and intercourse act of 30th of
June, 1834, requires that application for compensation for depredations
shall be made to the proper superintendent, agent or sub-agent, within
three years after the commission of the inquiry, otherwise the claim
shall be barre<l.

The {leculiar condition of affairs in Arizona, it is alleged, prevented a
compliance with the re<juirements of said section.

From an examination of the papers, tliis Department is satisfied that
the claim iK>ssesses merit, and it is respectfully submitted with the rec-
ommendation that it receive the favorable consideration of Congress.
Very respectfully, &c.,

B. K. COWEN,

Acting Secretary.
Hon. JA3i£S G. Blaine,

Speaker of the House of Representatives.

Depart^ient of the Interior,

Office of Indian Affairs,

Washington, I). C, January 7, 1873.

Sir : I have the honor to acknowledge the receipt, by reference from
le Department^ on the 2d instant, of a letter from George H. Vickroy,

CLAIM OF WALNUT GROVE MINING COMPANY.

dated 2d ultimo, submitting a claim of the Walnut Grove Mining Com-
pany, of Arizona Territory, on account of depredations alleged to have
beei/committed bv Apache Indians at various times, from August, 1805,
to July 9, 1809, the loss being stated at $292,800.

The papers in the case have been carefully examined in this office,
and the conclusion reii<*hed, that the claim is not without merit, is jus-
tified, it is thought, by the sworn statements of parties who were iden-
tified with the operations of the company as employes, and who were
]>ersonally cognizant, in most instances, of the facts stated by them.
What amount of h>ss the company actually sustained by the direct acts
of the Indians is a question difficult of satistactory reply or determina-
tion. The depredations were numerous, and the task of harmonizing
the evidence of different parties, as to the particular fiicts in each and
every instance, seems to be impracticable, especially with reference to
the loss of mules, or '• animals." Some of the items in the claim, such
as '• stock of goods and provisions, $32,000," are without the support
of sufficient proof, and in others the valuation is manifestly excessive.
It will be seen by the testimony of G. H. Vickroy, the fitst superintend-
ent of the company, that the outfit purchased by him, consisting of a
20-stamp quartz-mill, 40 horse-power engine, 26 wagons, 268 mules
and harness, provisions, tools, '' &c.," cost about $77,000. With this
amount much material apparently is procured. Keferring to the
schedule of property, (accompanying the claim,) which, it is alleged,
was either captured or destroyed by the Indians, it will be observed
that the item of **20.stamp quartz-mill burned is for the sum of $118,-
000." A reasonable doubt arises as to this being the real value of that
particular piece of property, for the presumption is that the machinery
in the mill was the most important part of it, the cost of which may be
estimated bv taking Mr. Vickroy's statement as to the $77,000 expend-
ed for quartz-mill and other property, and by allowing for cost of trans-
portation. The charges for houses destroyed are regarded as exorbi-
tant and without support of sufficient proof; and other charges, which
should have been itemized, or an invoice of the same furnished, are
deemed to be inadmissible, from the fact that they are not so itemized ;
in addition, they are not well sustained by proof.

1 respectfully submit that the allegation of the depredations having
been committed, as set forth in the claim, is sufficiently proved, and
recommend that the case be submitted to Congress for its action. In
this connection it is proper to remark, that, under the limitation pro-
vided in the seventeenth section of the law of June 30, 1834, in regard
to claims for depredations by Indians, the claim under consideration
not having been presented within three years, is barred.

The letter of Mr. Vickroy, and papers submitted by him, are herewith
returned.

Verv respectfullv, your obedient servant,

H. E. CLUM,

Acting Commissioner.

Hon. B. E. CowEN,

Acting Secretary of the Interior.

scribed by you, July 13, 1872, under the terms of the seyenth section of the
act of Congress making appropriations for the Indian Department, ap-
proved May 29, 1872. By reference to affidavits marked A, B, C, I), B, F,
G, H, I, K, L, and M, and the statement of the trustees of said (company
marked N, and schedule of property destroyed and stolen marked O,
and letters marked P and Q, you will see that the last loss sustained
by our con)pany was prior to the tiuic within whi(!h tlie above-mentioned
rules and regulations require such claims to be presented to the sui)er-
intendent, agent, or sub-agent, for indemnity.

The depredations were committed between August 1, 1805, and July
9, 1869, and were committed by different bands of Apaches and at dif-
ferent times and places.

At the time these losses were sustained by us there was no superin-
tendent of Indian aftairs, agent or sub-agent, having jiuisdiction or
charge of the nation, tribe, or band to which these depredators be-
longed.

Although the Indians who committed these depredations are novv^
within the presumed juri iliction of the United States superintendent
of Indian affairs, they are not within the actual jurisdiction or charge
of any superintendent, agent, or sub a^rent, and it is therefoie impos-
sible for any such officers to investigate this case, or to present the case
to the nation, tribe or band assembled in council, or otherwise, as pre-
scribed by section 4 of said rules and regulations.

The depredations werecommitteil within the Territory of Arizona, and
not upon any Indian lands or reservations.

I therefore most respectfully submit this case to your favorable con-
sideration, and ask that you transmit the same to Congress, with such
recommendation as, in your judgment, the evidence justifies.

I have the honor to be, very respectfully, your obedient servant,

GEO. W. VIGKEOY,

Superintendent.

Subscribed and sworn to before me this 2d day of December, 1872.
[SEAL.J J. McKENNEY,

Notary Fublic.

Washington, D. C, December 2, 1872.

Sir : I have the honor to submit the following sworn statement and ac-
corapanyingevidence concerning the claim of the Walnut GroveGold Min-
ing Company of Arizona, in accordance with the rules and regulations pre

Statement of George ff. Vickroy.

I went to Arizona in 1863, and engaged in mining. During the next year I secured
several valuable mines, and was much urged and encouraged to bring a miU and the
necessary machinery to develop them, as at this time there was no miU in the Terri-
tory. Needing more capital to render the enterprise successful, I started east to pro-
cure it; but as the settlers in that section were constantly harrassed by the Indians,
I determined that it would be dangerous to risk much money there, unless 1 could ob-
tain some guarantee of military ])rotectiou.

In July, 1864, with a view to obtain information on this point, I found General James
H. Carleton (then in command of New Mexico and Arizona) at Santa F6, who, iu re-
sponse to mv request, addressed to me a communication, saying that he had inaugu-
rated a campaign against the Apache Indians, which would result in their complete
subjugation, and stated that if I succeeded in obtaining a (piartz-mill for Arizona, the
enterprise should be protected. With this ample assurance, I went to Philadelphia
and nerrotiated with a number of gentlemen, who organized a company under the name
of the '*** Walnut Grove Gold Mining Company." Of this company I was made the gen-
eral superintendent. . , , . , ^ • « ^ ^

The company raised the sum of $77,000 at that time, with which I was instructed to
purchase a ^O-stamp quartz mill, a 40 horse-power engine, 26 wagons, 268 mules and
harness, provisions, tools, &c., which about absorbed that amount.

4 CLAIM OF WALNUT GROVE MINING COMPANY.

My train Ijcing ready, on the 28th of Fehruary, 1865, 1 started from Leavenworth
City, Kansns, l)avinj5 wfth me thirty-five men. , i . ^ i. ; ,

Abunt. Au-ust 1, we were attacked at Navajo Springs, in Arizona, and lost twenty-six
mnles Tlu^train reached Prescott ahont September 1, 18tir). Arizona bad been trans-
ferred* to tbe Department of the Paeitic dnriiig my absence, and General Mason was
then in commaml of the district. He gave me every assuranci^ of military protection
Mv mill was tbe lirst in the Territory, and the wb(de comn. unity, as well as tbe civil
aild militarv authorities, were anxious to see it erected and in operation. I decided to
mM the mill on tbe Bully Bneiio ndne. General Mason gave me twenty-oue soldiers to
escort tbe train to tbe niine. J'he day after they joined tbe tram tbe Indians attacked
ns kilb'd one man, and captured twelve mules. We were about two weeks in reaching
the Hullv Bneno ndne, and had some lighting with tbese Indians every day.

About'tb.i 1st of September, 1865, we readied the mine and nnloaded. On that c ay
the Indians captured our entire beef herd (»f twenty-two head of catt e. The next day
the empty train started for Prescott, the escort accoitipanymg it. When one mile trom
tbe mine; at Pine Flat, tbe Indians attacked ns, killed one teamster, captured eight
mules, and burned one wagon. The train reached Prescott, where he mi it ary escort
was witbilrawn. Tbe traPn was then en route, for Fort Mojave for feed. I applied for
an escort bnt was refused because of the scarcity of men.

On the road to Mojave the train wa« attacked at Hualapai Springs, where the
Indians captured eleven mules. The next day, at Beale Springs, the Indians captured
four mnh's and one horse. I loaded the train at Foi t Mojave with barley and returned

^^OnThe militarv reservation, at Fort Whipple, we lost seven mules while unloading
the train, and, while in Camp Prescott, within two weeks of this time, we had about
om^ hundred inules stolen by the Indians, but I cannot give the exact ^If^^ «^ f^^
number taken each time an attack was made, bnt we lost about one hundred mules
between November 15 and December 15, 1865.

At the mint, I bad started eleven men at work on the mill, who were attacked oil
the afternoon of October 4 and driven off. Some took refu-e at ^Y^l^.^^^^^^^^'n V.^
others at Prescott. I then employed a larger force, and again applied lor tiooi)S to be
stationed at tbe mill during that winter, as but few men could be engaged lor that
Durnose, owing to tbe extreme danger, at tbat time, from the Indians. ^ . _ ..
^During that winter we had about fifty mules stolen from the mills, by the Indians,
while our teams, which were freighting on tbe road from the Colorado Kiver to Pres- •
pntt were freouentlv attacked bv them and lost wagons and mules.

Fn,m the tX 1 reached Arizona in September, 1865, until Miuxh, 1806 the Indians
captured, in all, two hundred and seven mules, which had cost from Jtf,200 to $2o0 each,

'"oirtreOtli of Fibrnarv the ludians attacked our camp at Bully Bueno, diovo off the
men killed two mid wounded one. General Mason sent over a surgeon and a company
of troops, who retnaiued about one week and were withdrawn. I tl.en 7«:?=^«'^ "«>■
ft'rce to about forty men and left them, coming to Philadelphia m May, 1«.6, and re-
turned to Arizona about Aujjust 1. . , ■■ r • i t.

Duriu.' inv absence the Indians had captured about twenty head of animals. In
OcYob.r"lS(;r,. I sent from San Pedro, California, a train loaded with provisions, which
was captured bv the Indians at A<;ua Frio, ten miles from tlie Bully Bueno u.iue. !• ive
teamsters were killed and about forty animals taken.

Ii Noven.ber, 18G6, I went to Philad,;l|.hia, and as all efforts to have a mi itary caiup
established at our mill had failed, I went to see Geuoral Grant at Washington, to
Avhom I rei.res,.nted our situation, and who proinis..,d to instruct General McDowell
aheu comman.Iin- the Department of the Pacific) to extend such aid to us as waspos-
8 I le -uHl to estaWish a inilitarv camp at our mill. This was never done. During my
allseuce at tliis period Major E. W. Comn was superiuteudentof the company's oper-

''*ArLos Au«ek'^; California, in June, 1867, 1 bought about seventy head of mnles .and
horses ni.l six wa.'ous, and loaded them with provisions and merchandise, and started
them fr Prescott. The train had trouble with the Indians all the way, and reached
the mil e after losing a number of animals. The day after their arrival the Indians
cai.tuml everv animal belongiug to the company, and killed the herders. This caused
rtotil suspeM'si<m of operation9,1»8 we could purchase no teams in Arizona at that time.
mSov Coffin abandoned the enterprise and returned to Philadelphia, I having. in the

inp-intime. remained in San Franciaeo. ,. , ^ /^ , rt

On h earin- of this disaster I at once went to Prescott, and applied to General Gregg
for "oldierB l". protect the property, bnt without result. I employed a force of men to

lui oifni»»^»o I ^lA^. . .1 .1.,..: 4.i»„<- <..T;.^^<^t. n-nA ^oTiifi i(\ PbilfiMelnbia.

tor soldiers lo luon-ui' tuo ifiv/jfv.n'^, "..« ,. .vv,,.„ --^^ _ ^ ^ ^ -r*! •! i i i :«

m^ard he mill and left them there during that winter, and came to Philadelphia.
^ DurinVtbt' folhiwing March, 1868, I returned to Prescott, and as the men I had
wer^n willing to remain longer, I made an application to General Dev.n (then c
niand ii g the district) for soldiers, representing that I could not secure an adequate
force onuen to protect the property. He could spare no soldiers, so I employed thir-

left
com-

CLAIM OF WALNUT GROVE MINING COMPANY. 5

teen men, which were all I could obtain for that purpose, aijd left the mill in their
charge. We bad about eleven bead of mules and horses st(den by tbe Indians about
this time, March 2, 1868, on the Hassayauipa, wbile en route to Wickeiiberg. 1 be In-
dian troubles now became so great that we could not carry on ope'ations, and our only
object was to guard the xnoperty from destruction. Tbes« men ivmamed ni e barge
untilJuW 9, 1H69, wben a large force of India-.js attacked tbe premises and ITurnecl
the mill, store-house, saw-mill, superintendent's bouse, boarding-house, blacksmith ami
carpenter shops, and stables, destroying tbe machinery, tools, and supplies, together
with all of tbe books, ])apers, and accounts. -Mni ono x

Tbe expense incurred by the company n]> to this time bad amoiinttul to ^iJ'A^UU. l
had no interest in tbe conipany, but was their general superintendent from tin? tune
of its organization up to the time of the destrmition of the mill. i i -i. 4.

I am well assured that this enterprise would have never been undertaken had it not
been for the military protection which was promised, and I am satistieil tbat if that
protection had been afforded my operations in behalf of the company would have been
entirely successful. ^^^ ^ VICKROY.

Subscribed and sworn to before me January 6, 1872.

[SEAL.] R. J. MEIGS C/erL

■• By R. J. MEIGS, Ju., Assistant Clerk.

Affidaril of James A. Flanariari.

I, James A. Flanagan, of Johnstown, Pennsylvania, being thirty-five years of aj;o,
upon being duly sworn, depose and say, I assumed tbe snporinteiidcm'e jd the
Bully Bueno mine and mill, situated on Turkey Creek, within sixteen mib's of I res-
cott, Arizona, on the 15tb day of March. A. D. 18()8. At that tiim^ tin' Indians were
very hostile, daily committing depredations in tbat vicinity. 1 applied to General
Devin, colnmand'ing that district, for military protection, as there was a large amount
of valuable propc^rty at the mill, and I ceiild not employ a suthcient number of <';tizeris
to protect it^, owhig to the extreme danger of Indians. General Devin fre(inently told
me he was well aware of the necessity of a stionger guard at the mill, bnt l)eing short
of men, could not spare any soldiers, but promised from time to time to send me an
adequate guard, so soon as he could possibly spare troops from tort Whipple. I imule,
thron<vh C^n)tain J. P. Hargrave, of Prescott, the company's attorney frecimMit applica-
tions to the commander of the district for military protection, as the danger became
more imminent. I kept at the mill as strong a force of citizens as I could possibly em-
idov all the time. The working force at tbe mill and mine was from forty to seventy
men. On the 9th day of July, 1869, tbe Indians attacked the premises m force, and
compelled us to abandon the place and seek refuge at Prescott, sixteen miles distant
the nearest military post, after which they burned the buildings, consisting of a mill
bnildino;, 160 by 200 feet square, a saw-mill and building, carpenteT-sbop, blncksmith-
shop, sti)re-h()use, boarding-house, supeiintendent's house, and al the merchandise and
i)royisions; also the wagons, harness, tools, &c. These buildings were all largo
finebimscs. Nothing whatever escaped destrncti(m m this attack which could bo
burned except what merchandise and-stock the Indians carried oft. I h:«l entire
superintendence of the books and accounts during this ti"H^ whud. were all bur^^^^^^^^
Tlie company had expended in this enterprise a fraction over 5I^292 ildO. 1 be Bully
Bueno mine fs one of the best on the Pacific coast, and would if worked yield a very
lar<re product of gold. The mine is well opened and developed, and will furnish mx
inexhaustible amount of rich pay rock. This was the principal mining enterprise m
Arizona, and its destruction was a calamity to the whole TeiJ^J^J-y-^ ^^ FLANAGAN

Subscribed and sworn to before me, at Johnstown, Pennsylvania, this thirtieth day
of October, A. D. one thousand eight hundred i^»^^ «\\venty-one.

*- " "-^ Prothonotarp of District Court of Cambr'ut Couidy.

Affidavit oj A. H, Boomer.

The undersigned, A. H. Boomer; am thirty-seven years old. I was employed by G.
H. Vickroy as wagon-master in February, 1865, to take a mule-tram, consisting of

CLAIM OF WALNUT GROVE MINING COMPANY.

twentv-six wa^oiss liuiiltMl J)v teu iiinlfs each. I arrivcMl at Prescott. Arizona, in
Au«nist, IHOf), with thn train, *an<l was riiniishtHl hy General Mason, then eonnnandino:
thaf <listriel,a militarv eseort, who reniainiMl with tlie train about two weeks, and
until I arrived at the Bully Hueno mine, <luriivu: which time we were attacked threo
times hy Indians. The waj^ons under my cliar«(e were headed with a '20-stamp quartz
mill wei<;hin«x %,0()(> jiounds, and ahout i)0,(X)0 pounds of tools, provisi<ins, &e. After
unh)adiir^ tli^5 train I was directed by the superintendent of the company to ^o to
Fort M(»j:ive, one hundred and sixty miles distaiit, for barley, and ai)plied at Fort
Whipple for a military escort, but was unable to procure one. On my way to Fort
Mojave was attacked twice by llualapai Indians in large force, and lost fifty-seven
mules and two horses, and was compelled to abandon four wa^^ons. We struggled
along through the winter, making every elTort to erect the mill and haul in feed and
Kupidies, but everv team standing at tiu». mill was run otf by Indians, and in March,
1S()(), Mr. Vickro\\ tlui superinten«hMit, became discouraged, and as he could neither
employ citizens to ]uoteet the property, or obtain military protection, I was directed
to take the train to California, ccmsi'sting then of only six w^agons and iifty-three
mules, the balance all having been captured by the Indians. Mr. Vickroy overtook
rae on the road in California, accompanied by four of the men who had been employed
guarding the; propt^rty at the mine, and reported that the Indians had attacked the
premised, driving off the force of eleven men and killing four, and burning the two
houses. We sold the remainder of the train to William H. Hardy, and Mr. Vickroy

and myself came to New York. __ -.^.^^

^ ALEXANDER H. BOOMER.

Sworn to and subscribed before me this 27th day of November, 1871.

[SEAL.] . JOSEPH BROWNE,

*• -• Clerk of Court.

Affidavit of Thomas H. Gibbons.

The undersigned, Thomas H. Gibbons, whose residence is Elgin, Illinois, testifies as
follows : I was en»i)loved h} G. H. Vickroy, at Denver, Colorado, in May, 1865, to go to
Arizona with the (luartz-n'iill bt-longing to a Philadelphia company known at that
tinui as the Walnut Giove Gold Mining Com])any, as book-keeper. I joined the mnle-
train, consisting of twenty-six wagons, at Grey's Ranch, in Colorado, and traveled with
the train to the iJullv Hueuo mine, situated sixteen miles from Prescott, Arizona. The
first attack made ui)on the train by Indians was at Navajo Springs. A large force
of mounted Indians attacked the herd while grazing a mile from the wagons, but m
plain sioht, while we were eating <linner, drove off the six Mexican herders, captured
nineteen mules, and killed seven. This was about the 1st of August, 1865. We reached
camp, six miles below l»rescott, about September 1, 1865. There General Mason sent the
train an «'seort of twenty-one nu-n. Wv. then proceetled on across the mountain to the
Bully Bueno, which toidc about two weeks, as we had to build 4i road. At Mule
Creek seven miles from the Bully Bueno, about September 10, the Indians nuule an
attack, killing one teamster and stealing twelve mules. The day we reached the
mine, about Sridember 21, the beef herd, consisting of about twenty cattle, was taken,
and on the next dav, as the train was going back to Prescott, they captured an eight-
njule team and burned the wagon, at Pine Flat, one mile from the null. Our military
escort w cut back to Fort Whipjde at this time. Eleven men were lett at the mill,
which was in course of erection, who were driven off by Indians about October 4. We
employed another and stronger force comjiosed mostly of the teamsters who came
throu«di from the Missouri River with the train. AVe applied for soldiers to assist in
<ruard7n<' t he mill, l)ut could get none, as General Mason was carrying on a very vigorous
campai<ni against the Indians that winter, and could not spare any men, but promised to
])rotect'lis irv spring. In January, 1866, Mr. Vickroy left me in charge, as he had to go
to Philadel}.hia. Up to this time I had been in the office of the company in Prescott. I
then employed live more> men, deeming the force at the mill too small to protect it, and
Avent there myself. I emidoye<l everv man I could hire to go to the mine. On the 9th
of February, *18(U), a large force of Indians, probably t wo huiulred, attacked the men,
who were (iuartered in two houses, killed one man and wounded two others, one fatally,
took seven mulis and three horses from the stable, and burned one of the houses. The
nuMi retreat<'<l to Prescott, where I had gone the day bef<ue on business. I applied to
the post for aid and the commander sent a surgeon and a company of troops to the
mill but they did not ren)ain a week. This was the second and last assistance the com-
pany ever go't from the military while I was in the country I then employed about
twenty more nu-n who had just conu^ in from Montana. In August, 1866, Mr. \ ickroy
returned with .Alajor E. W.'Coilin, who took charge of the enterprise and sent me to

CLAIM OF WALNUT GROVE MINING COMPANY. 7

California for a lomi of provisions, mining materials, &c. I bought about 6lO,{)00
worth, and, with seven teams of ten mules each, started ftt)m Sau Pedro about October
1 1866. At Fort Rock, seventy miles from Prescott, we were attacked by not less than
a hnmlred and fifty Indians and lost thirteen mules. We had trouble every day then,
until, within ten miles of the mine, the Indians killed four teamsters and took all the
stock. I then remained at the mine a year longer. In the August lollowing, (1807,)
Maior Coffin, who had been to Philadelphia, came in w ith a fine uiule-tram. I he day
after the train arrived at the mill the Indians killed one herder and captured every
mule and horse belonging to the c(mi])any. We were all ready to go to crushuig ore at
that time and everything looked promising. We then had a force ot about seventy men,
nearly all of whom had been there a year. The loss of the stock made it impossible to
do anything that winter,andjas Major Coffin had made many ap])lications tor troops to no
purpose, he gave np the enterprise and went to Philadelphia, leaving twelve or titteen
men to guard the property. 1 came to Illinois that fall, where I have remained ever
since. I have spent ten years in gold mines and at one tin>e had a mill in Colorado,
and feel sure that had it not been for Indians the Bully Bueno, which is the best mine
I have ever seen, would have been a great success. I kept all the accounts lor two
yesirsand know that the company spent over $-290,000 upon this enterprise. I "i^ve
frequently heard and seen it stated in several newspapers that the mill and all the
buildings were burned by Indians in July, 1869. tHOS H GIBBONS

Sworn to and subscribed before me this 7th day of December, 1871.

• JOHN G. GINDELE,

Clerk County Court of Cook County, Illinois.

Affidavit of Thomas Rich.

Deponent is thirty-four years old ; born at Milwaukee, Wisconsin ; resides at 1628
Halstead street, Chicago. I was employed at Leavenworth C^ity, Kansas on the 1 ah
of Julv, 1865, by G. H. Vickroy, superintendent of the Walnut Grove Gold Mining Com-

in tue Joss oi tweiuy-six uiuie». /it tu« x khhv vjm. avwv..^o, .,..^ - v \ , :• t

tary escort of tweiJty-one men joined the train. We were attacked several imes by
the Indians, and had one teamster killed and twelve mules stolen between there and
Bully Bueno mine. We there unloaded the machinery and merchanise. On t'^« ^^ay
back to Prescott the Indians captured one wagon and team ot eight mules. About the
1st November, 1865, we started for Fort Mojave, to bring in a load o teed and supplies.
I went with the wagon-master, A. H. Boomer, to the commander ot the post at lort
Whinide for a military escort, which was refused us.| At Hualapai Springs, the In-
dians attacked us and captured eleven loose mules. At Beall Springs we were again
attacked, losing four mules and one horse. We returned with the train to Prescott
about the middle of December, 1865. We again applied tor a null tary escort and were
acrain refused. The train went back to Fort Mojave. I was m Prescott when the tirst
party was driven away from the mill at the Bully Bueno mine, about the 4th October,
1865. I was at the Bully Bueno on the 9th February, 1H6G, when the Indians drove us
off and killed two of our party and burned one of the houses. I was with Ihomas H.
Gibbons about the 20th of October, 1866, at Fort Rock when the Indians attacked a
train of six wagons, ^yhich the company had sent in fi'cmi San Pedn^, Call or ma. In
that fiirht we lost thirteen mules and had one man fiitally wounded. Gibbons ami I
left the train at Prescott, and went across the mountain to the mill by the trail ihe
train went round by the wagon-road, and was all captured and tiye men killecl when
within ten miles of the B'llly Bueno. There were seven hue Iniildm^^^^^^^^^^

mine.

8tor<

eame in trom Ualliornia wiin Ui luiiiu-tiam wi. ^^yj*>.x: o. -*».., . »--^, •- — ,v~ V i- '

tnZ by the Indians tl.c day after his arrival. While I ^vas ... Arizona the I...l.ans
k lc<l seventeen ...en en.l.h.vert by the con.pany, and captured or killed about two
h, ndrc'r.. .iTs, a.id bur.led' about ten wagons behmsii-s to the company. On the
rl.t of the 9t 1 of Julv, IrtCO, the In<lia..s attacked the premises, then in ehar«e ot
James A. Fla..aaan, and drove off the entire force a.id burned every building at the
..lice to'rether with all the wagons, ont-buihlinss, Inniber, &c. , ^, ,, . ,

* I huveTiad several years experie.ice in the gold mines of Colorado, New Mexico, and

CLAIM OF WALNUT GROVE MINING COMPAKY.

CLAIM OF WALNUT GROVE MINING COMPANY.

Arizona. I think $300,000 is a low estimate of tlie losses of this company in Arizona
bv Indian depredations. ♦

THOMAS RICH.

Subscribed and sworn to before me this 7th day of December, 1871.

[SEAL.] JOHN H. PECK,

Xotmnf PmiUc

Statement of Edward W. Coffin ^ of Camden Cowaljf, Simte of Xof JerKy,

In May, 1866, 1 was appointed superintendent of the Walnnt Grove Gold Mining Com-
pany, of Turkey Creek, Yavapai County, Territory of Arizona^aud on the 1st Jane fol-
lowing left New York for San Francisco, en route for that place, to asssnme charge of the
company's property ; Mr. George H. Vickroy, the former ^nperintendent^ accompanied
me. At Los Angeles, California, we purchased the necessary teamift, provisions, &c.,
for the journey, and about the first of the following Angus! reachetl our destination.
Having completed the necessary arrangements I immediately commenced the erection
of a 5iO-8tamp quartz mill, which had been previously brought into the Territory by
Mr. Vickroy, with the necessary buildings, &e., which were fiuiished about the close of
the year,' notwithstanding we were almost daily troubled by the Indians, (Apaches.)
in killing men, running off stock, haras^sing our supply traio!^ &c-, and yrbich caused
a vast increase in the cost of our enterprise. As they had stolen a large |»art of the
stock in that part of the Territory, as well as our own^ it was iiiipotssible for me to ob-
tain teams to haul rock to the" mill, and obligeil me to return east ami obiai a more
money to enable me to i^urchase another outfit of teamsy wagons, Ac, in California,
and to supply our mill. With that object I startetl east about the 1st January, 18G7.
When I first assumed charge of the mine I was assured we should receive military pro-
tection, and while I was in Arizona I made numerous applications and had as many
promises of protection from the military authorities, but with the exception of one
escort for two or three days, I never succeeded in obtaining the leilst protection. In
the fall of 1866, some time before starting east, I adilressetl a communication to Lieu-
tenant-General Grant, which was indorsed by infinential parties in Philadelphia,
urgently requesting that a military camp might l>e formed in the vicinity of the mill
for our protection. This letter was presented to General Grant by Mr. Vickroy, and I
have understood he instructed General McDowell, then in command of the Department
of the Pacific, to establish such a camp; but it was never done aud we had to depend
entirely upon ourselves. After obtainrng the necesjsiiry means, I again left New York
for Arizona on the 11th Anril, 1867. On my arrival at L«© Angeles I puichase<l a large
number of animals, wagons, provisions, i&c, and started for the mines, where we
arrived early in August. The train was very much annoyed by Indians on the way,
and the day after our arrival the herd was attacked within les» than half a mile of the
mill, bnt by the vigilance of t\u) herders the Indians were driven off, A few days
afterward, however, while grazing on the company^s farm, the herd which I had brou<;ht
in, with other animals belonging to the company, were driven off aud the henler killed.
This unfortunate occurrence ])lflced us in as bad a condition as we were when I left for
^the east the previous J«tnuary, and discouraged the ci>mpany from again purchasing
* stock, and ])ursuing the enteq)rise. I returned east in August, and soon after ended
my connection with the company.

I have no means of knowing the exact amount of money expended by the Walnut
Grove Gold Mining Company in this enterprise, but I have every reason to believe it
iB about $300,000.

I understand it is the intention of the company, in ease the Government grants their
application for relief, to expend the money so received in developing the mine, erect-
ing new machinery, &c. ; and I have no doubt, from my knowledge of the property, the
enterprise will be a complete success; and as there has been a new settlement made
within a few miles of it, the company can develop their pro|i^rty in comparative safety,
and from the number of men employed at the mine it will be the means of saving the
Government large sums of money in the maintenance of troops in that vicinity,

I am entirely satisfied in regard to the value of the mine, aud believe it to l>e one of
the best on the Pacific Coast, and if properly develoi>etV which it will be if this relief
is granted, the Government will be amply repaid for all its ex|»enditure. In my
opinion it is nothing more than justice that the company should be compensated for
its losses, for I am quite confident the money would not have been expended if they
had not had full assurance of protection from the Imlians.

E. W. COFFIN.

Sworn and subscribed to before me this 27th day of December, A. D. 1^1,
[SEAL] J. A. LOUGHRIDGE,

FrotkoMotarjf,

Affidavit of Richard Gird.

I, Richard Gird, residing in the city of San Francisco, State of California, Wing duly
sworn by Lorenzo S. B. Sawyer, clerk and commissioner of the Uniteil States circuit
court of the ninth circuit, district of California, depose as follows: That I was in
Prescott in September, 1865, when G. H. Vickroy arrived with a mule-train of wagons
from the Rio Grande freighted with mining-tools, mill, machinery, and provisions.
The mnle-traiu, wagons, and outfit was the finest and largest I have ever seen in the
Territory. It was common report that the train had been many times attacketl by
Indians; that, after much trouble, perseverance, and hardship, the mill ha«l been
located at the Bully Bueno mine, when the Indians becoming so «langerous and
troublesome, stealing the stock and attacking the men, that the party in charge, con-
sisting of some eighteen or twenty men, abandoned the mine, putting into the boilers^
through the man-holes, what property they could, and burying or cachting the whole,
consisting of three 32-inch tcale cylinder boilers, thirty-two feet long, engine,, mill,
machinery, provisions, tools, powder, &c. Military protection could not be obtained.
I was at that time collecting data for my map of Arizona, and the Indians were so
bad, and fast becoming more daring and better armed, and consequently more dan*
gerous, that I abandoned it in the fall of 18f^ and returned to San Francisco.

The next season Major Coffin, who came out as superintendent of the Bully Baeno
mine, suffered heavy loss, great inconvenience, and delay from Indian depredations.
He had a wagon-train conveying sui^plies from Prescott to the mine attacked, the
teamsters killed, and property destroyed.

I went to Arizona in the employ of the company in 1867 as surveyor, and in the
company of Mr. Vickroy and Mr. Harlan. On the road from San Bernardino to Pres-
cott reports continually reached us of Indian hostilities. When we reachetl the
Bully Bueno mine and mill we found that the stock had been run off by Indians,.
and that Major Coffin had been compelled to suspend operations. We found the mill
guarded by citizens, employed by the company, who were in continual dread of
attacks* I went with Mr. Vickroy to General Gregg, then commanding the district*
for soldiers to assist in guarding the property. General Gregg said that he had no men
to spare from Fort W^hipple, and citizens could not be employed in sufficient numbers
to be ettective.

The property at the mine consisted of the mill building, with machinery for retlrcing
ore, all in running order, circular saw for sawing lumber, dwelling-house, boarding-
house, powder and tool-house, and other buildings, both at the mine and mill.

I have no hesitation in saying that the failure of the enterprise was owing to Indian
hostilities and the consequent insecurity of life and property in that exposetl situation;
that the loss of the company must have*l>een very heavy, and the final destruction of
the mill in 1869 is a death-blow to the enterprise for the present ; that if it had not
been for the impossibility of the company's prosecuting the work on account of Indian
hostilities and want of military protection, the mill woUlA have paid handsomely from

the beginning.

^ '^ RICHARD GIKD.

Subscribed and sworn to before me this 16th day of January, A. D. 1872,
[SEAL.] L. S. B. SAWYER,

Clerk and Commissioner United States Circuit Comrty,

Ninth Circuit Districty Calif ormim.

Affidavit of Charles Harlan,

I, Charles Harlan, residing in San Francisco, am twenty-five years of age, and am
employed in the custom-house as examiuer of weigher's returns. I went with G. H.
Vickroy, general superintendent of the Bully Bueno mine, in August, t*^, to Ari-
zona. On^^our way there we were Auich annoyed by Indians, and heard of their poison-
ing the water in "advance of us. When we reached Hardyville we heard of so many
attacks having been made between there and Prescott that we waited several days,
until a sufficiently large party could be made up to make traveling safe. Mr. Vickroy
procuicil two more horses at* Hardyville, which, in addition to the four we were driv-
ing, made team enough to haul fecil aud provisions for the whole party. On arriving
at Prescott we found the country so overrun, and in the power of the Indians^ as
to preclude the possibUity of starting up the mill, which had been forced to stop by

CLAIM OF WALNUT GEOVE MIXING COMPAXY.

the attacks of the Indians, and that Mr. ViekroT's mnle traiiTs, which were the finest
in the Territory, had fallen a sacrifict? to the distnrlied condition of the conutrv*. Mr.
Vickroy could not replace his molt^, as there t^^ere do animals for sale in the country.
He api>ealeil to General Gregg for tn>o|is to gnanl the will, but General Gregj:: was not
al^le to 8j>are them. Mr. Vickroy then employed what men he could to guanl the mill
and other buildings, and he and myself returned to California^ after being absent sev-
eral months^ and fully convinced that the number of soldiers in the Territory was totally
inadequate to the protection of life and property. Mr. Vickroy had intended to run
his mill thai winter, and prepared to do so at a very heavy expense, but the loss of his
mule- trains made it impossible to replace them.

CHARLES HARLAN.

Subscribed and sworn to before me this 16th dav of Jannarv, A. D. 1872.
[SEAL.] ' L,'S. B. SAWYER,

CUri amd CommimioMtr Umited States Ctrcvif Court,

yimth Circuit Diatrict, Calif or ma.

Affidarit •f CkmHe* Allmemdimger.

I, Charles Allmendinger, am twenty-seven years of age; reside at Na 434 North Second
street, Philadelphia.

On February 12, 1867, I left New York for Arizona with G- H. Vickroy, by whom I
was employed as assayer. We arrived in Arizona aliont the middle of April. I remained
in Arizona one year. During the time I was there the Indians committed depredations
nearly every week* We had no protection from the military authorities; though we
were frequently promised aid. There were eleven of oar men killed while I was there.
While 1 was there the Walnut Grove Mining Company sustained heavy losses from
Indian depredations, losing a great number of mnles and horses.

I was also with G. H. Vickroy in Los Angeles and San Bernardino, where he bought
mules, paying s:JOO each in gold. These same moles w"ere afterward captured or killed
bv the Indians while I was in the Territorv. The conntrv being overrun bv Indians,
it was im}H>ssible to carry on successful mining operations without the aid of the mili-
tary.

Although strenuous efforts were made by the military to suppress Indian depreda-
tions, thev did not succeed. Had the niilitarv been successful the losses of our com-
pany would have been inconsiderable. Had it not been for the Indians this mining
enterprise would have been a great soccess, and been the means of developing that
whole district of country.

I left Arizona in April, 188??, owing to the danger from Indians. I have l>een well
informe<l as to the condition of things in Arizona since I left there, and heanl of the
burning of the mill and other buildings soon after it occnrretl in July, 1*^69.

Fn>ui what I have seen of mining operations I <lo not think the losses of this com-
pany at the Bully Bneno mine were less than Ic^CNd.CNOlO.

I have been employed- by two other compauies^ as assayer. The Bully Bueno mine,
if successfully worked, is considered the best in Arizona.

CHAS. ALLMENDINGER.

Sworn and subscribed before me^ prothonotary of the court of common pleas, this
14th dav of December, 1871.

[8Ea£,] J. A. LOUGHRIDGE,

Protkomotarif Caurt of Common Pleas,

Afidmrii of Rithard C. Bates.

Richard C. Bates, of Haddonfield, Camden Connty, New Jersey, upon first l>eing duly
sworn, deposes a ml says: I am thirty-five years of age; I left Philadelphia on the 10th
day of April, 1867, in the employ of Major E. W. Coffin, superintendent of the Walnut
Grove G<»ld Mining Company: my destination being the Bully Bneno mine, sixteen
miles from Frescott, Arizona, where the said company was carrying on mining, and
had erected a ^-stamp qnartz-mill, and six other buildings. Major Coffin lM)ught a
niule-traiu in Calil'oiuia, of which I took charge and started, with three wagons, from

CLAIM OF WALNUT GROVE MINING COMPANY.

San Pedro, on the 2lst%lay of June, 1867. These wagons were loaded with about
$11,000 worth of merchandise. I experienced a great deal of trouble on the road to
Piescott. from Indians, as they had poisoned some of the water-holes on the road and
made several at tacks, and we were greatly delayed on the trip. I arrived with the train
at the Bully Bueno mine on about the 6th of August, 1867. The next day we had a
fight with Indians at the mill. I then took the mules and also the horses that were
at the mill to the company's farm, wIk^v, on the I'.^th of August, ltft)7, the Indians
attacked us, killed one man, and drove ott' all the stock. I was on herd that day my-
self. The Indians were hanging around the mill all the time, stealing every article
chancing to be within their reach, and killing men and running off" stock during all
the time I was there. It w^as impossible to travel, haul in supplies, or work the mine
without military protection, which the company never got while I was in Arizona.
Major Coffin was totally unable to purchase any teams to carry on the work, without
going back to California, and as he had never been able to secure military protection
he had scarcely any ho^ie of keeping any stock at that time. He went to Philadelphia
in August, lr?ti7, leaving about fifteen men to guard the mill. I remained there in the
emph»y of the company. We did not attempt to work the mine that winter, as it was
nece-ssary for all the force at the mill to protect it, and even then we never felt safe.
No further work was carried on. It was very difficult to employ men to guard the mill,
as the Indians were getting more dangerous every day, emlwldencd by their many
snccets««^ On the 9th of July, 1869, they attacked the mill, and the party statioued
there being too small to hold out against the Indians, they drove off the force, some
going to Prescott and some to Walnut Grove. They burned the mill and all the other
buildings^ and destroyed all the property they did not carry off. I returned to my
present residence in 1869.

RICHARD C. BATES.

Witnesses :

Edward C. SmxN,
RiiBEKT Bates.

State of New Jersey, Camden County^ ss :

Sworn and sultscribed by the said Richard C. Bates before me, this 18th day of De
cember, A. D. 1871. Witness my hand and official seal.
[SEAL.] • JOHN W. CAIN, aerl\

Affidavit of E. Winslow Coffin.

E. Win«ilow Coffin, residing at Glendale, Camden County, New Jersey, upon first be-
ing duly sworn, dei>oses and snys : I was em])loyed in May, IH<;6, by the Walnut Grove

*_,^.. * .^ ., r, - J|)iiia tne snpennten<lent was instrucreii to pro-
ceed to invesstigate the case, and if, in his opinion, it was safe to erect the mill and
prow*-cule the o|ieration3 of the company, to do so; it not, to store the machinery, nier-
chandis**, &c., Ijelougin*^ to the company. After due consultation with the military
and civil authorities of the Territory, and upon full assurances thai; we were to be pro-
tected by the military force of the district, we commenced the erectiou of the mill.
The sui>eiiutendent li'ported to the company in Philadelphia that he had secured
promis«r« of pix>teetion that satisfied him, and, as the mine was rich and the facilities
for working it ^ood, he would proceed to operates the enterprise at once. He drew on
the company for moneys, and sent to San Francisco for a full stock of provisions, chem-
icals^ supplies, mules, wagons, &c. In the mean time we employed a force of about
forty men, aud commenced the erection of the mill and other necessary buildings. Wc
depencknl ui»ort pack-animals to supi)ly us until the supplies from San Francisco arrived.
Scarcely a week passwl that we were not molested by Indians, and all this time mak-
ing earue)«t apfieals to the commander of the district for protection, and receive<l many
promises of aid. Our tVain, when within ten miles of the mill, was attacke<l by In-
dians, and three teamsters killed and the whole train captured. 1 s[>ent two weeks
riding over the country endeavoring to employ teams to haul our ore to the mill, which
was then ready to commence crushing, and succeeded in securing teams at two different
times, but on ijoth occasions Indians prevented the fultillment of their contracts. It
was ini|>ossible to get the ore to the null (half a mile) without teams. After all these
disasters, aud the failure to establish a military cani)) at our mill, Edward W. Coffin
came ea»t, leaving me in charge of the enterprise. He returned in the following July,
having secure<l more means to prosecute the enterprise. During the 8U|>erintendent'8
absence several men were killed, aud all our mules and hoi-ses captured by Indians.

CLAIM OF WALNUT GROVE MINING COMPANY.

A few days after his return the superinteuclent returned to Philadelphia again, and
left me to run the mill durinj; his absence. I had thirty-four head of mules and horses,
but within two davs after his departure the Indians attacked and captured every one
of them, and killed the herders. After this misfortune I employed nine men and left
them in charge of the mill, and started to San Francisco to put myself in communi-
cation with the company. Soon after I was ordered to return, and arrived in Phila-
delphia in November, 1867. The expenses of the company were about $300,000, and
the buildings erected at the Bully Biieno mine, and which were burned July 9, 1869, by

Indians, were very valuable. ^^

^ E. WINSLOW COFFIN.

Sworn and subscribed before me this 23th day of May, 1872.
[SKAL.] J. A. LOUGH RIDGE,

Prothonotary of the Court of Common Pleas for the City and County of Philadelphia,

Affidavit of S, S. Grant,

S. S. Grant. of Saint Louis, Missouri, being duly sworn, deposes and says: On De-
cember 7, 1864, I sold to George H. Vickroy, superintendent of the Walnut Grove Gold
Mining Company, of Arizona, one hundred mules at $200 each, four mules at $250 each,
three horses at $250 each, and one horse at $200, and one horse at $275 ; that saicl mules
and horses were fully worth the amounts paid to me ; and that after I made said con-
tract to deliver said stock to George H. Vickroy I could have sold the same for more
money, as prices were daily advancing. That on January 26, 1865, 1 sold to George H.
Vickroy the balance of the nmles for the said company, to transport their wagons to
Arizona, at $250 each, and that all of the said mules were fully worth the prices paid

by said company to me at the time of said sales.

S. S. GRANT.

Sworn to and subscribed before rae this the 9th day of November, 1872.
[SEAL.] WASHINGTON HENDRICKS,

Notary Public of Saint Louis County, MissouH.

To the honorable th^ Senate and House of Representatives of the United States in Congress

assembled :

Your petitioners, citizens of the States of Pennsylvania and New Jersey, respectfully
represent that thev are the trustees of a mining company organized in the year 1864,
and known at that time as the Walnut Grove Gold Mining Company of Arizona. The
individuals composing said company having, at the time above mentioned, full writ-
ten assurances from General James H. Carlton, then commanding the Military District
of Arizona and New Mexico, that should we send to the Territory of Arizotui a quartz-
mill, machinerv, supplies, &c., for opening and working our mines, we should have am-
ple military protection and support, as at that time the Government of the United
States, as well as the citizens of the Territory, were anxious to aid and assist any en-
terprise looking to the settlement of the country and the development of its rich min-
eral resources. At heavy expense, as the accompanying affidavits and papers will
show, we equipped an expedition most thoroughly with everything necessary to insure
the success of the enterprise. i • a

Our quartz and saw mills, steam-engine, boilers, mule-train, &c., &c., finally arrived
at its destination in September, 1865, sixteen miles from Prescott, the then seat of gov-
ernment of the Territory. Up to this date our expenditures had been about $100,000,
exclusive of the mines and lands upon which the mills and other improvements were

located.

And we further represent that our agents had repeated assurances of military pro-
tection from the several military officers who commanded that district during our ef-
forts to maintain our operations there, and that said assurances of protectu)n from
Indian depredations induced us to continue to contn-ibute money from time to time,
during four years, as often as the Indians robbed us of our property and obstructed our
operations, until July 9, A. D. 1869, when the Indians made their final attack, driving
off the men in charge of the property and burning the mill and other buildings,
together with all the wagons, mining-tools, chemicals, and supplies, which, at that
time, had cost the company about $300,000.

CLAIM OF WALNUT GROVE MINING COMPANY.

Your petitioners further represent that they would Dot have undertaken this enter-
prise in the first instance but for the guarantee of protection from the then district
commander, nor would we have continued to exi>end oar means after each succeeding
Indian raid but for the renewed assurances of protection from the military authori-
ties in Arizona. And we further represent that we now desire to res^uine operations at
our mines, and that a flourishing settlement has grown up in that vicinity, (the set-
tlers having been attracted there by the wealth of newly discovered gidd mines,) and
that we now feel safe in rebuilding and recommencing operations. And we further
respectfully represent that a number of the original subscribers to this enterprise in-
vested all they could command in it, on the strength of the assurances of the protection
above recited, and are unable to meet further asc^essraents on them.

We therefore most respectfully petition Congress to re-inibnrse our said company for
the losses sustained from the said Indian outrages, believing our claim right and equi-
table, and that the Government will, in a few yean*, be amply lemuuerate*! by the de-
velopment of that district of the Territory, which will doubtless be the result of the
rebuilding our mill and working the mines.

The principal mine which we own and u pern which our mill and buildings were
erected is known as the Bully Bueno mine, and is one of the best known, and, we be-
lieve, one of the richest in the Territory.

J. G- FELL,
EDWARD HOOPES,
GEORGE BURNHAM,

• Trustees,

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, December 27, 1871.

House of Rkprksextati\t^,

WaMmgtom^ D. C, January 8, 1872.

As governor of the Territory of Arizona, resident at Prescott at the time this company
entered upon its important enterprise, I am familiar with many of the facts set forth
in the foregoing statement. I am aware that the company, at heavy expense, brought
to the Territory extensive and valuable machinery, and counted up«m mditary protec--
tionin its eliorts to develop one of the most promising gold-lodes; that said protec-
tion w^as iio1» provided, and that for want of it the Indians, being active and increas-
ing in their hostilities, the companv was constantly Embarrassed in its operations, and
ultimately suffered the complete loss of its machinery. buUdings, &c., &c., at their

Tcoiisider the claim for relief by Congress just and entitle^l to pr«m]it consideration.

R. C. McC'ORMlCK,
Deleyatefrom Arizona.

•

I know Mr. Fell personally, and Messrs. Hoopes and Bumham by reputation, so tliat
I do not hesitate to commeiul their statements as worthy of entire confidence, as they
are all men of the highest business character and reputation.

I am personally acquainted with Mr. Edward Hoopes and with Mr. Y<\\ by reputa-
tion. Both of them are eminent business men in Philadelphia and stand high in the
estimation of the people as business men of high character and unimpeachable integ-
rity and veracity. ^ TOWNSEND. *

From a personal knowledge of the gentlemen named in the alK>ve memorial, I fully
indorse their character for veracity, reliability, and moral standing. ^ ^ hARMER.

I concur in all the foregoing, having personal knowledge of all ^^^^^^^^J^^^^^'}^'^^^^^

I am well acquainted with the gentlemen who signed the above petition. They arc
ainong our best citizens in Philadelphia, and I ask for them the most intelligent and
earnest consideration. LEONARD MYERS.

I concur in the testimony of Hon. L. Myers.

JOHN W. HAZELTON.

A residence, as a member of the judiciary of Arii^i, of more than two and a half
of the last three years, part of the time at and near Prescott, proximate to the Walnut
Grove mine, above described, enables me to say that nearly all the facts stated in the
foregoing n emorial are true and of '^ public notoriety'^ in that Territory, many of the

CLAIM OF WALNUT GROVE MINING COMPANY.

said facts liavinj; passed under my official scrutiny. Long residence in this city and
intimate personal acquaintance with the above-named memorialists enable me also to
siiy that they are, without exception, men of uniiue.stioiuible iiite«;riry and resjiecta-
biiity, and I take pleasure, therefore, in thus recommending their memorial, as above
presented, to the most favonible consideration of the Federal Government and its
officers.

JOHN TITUS.
Philai>elphia, September 26, 1872.

Schedule

1865.

Aug.

Aug. !:

I'X

Sept.

14.

Sept.

15.

Oct.

Nov.

186(:

Feb.

Oct.

1867

•

Aug.

•

1868.

Mar.

1869.

Jnly

July

Jnly

July

of property belonging to the JVaJnut Grove Mining Company captured or destroyed

by Apache Indians in Arizona.

At Navajo Springs, 26 mules, at $200 §5,200 00

At Mule Creek, 12 mules, at $200 2,400 00

At Bullv Bueuo mine, 23 beeves, at $40 920 00

At Pine Flat, 8 mules, at $200 1,600 00

At Pine Flat, 1 wagon 280 00

At Hnalapai Springs, 11 mules, at $200 2, 200 00

At Beale Springs, 5 mules, at $200 1,000 00

At Biillv Bueuo mine, 2,300 pounds bacon, at 50 cents 1, 150 00

At Bully Biieno mine, 9 mules, at $2(>0 1, 800 00

At Bullv Bueno mine, 3 wagons, at $280 740 00

At Bully Bueno mine, 23 sets of harness, at $30 790 00

At Bully Bueno miue, 11 cases of boots, at $60 660 00

At Bully Bueno mine, groceries and provisions 2, 600 00

At Bully Bueno mine, chemicals 1, 200 00

to December 15. In the vicinity of Prescott, 100 mules, at $200 . . 20, 000 00

1 house burned at mine 1,200 00

7 wagons burned at mine, at $280 : 1, 120 00

17 mules captured at miue, at .$200 3, 400 00

Supply of pro visions 1,600 00

to Mar. 1. On Mojave Road, 19 mules, at $200 3, 800 00

At Agua Frio, 40 mules, at $200 8,000 00

At AguaFrio, 4 wagons, at $2S0 1,120 00

At Agua Frio, merchandise 7, 500 00

At Bully Bueno mine, 73 mules, at $250 18,250 00

On Hassayainpa Creek, 11 horses, at $100 1,100 00

20-stamp quartz-mill burned 118,000 00

Saw-mill burned 17,000 00

1 house burned 11,000 00

3 houses burned, at $5,000 15,000 00

2 houses burned, at ^3,000 6,000 00

Stock of goods and provisions 32, 000 00

Chemicals and assaying apparatus 12, 000 00

7 nmles and horses, at $100 700 00

Bousebold furniture 2,000 00

Total 303,330 00

From this amount, however, there should be a deduction for those
parts of the mill and machinery that have been saved, as stati'd
in letter of September 11, 1869, of I. C. Curtis, herewith, to

wit 10,530 00

Leaving a balance of 292,800 00

I, G. H. Vickroy, superintendent of the Walnut Grove Gold Mining Company, of
Arizona, state, of my own personal knowledge, that the above statement is correct and
true.

G. H. VICKROY.

Sworn to and subscribed before me this thirtieth day of May, A. D. 1872.

JOS. T. K. PLANT,

Notary Public,

CLAIM OF WALNUT GROVE MINING COMPANY.

Prescott, Arizona, July 16, 1869.

Gentlemen: I have to i-eport that on the morning of the 9th instant, at about 2
o'clock, the Indians made an attack on us at the Bully Bneno mine. 1 had a night-
guard of two men in the mill, but before they could give the alarm the luduuis had
set tire to the mill and two other buildings by piling up shavings from the shingle-shop
aorainst the outside of the three buildings. There was a large pile of shavings where
we had been making shingles; these the Indians piled against the buildings and hred
them before the gnard discovered their presence. We made every eftort to save the
property and resist the attack, and about sunrise we discovered that the Indians
were in such large force that it was impossible to resist them, and we concluded to
abandon the premises. The men scattered in all directions, some taking refuge at
Walnut Grove and others at Prescott. I went to Prescott, and on the I2th eniployed
six men to accompany me to the mill, where I found everything m ruins. The null,
all the houses, wagons, harness, hay, and grain burned up, nothing left but some ot the
heavy machinery. We remained two days at the ruins and took an inventory ot the
property that was not destroyed, which consisted of one mortar, twenty stamps,
twenty-three dies, seven stamp-stems, one spur-wheel, sixteen cams and camshatts.
All the balance of the machinery was entirely ruined. The three boilers were broken
in two and badly smashed. The copper-plates, engine, saws, belting, and all the
smaller machinery was completely destroyed. I don't think that any of the
machinery can be used" for any purpose except that above enumerated, and probably
a ^neat deal of that cannot bo made serviceable. When w^e rebuild the null I think
it'Vould be better to have everything new, and not depend on any ot the above-
mentioned machinery, as I don't believe it will be true and in wwking order. I wi
leave here in a short time, and just so soon as I can will be in Phdadelphia and tell
you much better than I can write it.

Yours, very respectfully, • ^^^^^^ ^ FLANAGAN.

Messrs. Fell, Hoopes & Burnham.

Prescott, Arizona, September 11, 1869.
Dear Sir: In the matter of Basham suit against your coiupauy, we hiid an
appraisement made of such property as was not destroyed by the Indians at the

"Bully Bueno/' as follows: ^

20 stamps, at $loO * ' ^^ qq

1 mortar - :;;::.: ::.".■.".■.".■.■.■-.' i.isooo

23 dies, a^O — 2 800 00

7 stamp-stems, at $400 ' g^^ qq

I spur-wheel [i:""::""::"" l.eOOOO

16 cams, at ^lUU ^q ^

1 cam-shaft "_

, ^ 10,350 00

Yours, very respectfully,

G. H. ViCKKOY,

1502 North Eleventh Street, Philadelphia.

I. C. CURTIS.

Know all men by these presents that I, George H Vickroy, of the Territoiy of
Arizona, for and in consideration of the sum of one dollar, t* me ?»'<» V -^f f l'^'. «».'-
Whan Fell? Edward Hoopes, and George Burnham, all of the city of Philadelphia m
the State of Pennsvlvania, at the execution hereof, the receipt whereof is hereby
aJLowledgedfiniVorn consideration of certain other valnable inducements, agree-
mentrSt pulations, now entered Into between the said grantor and grantees have
Jrantecf, bargained, soW, released, and confirmed, and by these P_™ty«;;,g,-V,'' '^^
cain sell release, and confirm unto the said Joseph G. Fel , Edw ard Hoopes, ana
&rBurnhan , and the survivors and survivor of them, and the heirs and ass'gns of

eSurvlvor, all the estate, right^ title interest, P^«>Pf 'r['»"'3'ran tlTrcerta^n
soever which I, the said George H. Vickroy, have or hold in and to all those certain
mS rights, ii^overy claims, and privileges on the southwestern quartz lead, and
The prie&n daim'to a ran'ch, (1& acres^. and its appurtenances «" Ha^«*yampa
Creek, situited in the Walnut Grove mining district in said Torn*ory of Arizona, sa^
discovery claims and extensions, amounting in all to fifteen hundred feet, as the same
aie recoiled Jn the recorder's office of said district and Territory, or assigned to me by
other parties, in the following books and pages, viz, discovery claim in mj name, ot

CLAIM OF WALNUT GROVE MINING COMPANY.

HAt* Mav 19 1864, Book A, page 20 ; also claim in my name, May 19, 1864, being oxten-
rion oJabov;, honied in Book A, page 20 ; assign.nent of their claims to me by James
C Nc"l William Smith, and R. I. O^biirn, dated May 28, 1834, recorded in Book A,
liaise 'is, together with all my title to the said lands, hereditaments, and appur-
teuancefl, to liold all of said lands, mining rights, minerals, and privileges, unto the said
Joseph «. Fell, Edxvard Hoopes, and George Bnrnham, the survivors and survivor ot
them, and the heirs and assigns of such survivors, forever.

In wit less whereof I, the said George H. Vickroy, have set my hand and seal this
first day of November, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred aud sixty-

*""'^- ■ G. H. VICKROY. [L. s.]

Sealed and delivered in presence of us—
Ciia's Rhoads.
E. W. Bailey.

State of Pennsylvania, City of PhitadelpMa :

Before me. E. H. Bailey, notary public for the commonwealth of Pennsylvania, duly
con^uissionwl aud sworn, residing in the city of Philadelphia, personall.v appeared
Geon'e H. Vickroy, and acknowledged the above and foregoing deed to be Ins tree ace
and deed, aud desires the same recorded as such. , , ^ , ^ • i i «,;„

In testimony whereof I have hereunto set my hand and affixed my notarial seal this

1st day of November, A. D. 1864. ^ ^ BAILEY,

L*- *-J Xotarij Public.

Whereas George H. Vickroy, by the annexed =»^iS°|"«°Y^r**P.i? F,iwaf,niooS'
vember last pa.sl (1864,) did grant and convey unto Joseph G. Fell, Edwaid lloopea,
and George Bun ham, and the survivors and survivor of them, and the heirs and
^'Lns ot- such survivor, all the estate, right, title, interest, property, claim, and de-
^.^ whatsoever of him, the said George H. Vickroy, of, in, and to all those certain
m"uU..^r f'hts, discoverv claims, and privileges on the southwestern quartz lead, aud
ihe p^enpdou claim *to a ranch (IW acres) and its appurtenances on Hassayampa
CreeKuTted in the Walnut Grove mining district in the Territory of Arizona, said
SServ dai lis and extensions, amounting in all to fifteen hundred feet, as the same
alTrJcm^ed in the recorder's office of said district and Territory, or assigned to him

bv o^her oarties, in the following books and pages, viz : ^"^^'r;^'^ «»»""'" '|t,°*Xn
date Mav* 19, 1864, Book A, page 20; also claim in his name, May 19, 1864, being exten-
Ri^t ot^above recorded in Bo".k A, page 20 ; assignment of their claims to him by
James c! Neil; Wmiam Smith, and rI LOsburn, dated May 23, 1854, recorded in Book

^'Now" therefore, know all men by these presents that they, the said Joseph G. Fell,
Edwaid Hoopes, nnd George Bnrnham, do hereby acknowledge, testify, and declare,
and do for themselves, respectivelv, their respective heirs, executors, aud administra-
tor co'venait^ promise', and agree to and with the persons forming a certain associa-
tion known a.^ the Walnut Gl^ve Gold Mining Company; of Arizona, that they, the
saU J rA. G. Fell, Edw.-ird Hoopos, and George Burnham, have taken and accepted
the said "iisi.n.inent and transfer l.f mining rights and privi eges. and do stand seized
there^ f in trlist for the sole use .nd behoof of the said association «•; m'"'"g «""'P*°>
and that thev, the said trustees, and the survivors and survivor of them, or the heirs
an a«^^r,"^f'«ich survivor, shall and will grant, convey, and assure the said mining
r"*l,tTand clainis, and all their estate therein, unto the said association or company, so
smii as hesa ne shall be duly incorporated according to law by its proper corporate
name and titte, for the general use and benefit of all the stockholders therein, accord-
iiiir to their respective proportions of capital invested therein. ^ »v • i jo

In wniss whereof the said parties to these presents have hereunto set their hands
and se.^ls t^is twenty-second day of December, in the year of our Lord one thousand
eight hundred and sixty-four, (1864.) ^ ^ ^^^ ^^ ^^

EDWARD HOOPES. [l. s. |
GEORGE BURNHAM. [l. s.]

Witness present:

C. D. Colladay. •

On the 22tl dav of December, A. D. 1864, before me, the subscriber, a notary public
in and for the State of Pennsylvania, residing in Philadelphia.pereonally appeared the
k'i.ove-name" Joseph G. Fell,Edwa..l Hoopes, and George Xi^-?- -^.{.^f.^/^^'S
of law acknowle«lged the above and foregoing declaration of trust to be their act ana
deed, and desired the same as such might be recorded.

Witness my hand aud official seal the day and year aforesaid.^ COLLADAY,

t^ *•] = " ' 2fotary rublic.

Through Apache Land

OVERHEAD the Arizona sky
arched in a vault^ of dazzling
blue. Flooded With brilliant
sunlight, the uptilted rock walls
of the middle distance glowed in many-
shades of warm ochre, burnt sienna and
bold orange, melting into the soft blue
and purple of the farther ranges. Weird
sentinels of the arid country, the sahuaro
or giant cactus rose stiffly on the slopes,
stood black against the bright sky on the
ridges, The snaky arms of the ocatilla
bristled protectively over clumps of sage-
brush, prickly pear, greasewood and other
things amply able to take care of them-
selves. There was no sound save the dis-
tant chirp of a cactus wren. There was
no change; everything was as it had been
for centuries, except for the broad smooth
ribbon of the road. Three feet on either
side of the tires' tread lay the land of
Geroninio, unchanged, brooding in deep
silence, its wondrous colors shifting, fad-
ing and deepening with the slow sweep of
the shadows, the ancient, mystic land of
the cliff dwellers, of gold, copper and
blood, the land that bred the tigers of the
Southwest — and here, in the comfortable
tonneau of the motor car, rose the voice
of the cattleman who had helped to tame
them, pointing out the scenes of the his-
toric, relentless conflict, describing the

Photograplm by H. C. TObiUs

incidents of die epic in which he had taken
part as the car whiiled thiou^ canyons
whose colored rod: had revet bciated with
the war whoop of the Apaches but a few
short years before.

^*Nc^ ma'am, I wouldn't say I was ever
downright scared of 'em," he said, an-
swering the white-haired gentlewoman
from far away Veimoot. **We was only
scared of beini' caught by the he-devils
alive. I'd hate to cross the Divide scream-
ing, and them devils c'd wring a scream
outen a block o' wood. Look around
when you git to Mormon Flats this after-
noon. That's where Gcionimo's outfit
caught a bunch of Monnons from Mesa.
The things they done to 'em ain't nowise
fit for a lady's ears. Curly — he was my
pardner — saw what was Idfit of 'em. If
vou'd say 'Apache!' to him after that,
he'd go *grnr 'way down in his throat;
he'd show his fanes Eke a wolf and the
hair'd raise at the back of his neck."

The eyes in the saddle-colored face
gleamed and the cattleman ciiuckled.

"I was just thinking how funny 'twas
that you two ladies can go traipsin' right
along the Apache Trail and pick posies
on the stompin' ground of old Geronimo.
Queer, ain't it, to see the bucks in over-

alls running the business end of a scraper,
buildin' roads an' ditches where they used
to raise seventy diflferent kinds of assorted
hell? That was just about thirty year^
ago, ma'am. 1 wasn't much bver twenty
then. Been running cattle in /the Pina-
lenos since ninety-two. Yes, .in^'am, th(^
climate hereabouts is fine fai 'health-4
since the Apaches quit. No, tj^ won'^
hurt you; they'll eat outen )/||Rri|ian^
now. Trouble with the gov'feirtjnt U th\
settlers? Bless your heart, ma'am, ^ifti'
the blackest of Geronimo's black sheiev
fightin' right now with the soldier bdyi
across the line? Ain't thev been buildin]
the biggest part of the big dam w<
comin* to by-'n'-by? Why, nowadays
you're safer on the San Carlos reservation
right in the heart of the Gila valley among
the Apaches than you're on Broadway,
Los Angeles, dodgm' wild-eyed jitneys
an' cowboys from the movies!"

THERE were five of us in the car th Jit
rolled over the hundred and tWehi
miles of the Apache Trail, the yfhiii
haired, soft-spoken gentlewoman frol
Vermont, the St. Louis banker and his
animated wife and the cattleman from ^he
Pinalenos who was going to catch fish in
the water standing two hundred feiet
above the old camp grounds of the Tonta

<♦' •

I"""''"**"*»*iowraR

The canyon of the Salt river from the

villages an tnrougn tne npacne country, rams oi

version of the old red Apache Trail

..1 |&

tne west- luiig pciiuus oi uiuum <&iiu nun^ci uciuic

-■■■ ■■■^'iJi'i

SUNSET, the Pacific Monthly

Through Apache Land: Walter V. Woehlke

The mighty Roosevelt Falls in the gorge of the Salt river from the Apache Trail

Apaches. We left the railroad — transcon-
tinental Pullmans from El Paso are going
to run from the Southern Pacific's main
line straight through to the beginning of
the Trail in October — at Globe, one of
the oldest of Arizona's many picturesque
copper camps. Of course Globe lies in a
gulch; everjr orthodox, law-abiding copper
town in Arizona does. It consists prin-
cipally of one long street sharing the bot-
tom of the ravine with the stream and it
is dominated high up on the hillside by
the shaft houses, the big mill and the
black smokestacks of the Old Dommion
mine, the pioneer enterprise that lured
men into the heart of Geronimo's country
when the Apache Trail was grim and red.
"She shore was a humdinger when she
was runnin' with the lid off an' no limit
'ceptin' the sky," mused the old cattle-
man as the car rolled up the long street
past establishments whose tarnished
gaudy fronts reminded him of the moist
glory that has now joined the buffaloes.
^* Who'd have thought twenty years ago
that the territory 'd ever go dry! I d ve
bet my saddle and my shirt that the jack-
rabbit would learn to bray like a jackass
afore Arizona 'd kick out the saloon. But
'tain't nowise queerer than to see them
Apache bucks in Uncle Sam's uniforni
kissin' the soldier boys on both cheeks an'
fightin' for the gov'ment. The world
shore do move— too fast for us old-timers.

Five minutes from the end of the rails
the last sign of man's handiwork— except
the smoke pouring from the funnels of the

big new mill over at Miami — had utterly
vanished. The untamed desert with its
colors of barbaric splendor, with its plants
and rocks and hills twisted and carved and
eroded into strange, uncanny shapes, the
silent, inscrutable desert stepped within
arm's length of the tonneau. The yellow
ribbon of the wide, smooth road — the in-
dicator trembled around the thirty mark
— swung in easy curves between the hills,
rising with every turn of the wheels. The
Four Peaks, snow covered and pine clad
summits of the Pinal range, landmarks
indicating the site bf the Roosevelt Dam
for hundreds of miles, beckoned from the
west; the Apache mountains, the Gila
range, unnumbered chains of nameless
crests, each one standing out sharply and
distinct in its own particular shade of
blue, bounded the tremendous horizon to
the north, east and south whenever the car
climbed the crest of a broad ridpe. And
the car climbed steadily, speedily until,
almost with a flourish, the driver pushed
it through the sharp curve of a deep cut
and brought it to a stop.

Ahead, half a mile below, almost at the
foot of the mountain wall dominated by
the Four Peaks, sparkled a jewel of deep-
est blue, the broad sheen of Roosevelt
lake in the Tonto Basin, home of the
Tonto Apaches, once upon a time the
blackest of Geronimo's black lambs.

The car coasted down in long, sweeping
curves to the edge of the lake, following
its contour. Presently it stopped again.
The driver, jerking his gloved left thumb

forward and upwaid, attard tmo wofds:

"Cliff dwellings.'*

Far above, at the point wlicfc the waB
of rock rose perpenoicnlarfy oat of the
talus, the ruined ifiabhatioiis of the van-
ished race were plsjanif visible.

WHO were Acae Little Peopk that
built the great waDs in the caves

at the base of the higlh dfiffs? Whence did
they come? Wbeie did th^go? Why
did they build so high up? What manner
of land was it they sam nom their narrow

doors?

Seven colonies of cMMweUers lie in a
side canyon above Rooscrclt lake, cxJo-
nies accessible in half an hour's steep
climb. A small man can hardy squeeze
through some of the doois eighteen inches
wide and but two fcet high; "le ceilings in
some of the rooms — the hest pracrved
ruin once upon a tnne contained mty of
them — are barely four fcet h^. Up in
the caves hollowed out of the sandstone
walls of the G3a canyon to the nuttheast
they have found the mununy of a human
being just twenty-three inohcs long. It
was not the mummy of a child. ^ Itt hair
was gray, and its teeth and hones indicated
that this tiny creature was past sixty
when it fell into the long sle»---liow long
ago ? Long, long helbre the nrst pyramid
was built; belbte Nehochadncixar
reigned in wicked Babylon; lonfr- l<w^?: t>e-
fore the first prophet rose in Israel, eight,
ten thousand years acoi. In aD Europe,
in all Asia and Africa men has hem found

'ff'

Out of the «.ysdc past-One of the n.a„y ruins oi dif dwellu*. » Ap«:b. Land

no relic of the Morning of Time, no habi-
tation dating as far ^ack m the unre-
corded history of the human race as the
ruins of the homes built by the vanished
Little People of the mystic Southwest.

And these Little People were not
gibbering, ape-like creatures. They tilled
the fields, raised crops aeons before the
Aryan tamed the first domestic animal,
VhJy built houses, made for themselves
cunningly fashioned vessels of burnt clay,
knew how to weave fibres into coarse
mats when the proud Anglo-Saxon still
drank out of skulls and had no covering

*Ttep reverently into the dwellings of the
vanished race. These ruined walls were
reared, these floors were stamped smooth
by the feet of generations m the shadowy
antiquity of the Stone Age. And of the
builders there is left no trace, no record.
The legends of the Cocopahs, the Pimas
and the Maricopas mention them not.
The ruins were there, wrapped in un-
fathomable mystery, when t ray Matcos
de Niza came north out of Mexico in
i„o. And the Pimas, the Maricopas,
the Cocopahs, big, upstanding, stalwart
tribes, are they the descendants of the
mystic Toltecs, of the race which built the
marvelous irrigation canals in the valleys
and on the broad mesas, which cultivated
terraced slopes and had \>i^ settlements
where not a drop of water is to be found
today? What caused this great and
numerous race, once living in populous
villages all through the Apache country.

which built broad canals through solid
rock without metals and explosives, by
heating the rock and cracking it wiA
cold water, whose pottery is stJl plowed
up in ever; part of the Salt River vaUey
at the end of the Apache Trail, what
caused this race to leave its ax"*. »
travel south, ever south into the vaUey
of Mexico ? Surely not the mva^ of the
handful of nomadic huntere from the
north, of the Apaches and the Navajos!
Travel with me for a spac* to the Cas-
pian sea, the great inland lake «>r«nKtem
Asia Professor Ellsworth Huntmeton
found that the level of this great Ue
without an outlet vaned «"t>i»fjy «
historic times. At certam periods the
tate was sixty feet hieher than it was
Tt other periods. It could not nse except
through a great increase m the ammmtof
rain filing on its watershed. Frotessor
Huntington found that in the penoi pr^
ceding the invasions of Ej{«»P^^»« *'^
hordes of Tamerlane and Ghe^ Khan,
the level of the Caspian sea fcO rapidW.
steadily. Central Asia, accordmg to Ae
evidence of the lake, was diymg up. The
rains grew scarcer, the pastures were
stricken with drouth, the «naU couU n^
be filled— and the vast Mon^l hord^
driven by the threat of starvatKmJhiuW
themselves west upon Europe, P«^»*
to the line where white men now are

slaughtering each other.

The threat of starvation and famine.
becoming fiercer year after year asthe
rains diminished slowly, started the west-

ward migrations of the Aryan and Mongo^
races dwelling in central Asia. The slow
cvde of climatic changes as recorded in
SU ancient beach lines of the Asiatic
lake, the inexorable swing of the pendu-
lum from abundant moisture and cen-
turies of plenty to long periods of drouth ^
and restless hunger, this record supplies
Se ^sing basis of Old World history.
furnishes the reason that compelled entire
races to fall upon distant regions with hre
and sword.

AND these deductions from the records .
of the gray past are confirmed by ,
livinit witnesses in the Southwest. 1 rees.
especially trees growing in warm localities
having well defined annual dry and wet
periods, preserve a record of the weather.
In seasons of ample moisture they grow
rapidly, the rings they form are wide and
sylnmetricaU in years of deficient moisture
the rings are narrow, irregular, often
scarcely to be recognized. Ihus, by
counting the rings and observmg their
comparative width, the scientists are able
to KP back to the time when the tree was
voung and determine whether at certain
ieriods moisture and food were abundant
In the land or whether drouth and famine
scowled on the parched valleys. There
are tr«es. living trees, in the Southwest
which thus have kept a record of the
weather for nigh four thousand years-
and these records indicate that long
periods of abundance were succeeded by
Ug periods of drouth and hunger before

SUNSET, the Pacific Monthly

the rains came again and the mur-
mur of many springs once more
resounded through the land.

In the light dP these brilliant
discoveries made by Prof. Hunt-
ington and Dr. A, E, LX>uglass of
the University of Ariiona, it be-
comes dear why the tribes that
dwelt in the cuflF houses above
Roosevelt lake countless centuries
2fio left no trace of their existence
either in legend or tradition. They
vanished utterl}^ from the face of
the earth when the springs dried
up, the streams vanished and their
stronger foes monopolized the
scant remaining water. They
could not conquer new lands, so
they disappeared. The big, new
race in turn flourished when the
rains increased again, built villages
and great houses, tilled the fields
and slopes until the moist cycle
in the fullness of time came to an
end, until shriveled fields and
empty ditches forced them to
migrate south, ever south, to
found the civiliccation that Cortez
destroyed.

Travd to the pyramids if you
must — ^and can; Dare your head
reverently and expensively in the
ruined temples of Italy and
Greece, but pray don't forget that
right at home, in the humdrum,
peaceful United States of America
you can visit monuments and
ruins upon which lay the undis-
turbed dust of the ages before the
Tower of Babel was commenced.
And don't forget, pray, that no

palm-itching, obsequious
of guides will claim your ear awij
pocket. If you decide to stay over
at Roosevelt lake, you may com-
mune with the spirits of bygone
ages undisturbed by the raucous
voices of dp-hungry modci^
And as you go down the trafl that
leads to the river which became
a lake, you may meet Indian
maidens carrying the oOm, the
water jar, who will pass witfaoat
a word or a glance. You maij
walk amon^ the conical kogaus
of the aborigines on the shore of
the lake, stand beside the waiiiuis
or watch the card party b^imd
the summer residence of Mrs.
Strong Jaw without being given
the least attention even by the
dogs; for the Apaches, you smi|d^
do not exist. But you need noc
fear them. Even the timid old
lady from Vermont left the ma-
chine when, from behind a honn
close to the road, there walkcdm
silent majesty an Apache nutiuo,
broad of countenance and bcani^
wheeling a papoose in a lubbcr-
tired peramDulator.

To reach the lodge — and hmch
— the machine crossed to the op-
posite shore of the lake over the
top of Roosevelt Dam, the roar
of the cataracts on either sidc^
higher than the falls of Niagara*
drowning the warning roar of the
open exhaust. The dam, umeiiug
280 feet above its base, is as high as
a sky-scraper. On its crest — it

(Continued an page 82^)

Seen alooi tbe Apaehe Trail — Above, the precipitous walls of a gloomy chasm at the foot of the famous Fish Creek cliff conquered hj
the daring OKiCor road. Below, the garden of the Arizona desert at the base of the weird Superstition mountains. Few regioas ia aD
the world hare a more remarkable, exotic plant life than the plains and slopes of southern Arizona. Beneath the vivid arch oi the
Italiaa sky the iiaat cactus, the snaky arms of the ocatilla, the barrel cactus, the Spanish bayonet and scores of ether desert iiikliga
lift their fiuitastie shapes out of the silver gray and dark green of the lesser shrubs against the background of the deep blue ranfes

j>^.

snowfiHdi

snowtiHds above; quail whistle in the
brush ori' the sunniest side of the valley
and chipmunks chatter on the other,
where a forest of conifers climbs a moister
and shadier ridge till it reaches the white
precipices of Mt. Dan^. Sometimes the
wind brings down a deepNLnote from the
falls of Levining miles awayNEverything
is fresh, green, so full of life anoHk^eliness
that it IS almost unbelievable ahLt tb^
burning wastes can be so near. ^. ^
In these canyons of the eastern ^side
the Sierras the scenery has. a touch of
Switzerland. Far greater heights are
open to view than on the gradual western
slopes where th^^fableland itself is so
elevated that-tfie peaks lose impressive-
ness. Tbc^ eastern wall is very abrupt
and,^ops six and seven thousand feet
wittiin a few miles, its highest peaks

SUNSET, the Pacific Monthly

open to view from base'fo summit.
On our homeward route we traveled
northward betweei;^* the range and the
desert, recrossin^1)y another pass over a
mining roadyrfearlier days, now almost

forgotteiv^

1 w^t to go back to the mountains; I

w^nt to hear the whine of the gears again
.as we climb the long, long grades; I want
to breast the steep places where our wide-
open exhaust bellows with the motor's
exulting roar of power; I want to slide
^Ckwn the long shady alleys through vistas
of brown tree trunks and cool green ferns;
I want to gamble with the chances of the
deep rough'Tnc^s in swirling mountain
streams and at eventide I want to see
once more the play of the sunset's rosy
glow on the snowfields, the mighty lonely
peaks and rippling bronze lakes.

Through Apache Land

(Continued from page 16)

IS 1 125 feet long — two machines can
pass abreast. It is thrown across a
gorge whose perpendicular walls rise
almost sheer for seven hundred feet. This
huge structure, the first one to be under-
taken and completed after the organiza-
tion of the U. S. Reclamation Service, has
made history. In its construction and
operation the engineers solved scores of
problems connected with the control of
immense volumes of water under trenien-
dous pressure. It was the first of these
high, gigantic storage dams to be built,
and engmeers from all parts of the world
watched the method of construction, the
power installations and the operation of
gates and valves with breathless interest.
And it is the only one of these epoch-
making structures, monuments to the
complete control of man over the forces
of nature, which can be reached com-
fortably and inexpensively by the average
traveler. The Elephant Butte, the Path-
finder, the Arrowrock are all far distant
from the main traveled routes; the Roose-
velt Dam lies between Pullman and Pull-
man, between breakfast at Globe and
dinner at Phoenix, to be taken on the
wing or to be absorbed slowly at the
traveler's convenience. The Lodge which
stands on the promontory jutting into the
blue lake beneath the Italian sky furnishes
comfortable accommodations for the
night, not to mention boats and hshing
tackle with which to snare the ferocious
bass that have succeeded the Apaches as
masters of the Tonto Basin.

BELOW the dam the Salt river swirls
swiftly on its dash to the valley far in
the west. When plans for the dani were be-
ing drawn, the engineers of the Reclama-
tion Service thought of following the river
with the road over which the material for
the dam was to be hauled. But they
abandoned this route in a hurry. For the
greater part of the journey to the valley
the Salt river flows through a box canyon
so wild, with walls so straight and high
that no living thing except birds could
pass unscathed through the glooniy
gorge. So the engineers followed the old
Apache Trail over the mountains and
mesas, through clefts and canyons to the
level acres of the valley, built one of the

most audacious roads to be found any-
where in the world. . r

It follows the edge of the river for
several miles, swings south into the roll-
ing hills, drops over the ridge, descends
into a ravine whose sides grow ever
steeper, higher and finally comes to a halt
at the foot of a perpendicular cliff rising
so high into the sky that one's neck aches
with the effort to hnd the upper rim. The
machine was facing this wall, four necks
were craned backward to view the top
when the lady from Vermont lifted her
finger, commanding silence. ^^

*Tsht! I think I hear someone calling.

The taciturn driver grinned. "Sure,
right up there," he remarked casually,
pointing vaguely to a spot on the cliff far
overhead. ^That's Skinny with the load
ahead of us."

C<tU Ul US.

"Do you mean to say that this car is to
climb that wall?"

Sure thing! Been doing it;every da^
and lots of nights for a year. The road s
wide, solid rock all the way, easy curves
—and no speed bugs. It's just as safe as
walking upstairs."

It was the famous Fish Creek grade.
Almost doubling on itself, the road
swept up a side canyon, turned at a point
where the canyon became a dark cleft and
climbed dizzily upward along the face of
the perpendicular cliff, higher, ever higher
until the house down at the bottom of the
abyss shrunk to the size of a Noah s Ark
and the horses assumed the dimensions
of beetles. With a prolonged blast of the
horn the car swung around a projecting
curve of the wall, purred up the final
stretch of the rocky shelf and rolled out
upon the high mesa around which stormed
a tumultuous sea of gigantic rocks and
ranges. Spires and domes, battlements
and terraces, minarets and Gothic arches,
every architectural form had been carved
into the walls of canyon and peak by sun,
wind and water, and over it all glowed
the vivid coloring that is the Southwest s
most precious heritage.

A freighter was camped in Mormon
Flats beside his canvas covered wagon,
his six horses munching barley; the burro
trains of three prospectors drew up on
the side of the road to let the car pass,
their bearded owners waving cheerful

greetings. The shadows lengthened,
gathered unto themselves the royal purple
of the far distances as the car reached the
level floor of the Salt nver vaUey.

THE Arizona desert is not » J>^
monotonous expanse of gray brush.
It is a garden filled with a remarkable
variety of pfants that have adapted them-
selves to arid conditions. Like the giant
cactus, they have done away with cxces-
sive evaporation bv getting along without
leaves, often without branch^; they have
covered themselves with a hard, glossy
skin to prevent the loss of water stored
within, and they protect this skin against
abrasions and wounds by a multitude ot
sharp spines and thorns. Their roots
travel long distances very dose to the
surface, ready to drink and store the rain
as soon as it falls. And in early soring,
immediately after the rams, the desert
covers itself with so wide, so vivid a carpet
of blossoms that the transformation seems
an incredible mirade. , . j

At eventide when the purple shadows
of the ghostly Superstition mountams
swing smftly to the east, when the d^rt
ranges turn into lumuious walls of a blue
deep and pure as the ton« of a great
organ on Easter mom, when the sky
glows with the living fire of the opal and
the douds blaze forth m crunson edged
with liquid gold, when the moummg dove
answers the distant caU of the quail and
the soft, cool breath of the night steals
down from the hills, the Arizona prden
is no longer a desert; it is an anthem, a
song of praise to Him who created the
glones of the desert sunset even for the
humblest of His children.

Abruptly, without warning, comes the
transition. As if by magic the sahuaro,
the snaky arms of the ocatilla, the bns-
tling stump of barrel cactus and the dark
clumps of greasewood vanish, the deep
green of smooth alfalfa fields, the li^ht
green of tall grain, the even ranks of thnv-
ing orchards take their places. The end
of the Apache Trail is at hand, the fruits
of the water he before us. Date palms
and ostriches, Egyptian cotton, grape-
fruit and cantaloupes flourish m peaceful
concord side by side. The first ditch
marked the end of the wilderness, the be-
ginning of gplf courses, tennis courts,
country clubs, of rooms with pnvate
baths and bell boys with pnvate purses;
the rose and oleander have succeeded the
sagebrush, and the sleek cows do not
raise their ears when the yip-yip of the
coyote drifts faintly dovm mto the valley
from the moon-flooded hills above the

Apache Trail. .

It is an unusual expenence. 1 he jour-
ney through the land of Geronimo and the
Little People will live in the memory long
after convenrional impressions have
blurred and faded. And it is easy, com-
fortable, inexpensive of both tinie and
money. The way has been smoothed for
the transcontinental traveler who leaves
the main line at Bowie if west bound— at
Maricopa for Phoenix if going east-
changing from the Pulhnan at Globe or
Phoenix to the tourmg cars operated
regularly over the izomile Apache 1 rail.
Only a day and a night are added to the
schedule, and the day is crowded with
experiences and impressions of the real
West at dose range, of the West that can-
not be found anywhere withm reach of the
locomotive's shrill call.

•»

the rains came again anH tU*

f^ fV»«»"

,..- ■<•

SUNSET, the Pacific Monthli[
"^SET^thePacificMSI^

"\ Ini A cold wind swept

\ It was very stiU. A ^«. , prom

tAe peak, but « was no e>«s..^ ^^^^^

sV-here '"f'l'fonal rattle from a
there came an occasion ^^^^^^ b.rd

fallinR stone. ""\^ * ^^ opened our
buzzed nearby =»"'' C"^ Jkets mater.al-

lunch a f'^^^f/if Region was lifeless,
ized; otherwise this regioi

r^m descent, although tires^m^^ was

1 rapid and we were back

"T ^^ nMe"'doTstte" unset. That
to Levm.ng Meadows ^^^^ ^

stretch of r«^,<^. **^f^"e of the finest and
Pass to Mono [^^e is one ot tn ^^^ ,;_
boldest of a" the mountain g ^^^^ ^^
fornia. Uncle Sam s roa ^^^^^^ ^f

pass, that bemg t\ a sta« highway,
the park, and this »s a ^3 that

There were no fttes'J^d physically to
evening; we were too t.rea P y^^^^ ^^^

undertake any g[^f_"£ied the air mat-
after a hasty supper we hU

tresses, spread the sne ^ ^^^^ j^^^d

Why not?) and soon were on ^^^

of the sand-man where m ^^^^

molehills are scaled wtth«» ^^ ^^ ^^

The glorv «f the '" woke. Levimng
highest peaks when we awo^ ^_^^j^

Peak in particular was a fresh cie^ is a

corning while we wf ^Xct all through
dome-shaped mountain wn j^^j^i„„ a

the day has the outl me oUn.^ apparently
straw beehive. ""^ . 3 monotonous
quite smooth, Its c vegetation;

granite gray; .it carrier distinguish

fhere is nothing ^^^^ ^^l,^, from the
it, to mark it as t»e'n„ j^^ ^^lley.

half-dozen others surrounmg ^^^^^^

But at sunrise and tor som ^^^

after the early P^'P^^^f ^Sleh crease
thrown across jhe |org a city of the air.
its surface transforrn t to a c y^ ^ ^^^^ ^
The edge of each gully oe ^^^ j^

hewn masonry st*"f "^E^ery bristling
against its own ?bade_tve^.

rugged pomt pfJ^J^X guarding a lofty
turns to a turned castieg.^^^j^

'«"^*l JnrfrSf -am its. face, all
sion and ice u drawing.

sharp as the >^"«;J J P, beautiful place.
Levimng canyon ^s * ^ ^.^^ter

The river ^and^M^w where the grass
of an uncropped meadow ^^^^^^^

reaches the knees, ^?;1 of e^^ d plenty. ,
wise old trout live a We «* eas J^^ov^
There are rougher wat^^sbel^^^^^ 7

fisherman's art. ^^^ dge/of the

This valley IS 3ust Jt^J- ^^
desert and the str ^ ngt forget,

abound. One point ^ ^^ j

Down the canyon trom , '„dy ridge,

climbed and rounded a ^ow >^ ^ ^^^
Standing on the "est ot «^ ^^^ „o
looking, eastwa d the ^,^daif
suggestion of hfe^ no ^'v ^„g but

no visible flowmg w ^^^ j^^^^^ ^j

gray, """^J' ' le "s o^ ^°"° '" ?»"' / n
to the dead craters o ttllpg down

tion and on the other h^",hores ^ ^^^^

evenly to the ^'™„ Ibre in the sun.

lake whose bitter w«ers gu j^^^^s

Westward, how dfferent- ^P^^ ^own

dance m the soft hree^^ ^^^^ ^ ^^

the canyon .and sets m ^_^^ ^ ^^^^ ^^

grasses swaymg '^„!c softly in the morn-
wheat; the creek sings sotty ^^

ing, louder in the^^J^^^.ters from the
when It rises witn tn

T.J

/^^,/>/ , i>

llA

v\\ V>-

.:i'/^^^--.

'(^M.

'\'^\

RLMINGTON 112

UMC

tj 4^o*Tf»r^ who use

^ET your rifle ^ope J-™ ^^^ff ^S^nd wha^
.. G their rifles ^^ontti^n^m ^^-^^ U M
you hear -wadays wiU^^.^ ^^ ^^^ ^.g, power

S^'Ses-a^^ high mU^ ^^,,,„en

Here are the Modem Anns used by

today: ^ tt- i. Vi^^er Auto-loadtng

RemingUmU MCHtgnr . hammer^

Bef «.^er-S« fj^nj^clpactness, balance
less; magazine insuni &
and absolute safety. ^^niunition, sporting

,3k Where .to^t^S^rcit?^a^rirT^TeK3

Ba« A^«''^/HfaZXrs everywhere.

Sportsmen sHeadquar ^.n-Crtridge Company

Largest Manuf actor, ^^i^*^^^^^ ^^^

Woolworth Bwlding

New York

^^^\c\: ONLY TWO A DAY i
'^AKb '-'^^*"; ^n «ve you an income |
Two subscriptions a ^^^^ T^^e/our new profit

5an Francisco. Send tor OVER"

"HOW TO PUT IT OVLK

Behind the mighty stone wall of the Roosevelt dam a deep blue lake beneath an Italian
sky covers the Valley of Wars, once the home of the Tonto Apaehes

and the heart of Geronimo's red country

A^-Mi-iii

:2r

^^l^....*.^r:.^-'

fAiP^y

/
I

(

.-"^

Pure as its whiteness suggests— refreshing
in its cleansing qualities — there is more
than ordinary satisfaction in the use of

for toilet and bath

Skillfully made of the choicest materials,
Fairy Soap offers for 5 cents a cake quality
which cannot be excelled at any price.

Each oval, floating cake is wrapped in dainty
tissue and enclosed in its individual box.

r THi'inr FA I R B A N KI^ilB

"Have You a Little Fairy in Your Home?"

i^^-

■M

rrC;«';:^l"'--*^*:i"' "

■jm

TWira^

'"inijjhvi'viyir

"^^^^.xTiJ^^J!^" ^^'^^ ^^^^N' ™^ ARIZONA BATTLEGROUND OF CLIFF-DWELLERS. tpANUR^^^ APACHES
AND PIONEERS. TO " THE MOUNTAIN OP THE FOAM. " THE HOLY PLACE OF II^IAN MYTHoi^^^

Ceroid Robinson

THE Mountain of the
Foam ! Sitting in the
shadow of the hotel awnings,
droned at by the voice of an
Old-timer, stared at by the
heaped-up chaos of red rock and
blue-green brush down at the
end of ''Main Street," we were
inclined to quarrel with that
fairy name. It was too satis-
fyingly romantic, and we were
sure it didn't fit. There was no
hint of foam or fairyland about
the stolid hills that crowded in
upon the little town of Globe,
and we found it hard to believe
that any amount of riding away
to the west would bring us to an
Indian holy of holies worthy to
be called "Sierra de la Espuma."
We doubted and wondered —
when we did not yawn in the
face of the matter-of-fact hills.
But when the afternoon had
burned itself out, and a spray
of smelter smoke flung against
the sky softened the blaring col-
ors of the desert sunset, we be-
gan to understand.

If the Indians could have seen
the smelters as we saw them that
night they would have been
hard put to it for titles grand
enough. But even so the white
men have done very well with
their christenings, and the "Old
Dominion'' and "Inspiration"
plants have much to live up to
in the way of names. "Inspira-
tion r By night the slag dumps of the smelters flow red fire and the
converters are geysers of fire. Little, hurrying trains carry away the

The highway along the edge of Lake Roosevelt, This is a two-color country, the blue of
the distant hills flowing out across the red valley to meet ut

the dusky maroon of cooling
copper to the bubbling gold of
new pourings.

And, of course, the workmen
are very kind and ready to ex-
plain the inexplicable. Standing
in the midst of a sublime up-
heaval of color and sound, we
learned to talk familiarly of slag
and converters ; learned likewise
to look with calmness upon
great hooks that descended out
of smoky heights, seized immov-
able things, and clanked away
with them.

As the stage fled over the
mountains with us next morn-
ing, the smelters by daylight
were but the ghosts of their red-
hearted, nightly selves. Smoke
drifting flat and lazy from the
stacks cut the mountains off
from all foundation, and the
tall, black buildings about the
mine mouths seemed trying to
brace each other up with cov-
ered ways that swung back and
forth at alarming angles.

Leaving the houses of Globe
to their almost animate scramble
up the bare hillsides, we whirled
away across the upland and
down the road to Phoenix. For
half an hour the road followed
the dry course of a creek and
gave us horses and cows and
occasional cottonwoods for com-
pany. Sometimes the moun-
tains drew back from the creek
to leave room for a field of yellow stubble, and once we halted for a
few minutes beside a little adobe house covered with honeysuckle and

* , . - ' -/ ^ — o --»-...w x,«.*^ ».. ujr »..»v, *v,»» ..11.1UI.V.O u^jivAv, a iitti^ aKiv/u^ iikjuo^ ^^ijvtitu Willi llUllC^bUtKlC auQ

iresn metal m ingots that run the whole gamut of reds and yellows, from boasting cool water and a great mulberry tree as its chief attrac-
T9 /^

•« ^ 4 ^

After luncheon and a siesta, dancing on the wide hotel verandahs fills out the

afternoon

Aviation is the newest thing ^t Palm Beach. This is how the Poinciana looks from

2,000 feet in the air

r - -s?

' '**>*m>mm, »«*.»fc^ m ^^H^pL;.

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|r rrr rnmj^f ^^^ '

■':Sfi»«A^W«!g

«.??*>-% >g;

.-•■■*lf^- • •»-■

\llien one wants to create a furore, one buys a hydroplane and goes skimming along the placid waters beyond the breakers while an admiring beach looks on.

very thriUing and really quite safe and harmless

It is all

rm'

There is very good golf at Palm Beach, if it is all a bit flat and uninteresting. The fast clay "greens" are enough to try

the steadiest putter in the North

Palm Beach is the home of fads, and wc will
leave it to you to find the one here

ANCIENT CUFF DWELLINGS NEAR ROOSEVELT

u V K . f the hill the Chff-Dwellen built their houses. These people had a community form of life, several famibes living in one

In great dents, near the rocky hat crown of the hill. '^^^^^^^^ ^ft^n contained fifty or sixty rooms

tions A little farther on, the road doubled back into the hills and a
S of half a dozen miles began. The seats of the car took on a com-
fortble backward tilt, and up the grade we went in tow of six gallop-

" IttStust here that we made the acquaintance of a most interest.
ing fellow passenger. He was a big man and -^^^-^^ ^^^^^
he had been hunting, but so far as we could see the onl> thing he had
toSt back with him was a dog. Now, the dog's name was Pius-and
he looked it. Imagine, then, the shock to
our feelings when we were informed that
Pius' favorite amusement was bear hunt-
ing. .

Noticing now for the first tune the
steely glint in the hunter's eye, we turned
from him to the more friendly landscape.
One thing that demanded explanation
was a long procession of gray-ghost
towers striding over the hills. Puis^
keeper said they linked the mills we had
seen with a power plant we were to see

by-and-by.

As we circled the upper slopes ot the
hills a grand surge of mountains rose up
out of the east and the ridges near at
hand began to look less formidable. The
road seemed to come to an abrupt end
at the hillcrest ahead, but when the en-
gine had lifted us up to this vanishing
point we saw that here was no end, but a
beginning. From the height of the divide

the road swept away down the mountains, to lose itself in the farther
e^els of Tonto Basin-a two-color country, the blue of the distant hills
flowing out across the red valley for miles and miles to meet us miles
and miles of water here, in the midst of the '^Valley of Wars. 1« or an
hour we played hide and seek with water pictures of red hills cut across
w'th dark bands of rippling blue, dipping down toward the shore and
then scampering off inland again when we were near being caught by
the lake, which threatened to engulf the road at certain points.
^ ' Now and then a creek to be crossed

promised coolness, but we soon learned
that this land holds nothing but the dry
skeletons of streams. Presently we
stopped to let the engine drink, and dur-
ing the pouring process we found time to
make the acquaintance of a tiny and very
new store beside the road. The false
front of the little commissary was very
bright with green and white paint, and
its sides were of yellow pine just ])egin-
ning to weather.' We were wondering
whether the back was burlap or nothing
at all when the spluttering engine sum-
moned us to mount again.

It was not long after this that we were
bidden to studv the face of a cliflf some
miles ahead. 'Following the directions
carefullv when a curve of the road re-
moved the top of the car from our line
of vision, we were soon able to make
out a light patch at the base of this

An Anache famiW •! Uke Roosevelt; many of the older Indians are

with them

'>r^.^'.

.."• r^ ', '

i^;-l-4-l

After luncheon and a siesta, dancing on the wide hotel verandahs fills out the

afternoon

Aviation is the newest thing al Palm Beach. This is how the Poinciana looks from

ZOOO fed in the air

^,_,

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\l/'hen one wants to create a furore, one buys a hydroplane and goes skimming along the placid waters beyond iLe bieakcn wlulc

very thrilling and really quite safe and harmless

idminng beach looks on. It is all

,(.

There is very good golf at Palm Beach, if it is all a bit flat and uninteresting. The fast clay "greens" are enough lo tiy

the steadiest putter in the North

Pahn Beach is the home of fads, and wc will
leave it to you to find the one here

ANCIENT CLIFF DWELLINGS NEAR ROOSEVELT

. U U f .h h 11 the Chff Dwellers bu.l. iheir houses. These people had a community form of hfe, several fam.hes hving in one

In great denis, near the rocky hat crown of the hill, »^^-,^^J^»;^^^^^^ ,f,^ ,,,,,,ned fifty or s.xty rooms

tions \ little farther on, the road doubled back into the hills and a
S of half a dozen miles began. The seats of the car took on a com-
fortable backward tilt, atul up the grade we went m tow ot six gallop-

'""V^^t^ here that we made the acquaintance of a most interest-
in^ fellow passenger. He was a big man and very brown He said
LeVad bL^^^^^^^ but so far as we cotjld see the only thtijg he had

brought back with him was a dog. Now, the dog s name wa. Pius-and
he looked it. Imagine, then, the shock to
our feelings when we were informed that
Pius' favorite amusement was bear hunt-

i"S-

Noticing now for the first tune the

steelv glint in the hunter's eye. we turned

from' him to the more friendly landscape.

One thing that demanded explanation

was a long procession of gray-ghost

towers striding over the hills. Pius'

keeper said they linked the mills we had

seen with a power plant we were to see

by-and-by.

As we circled the upper slopes of the
hills a grand surge of mountains rose up
out of the east and the ridijes near at
hand began to look less formidable. The
road seemed to come to an abrupt end
at the hillcrest ahead, but when the en-
gine had lifted us up to this vanishing
point we saw that here was no end, but a
beginning. From the height of the divide

the road swept awav down the mountains, to lose itselt m the tar her
levels of Tonto Basin-a two-color country, the blue of the distant hills
lov^'ng out across the red valley for miles and miles to meet us n.les
ud mtles of water here, in the midst of the -Xalley ot ^ J;^;^;^^
hour we plaved hide and seek with water pictures ot red bills cut across
.1 darl bands of ripplin, blue, dipping down toward the shore an 1
then scampering off inland again when we were near being cau.ht bv
the lake which threatened to engulf the road at certain points.
^^"^ ^ ' Now and then a creek to Ik- crossed

promised coolness, but we soon learned
that this land hol<ls nothing but the dry
skeletons of streams. Presently we
stopped to let the engine drink, and dnr-
inir the pouring process we found time to
make the accpiaintance of a tiny and very
new st(»re beside the road. I'lu- false
front of the little commissary wa^ very
bright with green an<l white paint, and
its "sides were of yellow pine ju>t begin-
ning to weather. We were wondering
whether the back was burlap or nothing
at all when the spluttering engine sum-
moned us to mount again.

It was not long after this that wo were
bid<len to studv the face of a cliff some
miles ahead. 'l-oUowing the directions
carefullv when a curve of the road re-
moved the top of the car from our line
of vision, we were soon able to make
out a light patch at the base of this

with them

cliff. The blur i)rescntly resolved
itself into a series of yellow walls
closing a gap in the darker rock.
Pictures and promises were not
forgotten — here were the cliff
dwellings.

The lower hills soon hid them
from us, and we had l;egun to ques-
tion the wisdom of our driver in
taking us so far when a grinding
of the brakes announced that here
we were to he let down. r\jr a few
minutes we stood watching while
the machine got under way and
swung off down the road, a black
speck at the tip of a Hying plume
of dust, 'j'hen we took the trail
for the hills.

Forty years ago no pair of per-
sons would have been long alone
in the midst of this vastness. Ton-
to Basin was th.- very heart of
Apache Land, and the Indians
were always ready to receive vis-
itors—who usually did not go home
again. In 1875 the warriors were
rounded up by General Crook and
packed off to their new home south
of (ilobe, but the raiders did not
cease from troubling till Gcronimo
was captured in '86.

But on the morning of our own
adventure there were no signal
fires upon the horizon nor any war-
riors behind the mesquite bushes,
and putting fear behind us we kept
to the trail. Half an hour's walk-
ing, first over a wide, rolling coun-
try and then along the course of
a dry canyon creek, brought the
black cliff' to view again. A few
minutes more and we stood in the
halls of the ancients.

The rim rock serves as a sort of
top hat for a hill rising steeply
out of the canyon, breaking the
slope at a level about four hundred
feet above the creek bed, and in
two great dents at the bottom of
this hat crown the cliff-dwellers
built their homes. Judging from
the amount of material scattered
about and the character of the
structures still standing, the
village was originally made up
of about sixty rooms. Of this
number twenty are still pre-
served wholly or in part.

In the eastern pocket only a
few broken foundations remain,
but the structures in the west-
ern cave are so well protected
by the overhanging cliff that
some of the walls still stand
fully two stories high. The
small avalanche of wreckage
over which one must climb to
reach the western group indi-
cates that an outer scries of
walls has tumbled into the can-
yon. A cross wall at the west-
ern end of the village is the onlv
portion of this front tier of
rooms still standing.

The ceiling of one of the
inner rooms is perfectly pre-
served— and a very careful piece

The water of this man-made cataract leaps over the two spillways, and the while
falls meet agam m the canyon beneath a wedding veil of mist

CASA GRAND

REGION o///ie

SALT AND GILA RIVERS
ARIZONA

ShowiriK
GLOBE-PHOENIX AUTO ROAD

back by the dam. lights began to twinkle and reach out yellow fingers touching the rocks

with trembling aniennc of light

of work it is. The central girder,
a Cottonwood log nine inches in
diameter and ten feet long, is sup-
ported by a stout post planted in
the middle of the room. Three-
inch poles bridge the six-foot gaps
between the girder and the walls
at either end of the room, and
these poles are in turn crossed
by small sticks closely fitted to-
gether. Upon these sticks rests a
course of rock, and the ceiling,
which is at the same time the floor
of an upper room, is finished with
a layer of earth. In some of the
rooms the ceilings are only four
and a half feet high, while in
others the clearance is more than
six feet.

The cliff-dwellers had no concep-
tion of the uses of the arch. The
tiny windows of these prehistoric
homes are capped with flat stone
lintels and the weight of the wall
above each door rests upon hori-
zontal poles spanning the three-
foot opening. The walls them-
selves are constructed of pieces of
flat stone laid up in mud and plas-
tered inside and out with the same
substance. Toward the back of the
cave plaster and woodwork alike
are blackened with smoke.

Many centuries have passed
since the cliff-dwellers' fires
painted these dark pictures. When
Coronado passed through this wil-
derness in 1540, the ashes of this
''kultur" were already long cold.
The question, ''How long?'' will
not let itself be answered.

So, too, when one asks why the
cliff-dwellers chose such an inac-
cessible spot as the site for their
homes. Of the hundreds of primi-
tive villages scattered throughout
eastern Arizona, many stand in the
flat creek bottoms and certain
others cannot be reached except by
dint of hard climbing. If, as the
ethnologists say, the inhabitants of
these villages were all of one race
and culture, their whimsicality
as regards the choice of build-
ing sites is inexplicable.

It can hardly be thought that
scenery was any inducement to
them, though certainly the out-
look from our own cliff-man's
front door might have tempted
anyone. A little fluff of cotton-
woods and walnut trees in the
creek bottom told of shallow
water, and the blue shimmer of
the lake a good two miles away
marked the location of prehis-
toric farms. Traces of ancient
irrigation canals were still to be
seen along the river before the
lake swallowed the lower slopes
of the hills, and the corn husks
and cotton bowls found even
to-day in these ruins are the
fruit of the flooded farms.

After an hour of clambering
about the broken walls and a
briefer period of dozing in the

fanu ary, 1916

sunshine, wc felt that wc might bet-
ter be on our way to the hotel the
guide had promised us. As we
scrambled dd^-n the trail a bird
chirped at us from the ruins, bid-
ding us look upon him and wonder
at such a sur\"ival of the fittest. We
were soon back on the road again,
but its slow windings brought us
nothing better than a Mexican doz-
ing beneath his wagon, too sleepy to
answer our greeting. Fortunately,
the Fates were kinder than this
surly fellow. Our desire for a "lift"
was presently fulfilled in the form
of a meandering grocery wagon that
served the lodges farther down the
lake, and in this equipage we con-
tinued our journey.
The hills of the
upper valley had
shown gpreat dif-
fidence in ap-
proaching the lake,
leaving a broad ex-
panse of rolling
country between
the bluer water
and their own blue
selves; but here
the mountains
came down all at
once to the shore
and we were soon
lifted high on their
shoulders. A mile
or two of this sort
of going and we
swung round a
point to see our
lake end abruptly
in a rather insig-
nificant rim of
gray granite — a
sort of anti-dimax
after the height
and splendor of the
canyon walls. Wc
said this and more
as we drew near
the dam. We were
inclined to despise
the little thing that
made the great lake, and each
of us was in the middle of a
disrespectful sentence when
another twist of the road gave
us our first glimpse of the
lower face of this "insignif-
icance," this Roosevelt Dam.

For a while we hadn't breath
to recant. We felt that we
ought to be 'way down below
somewhere, looking up and
worshiping; but from our
lofty perch among the rocks
we could look up in spirit
onlv. and that we certainly
did!

The mountains press in close
upon the water here and hold
the dam in a crushing grip.
The curved lower face of the
structure rises two hundred
and fifty feet above the bed of
the river, each tier of stone
set in a little from the edge
of the tier below and the whole

This Kill above ihe lake was *'bad medicine.** Two squaws had died here and

most of the Indians had deserted the place

-*i£

/T^,

i^^n

/.^^^^"^

•-r-?-tf«sair'

'. Vr«^ ^* -^ :

At the mouth of Fish Creek Canyon is a cave full of bones, all that is left of an Apache war party that would not sur-

render to pursuing soldiers

At last the white sheen of the moon grew out of the midst of the wide, pale sky above Lake

Roosevelt

looking like a gigantic Greek theater
very steeply built and much squeezed
together at the top.

With such a spectacle as the can-
von offered, all the seats should have
been taken. I'or aught we knew
they were — no one ever sees Bitter-
man, or Earth Doctor, or Chief
Morning Green — and we liked to
imagine the whole Indian pantheon
sitting there in stern silence, witness
to the drama of energy always play-
ing down below. The water that
does not flow through the hydro-
electric plant by way of its feeder
tunnels leaps over the spillways at
the two ends of the dam, and the
white falls meet again in the can-
yon, beneath a wedding veil of mist.

From the foot of
the dam it is a long
way to the hotel,
but we were on top
and had not far to
go. Of course, the
afternoon was too
short for the fin-
ishing of fish
stories begun by
the Nimrods on the
hotel porch. How-
ever, the dinner-
bell did not mark
an end to the nar-
ratives, but rather
a change in the
manner of telling,
for the dinner was
a fish dinner and
the fish were black
bass fresh from
the lake.

The sun was still
hot on the western
hills when the cool
shadows on our
own side of the
lake tempted us
forth upon the
water. With a
seething wake at
our heels we sped
away toward the
upper valley, the real story-
land of Tonto. Here the cliff-
dwellers pummeled each other
with clubs and stone hatchets
to such good effect that de
Niza and Coronado found the
country a manless waste. It
was here that King Woolsey
with fifty pioneers and a host
of Maricopa allies met the
Apaches in council and slew a
hundred of them in the mas-
sacre of Bloody Tanks. Here,
in this valley now brimming
with quiet waters, the sheep-
and cattle-men met to shoot on
sight, month in and month out,
till twenty-five of them were
down and the rest patched up
the quarrel. And here, after
a while, the great government
pitched its tents and built a
dam, flooding the battleground
with stored irrigation water
(Continued on page 45)

hg^^

.Ttii^.r V r<"'.

^:?x^f?^'^

TRAVEL

"' fir,, receiv- !k°'^ '''"'"' around ,/,, ,f , ^^^^^^BH

reives the sanction of .k /-i '^'•enifm, whicli r..- \^

°f "he Church, ••fh^.7." '*"8 -bove d,e M,

• »olh,ng above Mo„„„. ..„. ... . ,- . „. „„ „ , ^ ,.

a<
fi

ri
a
t
I

' HE HEART r^r^ •"■P'H...„

"vt-ART OF RUSSIA

™e sacrkd ctv op white wV, ^ "^ «xEART of Rlice,^

"CTCH.s'^^^, Sjh^^ ancj.>^W historic ,Jr..?„^'''

'<"■.» O. w,..-\ "'"'

EMPIRE__pj.j,

,; '^ '" 'A^ outbreak of th. \

^^^V l-..^^ ^-f R-R •' It made4 shiver „,.. . \ ""^"""'^ ^^---e'</« a„rf

''"g'u 200 loniald w" '" ""^ *^°''d- It

*-« dam,g,d"by fire b f"" '" '735. bu

y "re before .1 wa, u.ed

R-R-R-R » U r., J '^

the ground. S^The si p°^ °"
express tr^iJrJt A ""^ Russian

^d bee/' five \4r'^- ''
landed <^t Havre u ^'"" ^
trees .Tere in w"' "'''^'" *''^ f>-"'t

'H-^ above the /rS" f ""'"^

"^-ving east thrS°h F. ^°"'"-

^-tenjperature had K "'"^P^ ^^e

/-velycolde, ason^'Pr^'-^^-
andfartherauavf ^°u^^'"'^"

"liddle of Ma'v ,^'''** "°^ the
enveloped thi'r " '"°^' ^^«'-"'

'^"ded its nalsel ^^^ f^'"

did station '"^'" '" ^''^^ ^P'^n-

^ ''ew davs lafpr 1,
•■^Pn-ng ca„,e with an i. '''"■'

,"«>l.er carpeted .he l,",'""";
the trees fa=. „... _ ?""^ >"<!

. >. is o,,!/''^ -r-™; a»ak. and .L J "=' P" » .heir nj
time. I„ /alifv u ^'■°"' f^etrograd fn Af

^Vest. Pet^^id'rS'"' /'^' "'•^^^"- ^"as 1 1 trr'^ "^ '"—
sents the Slav dea s pT'"'""^' ^^oscow is Orien a, m ' " ^'■^'" ^he
culture and civ hV.^ ' ^^''^^'^d reveals the asn rJ '^'*''^"°^^- '"epre-

I • ern e„.r !'f--- Petro,.,, i^pres^^^So^r' '''^''"
I portion of this front tier ot w^^^^^L^^^^^^^ioscoyv fas-

roonis still standing.

The ceiling of one of the

inner rooms is perfectly pre-

"ved — and a very careful piece

Far back by ihc

serv

^ound elsewhere. Real Rnc •

own and are stTuZ^^Z^^^ ^ *^»'"« ^pU and Sf '' '^ °"^ «^
Moscow is a holv ci^f l^J? '" '^"^ «'orId. """^ ^''^^^'^ter of their

hf ^STiet'^ '!;^:^ -ees

-here two'th'o:s:n;u"aXTa/''"r "^ '^^^^^'^^r:^!'^' ^'^^

was an unbroken for'ttr^i '""^'^ ^P'"---^ "ou poinf h " '"""
^'47- Five hi.nrlr^i ^loscow -is first „ " P "t heavenward

the substantia 'wlfs "n"" '''' -''- hirieS ZreT'. '" '"'^^-y '"
architect in 149, "he J '''"^•"^- «hich werT,!^ <^orerunners of
paint has renewed I '' "'" "°' '°°'' «> old W JL^"" ^^' a" Italian
, There are reluv two d^"'" T^^^' •••"« "' '°'"' '""""^' ^-«h

^-a^d^ ttr th - '^^"^^^^^^^^^^^^ "'•-- --nted

number of cTre^el wT^^'''^' «"^ •""« ima^-nel? '°"""^'-*^^- ^o un-

i"^ outward tchT h p"™"" ^ 'hTfub S l"*^^^' ''-'"g a
spokes. The wall f u^ Petrovka. Tverskav. A, l^'" streets lead-

the second ^•rc^^J;'; J «'V"*" ^«- "Si^j;?^^^^^^^ are the

other boulevards the n. I ^'" °^ -"onasterief Z^}'^' ''oulevards
surrounded by^bal fe^ ' ^V'-'?, ^^^ese nj:^.^^^ T^ '^^
defense. If the visitoTto V "* ^"^ '""^rs. were' fhi / '"'""'^ ^'^

Kl'tlTh^re^el^-^ ™*i?;^^^

hy loftier towers en ^'^.''^""^^h. 'he rcd^vaMs h r^"""" *''^ MoskvA

dam. lights began lo Iwlnklc and re» ch out yellow fingers touching the rocks n^^P^J^^^^ the mass of

with trembling antenna of light briefer period of dozing in

\- —

IIIC

January, 1916

^^-

FOLLOWING THE
APACHE TRAIL

(Continued from page 33)

and making a new home for black bass and

motor boats.

As we skimmed along close under the west-
em hills the more riotous tints of the sunset
were hidden from us. The quiet purple of the
northern mountains crept slowly over the
Sierra Ancha— slope, rim rock and crest ; and
then, at last, a white three-cornered moon grew
out of the midst of the wide, pale sky. Far
back by the dam, lights began to twinkle and
reach out quavering yellow fingers, drawing
us home. A car crept slowly along the rim of
the western hills, fingering the rocks ahead
with trembling antennae of light, dipping down
into some hidden gulch and losing itself in the
shadows as the lights of our own landing flared
up close at hand.

Next morning a large interval between
breakfast time and stage time tempted us to a
new adventure. Some weeks before, a number
of Apaches had come up from the San Carlos
Reservation to work for a while in government
service, and we could see a number of their
hogans on the hills across the canyon. One of
the squaws had visited the hotel the night be-
fore and the gorgeousness of her attire had
led us to think that the Apaches must be a
very gay people. Her dress was an ample
thing of turkey red and white, the papoose in
her arms was robed in emerald green, a wide
fillet of yellow cloth about her head supported
a provision sack that dangled against her back,
and the five-year-old who walked behind was
smothered in a wrapper of deepest blue.

But we were fated very soon to change our
ideas as to the gayety of Apache camps. We
had not yet reached the first hogan when the
sound of a low chant came down to us — a
monotonous "Ha-yu, Ha-yu, Ha, Ha"— clatter-
ing on and on in the high voice of an old man.
It was then that we remembered that this hill
was "bad medicine"; two squaws had died
here a few days before, and we half re-
proached ourselves for intruding.

The people seemed too much stupefied by
trouble to run from us, and the cackling chant
in the medicine lodge did not pause for an in-
stant. The ragged coverings had been torn
from many of the hogans and the bleak skele-
tons of these abandoned shelters bore evidence
to a hasty flight from the place of the evil
spell. As we hurried away, scrambling down
over the rocks, the high-pitched clatter of the
chant followed us — "Ha-yu, Ha-yu, Ha, Ha"
— and we left the medicine man to his fight
with the black spirit.

A little before noon the stage drew up at the
hotel, opened its doors to receive us and then
slid away down the road again. The miles that
rolled away within the next half hour are the
friendliest of all the hundred and forty be-
tween Globe and Phoenix. Burrowing along
the base of the canyon wall, the road follows
close by the side of the dancing river, parted
from it now and then by a fringe of cotton-
woods and willows, and then at last turns aw^ay
into the hills again with many half -turns and
backward glances of reluctance.

^'^I^t

^-m^hWiik:

c
P
f
d1

A leap through the saddle of Lone Horse
Mesa brought us to Fish Creek Inn and lunch.
Here was time for stories, and we learned that
this neighborhood is rich in history— of the
unwritten sort. Down at the mouth of Fish
Creek is a cave full of bones, all that is left of
an Apache war party that would not surrender
to pursuing soldiers. And "off south ards" arc
chff-dwellings never yet entered by a white
man. Why, only the other day a professor
from the East brought in a basket fuU of skulls
from down that way. And the cliff ahead of
us, we were going to climb that, and the diag-
onal streak across the face of it was our road.
This last tale seemed of a piece with the
others, but twenty minutes later the deed was
done. We had traveled about two miles, and,
as one of our facetious companions sai<i had
"returned to our boarding place," only now the
inn was a little toy house five hundred feet
deep in the canyon.

A little farther on the old Apache Trail
crosses the road and winds away over the flat
ledges of layer-cake hills. The track is worn
deep by the feet of Indian ponies. For years,
perhaps for centuries, it was the highway of
Apache raiders descending upon the Maricopa
and Pime farmers of the wide valley, and un-
til the government road was finished in 1904 it
was the only track through all this waste of
rock.

There was a great Oh-ing and sticking out
of heads as our car hung for an instant upon
the brink of Canon Diablo, and then, after
more miles of grandeur, Tortilla Flat brought
refreshment in the shape of soda set out by a
smiling senorita.

This attended to, and Mormon Flat likewise
left behind, a high and splendidly crested mesa
rose before us— "The Mountain of the Foam.**
About this giant outpost of the range, fronting
westward on the desert, a whole series of In-
dian legends has gathered. Map makers know
the height as Superstition Mountain, but to
the Pimos it is "The mountain of the Foam."
According to Father Font's version of the In-
dian legend, a man named The Drinker became
very angry with the people of the vallev "and
sent much water so that the whole country was
covered" except the crest of a great mountain
in the east. "This mountain is called *of the
foam* because at the end of it, which is cut
off steep like the corner of a bastion, there is
seen high up near the top a white brow of
rock, and the Indians say that this is the mark
of the foam of the water which rose to that
height." When Drinker-man had destroved all
the people, he made new men of mud, and
those he sent down stream were good, but those
he sent into the mountains were very bad (the
Apaches).

The legend goes on to say that the petulant
Drinker-man soon became wroth with his new
creatures and transformed many of them into
saguaros. This last episode is undoubtedly
true, for the giant cacti certainly share the
stupid expression of the desert Indians. As a
final mark of his displeasure The Drinker low-
ered the sun so that it would burn the countrv
in summer.

Besides the deluge legend and these other
accounts of divine vengeance there are hun-
dreds of tales of a pleasanfer sort. They tell

inner roonis is pcrtcTctiy' pre- r«r Mca wj
served — and a very careful piece

how Chief Morning Green quarreled with
Rain-man and Wind-man, and how these boon
companions fled away and were never heard
from more; how Thunder shot fire into all the
trees and bushes, so that to this day there is
fire in everything; how Earth Doctor spurted
a mouthful of medicine water into the skies
and made the Milky Way.

A very picturesque legend tells of the de-
struction of Chief White Feather and all his
people. In the days of the great deluge White
Feather and his followers fled before the ris-
ing waters, climbing to the very crest of The
Mountain of the Foam. Standing there upon
the highest peak, the Chief took from his
pouch a medicine stone and struck it with
lightning from the sky. The stone broke in
pieces and in a single instant White Feather
and all those with him were transformed into
pinnacles of rock. Even now the crest of
Superstition Mountain is spiked and spired like
the summit of a fir-grown peak of the north-
land.

Swinging along past the mesa with its row
of Lot's Wives, we topped a gentle rise and
saw before us the far spread of the desert
stretching away to world's end. Occasional
signs on rocks and water tanks had warned us
of our approach to the metropolis of Arizona
but nowhere in all the shimmering space be-
fore us was there a hint of a house or a farm.
The road led away, mile on changeless mile
with never a curve or a sign of life at the end
of it.

As we drew away from the foot of the
mountains the tall mesquite and palo verde
gave place to dusty scrub broken now and
again by the awkward bulk of a giant cactus.
Ihen a bank of deep, lush green began to
grow up m the west and almost before we
could catch a breath the car leaped a hi^h-
bridgcd irrigation ditch, the desert slipped out
of sight behind us, and the whole wide land
was green from mountain to distant mountain.
Fhoenix received us kindly into a tree-
hned street with high, white schoolbuildin^s

^".1."' 1 • 'u f f/ !""* ice-cream wagons hung
with sleigh-bells drew aside to let us pass

Our equipage drew up at last in the palm-
shade of a plaza, and the driver turned to look
us over. Smiling, we risked a question.

"When did they clear the bad Indians out
ot that Tonto country?"
The brown man considered.
"Let's see, let's see. It was in '86 that I
helped corral Geronimo."

He was very casual, not noticing our em-
barrassed hero-worship.

"Do you like this better than Indian fight-
ing?—driving the stage, I mean."

"Well, yes, I guess so.— Do you get down
here? I \vant to fix up the car for to-morrow's
trip" — this very unconcernedly.
We climbed down, smiled upon by the hero
"Wouldn't you like to make that trip every

Now we were well steeped with sunbeams
and very dusty, and the kindly whir of the en-
gine left the brown man only our sunburn
grins for answer.

with trembling antennae of light

THE NATIVE AMERICAN Phoenix, Arizona

Aamri- andySSfedtohy other tribes as the

Returning to PhHadel- ^ "In-day-be-too-in-chaw" or men of the

phia heNwas president of the Central Big Water (Colorado River). These

National Kank from 191& to 1920. . tribes speak a different language. Th^

IJe is vice^^esident j0f Bryn Mawr F»rior to 1880, we find[jiine_ tribes, of In-»

College, manageV^of the corporation of ^dians gathered together from within a

radius, of some 3.00 miles of the San
Carlos Agency, located at the mouth of
the San Carlos River where it empties
into the raging Gila. .

Six Tribes of Apaches. Six tribes
compose the real Apache nation, all
speaking the same language with
slightly different accent but under-
standable, and from six different locali-
ties. They were located after much "Wkr-tr-
fare and trouble at San Carlos with th4
three tribes heretofore mentioned* The !i
former wet^e the dominant breed, and

Haverf ord College ^d overseer of the.
William Penri ^arter\School. He is a
member of^fehe Philadelphia, Racquets
Uni versij^y^ Merion Cricket^i)owntown.
Gulp^K^Vlills, Barge and Milldam clubs,
and also of the American Academy of
Eelitical and Social Scionee.

MTB

Silvery Lake Hides Terrors of

Early Days

Extraets from Arizona Republican

0 THE average mind Apaches

are considered as a class, all

being of the same tribe and

governed under one head.

This, however, is incorrect.

True, Apaches, so-called, are of one
nation, but there are many tribes speak-
ing different dialects. They are sepa-
rate and distinct in characteristics,
tribal practices, and customs.

Properly speaking the real Apache
nation is composed of those who speak
the same language, yet there are several
tribes commonly classed as Apaches
whose language is entirely different, and
in the center of Apach eland as known
before the setting aside of reservations.
one tribe was found — the Arivaipas —
known to other surrounding tribes
as "Hodge-e-do-de-bah," meaning the
mouth of the river named by the Spani-
ards as the San Pedro, where they re-
sided.

The Mojaves who lived in the section
around Bill Williams Fork, west of Fres-
cott were an offshoot of the Colorado
River Mojaves and were termed as
Apache-Mojaves. A tribe called Chim-e-
hue-vas, formerly located on the Colo-
rado River, were called Apache-Yumas

'■.^.*•

gen«raliy referred to as Apaches; but
realitgr the name Apache was forceij •
upon them by the desert Indians to the
sooth when the Spaniards came in con- -
tact with them in 1340.

The desert Indians referred to the
warlike tribe^^ with whom they had been ; -
at war for ajires as "Apaches," the word
meanin«r in their language "enemy."
Thus the Siianiard, Mexican, and Ameri- , ;
cans, later, referred to the allied tribes
as Apaches,

The so-ealled Apaches while accept-
in^r the name applie<l by their common •
foe, refer to themselves and other tribes
as men of a locality principally, or in
reference to some natural phenomena,
likewise some characteristic or trait of
an individual tribe, and many times in
relation to some mythical allusion, such
as Men of the Woods, Men of the North,
or Men of the Rising Sun.

The Chiricahuas, the most vicious and
warlike of all tribes, call themselves "Hi-
u-ah" or Men of the Rising Sun. They
are also known to other tribes as "Chi-
ko-ken,*' which is a term to designate.:
their particular loc<*^lity.

NATIVE AMERICAN

A FORTNIGHTLY MAGAZINE DEVOTED TO INDIAN EDUCATION

Entered as second-class matter, January 13, 1900, at the post ofRce at

Phoenix, Arizona, under the act of March 3. 1879.

SUBSCRIPTION PRICE— 60 CENTS A YEAR IN ADVANCE

Vol 29

Phoenix, Arizona, April 20, 1929

No. 8

Charles James Rhoads Picked For Indian A^airs

Reprinted from Philadelphia Inquirer of April 10, 1929,

|HARLES\JAMES RHOADS,
prominentl^iladelphia bank-
er, has been\elected as Com-
missioner of Indian Affairs
by President Hoover, it w^ learned in
Washington yesterday. [April 10, 1929]

Mr. Rhoads however, has n^t yet ac-
cepted the post, informing tKfe Presi-
dent he wished to first confer with his
financial associates in this city. [lUiila-
delphia] It is anticipated he willXan-
nounce his acceptance within a few daVs.

The banker was in Washingf
yesterday and called upon Presideni
Hoover, in company with Secretary
the Interior Wilbur, under whomyhe
would serve. He will succeed Cherles
H. Burke, who held this resQonsible
Government post for many ye;

Mr. Rhoads, who is a memKer of the
banking firm of Brown Bothers, Six-
teenth and Walnut stress, inherited
his interest in the Injnans from his
father, James E. Rhoajfe, who was presi-
dent of the Indian Rights Association
of Philadelphia for liine years, up to the
time of his death, thirty-five years ago.
Mr. Rhoads is the present head of the
organization, having succeeded to the
post upon the retirement of Herbert
Welsh, of this city, two years ago. He
has been treasurer of the association for
twenty-eight years.

It is understood tha^^e was not a
candidate for the conumssionership and
had told friends h^did not want the
place. However, ^ selection was urged
upon the Pra^ident and Secretary
Wilbur by n^ close to Indian affairs,
who represented him as just the ^rpe of
man need^ for this humanitarian un-
dertakij

Prewdent Hoover, it was learned, had
bee^ casting his eyes about for a man
w^ would look upon the assignment as

large welfare proposition rather than
as a job.

Mr. Rhoads is a native Pennsylvanian.
fifty-six and of independent means.

!i^ was raised on a farm in Delaware
Col^nty, where his family has lived for
sev^ generations. He is a graduate of
Haveitford College, and is active in the
adminidb-ation of several educational
institutions. His banking career has
been wide apd extensive.

He entereH the employ of the Girard
Trust CompanV as a clerk in 1893. He
was appointed ra«t governor of the Fed-
eral Reserve BanK^f Philadelphia when
it was organized and remained in that
capacity until 1918, Vhen he resigned
to become chairman of^ttie War Prison-
ers' Relief in the world conflict.

He continued this humai^itarian task
throughout the war. and also worked

April 20. 1929

THE NATIVE AMERICAN

119

The Janos Apaches from Mexico —
the tribe to which Geronimo belonged —
were called **Be-don-kohe." The Warm
Spring- Indians from the Mimbres river
in New Mexico were known as **Chi-hen-
nay.'* The White Mountain Indians,
commonly called the *'Coyotero's," were
called by other tribes "Dith-claw" and
the Pinal Indians original dwellers at
San Carlos and vicinity, were designated
by all other tribes as "Chi-a-hen." The
Tontos were designated by other tribes
and took pleasure in calling themselves
*'Des-chin," or Men of the North. These
six tribes spoke practically the same
language. -

All Hated Common Foe. Therefore,
we found in 1880, with headquarters at
San Carlos, some 5,000 Indians, em-
bracing nine separate tribes, a motley
group virtually in captivity, each tribe
with their own version of alleged wrongs
inflicted by the white man, each group
with deadlv hatred of each other, yet
with the same grievance against the
common foe — the advancing white-
skinned pioneer.

San Carlos, a name signifying an
apostle of peace, but to all Arizonians
of early days the former seat of blood-
shed, murder and strife, is to be flooded
with the sparkling, pure waters from
the mountain streams to the east.

The former scene of turbulent affairs
will soon be wiped out, purified perhaps,
with the waters of the distant snow-
belt, and the marks of battle and strife
washed away by the surging floods of

the Cfila.

Rut the surviving pioneers who es-
caped the ambush and treacherous tac-
tics of the savage hordes, can see clearly
in the crystal waters the passing events
of many years, a clouded film of recur-
ring scenes, a movie-like drama, from
the date of the establishment of San
Carlos in Xovomber, 1871. with some

seven or eight hundred Pinal Apaches
as a nucleus, up to the surrender and
deportation of the vicious (Seronimo and
his band in 1886.

They can see the sullen Apaches of
the Verde section arriving at the agency
— Tontos, Apache-Mojaves, and a strag-
gling band affiliated with the Yumas —
Apache-Yumas delivered by the militarj^
to the new civilian agent, John P. Clum,
in 1875.

They can also see in the depths of the
pure waters of the lake, the successful
military commander. General Crook,
who forced away with his gallant
troops these hostile tribes, together with
the scouts and guides who assisted him
— Archie Mcintosh, Joe Felmar. Yank
Rartlett, Hank He wet t, Dan O'Leary,
Maria Jilda Grijalva, C E. Cooley and
a host of others standing by night and
day for signs of trouble.

They can gaze below over the ruins
of the sunken city and behold the com-
ing of a horde of Coyoteros from the
north in the same year — 1800 or more
crafty, silent, sullen and defiant, only
awaiting a chance to fight their way
back to the mountains around old Fort
Apache.

They can also see the fall of Lieut.
'^acob Almy, stricken down by the mur-
derous hand of a fanatic Apache with
an imaginary grievance — he who was
buried in the straggling, barren plot
that served as a cemeter>' near the
agency building to sleep in peace until
his remains were removed to the new
resting place beyond the rising waters
of the Gila.

They can picture the coming also of
Geronimo and the Warm Spring Apa-
ches from Ojos Caliente, New Mexico,
under direction of John P. Clum and
General Hatch; the escape of Victoria.
the dreaded warrior, and his band of

- X

120

THE NATIVE AMERICAN

Phoenix, Arizona

fiendish murderers to sweep the country
and leave death and destruction behind
them.

Interspersed in the changing events,
they can imagine they hear measured
tread of the gallant soldiers who gave
battle to the savage hordes — General
Crook, General Kautz, Major Randall,
Major Brown, Captain Ross, Captain
King, Captain Bums, Lieutenant Almy,
Captain Burke, Lieutenant Bernard, and
a hundred others.

The surviving pioneers also can peer
into the depths of the silent waters of
new-formed lake and see the principal
figures in the many stirring events be-
ginninpr in 1880. The massacre of Cap-
tain Fpntig and his gallant soldiers on
the Cibicu in 1881, the arrival at San
Carlos of the mutinous Apache scouts
and the tense situation developed with
mistrust, fear and suspicion of all, the
sleeping of the whites behind sand-bags,
momentarily expecting an attack, a
situation where a single shot, intentional
or otherwise, meant the signal for a
general massacre.

These old pioneers can see the flight
of the Chiricahuas a few weeks later to
the wilds of Mexico from San Carlos,
headed by the arch-fiend Geronimo and
Na^hiz, son of Cochise. Down the Sul-
phur Springs valley they fled, dealing
death to all living things within their
bloody path — the Samamiego wagon
train at Cedar Springs, men and women
at Black Rock, prospectors at the Point
of Mountain, miners and cattlemen in
the valley below and then on down to
safety in the foothills of the towering
Sierra Madres in Mexico.

They can also turn their eyes with a
sigh of regret to the scene wherein the
gallant scout, Charley Colvig, rode to
his death from San Carlos to the old
12-mile post with two Indian scouts, a
settlement now called Rice, the seal of

the new agency— a spot that was bap-
tized in the blood of a gallant hero and
his two faithful scouts — and the spot
where kind Providence intervened and
saved the writer and three others from
a frightful death at the same time.

The grave, aged pioneer of today can
see glimpses of quick and recurring
events by the hundreds, some with grief,
sadness and sorrow. But there were
spells, however, of pleasant days amid
dangers, laughter and gaity, joys and
happiness, withal.

During the mental review of these
dreadful events they can see the gallant
soldiers and the brave and determined
scouts, packers and guides who were
the eyes of the military. General Wil-
cox, General Carr, General Miles and
their faithful aides— also the soldiers
who were to become famous in later
years— General Chaffee, General Law-
ton, General Wood and a host of others
who fought the battles of the mountain
and desert. They can gaze with pride
at the martial bearing of the gallant
Captain Crawford and his able assist-
ant. Lieut, Brittan Davis; also Lieut.
C. B. Gatewood, Dr. Davis and other
valiant officers, toe-ether with untiring
efforts of the civilian employees, who
faithfully stood by their guns in the
many hours of danger, including Al Sie-
ber. Captain Sterling, John D. Burgess.
Charley Colvig, Captain Birdwell, Dan
Ming, Tom Horn, George W. Wrattan
and Frank Bennett.

See Flight of Geronimo. And, at
last, before the picture fades, they can
see the escape and flight of Geronimo
and his ferocious band in May, 1885,
dealing death and desolation and leav-
ing helpless wounded victims in his path
—dealing death to every soul on the
bloody trail from near Fort Apache to
their old haunts in Mexico, to again
raid and re-raid the sim-kisaed land un-

April 20, 1929

THE NATIVE AMERICAN

121

■«^

til they finally were induced to surrender
and were deported to a far distant land
in September, 1886.

What a picture! What a drama un-
folded in the depth of a silvery lake so
peaceful and placid. So calm and un-
ruffled, it yet reflects the scenes of a
bloody era, wiped out today by rising,
limpid waters that will give life to the
desert below. This movie-like picture
— terrible in a way — can only be seen
by one who knows, one who lived in the
sunken city when it was alive with strife
and the breeding place of atrocity and
who took a small part in the recurring
events of many years ago.

However, as time tempers all things
and in spite of the recurring panoramic
scenes wrought in mental development,
inspiring sad memories, and in spite of
the hatred of the Apaches of yesteryear
and their brutal tactics, the pioneer can
now rest on the overhanging bluffs of
the great lake, cast his eyes over the
serene waters, and in silent reverie won-
der with amazement at the changes
wrought in 50 years. What changes in-
deed for the pioneer to consider, and for
the newcomer to learn, especially he who
is imbued with the idea that Arizona is
today infested with a warlike and ever
ready tribe of Apaches to pounce upon
the unwary traveler.

The pioneers of Arizona, who took
their lives in their hands whenever they
traveled from point to point, who knew
no rest from the raids of the warrior
class, who have seen friends and family
laid low and tortured beyond belief, can
hardly realize the conditions of today.
Where 50 years ago they found war and
bloodshed, we find peace and plenty.
Where they traveled at night heavily
armed and with constant expectation of
attack, we find pleasure in travel by day
throughout the sun-kissed land.

Mountains Now Peaceful. Where

long ago long lines of wagon freighters
passed in fear through the Apache-in-
fested country, always in danger of
being ambushed, we find the iron horse
gliding along the trail of steel through
the heart of Apacheland. Where they
found rocky canyons in the mountain
passes infested with lurking Apaches
behind granite boulders picking off the
lonely horsemen, we find today the pass-
ing of the mountain ranges peaceful for
the solitary miner, ranchman and cow-
boy. Where they barricaded in the ranch
house, fighting off the deadly charges
of the naked hostiles, we reach the ranch
unarmed and the women and children
bask in the sunshine without fear.
Where they read reports brought in by
weary express-riders of the massacre of
a family or a lone prospector on the
Upper Gila or on the San Simon, we read
today of the mineral discoveries in many
mountains in this rich and marvelous
country and of the peaceful pursuits of
the ranchmen, unmolested in every fer-
tile valley of the '^Garden of the Gods.*'

Time has wrought the many changes
by the advancement of the dominant
and civilized class. Where the Apaches,
according to history, forced the peaceful
Aztec from fields of flowers and grain,
pleasant homes and a pastoral life,
bringing the land into decay, making a
weary desert of vast plain of waving
grain, causing canals to be covered
deeply by the everchanging, ever shift-
ing sands of the treeless desert, the
Apaches of today have been driven in
Arizona to cultivate what their fore-
fathers destroyed.

From 1846, the date of the first con-
tact with the Apaches by the United
State troops, up to 1886, the final sur-
render of the hostile Apaches — 40 years
of constant warfare — the American
soldiers and civilians alike, succeeded in
subduing the fierce and valiant Apaches

122

THE NATIVE AMJ2RICAN

—erecting a wall of protection for the
coming settlers and a massive reservoir
of reserve force that held the surging,
fighting Apaches in check, thereby
bringing peace and prosperity to the
sun-kissed land.

!♦

The Thirtieth President

:The source of human greatness is
never obvious. It is to be found not in
one, bu^xin many qualities and in the
manner of their blending. It is to be
found not V mere mentality,/ but in the
combinatioA of intellect with character.
Experience plays no small part in its
development y^ith those wh6 are capable
of wisely assimilating experience. The
school is only (\ne step in education ; the
man headed for greatness finds life a
university in which courses are continu-
ous. \ /

No man has eVer come to the presi-
dency of the United States, since the
first president, better known at the time
of his assumption W the chief magis-
tracy, than Herbert Hoover. Better
known, that is, throughout the world
for his record of achievement ; for what
he has said and done. But the personal
qualities of many presidents have been
better known; partly because they had
been longer in public life; partly be-
cause they were more obvious. No man
ever went into the presidency through
more striking manifestations of public
confidence; but that confidence was
based not upon what people know about
Mr. Hoover personally, but because of
the ideas and deeds which constitute
his known record. That is a far
sounder basis of confidence than parti-
ality for a personality. To most people,
including some who knew him fairly
well. Mr. Hoover is something of a mys-
tery; but what he has been able to ac-
complish is no mystery ; it stands out as
one of the most striking records of

Phoenix, Arizona

achievement ever set to the credit of an
American; a record impressive not in
one fiel^, but in many ; beginning with
small things and broadening to hiatters
of world-wide moment; and every job
well don^ /

Some Explanations of Mr. Hoover's
achievemeiats, however, are apparent.
First must be placed the factor of mo-
tive. The element of first importance
in any life ik the purpose that guides it.
That may b<^ inherited; it may be ac-
quired through contacts; it may be
willed. As oKie reads of the earlier life
of Herbert I^oover, it ;is evident that
from the beginning of his adventurous
life he saw soniething in his work beside
a means of gaining fame or fortune.
His warm imagination saw the broader
relationships of all tasks. So in Aus-
tralia, as a yoiith ealled to the superin-
tendency of a mine, he saw something
others had stumbled over ; namely, that
industry was a Jiuman and not a mere
mechanical thiafe, and that the hearts
as well as the hands of men must be put
into it if it was to succeed even from a
dollar and cent standpoint. So one of
the first tasks to which he set himself
was that of making the conditions of
labor endurable. He made the success
of the enterprise worth while to his
associates who worked with pick and
shovel, as well as to those who drew
dividends from the enterprise in Lon-
don. He did not wait until he became a
candidate for the presidency of the
United States to preach the doctrine
that all worth while progress is based on
comfort and opportunity for the every
day man. He put that theory into prac-
tice in the first great enterprise he
managed. And it worked; worked so
well that he soon rose to the manage-
ment of a large group of mines, and was
called thence to even larger responsi-
bilities.

kr^c-rt^wO.^^ ^ftr^^CVw - l>l«¥, I A U

The Tamed Wild Apache

By James Renwick Moffett

SPEAK of the Southwest and there arises in many
minds a picture of vast stretches of burning, water-
less desert, inhabited principally by horned toads
and rattlesnakes, its only vegetation consisting of varied
forms of cactus. A natural enough idea. The South-
west has been so often described as a desert that it niav
be something of a surprise to many to learn that in the
State of New Mexico alone there are six National For-
ests whose combined areas total some nine and a half
million acres. Fully 20 per cent of the state is covered
with forest, and in one of its beautiful
wooded areas, the Mescalero Apache
Indian Reserve, the surviving members
of the Apache tribes make their homes.
Most of us realize, in a vague sort of
way, that there exists an ** Indian prob-
lem." Much has l>een written on the
subject. The home-loving and indus-
trious Pueblo Indian, however, has been
more frequently the subject of discus-
sion than the erstwhile nomadic and
dangerous Apache. But those who
know the Pueblo Indians do not neces-
sarily know the Apaches.

The Mescalero Apache Indian Re-
serve is in southeastern New Mexico
and embraces 476,000 acres of beautiful
mountain country. Within its bounda-
ries are some of the best grazing lands
in the Southwest and many acres of ex-
cellent farm land, for the most i^art not yet under cultiva-
tion. For the Southwest, where water is almost a deity,
the reservation is exceptionally well watered by springs
and streams. Well-built roads make almost every i)art
of it readily accessible. Most of the reservation is heavily
timbered, principally with pine and juniper and a generous

ROBERT GERONIMO, SON

OF THE FAMOUS APACHE

CHIEF

admixture of oak, cedar, and aspen. While nuich of the
Southwest, especially the desert i)<)rtions, is extremely hot
during the summer months, the climate of the reservation
home of the Ai)ache Indian is delightfully nuMlerate.

Because the Mescalero Reservation is somewhat off the
beaten path of the transcontinental motor tourist, and per-
haps because caring for Uncle Sam's wards is a task re-
quiring all the tact, ability, and energy of tho-e to whom
the administration of the Apache's affairs ha> l^een en-
trusted, visitors have not been i)articularly sought alter.

Once there, however, thev are ^eete*l
cordially and assisted in tindin*^ camp
sites to their liking if they care to tarry.
A recent counting of noses clisclf»se«ll
the fact that the total nuiui;er of
Apaches on the reservation is six hun-
dred and thirtv-seven. The tribal cat-
tie herd, numbering about 6.000 head.
and uncounted horses are maintaine«I
on the reservation. The vahie of the
cattle alone, at j)resent valuation, is well
over a (juarter of a million dollars. Be-
cause of severe drought la>t year, heavy
losses were sustained by many South-
western cattlemen. By dint of giMwl
management and constant care, there
were practically no lo>ses from the
Aj^ache herds.

This immense property i> adminis-
tered solely for the benefit of the hand-
ful of Indians who compose the remainder of the A|>ache
tribes. Regardless of the fact that anything which is
done for the general good, such as road-building, the
clearing of lands, or general maintenance tasks, is quite
as beneficial to one as to the other of the Apaches, none
of them are called upon to perform any |)art of the neces-

d-^e

Ri'f^^HKWS^Itll?.'

American Forestry

655

American Forestry

657

which is the average consumption of the mills of the
country.

Were it not for the utilization of waste paper, there
would be a depletion of the forests amounting to some
three hundred thousand acres of timberland every year.
That is when account is taken of the fact that every six
tons of waste paper produces the equivalent in pulp of
an acre of virgin timber.

When one sees the huge truckloads of paper working
through city streets engaged in this form of forest con-
servation, it is hard to realize that the demand for waste
paper is so great that hundreds of tons are imported from
foreign lands. And yet such is the case. Great as is
the waste-material collection system of the United States,
there is some twice as much wasted paper destroyed as is
collected and re-used, and, to meet the lack, hundreds of
shipments are imported from other countries, where, per-
haps, the public is more thrifty in the saving of its used
paper. \

Two chief branches of the paper industry use waste
paper — the board and the book-paper mills. The book-
paper mills are dependent in large measure for waste
paper of good grade for their mills. Old magazines,
books, clippings, etc., are in demand for the manufacture
of paper for magazines and book publishers. Of course,
a large amount of new wood pulp is used in the manu-
facture of this paper, but such book-paper centers as the
Kalamazoo (Michigan) valley are consumers of huge
quantities of waste paper.

The paper-board industry represents the largest total
tonnage of any branch of the paper industry, with a total
of over two million tons of board manufactured in 1922.
The value, of course, is not as high as that of some of
the finer papers, but the forest conservation effected is

iJ^i MM^4m

"*-. 1

CHECKING IN WASTE PAPERS COLLECTED FROM
HOMES AND OFFICES BY THE "DOWN-BUT-NOT-
OUTERS" AT A SALVATION ARMY HEADQUARTERS

IN NEW YORK

a tremendous item in this group of the paper industry.
Instead of reaching the peak of possibilities of forest
conservation by the use of waste paper, many think that
there is a still greater future before the paper industry
in the closer utilization of waste. The Forest Products
Laboratory at Madison has made extensive experiments
with the de-inking of waste paper for the making of news-
print paper, and this can be done economically, producing
at the same time a satisfactory grade of paper.

If the Canadian campaign for the placing
of an embargo on export of pulpwood to the
United States is successful, a campaign which
has been progressing for the last four years,
there will be a further turning to waste paper

[Continued on page 700]

SCENES AT THE BR0NX DUMPS, SHOW-
ING THE JUNK GLBANERS SORTING OUT
WASTE PAPERS— tHE FIRST STEP IN A
HIGHLY ORGANIZED AMERICAN INDUS-
TRY WHICH IS EFFECTING A SAVING OF
OUR FOREST RESOURCES

'- V i," *

«>

TWO TYPES OF APACHE
SQUAWS — PICTURESQUE
REMNANTS OF A PRIMITIVE
PEOPLE. THOUGH POWER-
LESS AND HUMBLE NOW,
THE APACHE WOULD UN-
DOUBTEDLY REVERT
QUICKLY TO HIS SAVAGE
STATE IF LEFT TO HIM-
SELF, FOR "THE WAYS OF
THE WHITE MAN ARE NOT
HIS."

THE OLD SQUAW AT THE
LEFT WAS NOT •'CAMERA-
SHY'* AFTER THE REMOVAL
OF THE "CURSE"

sary labor without adequate pay. For work done on the

reservation the Apaches are paid the same wage that

would be paid for similar labor in the open market. Even

such individual efforts as the members of the tribe may

make in their own behalf are rewarded, more often than

not, by the bestow^al of

commendation, together

with presents in the very

practical form of generous

chunks of beef.

The Apache children are

taught in a school which is

quite up to city standards.

The indigent are supported ;
the sick are cared for and,
when necessary, treated in
a well-equipped and splen-
didly maintained hospital.
Apparently, everything pos-
sible is being done to make
the Apaches a happy,
thrifty, and contented peo-
ple. The resources and
material advantages which
they possess are certainly
far greater than those of
the average white Ameri-
can, and it would seem that
they should be content.

Yet they are not content !
It is unlikely that they ever
will be. They are a primi-
tive people, removed by
barely more than a genera-

tion from savagery, and it is no reflection on them, nor
upon the administrators of their affairs, that they remain
unhappy, regardless of their material advantages and their
opportunities for advancement. Their ways are not the
ways of the white man, and that is all there is to it. It

is for this reason that there
will be an Indian problem
until the last member of the
race has disappeared. This
is not said because of any
streak of sentimentality, nor
is it a veiled intimation that
the methods used in the
training of the Apache are
wrong.

Fate decreed that the
white man should take from
the red the land which was
once his domain. Debate
as to the right or wrong of
that procedure is useless.
Even the most sentimental
of writers and artists,
whose chests heave with
emotion because the pic-
turescjue Indian is not al-
lowed to live his own life
in his natural hal)itat, mi^ht
be brought to admit that
human progress is better
served by the advanced
methods of the white man
than by the primitive ones
of his red brother. The

THEIR FATE

Their father in a White House lives
And in a white house they;

But the father with tomorrow rides
And the son with yesterday.

— Owen Wister

658

American Forestry

659

col

thi

tO!

thi
sei
pa
fo
th<
th.

sh
ha
pa

to
o]
T
t\

CLOSE-UP OF A TYPICAL TEPEE. THE APACHE
INDIANS CONTINUE TO PREFER TEPEES LIKE
THIS TO HOMES OF A MORE SUBSTANTIAL

CHARACTER

natural state of the Apache is a barbarous one, and civili-
zation and barbarism cannot exist successfully side by
side. One or the other must be dominant, and, no matter
how sentimental we may be, we can better risk a trim-
ming at the hands of our white friends than a scalping
by our red ones.

A man born and reared among the
Apaches described them to me as ''an
humble people." His term was an apt
one. There is no doubt that the spirit of
the Apache is broken. This humility
found its birth in the realization that he
had been overwhelmed by a superior race,
and that he must conform to the white
man*s decrees. The fact that the present
methods of the white man are kindly ones
cannot erase the sadness the Apache must
feel because of his lost supremacy in his
own land. His days of fighting and con-
quest are over. He who once was fierce
and feared has become powerless. It is
not to be wondered at, that the remnants
of the Apache tribes are now "an humble
people."

The Apaches, particularly the older ones,
are silent, suspicious, and uncommunica-
tive. They have accepted the ways of the
whites only so far as they have been prac-
tically compelled to accept them. On the
Mescalero Reservation the men all wear
their hair short and have adopted the gar-
ments of the whites. Native costumes are
worn only on those infrequent occasions
when dances and feasts are held. The

women in general wear curious combinations of native
and American dress. Babies are carried strapped to the
mothers' backs, in primitive fashion. Fortunately for
both races, there have been no intermarriages of whites
and Indians on the reservation.

The Apaches continue to live in the most primitive
of tepees, in spite of the fact that they are encouraged to
build more substantial homes. Rude shelters of boughs
are usually buflt in front of the tepees, and fires for cook-
ing and heating are built in shallow pits rather than on
the surface of the ground. This method, by the way,
is one which might well be adopted by vacationists and
campers, as it greatly decreases the danger of scattering
the fire and causii^ damage. For an Apache family to
move from one location on the reservation to another is a
simple matter, and when a death occurs in a tepee this is
invariably done.

The Apaches dii^ to their superstitions. Witches are
believed in as profoundly as many of our own people now
believe in the return of the spirits of the departed. While
some of the missionaries may not agree with me on the
point, the incantations of the medicine men are still de-
pended upon to cure sickness. When spear-heads are
found, they beccmie precious possessions, because of the
belief that they are the ends of lightning bolts, and that
the possessor of such a talisman is protected from injury
by lightning. Some of the old Apaches, both bucks and
squaws, are genuinely "camera-shy," believing that the
making of a picture takes something from the soul or
spirit. The greater number, young and old alike, have

».>

THE SPIRrr OF THE APACHE IS UNDOimTEDLY BROKEN; HE REAL-
IZES THAT HE HAS BEEN 0\'ERmiIELMED BY A SUPERIOR PEOPLE;
HIS DAYS OF FIGHTING AND CONOUEST ARE OVER; AND THOUGH
THE METHODS OF THE mHITE MAN ARE KINDLY, HIS ATTITUDE IS

EVER ONE OF DISCONTENT

learned, however, that the "curse" is effectively removed

by a silver coin, provided that it be not too small in its

denomination.

It is a matter of serious doubt v/hether any white man

fully understands the significance of the Apache dances.

It was not a matter to cause surprise that no Apache

would discuss this subject with

me with any degree of frank-
ness, but it was surprising to

learn that men who had been

associated with the Apaches

during the greater part of their

lives knew but little more about

the dances than I. Whatever

of the Christian religion the

Apaches may have absorbed,

there seems little doubt that at

the time of their dances they

revert to their own forms of

sun worship. Certain of their

dances have been entirely for-
bidden. The usual effect of
the holding of any of the tribal
dances is noticeably to undo a
considerable amount of the
progress which may have been
made in the Apaches' training.
Certainly, these dances are
interesting, primitive, romantic,
It is difficult for members of the
white race who are unacquainted
with the Apaches to understand
why they should be interfered
with in any manner in this ap-
parently innocent diversion.
There would be a somewhat
clearer understanding of this
situation if those who favor the
frequent holding of these dances
could realize the extent to which
they retard and destroy the ef-
forts of those engaged in the
teaching and training of the

Apaches. Both before and after such celebrations, many
members of the tribe are apt to become more or less un-
manageable and morose. The dances stir up memories,
not necessarily holy ones either, of things that have gone
forever. All things considered, it is probably better for
the Apache and his teachers if these dances are held in-
frequently or not at all, even though some of the rest of
us are compelled to miss what is really a mighty good

show.

It would be quite unfair to the Apaches were I to create
the impression that none of them are appreciative of the
efforts which are made in their behalf. There are those
among them who realize the desirability of encouragii^
their children to take full advantage of the educational
opportunities which are available to them. Then, again,
there are those who delight in stirring up discontent and

distmsL There arc '*reds" among the Indians as there
are amoi^ the whites — soap-box orators who would undo
an the good that has been accomplished. The right of
free speech has not been denied the Apache, although it
seems to me to be a tribute to the patience and forbearance
of the officials in charge that the few disturbers have not

with in

CAPTAIN SAMUEL F. lOLLER. THE ONLY
WHITE MEMBER OF THE APACHE TRIBE, TO
WHICH HE WAS ELECTED BY UNANIMOUS
VOTE. CAPTAIN MILLER SERVED IN THE
CrVIL WAR AND WAS THE CARRIER OF
GRANT'S FAMOUS BfESSAGE TO SHERIDAN, ^I
INTEND TO FIGHT rT OUT ALOiNG THIS LINE
IF FT TAKES ALL SUMMER""

been dealt with m summary
fashion.

Among the more interesting
of the Apaches who live on the
Mescalero Reservation is Rob-
ert Geronimo, son of the fam-
ous old fellow whose depreda-
tions caused so much trouble
in the past. Robert is a grad-
uate of Carlisle, an intelligent
and industrious Indian. He is
engaged in farming and goat-
raising and is making a real
success of his work.

The Apache tribe has one
white member, Captain Samuel
F. Miller. He has the distinc-
tion of having been elected to
membership in the tribe by the
unanimous vote of the Apaches,
their action having the official
sanction of the Indian Bureau.
Captain Miller has worked
among the Apaches for more
than thirty years, and enjoys
their friendship and confidence
to an extraordinary degree.
His membership in the tribe is
no mere matter of empty glory,
for by virtue of it he partici-
pates in all the tribal rights and
privileges and shares in all the
tribal property in quite the
same manner as though he were
an Apache by birth. During
the Civil War, Captain Miller
commanded a troop of the nth
Pcnnsyhania Cavalry. He afterward served under Gen-
eral Custer, and explains that he was on furlough at the
time of the fatal battle in which General Custer and his
men were massacred, and thus escaped a similar fate.

But Captain Miller has a still greater claim to fame.
He relates that on one occasion he was the bearer of a
message from General Sheridan to General Grant, whose
headquarters were then at Spotsylvania Court House.
•*When General Grant had read the message," explained
Captain Miller, 'Tie looked up into my face and said, *You
teU General Sheridan that I intend to fight it out along this
line if it takes all summer.* That message," continued
Captain Miller, ''put new heart into General Sheridan

right away."

The Captain also told of another incident which, as
far as I know, has never been recorded. It seems, as

[Continued on page 700]

pooo
The Tamed Wild Apache

I Coii/fiiif<^</ from f^iiifc (>59J

ICafHatn Miller tells the story, that orders
been issued by General Grant to General
I Davidson to make a certain designated move-
nmit with his division. As General David-
son saluted his commander, he said, **If I
|anderstand this order correctly, it means the
ficc of my division," With snapping
|e\>fs and hard-set face, the great General
replied, "1 am glad. General, that you do
lunderstand that order."

How much good or harm the inevitable
I influx of white visitors may do the Apaches
I do not pretend to guess. It may not be
lamiss to hint, however, that the tepees of
the Apaches, crude as they are. are no less
their private homes than are the more pre-
tentious houses of the whites, and that it is
quite the natural thing that they should re-
sent any unu-arranted intrusion. Supersti-
tion aside, it is also readily understandable
[tliat the Apaches are not enthusiastically in
favor of the constant snapping of cameras at

!"ir homes and their persons. Those who
jWish to visit the Apaches in the privacy of
[their tepees must spend the time necessary
become acquainted to a sufficient extent
jto have the invitation extended.

WTiile this article does not surround the
Apache with much of the glamour of ro-
|niance„ I cannot help but feel that, con-
sidering their recent wild freedom, the six
hundred and thirty odd Apaches on the Mes-
["^lero Resei^-ation are doing very well, and
Alt, on his part. Uncle Sam is doing his
itmy by them nobly. If the "Indian prob-
lem'' is one of those which admits of no
complete and final solution, it is simply that
it was never intended by Nature that the
red man shouM be made over into a Cau-
casian.

And, after all, who are we that we should
question the decree of fate?

[Photc^uaphs by the author and through
jthe courtesy of the Commercial Club of
Alamagordo, New Mexico.]

Trees

and Shrubs

Civic Asset

i By Julia Lester Dillon |

r/fV Landscape Architect, Sumter, South Carolina \

: been^ almost impossible about an awakening. The toi^rists who have built homes |

in the South and brought landscape architects from other j
sections to mak^ gardens for jthem have also helped.

Now, our to)f ns are realizijig their ugliness, are seeing!
their neglected| trees, their crpoked streets, or their bare
concrete-paved driveways that are like ruled lines on a|
map, their gr^ss-grown parkways on the sidewalks, and
recognizing thje need, are trying to find a remedy. They
are also seeii^ the unbounded richness of the southern
flora as a G^d-given heritage hitherto despised and un-
used. What has been a torment— riotous growth— is
becoming kilown as an asset, more and more valued.
This problem of city planting and beautifying is as wide
as the South and is vital to her present and future progress
and prosperity. \

Intelligent! planning is the first step in the campaign.
This calls fdf a survey* of resources and conditions. There
must be an Intelligent recognition not only of the present

the smaller citfes or a
licipality recognized the
utifying, and considered
ice to incorporate in vits
. of the Tree and Par^c
t in this section that our
t like Topsy— "they jes'

of Women's Clubs took
e was no concerted effort
r civic leagues, garden
IS for beautifying school
court-houses, with their
r home groiinds artistic-
:nt inaugurated by the
fter the Wor^d War, for
jind parks, ha-ve brought

A DELIGHTFUL AND ENTICING SPOT FOR YOUNGSTERS

ptHtT^TlLtT should be more than well-thaded lawns, with graveled courts on which children can play. There ahould be many and different

kinda of trees and shrubs, such as shown here.

-^ 660

Blu k ftct

C. Hart NAeTiam

Papers

BANCMSS

80/18 c

J^^C-lU}

j^ "IN THE LODGES OF THE BLACKFEET"

^ We have in hand a series of chapters entitled "In the
Lodges of the Blackfeet," in which is told the life story
/h of a squawman who has lived for many years with the
^ Blackfoot Indians of Montana. The story is autobio-
— graphic in form, is related without reserve, and is a
^ most intimate and graphic picturing of wild Indian life
''^ on the plains, and — after the wild life was over — of

/ Indian ways on the reservation. The chapters are of
^ sustained interest; the publication will be begun in our
next issue.

IIIIIIIIRJIIIIII^

'^^-'..riiinriillllllllllii^JlllllllJ^JIIIHIIf^.lllllll

^ Hi^-

Sam Mi

S^.v.sH.^- V-^ ^"^^^^

( <i

FOREST AND STREAM.

[Nov. 11, 1905.

Bogus Indians*

I WAS engaged as escort for a mail line in 1879,
having charge of two men in each of three stations,
the stations being about thirty miles apart. One of
the men would accompany each mail wagon on a round
trip, while I was supposed to boss the job and see that
they did it.

One of my men at the station at which I made my
headquarters, Mountain Pass, was taken sick, I sent
him in to the post; then took his place myself.

The mail route ran from Fort Sill up in the Indian
Territory to Fort Concho, Texas, and the mail was
carried on buckboard wagons drawn by two half-
broken bronco mules. Only the driver and his escort
rode on the wagon. Some of these mules had not been
broken at all. When a team of this kind had been
hitched to a wagon and the ropes that held them to a
post while they were being harnessed were taken off,
the mules would start on the dead run and never stop
short of the next station. The only way they could be
stopped would be to knock them down with an ax.

We had three drivers on this end of the route, two
of whom should have been somewhere else. They
were deathly afraid of Indians. Why they ever stayed
here at all puzzled me. Pay of $35 or $40 a n onth and
three meals a day, when they were where they could get
it, of saleratus bread, fried bacon and black coffee,
would be no inducement for me to do this work,
whether I was afraid of Indians or not. I never wanted
to go with these men if I could help it.

There were Indians in this country at times. When
thev came in here they generally came from the north
or west, and after making a raid through here, went
back there again. I did not expect the driver to light
Indians; that was what I had been sent here to do.
Still I did not want him to get rattled, then let his
team run into the Indians, or wherever it might take
a notion to go, when I began firing.

The third driver, Charley Parton, or as he was called
Dutch Charley, was all right; he had served in our
cavalry and was not afraid of Indians.

The man I had with me at Mountain Pass was a
new recruit thnt wc liad lately not from the East, and
he also had no use for Indians then; he got over his
fear of them later on. Dutch Charley would not let
this recruit go with him. On some former trip, when
he had the man with him, they had an Indian scare —
there were no Indians at the end of it though — and
the man had got rattled. Charley said the man had
come near shooting him; that he was a coward.

I told Charley what was wrong. These "smart
Alecs'* we had, had been stuffing the man with hair-
raising stories of how the Indians would first burn
him to death at the stake, then to make sure 6l it kill
him some more, then scalp him.

"You know the stuff we keep on hand to amuse a
Rookie," I told him, "you have been there yourself.
That man is all right. Let a real Indian open on him
and he will fight right enough."
Well, he would rather go alone than take him.
I had just made a round trip with one of these tender-
foot drivers who could see an Indian behind every rock
and bush, and we had got into the station just as
Charley was starting to go alone. That round trip
had taken me two days and over 140 miles in a rough
buckboard, and I did not much fancy jumping into
another wagon nor to go over it again; but I would
not let the man go alone.

I could order the man that the driver did not want
into his wagon, then tell the driver to pull out. I
was in command here, and had it been one of the
other drivers, that is what I should have done; but I
did not want to do this with Charley.

I swallowed my dinner, then started with Charley.
We made the Concho, seventy miles, that day, and
the next came as far as Old Fort Chatbourne on our
way back. Here we were given a pair of these un-
broken mules, about the meanest pair on the line.
Charley always got them; the other fellows were afraid
of them.

The road out of Chatbourne for a mile or two ran
through a grove of post oaks and was partly down-hill.
Here our team began to jump and plunge, and the off
mule got his left hind leg over the trace and tongue.
He managed to get it back off the tongue, but still
had it over the trace. He might keep it there now for
the next thirty miles. If we tried to free him our
heads would get kicked off. So we let the trace stay
sawing there under his belly and against his leg; if it
suited him, it ought to suit us.

The road ahead of us for the next twenty-five miles
ran through a prairie thickly covered with bushes or
chaparral. We had gone several miles over this road
when I noticed two men off to the left and a mile or two
ahead of us. They sat on their horses behind a bush that
just showed their heads and shoulders above it, and were
200 yards from the road. When we had got closer I saw
that both of them had blankets pulled up around their
shoulders.

•'Yonder are our Indians," I told the driver. "But
there is only one apiece for us."

We Rot our carbines up from where they lay under
<>u! feet, Cliarlcy standing his up between his legs while
1 iield mine. We were twt) miles away yet, but the mule>^
were Koin^ over thc^e two miles very fast. I kept my

eye on the men and also on the road in front of us. If
they were Indians the two were not the only ones here.
We were nearly opposite to them now, and, jumping
up, I braced my left leg against the seat to steady me,
then sprung my lever. I had a Spencer and the driver
had another one.

"Don't fire," the driver told me, "if they let us go, let
them go. I am afraid of this team."

I sat down again. I knew that the driver was right.
If this team began to plunge again — and they would —
they might get tangled up worse than they were now or
break the tongue. We had another team do that later
on; they broke the tongue short off at the neck yoke. If
that should happen then we might stop here and fight
Indians all day^ and we would stand a poor show with
them among these bushes.

The men sat there looking at us but never moved, and
in a minute or two they were far in our rear.

"I hate to leave those fellows without letting them
know we are alive, Charley."

"So do*I; but it is best. We may get plenty more of
them yet. Those are not the only ones here. I can't ex-
actly understand their game, though."
I had on two pistols, the driver had none.
"If we get into a hot place, Charley, take my left pistol.
I leave it for you," I told him.
"I hardly think those were Indians," I told the driver.
"Of course they were. Have we not both of us seen
enough Indians to be able to tell one at 200 yards? White
men would not be fools enough to try to play off Indian
on us. Every man in this country knows that we carry
arms, and knows that you can shoot him on sight if he
tries any funny business. That mail is your warrant."
We kept a good lookout ahead, but saw no more
Indians. We got in sight of Mountain Pass at last, and
about two miles south of it a wide creek crossed the road.
The banks had been cut down at the ford, and we could
not see the creek until nearly on top of it.

"If we don't see Indians down there," Charley said,
"we won't see any more this trip."

"I am not sure we have seen any yet. I think we saw
two white men back yonder. If those were Indians and
did not want us — and it seems they did not — why did they
let us see them at all? They had only to dismount there
to be out of sight."

"Oh, they were Indians." He knew that.
We were close to the creek now and a band of coyotes
came charging up from it; they had just heard us coming.
Charley gave a whoop. "Put your gun up." he told me,
"no more Indians to-day or them fellows would not be
here."

The Pass ran between two mountains here, the one on
the left was not quite as high as its neighbor on the
right, and the stage ranch was built at the northern end
of it. Just as we had got to the ford I happened to look
aci;oss the left mountain, and saw a column of smoke
rising behind it. There was nothing to burn over there
except the station.

"That's what it is," Charley said. "Now what will
we do? We can't pass them if they are there yet. I'll
do as you say."

We could not pass there if they did not want us to
pass. The station stood on the left of the road; the
ground between it on that side was covered with bushes;
the ground on the right of the road clear to the moun-
tain half a mile away was cut up into deep gullies.

"Go right ahead," I told him. "We can't turn back. If
they are there yet and have not got the road closed dash
right on. You do the driving. I'll do the shooting.
Then keep on to Phantom Hill ; that team can stand it.
If we see we can't get through I'll shoot your mules;
they shan't get them. Then you and I each take a mail
pouch and get up among the rocks there. We can stand
them off until help comes."

We were in the Pass now. It ran from north to south
and was nearly straight, but the canon here was full of
bushes and trees and the road made several turns here to
get past trees.

When half way through it, just before coming to one
of these turns, an Indian rode aronnd the curve. I
jumped up and had my gun up and my finger on the
trigger. The Indian was only thirty vards away; in an-
other moment he would be a dead Indian.

"Don't shoot !" the Indian sung out, calling me by
name, then yelled "Tonkaway."

I dropped back in my seat. He was a Tonkaway In-
dian, one of the scouts from Fort Griffin, and my favorite
hunting companion. He and I had slept together many
a night on the prairie when out looking for trails or
turkeys. These Indians all went under English names,
and this young fellow had taken mv middle name, An-
derson. I ought to be able to recognize him a mile away.
I must be as badly rattled now as that man of mine
would be. We swept past him just as he called out,
"Some more Tonkaway back there."

"All right. Anderson. I won't shoot them now."
In a minute we met half a dozen more of them under
the first lieutenant of our troop. He wanted me to stop.
"We can't, sir. You will have to come to the station,"
1 told him. Or where the station had been. I was sure now
it had been burned; else what was he doing out here?
The troop was probably miles in the rear of him; he
commanded the scouts.

Wc were out of the Pass now. and the station stood
here with nothing wroner about it. The prairie behind
it was on fire, though. Charley and I shook hands,
VI won't have to iboot your mulc» after all/' 1 told

<«i

<*XT.

him, "though that is about all they are fit for."

The lieutenant came after us. We could stop now and
talk to him. He wanted to know if we had met any
men. I told him about the two "Indians."

'Did you not recognize those Indians?" he asked me.
'No, sir: they were too far away. Who are they?"
"Graham and Finney. They have deserted. Do you
think they will go through Chadbourne?"

**No, sir, they won't. Graham is not fool enough to do
it. I know I would not. He knows the country. He
will go around Chadbourne."

"Well, I'll get him, if I have to follow him to the Gulf
of Mexico," he said, and left.

He would have followed them there, too, but he did
not have to do it ; he caught them in a cornfield below
Fort Mason and brought them back.

Graham did go through Chadbourne, though. The post
had been abandoned, but a sergeant of the Ninth Cavalry
(colored) and a party of men were here. Graham told
him that a lot of Indians were after him, then kept on.
He took care not to tell the sergeant that the Indians
were Tonkaways; and when the Indians got up here the
sergeant had his men out in this post oak grove deployed
as skirmishers, and he sent the Tonkaways back in a
hurry. It took the lieutenant half an hour to hammer
into the sergeant's head that these Indians did not want
him or the post.

This Graham was a friend of mine. I had known him
for years; and had he come down to the road to-day
where I could have seen who he was I should have
thrown the lieutenant off his trail and let him go; he
was one of but very few men that I would do it for,
though. He belonged to my troop, and had been a ser-
geant in it, but had been broken for selling some old
carbines, then thrown into the guard house. He escaped
from there. The other man. Finney, I knew little about
and cared less ; but I should have he'lped Graham off. He
told me after he was brought back that this was the only
wrong move he had made. He knew who I was and
knew I would not give him away.

But I have begun this tale at the wrong end and will
have to begin again.

Several months before this a large emigrant train go-
ing \<) California pulled into our post, Fort Griffin, and
went into camp on ihe Ncvth F..vk <«{ \hr T'laitub,- U:low
the post, stopping here for several clay- to nrX tV« ir
Icam.s. They had over twenty watroub. ]>ait uf them ox
wagons and a good bunch of loose horses along.
were from Arkansas, and most of the older men had been
Confederate soldiers. These men were then generally
only rebels up at the North, but I had long ago found out
that it did not take me much longer to call a man a Con-
federate and his army the Confederate Army than it did
to call him a rebel ; and it did not hurt his feelings quite
so much. When these men had quit fighting so had I,
and had not kept it up since in the papers and with my
mouth. I always got along with them without having to
tell them that they were right and we were wrong. I did
not have to take anything back, we had whipped them,
but it was not necessary to tell them all about it once a
day. I put in some time in their camp and got quite
well acquainted with them.

Their leader had been a Confederate captain. He had
lost his left arm. He had brought it home from the army
with him, but had since blown it off with a shotgun; it
can be done that way easy enough if you only know how
to do it. That shotgun had to stand the blame for the
loss of several arms belonging to men I know. One in
particular had served with me in the Army of the Poto-
mac three years, had been shot at times without number,
and not hit; then had come home and in less than a
month had lost his arm by the shotgun route.

Two or three days after this tra'n had pulled out again
our quartermaster found out that he was short about a
dozen old Spencer carbines that he had to arm his citizen
teamsters with. A wagon never left here without the
driver being armed, he carried his carbine in the front
box. These guns had about outlived their usefulness, but
would cost that quartermaster $22 a piece if he did not
find them or have a board of survey sit on them. He
most likely would get that board of survey. If we had
lost them we would find them on the pay roll ; and he
could swear them off. He was doing some swearing
now, but it did not get him his guns. I got them after-
ward, though, without doing any swearing.

The only Government property that I ever lost was an
old condemned horse, saddle and bridle, that a Mexican
stole. The whole affair was worth $50, but I expected to
have to pay $200. I had no more right to take this outfit
than I would have had to take the captain's horse. I
was riding the plug to save a race horse I had. When I
had about made up my mind to serve a year and pay for
it, the commanding officer sent for me, wrote out an affi-
davit and told me to swear to it, then let the condemned
horses alone after this and ride my own. Not every com-
mander would do that, though. This is called "swearing
the horse off the papers." Nobody has to pay for him
now. The taxpayer paid for him wheft he was bought.
We let it go at that.

Two or three days after the emigrant train had left 11c
a big detail under the same officer who was after Graham
now, had been sent after it to find those guns.

As soon as we were clear of the post the lieutenant told
me to start off, keep up a slow gallop and go on until
I overtook the train. If I did not get up to it before
sunset, then rest a while, then keep on. When I found
the train 1 wa« to bold it until he came up. It would

Nov. II, I9Q5.1

FOREST AND STREA

^87

not be over thirty miles away yet; the wagons had to
travel slowly on account of the ox teams.

I went otu r.t a gallop. 1 thought 1 had a rather large
contract en hand to try and arrest twenty or more men
all hy myself: but I could make a bluff at it anyhow.
These frontier citizens are never in a hurry about dis-
obeying any crclj^r we give them. A soldier could arrest
a party of them aiur tlity had run a sheriff and his posse
clear out of the county.

At the end of about twenty-eight miles I saw the train
just ahead or me. They had camped on Dead Man's
Creek last night and were just now pulling out — a rather
JHte start; it was lo o'clock now. As I rode past each
wagon I told its driver to pull out and stop; then kept on
intil I came to the head of the train. The wagon in ad-
vance was an ox team — ihree yoke of them — driveo by a
colored boy.

"Pull to the right, Sam, and stop," I told him.

"Yes, sah."

Just ahead of th's wagon and leading the procession
was an old-fashioned country carryall with a fine span of
iron-gray horse., The driver was a woman, thirty-five
>ears old, as she afterward told me when she offered her-
self and a 400'acre farm to me. She was pulling away
fit a corncob pipe. IJfting my hat to her I said:'

•*Madam, I have your train under arrest. Drive to the
tight of the ruad and stop, please."

••What fur?"

I told her what "fur."

*i hain't got ary one of your blame gtins. I don't
reed 'em. I got plenty guns of my own."

•I am glad to hear it ; but you must stop here. 1 can't
let you go on."

She stuck her head past the side of her carryall and
veiled: "Alf, git that thar team back in the road! You
Iiear me? An' come on."

Alf was the negro ox driver.

•'Keep your team where it is, Alf," I told him. "I am
in connnand here now. You obey me."

•*Yes, sah, I does."

••That thar team is mine, an' I want it. I am going
right on."

"You can't, Madam. There may be Indians not ten
miles away. There often arc."

*'I don't keer fur no Indians. I can help myself. I got
a gun." And she reached behind her and hauled out a
Winchester riHc.

'*Can you use that?" I asked.

"You find me a deer an' see if T can't use it."

Had this been a man I .should have helped him over on
the grass long since, but you can't drive a woman.

•'Madam," 1 tr)ld her, "my orders were to stop every
one. but I will make an exception in your case. Drive
on.

"I reckon I had better stop," she said, after studying
the question a moment.

"Yes, I think .so; but I won't try to stop a lady. You
can go on if you want to do so."

I knew she would not go, else I should not have given
her permission to go. She drove off on the grass and
iumoing down out of her carryall yelled: "Alf, git them
thar oxen out now an* let 'em git a bite. You hear me?"

:\lf heard her. So did every one else within half a mile.
She began to unharness her team, and while she got the
harness off one horse I took it off the other, then put
drag ropes on both of them. She was going to let them
run. Next I hung the harness up on the front wheels.
She was watching me and now said : "You seem to know
how to do things."

"We have to know how to do many things in our
business, Madam. We never know when we may be
called on to do them."

"Are you a sargint ?"

"That is what they call me."

I was only a corporal, but the civilians here did not
know the difference, and called us all sergeants. I never
took the trouble to explain the difference, either; I would
almost as soon be called a sergeant. I was waiting pa-
tiently until the Captain would call me one— if he did
not break me before that. He did not, but gave me the
third stripe when it came my turn to get it.

As soon as the men had cot their teams on the grass
they had gathered in a knot, and were now holding a
council. A half-grown boy came to me and throwing up
his hand to his hat, as he had seen us salute our officers,
said ; •'Mister, my father wants to see you." Returning
his salute I said: "I'll see him now," and was about to
start when the woman was heard from again.

••See here, Bill," addressing the boy, "you call that man
'sargint* after this. Don't forgit it now. He ain't none
.of your 'misters,' he is a 'sargint' "

I walked over to the group of men and said : "I ought
to have told you sooner, gentlemen, why I stopped vou
here, but the lady detained me. I have been ordered to
place you under arrest for having Government artns in
your possession. I will have to hold you here until the
captain comes up. You had better camp. He may not
be here for hours yet. You can't go on to-day; the next
water is too far ahead."

"I have all those guns, Sergeant," one of the men said.
••Those other men know nothing about them. I'll give
them up now ; you can let these other men go."

•'I am sorry, but I can't. I have my orders and must
obey them. You will all have to stop here. The Captain,
when he comes, may let you go. I can't."

"Where have you those guns?" I a.sked. He took me
to a wagon, and. taking out the tail gate, pointed to them.
They lay on the bottom of the wagon under the whole
load. The rest of the men had followed us.

"Gentlemen," I told them, "this is no way to keep your
prms. You should have them where you can get them
at a moment's notice. There are Indians in this country.
We should know it, I think; we are often called on to
drive them out of it.

•Vnii have your familic^- here. Keep your arms where
you can get therA In a hurry. You may need them in a

hurrv."
"We have some Winchesters where we can get them,

the one-amicd captain told me.

"Can you park your train, captain?"

"Yes; I have showed them how to do it."

"If I were you I would always from this out camp in

a park, and go in to park at a gallop every evening. Then

it will come easier if you have to do it in a hurry some

liay."

"I'll do it," he said. "That is a grand idea."

The man had his guns out now, all laid side by side on
the grass. "I did not steal these guns, Sergeant; I paid
for them."

"Whom did you buy them from?"

"The men called him Sergeant Graham."

I gave a low whistle. I was one point nearer a sergeant
ihan I was five minutes ago ; Graham was a sergeatlt in
my troop; he would be a general prisoner now, but I
would not succeed him ; there were several ahead of me
yet.

"Sergeant Graham told me that he had bought the
guns, but for me not to let them be seen until after we
had got past Fort Concho. He said he dare not sell them
to a citizen, and the soldiers might take them from me."

"No ; the guns belong to the quartermaster. He had no
right to sell them to anyone."

Graham had been acting post quartermaster-sergeant.
He is a fool, T thought, his time would expire in a month
or two now and instead of getting an honorable discharge
he will now get about three years in the penitentiary, and
all for $50; he had sold ten guns at $5 apiece.

In about two hours the Captain came up. He was
a brevet captain; we always addressed him as Captain.
I told him that I had the guns, and that these men had
given me no trouble. I wanted to see them released.

The Captain got the man's story, then released all
hands; but they could not go on to-day, it was a lung
drive for them to good water from here. They had
taken my advice and were in camp now half a mile
away from last night's camp. We went into camp at
the creek, and as soon as our horses were staked out, I
asked to be let go hunting. The Captain told me to
g(^ and take my horse if I wanted him. I had riddcfi
him hard to-day, and wanted him to rest, so I went off
on foot.

I kept out on the prairie for two miles, then struck
off toward the creek. 1 wanted an antelope, but could
not find even a rabbit. When I had got to the creek
I wanted water, so I got under a tree to lie down and
drink out of the creek; but before doing so, took a
look up into the tree. It pays to do it. I have looked
up in a tree I had meant to lie down under and found
a snake in it. He was harmless, and had he kept down
here where he belonged I would not have hurt him;
but he was up there after young birds, and I brought
him down. I would only shoot a black snake on the
ground when I found him prowling in among briars
and weeds, hunting for Mtss Bob White's eggs or
young; then I let him have a dofe of bird shot.

This tree had no snake in it, but a large limb ran
out straight from the trunk partly over the water, and
lying along it up there looking down at me was a
wildcat, Feiis catus is the only college name I know for
him; he may have another; the Felis seems to be Latin
all right, but the Catus bears the ear-marks of hog Latin ;
however, it may be good Latin also. My college
education I got in a public school, and it did not em-
brace Latin. He has several common names. Down
here, where I found him now he is the catamount.
When he gets to the Rio Grande or across it he is the
Mexican lion. I have shot him under all three of his
names, and always found him to be the same old wild-
cat. If there was any difference in him, I was not
naturalist enough to discover it.

But I did not want him on my back under any of his
names, and got out from under that tree.

Going about thirty paces down the creek below the
tree I aimed at where I thought the cat was — I could
not see him now — and fired three shots. No cat came
down, but my balls were going where I aimed for; the
leaves they cut told me so. I fired the next shot nearer
the creek, and was just springing another load in when
the cat came down with a thud. He landed on the
bank half in and half out of the water, then drew him-
c>elf out and lay there. I went to him and sent several
pistol balls into him, then kicked him into the creek
and left him there.

Just after stables to-night the boy who drove tiiy
"lady friend's" team came down and said that Miss

wanted me to come up to supper. Every woman

is a "Miss" with these southern darkies; so I took this
opportunity to question him and find out if this one
was a widow. I did not want to have much to do with
widows: they know too much.

No, the boy said, she had never been married. Her
father had died a few years ago, leaving her a big farm
and a lot of money in the batik. "She is awful rich, I
tell you," the bov said^ "she has the big house where
she lives and a lot of small ones that colored people
live in. They work her farm." She was only commg
out here to see the country. She meant to go back
again.

"All right, Alf," I told him. "You need not tell
MisH -^— I asked about her." And I handed Alf a

half dollar.

She had a good supper for me. If I had sent up my
order this was what I would want, and I told her so.
She had baked fresh corn bread, fried bacon and a beef-
steak, and boiled sweet potatoes and good coffee. She
could cook as well as shoot, I thought.

After supper she began to cross-question me.

"How old are you. Sergeant?"

"Thirty-two years old now."

"Why, I thought you might be about twenty-six, I
am thirty-five. I don't look old, do I?"

What church did I belong to? "None," I told her.
"I call myself a Methodist, I was raised »ne."

She was a Baptist; but liked the Methodists; there
were lots of them where she lived.

Did I like critters? Critters are horses in Enfflish.

"Yes. I like critters and dogs. That is why I am
in a critter company."

What kind of dogs did I like? "Oh! any kmd; I like
hounds and setters and pointers best. I can use them."

She had houn's, rabbit houn's and greyhoun's, and
she could get me sitters and pinters; there were lots
of them out there.

"I'll get you and that 400-acre farm next," I thought.

She told me all about her farm now and about the
country she lived in. I had been pretty well over it
and knew it. Next we exhausted Fort Smith. It was
her ideal of a city; she had never seen a larger one.
I bad been in it and knew how large it was.

She kept me talking until 9 o'clock, then made me
promise to come to breakfast next morning. I did
and got a good one. Then bade her good-bye and the
train got under way, while we pulled out for home.

I heard months after this that the train had been
jumped by Indians west of the Pecos River and that
half of the party were killed. I think that had I been
there and had plenty of arms for these men and large
boys, about forty in all, and had been given a few
minutes to park that train, or I could have parked it
under fire if I had to do it, then we would have turned
in and made any party of Indians that would be likely
to attack a train in New Mexico **look like thirty cents,"
in about thirty minutes.

When we got home Graham had his stripes cut off
and was put in the guard house to be tried by a general
court-martial. There was no general court in session
there then, it had to be appointed by the department
commander, and while they were waiting on him
Graham's time expired and he was given a bob-tail,
a discharge with no character on it; the Captain signs
this with a penknife instead of a pen, and cuts the
character off. It is locally and generally known as a
bob-tail; if it has ever been catalogued and given a
scientific name, I do not know it. I never had one
given me. Mine were all good.

I had a lot of legal opinions always on hand to give
to any one who wanted them. I never charged any-
thing for them. What I charged was probably what
most of them were worth, but the advice I gave Graham
would probably be pronounced good law. He sent
for me to advise him what he should do.

"When they call on you to plead, refuse to be tried
b^ their court, and deinand a civil trial. You are a
citizen now. They should either have tried you before
your time expired or else not have given you that
discharge until they had tried you. Tnell them that
you insist on your rights as a citizen and this State is
not under martial law. Then if they still persist in
trying you, all this will go before the reviewing author-
ity and he will no doubt disapprove the finding, then
let you go. They may give you a civil trial, but I hardly
think so.

"That man you sold the guns to is half way to
California now (I did not know at that time that the
Indians had got him), and he can't be got as a witness.
What he told us won't go in a civil court. It will in
the military court though. When you are being tried
before a civil court, if 1 were to start to tell what that
man told me your lawyer would shut me up very
quick. He won't have to do it. I know as well as he
does that what some one else told me is not evidence."

When he was called for trial the officers scared him
into taking the military trial, telling him that a civil
court would give him five years. So it might if he
were convicted, but he would not be. The officers
knew that they had no evidence a civil court would
take and most likely had he insisted on being tried by a
civir court, they would not have tried him at all. He
was sentenced to two years in the penitentiary; but
escaped from the guard house after night. The man
he took with him was on guard over the stables; they
broke in and took two of the fastest horses we had
then. I had a middling fast one in there, but they left him.

Graham knew the country, and keeping away from
the road and taking care not to make any trail when
leaving the post. He started for the lower country;
but took a round about way to reach it.

When I passed him. he had been out two days and
had only come near the road now because he wanted
to pass through Chadbourne and get something to eat.

He got to the road just in time to see us coming;
and his companion proposed that they pass off as
Indians. Graham knew that I was in this stage line,
and seeing a corporal on the wagon, wanted to stay on
the road and speak to me; but his companion was
afraid I would try to arrest them or give them away.

The man who deserted with him was given fivt years,
he had deserted his guard. Graham got off with the
two he had been given for stealing the guns.

Cabia Blanco.

A Vision of October Diyi*

OiiiN I NO, N. \. ^Editor hortsi and Stream: I icnd you a little
poem which I clipped from the Star of Hope, • paper publinhed
ui'tnonthly In Smg Sing pruon and made up of articlet written
tiy prlsoneri in Auburn. ( IJnt<in, Naponock and Sing Sing
priionti It ii a pretty little thing, and worth cuyying,

C. G. liLAMDrORU.

OCTOBSR DAYS.
Sing Sing, 62,480.

October days! October day at
A turquoise aky o'cj: hilta ablaxf,
Dun-colurrd arann in the marflhea, when
The redheads whtil in the frosty air.
Down in the awtimp in the heart of the wood*
Sumac bushes r:\i^v Hcurlet hoods;
And my weary cycn, with restful gaze,
Find relief on October days.

October days I October dayal

Over the river a pearly haie.

In upland mcadowM the golden-rod

Nods to the dried up milkweed pod.

Dandelion- and thiMtle-down blows

Over the country nide. Where? Who knows?

The south wind whiHpcrs, **It pays! It pays!

To be alive on October days!"

October days! October dayn!

Summer heat gone I may not laze.

From the stubblefield, in the bright sunlight.

The quail are calling, "Bob White! Bob White!"

The hoar-frost frescoes in bold relief

On a background blue, each twig, each leaf.

The paths though the fields are a silv'ry maze

In the early morn of October days.

October days! October days!

Each deserving of infinite praise.

The air I breathe is strong, like wine,

And I am a drunkard— 1, and mine.

The dying year from its garnered store

Gives a little to some— to others more.

Though the gods are many, and strange their ways,

I render them thanks (or October days.

T^ks.tt^.rfe^'^^fc-

l?.x^^

for the Indians.

In Forest and Stream for June i6, Walter B.
Anderson in his valuable series of articles on
"In the Lodges of the Blackfeet," relates how the
Piegans were criminally forced from their lands
and homes, and, practically, their means of sub-
sistence arbitrarily and wrongly taken from them
by executive orders, and then in effect treated as
outlaws and wild animals with no means of
redress of their own, and no friends to effectually
intercede for them.

In the concluding words of that chapter he
says: "By right that vast tract of country lying
between the Missouri and Musselshell Rivers and
from the Missouri to the Marias, still belongs
to the Blackfeet. The treaty of 1855 guaran-
teed it to them, but it was taken away by two
executive orders of July 2, 1873, and Aug. 19,
1874. I^ a good lawyer would take up the case,
he could undoubtedly get redress for them, and
a very handsome fee for himself."

Now this bitter wrong is no new example of
our Government's dealings with most, if not all,
our Indian tribes, who are, in many ways, treated
simply as animals, and who are doomed to go
as the buffalo has gone, unless the friends of
these now dependent people shall come to their
rescue and demand that honest justice be done
them in this and all other matters, and that their
just rights be respected.

We trust that Anderson's writings may arouse
the American people who are opposed to oppress-
ion and injustice, and if this matter was properly
presented to them, and they were given an op-
portunity, their practical sympathy and support
could be obtained and the demanding of just
treatment for our Indians, and where their
rights have been transgressed, have redress
granted to them.

We have good game laws enacted for the pro-
tection of our game fish, birds and animals, and
powerful organizations formed to enforce these
laws, and all this is eminently just and right.
But if the wild birds, and the game fish of our
inland waters, are worthy of our interest and pro-
tection, then should we not be at least equally
interested in seeing that our Indians (human
beings like ourselves) be honestly recognized
and protected, realizing that alone and unaided
they cannot cope successfully with their white ad-
versary.

The Sac and Fox Indians of Iowa would long
ago have had their lands confiscated by rapacious
whites, and themselves practically wiped out of
existence, had it not been for an organization of
the white friends of these people who in the
courts fought and protected their rights.

This is a time of reform, and a period when
the evildoer is having his actions and motives
sharply scrutinized, and just punishment we trust
will be meeted out to them.

Forest and Stream has in many lines per-
formed grand services, and the field for such labors
is rapidly broadening. The future alone can
reveal the great amount of good it may accom-
plish by continuing in this good work.

Clement L. Webster.

Charles City. I*.

MARC'i 9, 1907.]

^J-

FOREST AND STREAM.

^i'

squirrels flash across the horse's path and hide
behind tufts of grass, and shore larks with
sweet, soft notes rise and swing away with un-
dulating flight, where dainty antelope slowly
walk to the tops of the hills, on either side and
look about with curious eyes, the object draws
nearer. Sometimes from the crest of a hill it
seems close at hand, again, descending into a
little valley, it is lost to view behind a swell of
irairie. At length it is close by and its

the vast ice sheet
jloated

from its top look with unblenching eye toward
the sun.

"The life of the old prairie has passed away.

G. B. G.

Lone Elk*8 Search.

I — The Lost Wife,

"Dec. 20, 1879. A clear, windless, exceedingly
cold day." My old note book reads under that
date : "We traded for fifty-two buffalo robes anji
some deer skins. This evening we were invited
to a feast in Lone Elk's lodge. Berry pleaded
fatigue, but I went and had a very interesting
time. The talk was of the relation of men to the
supernatural — to the gods. For the sake of
argument I took the growid that, if there were
any gods in the heavens above, or on earth, they
had no communication with men. Lone Elk
promptly took issue with me, and the result is
that I got a story from him."

Then follows the story ; in places the faded ink
is quite undecipherable, but my memory sup-
plies the missing sentences:

"I do not understand the white people," said
Lone Elk. "Like us, their knowledge, their
ability to do things was given them by the gods,
but with this difference: Their gods are greater
than ours, have given them power to do many
things which would be impossible for us to un-
dertake. We cannot make guns, nor powder, nor
steamboats, nor matches; why, our women can't
even tan leather as well as they do, thick and
strong, yet very soft. Our gods compared to
theirs are very poor, but they gave us all they
could; the game of the plains and mountains, the
art of making bows and arrows with which to
kill, the power to build a fire with which to cook
flesh, and to keep our bodies warm. We are
thankful for what they have done for us, and
we pray to them, make sacrifices, asking to favor
us with good health, prosperity and long life.

"But the white men: They give no thanks for
all that has been given them. Most of them deny
even that there are any gods. True, there is a
Black Robe here and there who teaches that
there are, but the white men do not listen to
him. Now, hear me: Gods made us, the prairie
people, and gave us what knowledge we have.
Gods then must have made them too, for they
are no different from us except in color, and in
greater knowledge. Is not that good and true
reasoning, friend Spotted Robe?"

"Many long days and nights have I read sacred
writings," I replied, "and much have I thought
about this. Yet after all I can only say : I do
not know. I do not know if it were gods, or
what, that created the world and us. I know
not whence we came, nor where we go, nor if
there is any part of us, our shadow, as you call
it, which survives the death of our bodies."

"Then are you indeed poor!" Lone Elk ex-
claimed. "And very forgiving must be your
gods, for although you pray not to them, nor
make sacrifice to them, nor even believe that they
are, that they live somewhere in the great out-
side, they continue to prosper you in all your
undertakings. You shake your head. I tell you
friend, that the gods live. I can prove it.
Listen :

"For two winters I had lived in a lodge of
my own, just my good woman Pit'-ah-ki and L
We were happy. No one ever heard us speak-
ing loud, angry words; in our lodge was always

peace, and plenty and cheerful talk. I hunted
not only for us, but for my father and his peo-
ple, for he had grown old. But hunting was no
longer the pleasure to me it had been; the only
place I cared to be was at home with Pit'-ah-ki.
It never was^ any fun to hunt on a cold winter
day when the frost hung like fog in the air, or
the wind drove the dry, stinging snow in your
face, and the hide of your game as you skinned
it froze stiff in your numb fingers; but I endured
it, thinking of the warm lodge awaiting me, of
the bright fire, and the brighter laughing eyes
of the little woman as she would hurry out to
care for the meat and skin, and then hurry to
set before me hot soup and other food. That
made all things endurable, to know that some one
cared for you, and awaited your return.

"It was the ripe-berry moon of the third sum-
mer that we had lived together. We were about
out of meat ; so very early one morning I saddled
a horse and rode out on the plains to kill some-
thing. Luck was against me from the start.
There were buffalo and antelope, plenty of them,
but to none could I get near enough for a fair
shot. Either the wind changed and gave them
warning, or some sly old he antelope saw me
and led his band away to safety. It was late in
the day when I finally killed a cow buffalo, and
almost dark when I arrived at my lodge with the
meat. I noticed that there was no fire within,
and for the first time my woman failed to come
out and say in her happy voice: *My hunter
has returned.' So I called out for her: Tit'-
ah-ki,' I said, T am very tired, and very hungry;
come and help your old man unpack.'

"There was no reply. I slung the meat and
hide off, unsaddled and turned my horse loose,
and went inside. In the center of the fireplace
was a little mound of cold, white ashes which
Pit'-ah-ki had heaped up to keep life in the
bed of coals. I raked them off, threw some fire
wood on the coals and soon had a blaze. Every-
thing was in order as usual. Just then my
mother came in and I asked her where my
woman was. 'Why,' she said, surprised, 'Didn't
she go with you? I haven't seen her this day.'

"Then a great fear seized my heart. I knew
at once that something was wrong. Indeed, I
had felt ill at ease all day, as if some misfor-
tune was about to befall me. T will go and see
if she is with her parents, or her sister,' said
my mother. *and if she isn't, I will have the
camp crier call out about her.*

" *Go, if you will,' I said to her, 'but I know
that it will be useless, for Pit'-ah-ki would be
right here, rijjht now, were it in her power.
Something terrible has happened to her.'

"I put more wood on the fire and lay down.
In a little while I heard the camp crier repeating
over and over. 'Pit'-ah-ki, Lone Elk's woman
has been missing since sunrise. Who has seen
her? Who can give news concerning her?'

**My mother returned and began to cook food
for me. 'Put the stuff away,* I told her. T can-
not eat now.'

'Then friends began to come in and I had to
sit up and fill pipes for them, and listen to their
talk and their views regarding my missing one.
My mother, after some search, found that a
woven grass sack, made by beyond-the-moun-
tains people, was missing. It was the one Pit'-
ah-ki always used when she went to gather
berries. She had gone berryine then, but why
alone? And what had happened to her? Some
said that a bear had probably killed her; others

370

FOREST AND STREAM.

[March 94 \907-

that she mi^ht have been bitten by a rattlesnikc
and died before she could get home. And one
man, with a mean, cruel lausrh, said: *Oh, the
women! You can never trust them; can never
tell what they will do. More than likely she
has run off with some pretty young fellow/

"'Say that again/ I cried, *and I shoot you
where you sit. If I ever hear of you repeating
it, be sure to prepare yourself, for I shall hunt
for you. Now, get out of my lodge and never
again enter the doorway/

*He went, but he never made the evil talk
again so far as I know. He was mean to his
wife, allowing her nothing but the coarsest food,
the poorest scanty dress. And so, after many hard-
ships and many beatings, she had run off with a
man who loved her and was good to her. Who
could blame her?

"When all my visitors had gone home I lay
down, but it was nearly morning before I fell
asleep for a short time. I had prayed long for
help in my trouble, for some sign to be given
me. In answer, a voice came to me in my dream,
a loud, clear voice, and it said: 'Your woman
lives; keep up your courage; seek hard for her
and you shall find her/

"I was going to ask the voice where I should
seek, but just then I awoke, and then it was
useless to do so; for the gods talk to our
shadows (souls) only when our bodies sleep and
they are free to wander as they will. Nor could
I sleep again ; morning had come, and the camp
was astir. After the morning meal the whole
camp turned out to search for my woman. We
were then located where the Big River and the
Bear River join (the Missouri and Marias
rivers). Some went up the Bear River, some up
and some down the other one, through the tim-
ber and willows, the berry thickets, and among
the breaks of the valley slopes. But the search
was without result; not a trace could be found
of the missing one, nor were there any signs
that a war party had been near. I was satisfied
though. I was sure that the enemy had been
around and had captured her, for had not my
dream said that she lived? And if she was alive
would she not be at home with me, unless she
were held a captive? That was plain enough,
and I was to seek for her; but where? Where
should I go? I left it to the gods; they would
advise me, I felt sure. I sacrificed to the sun
first of all, hanging in a tree some of my most
prized property, also my woman's beautiful elk-
tusk-strung dress. I got a powerful medicme
man to unwrap his sacred pipe and pray with me
to the sun, to Old Man, to all the gods of the
air, the earth and the deep, dark waters. High
up' on the back of my lodge he painted the sign
of the butterfly, the silent winger who gives us
dreams. And then for four days and four nights
I fasted, sleeping long and often while my
shadow self went forth on adventure. Thus 1
met and talked to the ancient ones. *Have you
seen my woman?* I would ask them. *Can you
tell me where to go to find her?'

'Although I met and talked with most of them
—the buffalo shadow chief, the wolf, the coyote,
badger, lynx, wolverine, none could give me any
news. I began to despair. 'My medicine is weak/
I thought. 'What evil have I done that I must
suffer this great trouble and find no way out of

it?' , ^ ,

"On the fourth night I slept and waked, slept

and waked many times, a kind of half sleep it

was until nearly morning, and then, at last, help

came. I was walking along the shore of the Big
River and came to a broad, smooth trail which
led from the water up into a deep cave in the
bank. Back in its depths there was singing, a
low, slow, dreamy song. I entered the cave and
felt my way along the dark passage for some
distance and then came to a big, wide, high
place which was lighted dimly by a willow-cov-
ered hole in the top. At the rear of this queer
home sat an old, white beaver; on either side
of him clear around were other beavers, also
white and aged looking, and all were singing
the beautiful song, beating time to it with cut-
tings of willow which they lightly tapped against
the couch rails. As I stood looking and listen-
ing, four of them arose, standing on their hind
legs, and danced out to the center of the place,
danced slowly in time to the slowly sung song.
When they were all met in the middle of the
space they stopped and then danced four times
as they were, after which they all turned short
around and danced back to their seats. The
singing ceased and the old chief beaver, motion-
ing me to a place by his side, said: 'Welcome,
man person, sit you down with us.'

"I took the seat he pointed to, and we talked
together for a time. At last he asked me where
I was traveling, and for what purpose. So I told
him what was my trouble, and that I could get
no trace of my missing woman. *Ah/ the beaver
chief exclaimed, when I had related my story.
'Ah!' he exclaimed several times; and *Hah!'
he said, scratching his white, smooth head with
his little front paw. *Hah. I think I can help
you/ And with that he told me to follow him,
and we went out to the shore of the river, all
the other ancient ones following us. 'Call our
people/ said the chief to one of them. Where-
upon that old one slipped into the stream and
struck the surface of the water four loud slaps
with his broad tail. Again he struck it four
times, and yet again four times. In answer we
heard the slaps repeated away up the river, and
away down it, and out near the further shore.
That was the call of the ancient ones, the signal
to gather at the chiefs lodge; and soon they
began to come, swimming in swiftly from all
directions until a large number were gathered
there before us, some on the shore and some in
the shallow water. Then said the chief to them :
'Listen, my children. Did I not hear some of
you say that some men persons had gone down
the river lately? I seem to remember that you
did. If there be any here who know about it
let them speak.*

"Then spoke one who sat near us: 'True,
chief/ he said. *You speak true. It was I who
gave the news. I saw them, a man person and
a woman person drifting down the river on a
raft of two logs which were covered with brush.
The moon had not yet arisen and I swam close
to them unperceived as they floated along. They
were a man person and a woman person, and the
woman was crying. She was bound to the logs
with many turns of a rope, and although she
strove and struggled she could not free herself.'
**I was about to speak to the chief when I
suddenly awoke. My shadow had returned to
my body, and my mother had come in. 'You
were dreaming?' she asked; was anything re-

• vealed to you?*

"She was glad when I told her what I had
learned. 'The gods have been good to us/ she
said. 'We must sacrifice to them ; to the Ancient
Beaver especially.'

"We did so, with many prayers, and I sung
over and over again the song I had heard the
beavers sing, until I was sure that I would never
forget it The song has always been good medi-
cine to me. I have sung it whenever in danger,
or great trouble, or sickness, and have mostly
come safely and happily out of it all."

J. W. SCHULTZ.
fro BE CONTINUED.]

Retuminj

FOREST AND STREAM.

[March i6, 1907.

Lone Elk's Search.

{Continued from page 869 )

"It had been made plain to me that my woman
was a captive in the camp of one of the down-
the-river tribes, and there I must seek her.
Many young men asked to he allowed to ro with
me on my quest, but I refused them, one and
all I had my mother build me a good strong
skin boat,* and putting into it one evening the
few things I wished to take, my weapons, some
dried meat, a couple of ropes and a robe, I
pushed out into the current. You know that
such boats are difftrent from those the white
people make. You cannot do much in them, but
try to keep them from turning bottom side up,
and instead of rowing you have a paddle which
you thrust in the water ahead and draw toward
you. It is not of much use to paddle through,
except enough 'to keep in the deep water and
clear of snags. When the wind blows hard you
cannot do anything at all, but drift ashore and
stay there until the wind dies out. But I felt
as I drifted on with the current that this was
the best way for me to travel. It was better
than going on foot because I would not become
tired; better than riding horseback; at the risk
of being discovered by an enemy through sight
of the animal while it grazed and I slept.

**The moon had risen soon after sunset and
gave plenty of light for me to see my way. It
was so light that I could see the deer and other
animals th^t came to the shore to drink. I saw
too a beaver now and then swimming along, and
sometimes when I startled one it would slap the
water with its flat tail and dive down into the
dark water. 'Do not fear me, little brother,' I
would say. 'Your ancient father, your great
chief has given me help and I will never harm
any of you ; no, not if I starve.'

*1 floated on and on until the first light of day,
and then I hid my boat on a little green willowed
island, spread my robe in the deep shade and
slept until night. That is the way I traveled,
always by night, silently and with good speed
down the Big River. If there were war parties
prowling along the shore they never saw me.
Yox some days the country was familiar to me
and I knew where I was all the time. Below
the mouth of the Yellow River (Judith) be-
tween it and Middle (Cow) Creek,t I had amis-
hap and nearly lost my life. I heard a loud
roaring ahead and knew that I was approaching
a rapid, so I looked to see that my gun and
other things were securely tied to the willow
frames of the boat. Not that I expected to be
upset, but one should never take any chances of
losing his weapons. The roar of this rapid as

••'Bullboat,'* we used to call them. They were made
by stretching a large green buflfalo bull hide over a
circular flat-bottomed willow frame.

tUndoubtedly Dauphin's rapid, the worst one on the
navigable part of the river.

I came nearer and nearer to it was truly terrify-
ing, so loud and angry was it. And I tried to
make the shore and wade along down the edge
of it; but I was too late. I could not get out
of the strong current, and all at once I was
going up and down, whirling this way and that
way over big and hissing white topped waves.
And then, suddenly, a bigger wave than any I
had gone over, picked up the boat and pushed
it against a large, round rock. Over it went,
and I was thrown head first into another wave.
When I came up to the surface I could not see
the boat, so thinking that it was ahead of me,
I swam on with the current. It was easy work;
almost without exertion. I kept well up on the
surface; then I came to the end of the rapid;
a back moving upper current of water suddenly
struck my breast, and the current I had been in
seized my legs and dragged me down. Struggle
as I would I was pulled down, down, I knew
not how far, in the dark water, and then as sud-
denly I was cast up on the surface, only to be
forced up stream and dragged down again.
Three times I was thus whirled around, a fourth
time I was sucked down. I was about out of breath.
I was getting weak. *Oh, Ancient Beaver,' I
prayed, 'pity and help me now or I drown.' He
did help me. When I came to the surface again
I found myself floating down stream away from
that terrible place. Then my feet struck a
gravelly bottom; I waded ashore and fell down,
weak, trembling, almost strangled.

** Where was my boat? Even as the thought
came to me I saw something drifting along close
to shore. It was the boat sure enough; just one
edge of it sticking up in sight. I arose and stag-
gered out to it, dragged it to the land, and
again laid down to rest. It w^s a hot night, the
gravel I lay upon was still warm from the day's
heat. So, although very wet I was not chilly,
and I quickly fell asleep. Not for long though,
but long enough to dream, and in the dream my
shadow found my woman. She was sitting under
a big Cottonwood tree, all alone, and she was
crying. That was all I learned. I hadn't time
to approach her, nor even to speak. When I
awoRe I tipped the water out of my boat, un-
fastened my gun and cleaned it, drawing out the
charge and ramming in a fresh one. It was a
good, grooved barrel caplock rifle. Again I went
upon my wav. both thankful and angry. Thank-
ful that I had escaped drowning and that my
boat had been held in that whirling water longer
than I had. and then floated right down to me.
Oh, but I was angry. I had been angry all these
days, and when one cannot satisfy his anger,
cannot crush and destroy the one he hates, his
anger becomes something terrible, stifling him,
burning him. wearing away one's flesh. How I
longed to meet the one who had stolen my lov-
ing woman. I imagined meeting him; I thought
of what I could do to him to most pain him.

both in body and iv mind. And that short dream.
What did it mean? Where was the place I had
seen her, alone, crying sadly under the big tree?
And would I ever succeed in my search? There
was a big country before me, inhabited by many
tribes. In which camp was she held? Worst
thought of all — what of my dream of the beavers
— had my shadow really entered that home of
the ancient ones — had they really seen my woman
hound to a log raft floating down the river?
It might be a mistake; perhaps she was a cap-
tive in some camp far to the south, or the north
or west. *I will not doubt,' I cried out, and the
rock wall opposite answered: *Will not doubt.'
I sung the beaver song, sung it loudly, regard-
less of the enemy who might be lurking over in
the shadow of the trees and thickets.

*'One thing I had lost in the rapids, my sack
of dried meat, and now I was sorry that I had
not brought my bow and arrow, the noiseless
killers. I did not like to fire a gun in that
enemy-infested country. When daylight came I
again cached my boat and concealed myself on
a small island. I was very hungry, and the
sight of seme buffalo coming in to water on
the north shore made me more hungry. There
were deer on the little island. I saw a big buck
drinking on the lower point of it and could
easily have shot it, but I felt that I must not
fire: something seemed to keep telling me that
I was not alone there, that the enemy were also
thereabout. I looked long and carefully up and
down the river sHores, at the valley slopes and
breaks, looked for the smoke from lodges or
camp-fire, but could see nothing suspicious. I
spread my robe and laid down, but I could not
sleep. I was uneasy, watchful, listening, and
pretty soon I heard the report of a gun close
by. I arose, crossed to the north side of the
island and looking out through the thick bushes,
saw a number of men standing or sitting on
the shore near a buffalo which three or four
of them were beginning to skin. There were
forty- four of them, Assinaboines, as near as I
could make out at that distance. They soon
skinned their kill, cut what meat they wanted
and disappeared in the timber where I soon saw
the smoke of their camp-fire rising above the
trees. They were such a large war party that
they didn't seem to care to conceal themselves;
they kept a scout out all day though. I could
see him sitting on a little butte at the upper
end of the bottom. Now, suppose I had heeded
the craving of hunger and shot the deer! That
war party would have learned that I was on
the island and they would have lain in wait for
me, as I drifted along in the evening; at some
point in my course there would have been a
' lot of shots and I would have rolled out of
my boat and made food for the things that live
in the deep water. Then, you see, the gods pro-
tected me ; they gave warning that an enemy was

\L'\acH 16,* 1^7.]

near; that I inust not shoot, nor expose myself
in any way.

"It was near sundown when I saw the scout
leave tlie butte, and a little later the whole party
left the timber and moved off across the bottom
westward. A^ soon as it was dark I pushed out
and landed near the buffalo carcass; there was
still a plenty of meat on it and I took what I
wanted, carried some of it over to the fire the
party had abandoned, cooked and ate it. Then
I went upon my way.

'*As far as the mouth of the Dried Meat River
(the Mtisselshen) I knew the country well; be-
yond that I knew it only in places, never before
having traversed the whole course of the valldy.
I ^'as familiaT with it about the mouth of Little
(Milk) River, and Elk (Yellowstone) River,
and I had once heen on a visit with my people
to the Earth-house people (the Mandans), who
live some little distance helow the mouth of Elk
would have taken her away on foot or on
that vicinity in the big timbered bottoms, there
were generally some Assinaboines or Yanktonais
encamped. I felt that it was none of these peo-
ple who had captured my woman. They feared
the water; had any of them stolen her they
would have taken her away on foot or on
horseback. But the tribes below them, the Man-
dans and the Lower Big Bellies* (the Gros
Ventres of the village) are river people, always
paddling about in their skin boats. The Man-
dans have ever been at peace with us, the Lower
Big Bellies always at war with us. I felt, I had
felt from the first, from the time I met the
Ancient Beavers, that it was one of the last
tribe who had captured her, that she was in his
camp. So, after some nights' drifting, when I
came to the mouth of the Little River, I did
not stop to look for any camp, but drifted on
and on, hiding on a big island before daylight.
I had passed a camp though in the middle of
the night, for I heard many dogs answering the
howl of wolves.

*'I was now again out of food. I awoke late
in the afternoon and had a look at the country
from both sides of the island. There were deer
trails criss-crossing the island in every direction;
its shores were all cut up by their sharp hoofs.
As I could see no sign of the enemy anywhere,
as there were buffalo quietly feeding on both
sides of the valley, I felt that I could take the
risk and fire a shot. I had to — or starve. In
a little while, as I sat in the edge of the willows
on the north side of the island, a big he sway-
ing tail (white tail deer) came out on the shore
above, drank from the river and then walked
down toward me sniffing the tracks he crossed.
When I fired he dropped right where he stood,
never even kicked. I sat still for a few minutes,
carefully watching the opposite shore, which was
a long gun shot distant. Nothing appeared; the
buffalo beyond on the slope of the valley seemed
not to have heard the report, continuing to graze.
I went out to my kill, drew my knife and com-
menced to skin it. I hadn't more than half
ripped up a hind leg when some bullets zipped
over my head, thudded into the sand, splashed
into the water, and one struck the deer. I
knew what they were before t heard the boom
of the guns, and saw smoke lifting from the

FOREST AND STREA

willows over on the main shore. I didn't let
go of the lee. I unjcinted it, skin and all, and
got into cover with it before the enemy had
time to reload and fire again. As soon as I was
in the shelter of the brush I ran down it a ways
and looked out. I could see no one, but the
buffalo were running up on to the plain, and
others that had been in the bottom were follow-
ing them. Then I knew that those who had
fired upon me were a war party and had
lain contfealed in the timber all day. The
water was very shallow between us, the
main river being 'on the opposite side of
the island where my boat was concealed.
^Tliey will wade over here as soon as it is dark/
I said to myself. 'I've got to get away from
here now.^ I had cached my boat at the upper
end of the long island. I hurried over to it,
threw in my meat, and pushed off, paddling for
the south shore as hard as I could. The ciyr-
rent was not very swift and I reached the land
some little distance above the foot of the island
which had hidden my movement from the enemy.
As soon as I was ashore I broke some brush and
threw it over the boat, and then crossed the
wide sand bar and got into the timber; passing
through that, then crouchinsr along in the high
grease wood and sage brush, and lastly walk-
ing up a narrow coulee, I arrived at the top
of a high point from which I could plainly see
the opposite bottoms. There were four men
slowly sneaking down it, and when they reached
the lower end, straight across from me, they
concealed themselves in the sage brush at the
eds:e of the high cut bank overlooking the river.
The stream was narrow there and the deep chan-
nel of swift water was right under them. No
doubt they thought that I had a boat or raft,
and ri(?ht there they would lie in wait for me.
They were not all of the party; I had seen the
smoke of at least ten guns. I could see noth-
ing of the others, however ; they were concealed
in the timber from which they had shot at me.
From where I lay, peering through a low sage
brush, I could see the four men on the cut
bank very plainly, for I was high above their
position. It was not so very far either. More
than once I had killed buffalo and elk and deer-
at that distance by sighting my rifle a space of
about three hands above their backs. One of
the men lay flat on his belly, head to the river,
and more than once I sighted my rifle at him. I
thought that if I aimed at his heels the bullet
would strike him somewhere in his back if I
held true. The temptation to try it was great ;
my other mind was not* to attempt it. *Think
of what you are seeking,' it said, 'and nm no
more risk than you can help.* And then the
other one: 'Perhaps this very party belong to
the camp where your woman is captive; they
have already shot at you, tried to kill yon.
Try it.' J. W. ScHULTZ.

[to be concluded.]

♦Pi-nap' Ut-se-na: Lower or down-river Big" Bellies,
as distinguished from the Ut-se-na, or Gros Ventres of
the prairie. The Village Gros Ventres are really Crows,
Dakotas. The Upper Aitos Ventres are Algonquins. The
Blackfoot name for them, however, implies that they
.are of common stock — a divided tribe.

FOREST AND STREAM.

He always used me decent when I was a young
fellow, and many any many's the load of wood
I've cut up for him, and many's the pound of
moose meat I left at his house. Sometimes we
used to wonder what his grand daughter was
doing, and why she let him live that way. He
never spoke of her, but everyone knew that
she came into thousands of dollars when her
father was drowned, and Mr. Castin's creditors
couldn't touch a cent of it. It was in 1870 that
we had the 'deep snow.' I never remember the
like of it. It commenced in November and we
had no thaw until the end of Marclj. Captain
Ireland had hunted with me for two falls be-
fore that. Then he left thev army and went
home. Some men are fond of the woods, but
he was just crazy about hunting. He could
travel all day, and keep it up for a week, and I
never saw a better all-round shot. He didn't
care so much for moose hunting; foxes and cats
were his favorite game, and we used to kill
lots of them.

"Just before he went home, he came across
a notorious good foxhound at Annapolis, and
he bought him and sent him on to me. He
was one part bull and three parts English fox-
hound, and a better dog on cats and foxes never
ran a trail, nor was a worse tempered devil ever
whelped. He would fight anything living. Most
hounds are more or less cowardly, but Satan
didn't know what fear was. I had two nice
bitches then. Floss and Lou I called them.
Satan was civil to them, but any dog that came
around he'd tear to pieces. The bitches always
hunted together, but Satan went off on his own
account, and if you tried to lead him he'd get
sulky. So it sometimes happened that he would
have one fox going, and the bitches would have
another, or maybe a cat. If they happened to
be in hearing of one another, the dog whose
fox was killed first would go oflf and join the
others ; if not he'd try to hunt up another one.

"Well, about the time the first snow fell Cap-
tain Ireland wrote me that he w^ould be in
Halifax about Christmas time, and that he
wanted me to meet him there. He wanted to go
to the woods for a month and do some cat and
fox hunting. I was glad to hear this, as I
hadn't done much that fall, and he was a good
fellow to go to the woods with. I went out
to my camp, about four miles west of Lake
Castin, fixed it up, and took in some grub; then
I went to Halifax and met the Captain. There
was about four feet of snow on the level, and
the roads were very bad, only part broken, and
when we got oflf the railway, we found we should
have nearly ten miles to walk. It was impossi-
ble to get a team through. Some of our stuflF
we left at the station, the rest we put on tobog-
gans, and we started to haul it in across coun-
try. Our course ran at right angles to the road
leading to the Castin settlement. We found the
road unbroken, as I expected, but there was a
single snowshoe track and the trail of a hand
sled running along it. 'Some squaw going in?'
says the Captain. I looked at the tracks, and
noticed that the snowshoes were Indian made,
but not like our Indians make them. 'Maybe so,
but that's an iron sho'd sled, and it has a very
light load on it for a squaw going to camp,' I
said, and then we went on, and thought noth-
ing more about it. Then old Satan turned sulky.
He didn't like hauling his toboggan, and I had
to w^hale him. It was almost dark when we got
to camp, and most bitter cold.

"We put in the next day fixing up the camp
and letting the dogs rest. Next day was Christ-
mas eve; it snowed about an inch, and on
Christmas morning, just as it grew light, we

[Mar(!h 16, 1907.

treed; I could tell that when he changed his
voice from the 'boo-hoo, boo-hoo' to *boo-hooo,
hooo-ooo.' I found Mr. Pussy Tom sitting in a
tall ram pike looking as spiteful as they make
them; shot him, leashed the dog, and stripped
the pelt oflF the cat. Then I listened and away
oflF I heard the bitches in ftill cry. The sun was
well up by this time, and it was one of those
clear still mornings you can hear a hound for
three miles; and a gun shot for any distance at
all. I kept Mr. Satan in leash, for the cat
tracks were thick, and I wanted him on the fox.
The dogs seemed to be working toward the
Castin settlement, and I worked down parallel
with them, until I judged they had the fox
circling. Then I slipped Satan, and away he
wxnt to join them. Not a minute after I heard
a shot. I waited for the hounds to quit their
racket (which would mean they were worrying
the dead fox), but' instead of doing so they
changed their voices, and seemed to be heading
my way.

"I cut across to head the fox oflf, and just as
I got to the edge of Castin's clearing I saw the
fox crossing the open, dragging one leg behind
hirn, and the hounds coming up to him three
strides to his one. I quit running: the dogs
were bound to pull him down in a moment or
so. All on a sudden the fox vanished, like a
candle when you blow it out, then the hounds
went out of sight the same way, but I could
hear them crying as lively as ever. Then I heard
Floss give a 'ki-yi-yi.* Says I, *He got a nip
at you before you pulled him down, old lady.'
Then Lou turned up the same way, and they
began to bay, like they did when they treed a
cat, or ran a fox into a hollow log.

" 'That's a mighty able fox,' says I, 'to get
a nip at both those bitches, and then stand them
oflf,' and I put for the place the noise came
from. I soon saw how the fox and dogs went
out of sight. There was a long narrow cut dug
in the snow from the tenant house Mr. Castin
lived, to the barn he kept his cows and steers
in. There was a girl standing with her back to
the barn door, and a stick in her hand ; in front
of her the hounds were crouched, just out of
reach. The girl was a small bit of a thing,
dressed as if she came from the city, and as
pretty as a picture. I just had time to notice
this, w^hen I saw old Satan coming for all he
was worth. His voice was down to the snow,
and his ears trailed behind his jowl. His tail
was over his back, and the cry of him as he
came down the blood tracks was one steady
roar. I knew that the girl would stand as much
chance against that sixty pounds of devilishness
as she would against a tiger, and I shouted to
her not to strike the dog for God's sake. Then
I ran for all I was worth. She either didn't
hear me, or didn't mind me, for she hit him
fair in the face with the stick as he came to-
ward her. He wheeled round, drew back for
three or four yards, and sprang right at her,
and the bitches followed suit. She went down
with her back to the door, striking out as
viciously as a wounded wildcat. I yelled at the
top of my voice, and the bitches kind of drew
back, but Satan had her down, and was worry-
ing her for all he was worth. I brought my gun
butt down on his head, and he dropped with
his teeth locked on her arm. I pried his jaw
open, and threw him out of the cut, on to the
snowbank. The bitches cleared. Then Captain
Ireland came in sight. He had run for all he
was worth, and he was more than astonished
when he found me in the snow trench with the
girl, and Satan stretched out on the bank above.

" 'Matter,' says I, 'the matter is that the dogs
have nearly killed this girl, and there's no doc-
tor nearer than Parker's Cross, and that's ten
miles oflf. 'I'm not hurt/ says the girl ; 'your
dogs have torn the sleeve of my jacket, and my
skirt, but their teeth haven't harmed me. I let
the poor fox into the barn, and if you have
any manly feeling you will let him go.*

"Her skirt was all torn to tatters; she had
lost her tuque in the struggle, and the blood was
running down her left sleeve into the snow as
she spoke.

" 'We had better go to the house, and if you
will let me, dress your arm. I have some knowl-
edge of surgery, and then "my guide, Jake Hen-

Forest

and

Stream

A Weekly Journal. Copyright. 1907. by Forest and Stream Pnblishinc Co.

Termf, $3 a Year, 10 Cts. a Copy, j,
Six Months. $1.50. '

NEW YORK, SATURDAY, MARCH 23, 1907.

i VOL. LXVIII.-No.ll2.
1 No. 346, Broadway. New York.

The object of this journal will be to studiously
promote a healthful interest in outdoor recre-
ation, and to cultivate a refined taste for natural

objects. Announcement in first number ol

FoKisT AND Stream, Aug. 14, 1873.

THE MASSACHUSETTS ASSOCIATION'S

WORK,

A REPORT of the work done in 1906 by the
Massachusetts Fish and Game Protective Asso-
ciation just issued shows gratifying results. This
volunteer work must not be confounded with
that done by the Fish and Game Commission of
the Commonwealth.

As is natural and wise the chief work among
game birds was done with the quail, of which
more than 4,400 were liberated tfetween January
and April of last year. Most of these were set
free; though a number were given to the Fish
and Game Commission. These last bred in con-
finement, about 80 young quail being hatched, of
which 24 reached maturity. Most of the re-
ports of the liberated birds are encouraging, and
in a majority of cases where birds had been
turned out, bevies of quail were found in the fall
where for several years there had been none be-
fore. The general tenor of the report is that a
goodly number were left over at the close of the
last shooting season and the interest felt by
sportsmen in these birds has, it is believed, led to
their being regularly fed/ in many cases during
the winter just ended,,

The report contains suggestions on liberating
and feeding quail, the feeding box devised and
used by Mr. C. A. Taft, and described and
figured in these columns, being recommended.
It is believed that if the birds each year can be
brought back to their feeding boxes at the be-
ginning of the winter and so can be well fed,
there is no reason why they should not endure
any amount of cold and snow. The importance
of providing for the birds bare ground, or
something that is equivalent to bare ground, and
of furnishing them with gravel during the win-
ter are properly emphasized. Food alone is not
enough to preserve the birds.

The Association has done a good work in
watching legislation. Every year its legislative
committee examines all bills presented to the
Legislature, and recommends their passage or
their defeat. During the past year bills prohibit-
ing the sale of prairie chickens, reducing the sale
season for quail to two months instead of six,
reducing the sale for black ducks and teal from
twelve months to six, protecting: woodducks for
five years, and one taking from land owners and
members of their families the right to set snares
on their own premises were enacted, and received
the Governor's signature. The Association has
worked hand in hand with the Biological Survey
represented by Dr. T. S. Palmer, whose excellent
work is well known.
Within the year the Association has brought into

its membership many of the sportsmen's clubs of
Massachusetts, and this coiKentration of effort
cannot fail to result in great good. It has also
urged the formation of new clubs which it en-
courages in all possible ways.

Successful efforts were made during the year
to supply trout for the fall planting, and over
40,000 fingerlings were distributed.

The work of the Association is constantly ex-
panding and public appreciation of the impor-
tance of this work increasing. It believes that
quail may be restored to Massachusetts covers
in fair abundance by occasional restcfcking and
systematic feeding, and that trout streams may
be greatly helped by restocking.

While there is no doubt that the time is com-
ing when quail and other game birds will be bred
in captivity, the day when this can be success-
fully done is in the future. Meantime the work
of the Massachusetts Fish and Game Protective
Association is of the highest importance and
value.

THE NEW YORK DOG TAX.

The American Society for the Prevention of
Cruelty to Animals, as it relates to the home
office in New York city, has had many serious
troubles in recent months. The public at large
viewed it as a body which became more and
more inefficient, in its special mission, as it
prospered financially from the receipts of mag-
nificent donations, of the bequests of humanitar-
ians, and of the taxation of dogs.

This revenue, in the aggregate, amomited to
an enormous stun. Other than from those
sources, the society had no incomc.

In the city of New York, there is a great, con-
stant field for the exercise of the society's func-
tions. Yet, considering what the society ac-
tually accomplished in its mission, as a prcventor
of cruelty, in comparison with what it might
have done but did not do, there was an out-
spoken, unfriendly public belief that the society
was inoperative as a public benefactor, though
active and successful in matters pertaining to
the acquisition of real estate. The society's mag-
nificent costly office building. Twenty-eighth
street and Madison avenue, was cited as the real
estate case in point.

It was boldly maintained that the society should
apply the funds derived from the State and from
individuals, to the true mission of the society;
that is, the prevention of cruelty. In no way
could their diversion to real estate investment
be justified, in the view of mam- vehement critics.
This was more partkularly maintained in re-
spect to the moneys derived from the taxation
of dogs, the money of the people.

First of all it was contended that such tax, so
diverted, was unconstitutional, inasmuch as the
Legislature could not legally, in whole or in
part, so turn over the State moneys for the bene-
fit of an individual or a corporation. This con-

tention, in indecisive forms, came before the
courts a number of times, prior to 1906, without
disturbing the interests of the society.

The most recent and most serious case, how-
ever, was that tried recently, in which the so-
ciety prosecuted a resident of Rosebank, Staten
Island, for harboring a dog without having a
license therefor. The defence ih the main was
that the act which made it a misdemeanor to
harbor a dog without taking out a license and
paying the fee therefor to the S. P. C. A. had
been declared unconstitutional, in 1901, by the
Court of Appeals which held that the State Con-
stitution, Article 7, forbids the payment of any
public money to a private corporation. Later,
an amendment, with a purpose to nullify this
article, was passed, but it missed its purpose, and
that therefore Article 7 still stands. This case
was tried in the county court of Richmond,
^taten Island, before Judge Stephen D. Stephens.
The plaintiff has the right of appeal, and presum-
ably will so avail itself; for the thousands of
dollars of dog tax are too important as revenue
to lose without a strupc:le which will end only
in the court of last resort.

If it is finally decided that the society cannot
legally collect the dog taxes, then the question
arises: Will it refund the taxes illegally col-
lected since 1901? Whether it does so or not,
will it conduct the society's affairs in the spirit
which gave it birth, the spirit of Henry Bergh?
or will it rest content to gather vast revenues
and seek for more? ^

Although the ground may be covered here
and there with snow, and the river choked with
ice drifting with the tidal currents, while the
wind is raw and chill and the sun obscured by
leaden clouds, the owners of small boats know
that only a few short weeks separate them from
their loved element, hence their feverish haste
to be prepared for a short cruise when the first
warm day arrives. The robin and the king-
fisher, on arriving from the south, may con-
vince us that spring is following them with
swift strides, but the small boat owner is
even earlier with his first preparations for the
warm season.

Frequenters of his summer's haunts may not
have seen him for months, but on a holiday in
March he appears, equipped with sandpaper
and paint, and donning old clothes, starts in
with vigorous efforts to put his little craft in
shape for its season's use. And having begun
his work, he follows it up on every occasion
when he has a few hours' leisure until it is com-
plete and his boat and outfit are ready for use.
Scraping, sandpapering, calking, painting or
varnishing, overhauling engine or sails, oars or
paddles, he finds plenty of work to do, and
when the warm days of early April come, he
sails away to old familiar camp grounds and
from that time becomes a happy man once
more.

448

FOREST AND STREAM.

[Makch zx 1907-

Lone £lk*s Search.

"The day wis about ended. *Hai' yu, great
Sun/ I prayed; 'make my aim true. Let my
bullet drain the blood of this enemy, I give him
to you; his scalp shall be yours.' Long, long I
aimed, again and again measuring the distance
with my eyesy and at last I pulled the trigger.
Through the drifting powder smoke I saw my
enemy spring to his feet, saw him stagger, saw
him fall, limp on the edge of the cut bank and
roll off it, splash, into the deep water in which
he sank like a stone. Ai! but I was glad. I
almost shouted. I was so glad. I reloaded my
gun as quickly as I could and shot at one of
the others as they ran back to the timber whence
they had come, but that time my bullet sped
wide of the mark.

"I remained where I was until it was quite
dark, and then returning to the boat I pushed
out noiselessly from the shore and drifted down
stream, keeping as close to the south side as
possible. I saw nothing more of the enemy.
Some time before midnight the moon arose, but
I was then far from where I had shot the enemy,
and felt that they were not pursuing me; that
my appearance on the south side of the river
had made them think that I was a traveler afoot.
When daylight came they would probably try to
pick up my trail. I ate some of the meat I had
killed. It was not very good, raw, but it satis-
fied my hunger. I did not wish to take time, nor
the risk to stop, build a fire and cook.

"After some nights of drifting I came to the
mouth of Elk River; from there three more
nights and I knew that I was near the Mandan
camp. The moon was rising now after midnight
and I feared that I might pass the place in the
dark. 1 kept close to the north shore now watch-
ing for the steps in the high cut bank which
the people used for their water trail. I came to
them not long before daylight, but if there had
been no moon 1 could not have passed by, for
the camp dogs were howling as usual. I tied
my boat beside some others like it, took my
rifle and robe and my ropes and ascended the
steps. There before me was the camp, a lot
of round topped mud houses surrounded by a
high fence of logs stuck endways into the ground,
and so close together that a prairie dog could
not have squeezed through betwen them. I
knew better than to attempt to enter the place
then. I sat down on the edge of the cut bank
and waited for daylight, and the people to come
forth. It was not long before some early rising
women started out for water, and seeing me
they ran back through the passage way in the
fence and aroused the camp. Some men ap-
peared carrjing their guns, and I arose, made
the sign of peace, also the sign that I was a
Blackfoot. At that they too made the sign of

friendship, and asked me to approach. I went
up to them and gave them greeting, and they
took me to their chief's lodge. He was a kindly
man, that Four Bears, and made me welcome.
While we smoked together, and I told him why
I was there, about my dream and everything, his
women cooked a feast for us of meat and beans
and corn, and other things. I ate a lot of it all.
"I stayed with the good chief four days, feast-
ing and nesting, and devising a way to learn if
my woman really was in the Lower Big Belly
village. It was, the chief told me, just like that
of the Mandans, built on a wide, open bottom
and inclosed by a high log house. There was
no place near it, he said where one could lie con-
cealed and watch the going and coming of the
people. We finally hit upon a way that we
thought would do. It was full of danger, but
the only one that seemed likely to succeed, and
in the evening of the fourth day I set off again
in my boat to try it. Four Bears had given me
directions to enable me to know the place of the
village when I came opposite it, but in the dark-
ness I wottld have missed it had it not been for
the howling of their dogs. It was near morn-
ing of the second night that I heard them, and
drawing into the shore I saw the camp's water
trails cut in the high bank. I went on down
the river until I came to a large cottonwood
grove, and there, out in still water opposite an
old log on the sand bar, I sunk my boat by the
weight of many stones. Back in the timber I
cached iny rifle, my robe, everything I had ex-
cept my knife. Then I unbraided iny hair, wet
it, and combed and combed it, rebraided it
roughly in two large braids, one on each side of
my head. My scalp lock had disappeared. I
no longer showed that I was a Blackfoot. I
wore a pair of plain cowskin moccasins; a pair
of cowskin leggins, a cowskin (unpainted) toga
that Four Bears had given me. Nothing about
me was suggestive of any tribe, far or near, that
I had ever heard of. My only weapon was my
knife, stuck in a plain parfleche sheath at my
belt.

"Daylight was near. I left the timber, fol-
lowed up the bank of the river and sat down
by the water trail of the village. The first
risers, as at the other camp, were some women
who aroused their men. 'Who are you?' they
signed, coming forth guns in hand.

*' T am from the far south,* I answered in
signs. T am of the people who live in houses
set one on top of another in the land of no
snow. I come with peaceful intent.'

" 'Approach, then,' their leader signed. 'Ap-
proach us in peace.' We met and embraced, they
looking at me hard, but kindly. It had all been
easier than I had thought. I had been much
afraid that they would kill me. They conducted
mc to the big earth lodge of their chief. He was

just getting up, and sitting back oo his coach
he motioned me to a place beside him. fiUcd a
pipe and handed it to mc to light. I smoked
with him and the others who had come in with
me told the story that Four Bears and I had
made up. I was far from the sooth, from the
hot country, I said in the sign language. I was
of a tribe which lived on a flat butte overlook^
ing a great plain, a people who lircd in houses
built one on top of another. I knew that there
was such a people. My father had seen and
fought them when he w^cnt to war in his young
days. I also said that I was alone in the worid,
that I had no lodge, and I was travding around
just to see the country and visit the different
tribes along the way. The old chief asked why
I had no gun, no horse, and 1 replied idiat two
days before I had fallen in the hands of a war
party who came upon me while I slept, and that
they had taken my bow and arrows and set me
afoot. That lie passed too. Presently the
women placed food before us and I ate as if
I were starved. All this time I was longing to
go out, to look through the camp lor the one
I sought, and yet I feared to. If she were
there, if she cried out and ran to me when she
saw me there I would be killed. She too, per-
haps. I made up my mind to stay ckise to the
chief until I saw hei, if she really was there,
and I was sure of that. I had faith in my dream.
Yes, I would stay close to the chief,, and if
things went wrong, I wotdd at least draw my
knife and kill him before I was killed.

"After eating we smoked two pipes,, and then
the chief dismissed his guests. Soon afterward
a woman came in and spoke to him. *We are
invited to a feast;* he signed, let ns go.'

''There were feasts all that morning for us.
and we took a bite and smoked at each place.
while I had to tell over and over again about
myself, and answer many questions. In the last
lodge, to which we were invited, that which I
had expected happened. I met my woman. I
followed the chief into the place,, the host made
room for me next to him on his right, and when
I took my seat and looked around,, there she
was, sitting in the shadow of the place, near the
doorway. She gave me one swift, sorrowful
look, and then bent her head. My heart seemed
to jump up into my throat. I nearly jumped
up to run over to her. Then I began to grow
angry. Here beside me was the man who had
taken her from me. I had a took at him. A
big, powerful man he was, good looking, I sup-
pose, yet he looked hateful to me. How I did
long to stick my knife into him then and there.
But I bided my time. 'Have patience/ I said
to myself. *he shall not escape you.*

*'I thought that feast would never end. It
was almost more than I could endure to sit
there and smoke and tell this man« who had so

xMarch 23, 1907.1

FOREST AND STREAM.

wronged me, my story of lies in answer to his
request. From time to time I stole a look at
my woman. She was watching my hind as I
made the signs, but she would not look m^ in ,
the face. At last we went out, and returned to
the chiefs lodge. This is your home,' he told
me; *that is your couch; my food is your food;
my pipe and tobacco are also yours. Go and
come as you will.'

I walked about in the village, out to the river,
I sat in the shade of the lodges and smoked, and
told lies about the south country, all the time
thinking about my woman, how to rescue her.
Thus two days passed. I found that she was
never allowed to go out alone, two of her cap-
tor*s wives always going with her for wood and
even to the river for water. In the afternoon
of the second day I sat by the water trail where
it descended the cut bank to the river's edge.
Came my woman with her guard for water; re-
turning she led the way up the steps, and before
the others reappeared I quickly signed to her:
'Don't sleep; to-night I shall enter your lodge
aiid take you away.' She nodded her head to
signify that she understood.

"The village was very quiet when I arose and
crept out of the chiefs lodge. Not a dog was
barking; not a fire was alight nor a single per-
son moving about. A mere hand's width at a
time I craw4ed past the curtain of the hated
one's doorway and into his lodge. Putting out
my left hand I touched my woman's head, and
she reached up and grasped me by the neck,
pulled me down so that her lips reached my ear
and whispered so softly I could scarcely hear
her: *He is asleep beside me. I am tied to
him. Be careful.'

"I had been angry, but these words filled mc
with the rage of a wotmded grizzly, and that is
the most terrible rage of anything that walks
the earth. I felt that I had the strength af a
hundred men in my arms and hands. Edging
up closer to my woman I reached out carefully
to feel with my finger tips, my enemy's position.
He was lying on his side, back to me, breathing
slow and deep. I put my knife in my mouth,
put my hand in the right position, and then sud-
denly I gripped him around the neck, at the
same time pressing my right knee gainst his
shoulder and pushing him over on his belly, faice
down. He struggled. I could feel his big
muscles quiver under me, but he could not move,
nor cry out, nor reach up to pull me off, and
all the time my fingers gripped tighter and
tighter around his throat. I don't know how
long I choked him before I began to feel him
limp under me, and then withdrawing my right
hand I grasped my knife and pushed the blade
down between his ribs along the side of the
back bone, down into his mean heart, and then
I made another cut or two and slashed off a
big braid of his hair, skin and all.

During all this my woman had lain quiet. She
was indeed, tied to the man by a rope which
encircled both their waists. I cut it and whis-
pered to her to rise. She was so weak from
terror that she could not get up, and I half
carried her, half led her out of the lodge. Not
one of the sleeping women there had wakened
through it all. I laughed to myself thinking of
the excitement and mourning which would take
place there when daylight came. I opened the
passageway in the high fence and went out across
the bottom, down into the timber where I raised

my cache. We were not afraid of our voices
now. *You had better kill me here,' said my
woman, 'after what has happened I am disgraced.
You cannot love me any more.*

*'I wnll not tell you how I answered. *You
were satisfied, weren't you Pit'-ah-ki?' (address-
ing the comely, neatly dressed old woman who
sat beside him).

•" *Ai,' she answered, smilingly. *You had great
pity; you made me truly happy.' And then she
shivered and spat disgustedly into the fire.

'•Yes. Well," Lone Elk continued, "I waded
out and recovered my boat, and getting into it
we drifted on down the river and hid on a big
island. We had food, plenty of dried meat and
pemmican I had got from Four Bears' women.
We ate a plenty and then watched the river
shores turn about all day. Not a man did we
see. When it came night again we crossed over
to the north shore, sunk our boat and traveled
westward. Three days later we walked into the
village of our friends, where Four Bears greeted
me like a brother. We had a big dance over the
scalp I had taken and three horses were given
us, also saddles, robes and food for our journey
home. I tell you they are good people those
Earth-lodge dwellers.

"There, friend," the old man concluded, "what
say you now ? Who but the gods enabled me to
find my woman and take revenge on the man
who wronged me. There is no use of talking,
the gods live; watch over us; protect us in our
trouble."

"About your other dream?" I asked. "The one
in which you saw your woman crying."

*1 escaped from the dog," Pit'-ah-ki answered,
"and started homeward. I was alone in the
timber. I did sit under a big tree crying. He
overtook me, and after that I had no more
chances to get away. How did he capture me
in the first place? I was very foolish. I went
out alone just below our camp to pick berries,
and all of a sudden the man seized me, told
me in signs that if I cried out he would stab
me. He led me into a patch of willows, and
when night came he tied me tight to a tree
while he made a raft, and then he tied me on
that and we went drifting oflF down the river."
"And that's all," said Lone Elk,'' ostentatiously
knocking the ashes from the smoked out pipe
bowl as a sign of dismissal. "That is all. The
gods are, friend — they are. Go ye your home-
ward ways."

We went. I to record this before I sleep.
Berry has just come in. I wonder where he has
been prowling. J. W. Schultz.

If True Hunter-Born.

Pierced by the blasts of a bitter cold day,
Facing the gale on a lone, bleak shore.

Cramped in your "blind" on a reed-marged bay,^
While from afar sounds the ocean's wild ro^

Weary and dreary and lone and forlorn.

Yet loving it all— if true hunter-born.

Stationed alone in a wilderness drear,

Watching a trail thro' the gloom
Chilled to the marrow, your eyesj

Watching and wailing for bu(
• Watching and waiting and prj
"Net loving it all — if true hi

Thrashing about througj

Hampered by bush,^
Watchful, expecting^

Striving to keej
Railing your \\\
You're lovini

FOREST AND STREAM.

[March 2^, 1907.

more respectable and brought a bag, while I had
a disreputable bundle, and in the line of firearms
took a three-barrel gun, 12-gauge, rifle bore .3^-
55» and a .40-65 rifle.

Our spirits rose high at the prospect before
vs. Ousters of gold and scarlet leaves hung
like ripe fruit amid the maples, while the birch
and beech appeared to wear a halo of sunlight.
They suggest a richness of beauty that gratifies
the eye and refreshes every sense. We love this
smooth and rough barked deciduous tribe crested
with mellow and flaming plumes. It is, more-
over, a memorable occasion, when such a morn-
ing we look deep into drenched valleys and where
the sun has not yet penetrated, and which give
out a fragrant coolness. Dim immeasurable dist-
ances of liquid shade seem to float and glimmer
through the leaves. We breathe a pure, auroral
ozone, mingled with the sweetness of swamp
and pine. Our thoughts go out to meet the sun
upon the hilltops.

A drive of seven miles over a good road, fol-
lowed by a half-mile walk, brought us to camp.
The country here had been lumbered and was
intersected with log roads which afford excellent
hunting grounds. We had passed through five
miles or more of virgin timberland, so we were
not completely surrounded by those regions which
bear the indelible wounds of the ax. Everett
soon had a fire going and several venison steaks
filling the air with an aroma that well suited our
mood. Besides a large lean-to, there was an in-
closed dining room for stormy weather, and a
small hunting lodge, where Reuben and Everett
took up their abode. From the open camp which
was ours one overlooked a shallow ravine, at the
bottom of which a spring supplied us with plenty
of cold pure water.

Reuben having donned his "creepers," we set
out about three o'clock for an afternoon hunt
down the tote road. I left the Naiad and C.
arguing mildly together, it being one of their
favorite recreations.

Through the woods came faintly to our ears
the lisping of chickadees and the loud cackling
of a pileated woodpecker, while again bluejays
rang their bell-notes or screamed harshly. The
voices of the jays affected our hearing as their
azure plumage, seen amid crimson autumn leaves,
affects our sight. They form an integral part of
the season, we listen for them as we listen for
the first robin or bluebird.

The countr>^ through which we hunted was
comparatively level, and the road being free of
undergrowth, we advanced quietly in spite of
the thickly fallen leaves. An occasional breeze in
the sunlit treetops rustled a prelude of coming
frost and fleecy clouds sailed the heavens. We
walked very slowly and scanned the ground care-
fully at every step, but there were few fresh
signs in the "road, although the runways looked
well traveled. We had gone perhaps two miles
when my attention was arrested by a gentle thud,
thud, and a cracking of twigs. I looked in the
direction of the sound and about fifty yards off
through an open stretch of woods saw a deer
loping easily along, parallel to our position. I
touched Reuben, who was ahead, and we halted.
At the same moment the animal perceived us and
came to a standstill.

••What it is?*' I whispered.
"A doe, I presume," was the not very en-
couraging answer.

"No, it isn't. I can see little horns. I'm sure
[t's a yearling buck."
^he deer stood broadside, offering a fine shot.
jr a moment's pause, Rube made up his mind,
jt to him !" he said, and taking a full bead
^center of the shoulder, I fired. As the
t^d. we saw a small hemlock rock
le distance off and then all was still
linutes later we found our quarry;
just shed out and in prime con-
reaching the large proportions
ibe, however, smiled approval

rose-tinged when at last

camp and supper. The

through the balsam

[ng over the swamps.

ingely sweet; one

ilderness. Such

ide an indelible

impression on me. With a companon I was row-
ing along the shore of a lake just at the hour of
sunset. Dead leaves, '^yellow and black and pale
and hectic red," floated on the water's surface
and once or twice I saw a trout roll lazily up in
a thick mat of leaves and snatch a fly. As
twilight settled, a pale violet sheen spread over
the water, while in the west a low range of clouds
became gradually illumined with clear saffron
light, which in turn was faintly mirrored on the
lake. Northward drifted flakes of thin fiery cloud
and just above the horizon, sunk as it were in
the waves of an emerald sea and hung like a
pendant on the breast of evening, shone Venus-
white, dilating and resplendent. A rich oriental
atmosphere seemed to stir in the cold pulses of
the north. One dreamed of old temples in the
desert; of cool groves and trickling fountains
and drowsy mysteries, until the scene itself was
transformed into a dim tropical lagoon. The
purple waters, the blazing sky and at length dark-
ness, fragrant with the breath of Indian sum-
mer ! It is strange indeed, how the vortex of the
unreal occasionally finds semblance in the living
properties of what we know to be a natural
world.

On reaching camp after the conclusion of our
hunt, we found it deserted, but a half hour later
C. and the Naiad turned up, and preparations
for the evening repast were commenced with
haste.

''Ready for some more venison?" asked
Everett, looking in the door. We gazed at each
other and shook our heads, whereupon, to en-
courage us, Rube remarked, "You people can't
eat anything at all." Fortunately, we were not
disposed to agree with him. The night was mild
and a crescent moon glittered high in the zenith.
Lying in the open camp one could see it drifting
westward beyond the flames that leaped gaily
from our comfortable hearth.; Presently the
Naiad read aloud to us and we fell into a very
peaceful state. Sparks went snapping and crack-
ling upward and the fire shed a genial light on
the surrounding trees. A short time later. Rube
and Everett joined us. Rube told us amusing
stones about a fake panther himt— which he re-
lated as follows :

'It happened when I was guidin' a party of
New York sports, and one of 'em, a young
feller, was crazy to kill a panther, so we thought
we'd fix things up an' give him some fun. A
couple of the boys got the rig planned, an' when
night came we were all ready, with two candles
set out in the woods, and the blood of a deer
makin' a good trail beyond where they stood.
After supper everybody was sittin' around the
fire talkin' panther, and the young feller was
pretty keen about gettin' his oar in. All of a
sudden just behind the camp somethin' let out
a roarin' spittin' scream that made every man
jump clean off the ground. Then somebody hol-
lered, 'Git a gun! Git a gun!' and another one
yelled, 'Look at his eyes! I kin see his eyes!'

"Well sir, then the dogs started up an' the
sport let blaze at the candles! Of course, they
went out, because a man was all ready and pulled
the string when he fired. Things were pretty
well stirred up, I kin tell you !

" 'Let them dogs loose ! Let them dogs loose !'
the young feller kept roarin', an' when we did,
an' they found the trail, you ought to have seen
them snorts ! They had it bad an' wanted to go
right after the panther that minute."

Here Rube tittered and gave a concluding 1
cough. *'

"He never knew the difference, an' I'll bet he
thinks he wounded that panther ter this day.
Hee! heel"

Better than this story, however, was the nar-
rative of a bear hunt in which he had taken sole
part during the previous autumn, and which be-
ing long and intricate, has in detail passed my
memory. At any rate, he wounded the animal, a
very large specimen not for from our present
camping ground, and followed it for two weeks
before giving up the chase. Day after day he
went back and took up the trail as only a woods-
man can do, spending several nights in the open
and steadily dogging every move that the animal
made. Some one heard of a good bear-dog, and
finally it appeared on the scene of action looking
like a wooly calf and running deer at every op-

The Peril of Lone Man

A Blackfoot Indian Tale

AS the country merchant loves to ride out
beyond the bounds of his own town and
look over the broad fields of the
farmers, yellow with ripening grain ready for
the reaper, so the old-time Indian trader loved
to look upon the big camp of the plains people,
red with drying meat and white flesh side of
newly stripped hides ready for tanning into
robes. But I fancy that in the heart of the
Indian trader there was a kindlier feeling, less
of a spirit of grasping than these same merchants
have. The Indian trader was an anomaly. If
he charged his customers enormous prices for
his goods, he also gave to the needy and to
his friends with a prodigal hand. Generally
his interest in the welfare of the people to whom
he had become attached was greater than his
desire for gain; and so it came to pass that when
the buffalo were finally killed off, not one in
fifty of these men could show much of a bal-
ance on the credit side of his ledger. I merely
mention this to explain why, as we rode into
the edge of the Blackfoot camp one autumn
afternoon in the long ago, my old friend Berry
exclaimed: "Plumb red and white, isn't it!
Myi but they're happy."

And so the people were; from several quarters
of the great camp, above the shouts and
laughter of playing children, could be heard the
beating of drums; and voices raised in gambling,
and feast, and dancing songs.

Passing along between the lodges, women
ceased from their occupation to look up at us
with smiling faces, and make some joke about
our coming; and here and there a man shouted
out: "Our friends have arrived. You shall
feast with us."

And yet most people believe that the Indians
are a silent, taciturn people! Well, they do ap-
pear to be so before those whom they instinc-
tively know despise them.

We rode on and dismounted in front of Lone
Man's lodge; a youth sprang to take charge of
our horses, and we entered the home of our
friend. "Welcome, welcome," he said heartily,
motioning us to seats on either side of him,
and then shaking hands with us, his comely,
intelligent face alight with pleasure. One by
one his three young wives came in, three fine
looking, long-haired, clean and richly dressed

By J. W. SCHULTZ

sisters. They, too, were glad to see us, and
said so, as they began to prepare the evening
meal. Again the door was drawn back and our
saddles, guns and bridles were brought in by
the youth and piled in the empty space.

It was a fine lodge, that one of Lone Man's;
about 22 feet in diameter, of good height, made
of twenty new, white soft tanned cowskins
artistically cut and sewn together. All around
close to the poles was a brightly painted lining,
between which and the outer covering the air
rushed up and out through the top, carrying
the smoke of the cheerful fire along with it.
Here and there were luxurious buffalo robe
couches, with painted willow back rests covered
with buffalo robes, and in the spaces between
them were piled set after set of bright, pretty-
figured parfleches, containing the stores of
clothing and finery of the family. Suspended
above the head of our host, securely fastened
to the lodge poles, was a long, thick buckskin-
wrapped roll, containing a medicine pipe. At
each end of it were some red-painted, long-
fringed, rawhide sacks filled with various sacred
things. Our friend was a medicine man. Once,
when very ill, he had paid fifty horses for the
pipe, and through its miraculous power, the Sun
had listened to his supplications, and restored
him to health. The sick now came to him, and
he unrolled the sacred bundle with the pre-
scribed ceremonies and songs, painted the
sufferers' faces with red symbols of the sky
gods and prayed for their recovery as the
fragrant smoke of tobacco and burning sweet
grass arose.

We exchanged such news as we had to tell,
while the roasting of fresh buffalo tongues, the
frying of thin flour cakes, and making of coffee
progressed. In those days Lone Man was one
of the few Blackfeet who cared for bread and
other white man's food. Meat of various kinds,
prepared in various ways, and without salt, was
all the most of them had. Meat was ni-tap'-i-
wak-sin: real food. Flour, beans, rice, corn and
the like they called kis'-tap-i-wak-sin: useless

food.

Some visitors came in and we repeated what
we thought would interest them, and told why
we were there: to learn how they were going
to winter; if in one locality, or in moving about.

We had our own view of matter; we wanted
them to remain where they were, at the foot of
the Snowy Mountains, and I may as well say
here that before we left camp they promised
that they would. So we built a substantial
trading post there, and had a very good trade.
To look at our good friend. Lone Man, as he
sat there in the glow of the little lodge fire that
night, laughing and joking, and at his three un-
usually handsome wives, happy in ministering to
the wants of their husband's friends, one would
not have thought that they had ever known
trouble; but they had. For years a grim spectre
had hovered over them. Death in the form of
some unknown enemy, in most unexpected
ways, at the most unusual times, had more than
once nearly overtaken Lone Man, the popular,
the kind, the helping friend to the poor and
afflicted. Why he, of all men, rich and kind and
generous, should have an enemy, and that enemy
a member of his own tribe, was a mystery
which had never been solved. He had never
quarreled with any one. Not a man nor woman
was there in all the tribe at whom the finger of
suspicion could be pointed.

The winter previous to this time Lone Man
had paid us a somewhat long visit, and one
night he told us in detail the story of his es-
capes from this mysterious foe. "It began," he
said, "the very day after I married my first
wife, when I was feeling happier than I ever
had before, and I had always been a pretty
happy youth. I was very proud, too, that morn-
ing. Why should I not have been, with just
the prettiest girl in camp riding by my side —
well, maybe not any prettier than my Pwai-6-ta
and my youngest woman, Pus-ah'-ki. You re-
member how they looked in those days, don't
you? Such smooth-cheeked, bright-eyed, quick
and graceful girls as they were. And don't you
remember their hair, how the long braids of it
almost touched the ground as they walked
along?

"We had eaten our first meal together. Si'-pi-
ah-ki and I, and then we rode out to round up
my herd of horses and drive them into water.
I held my head pretty high as we passed on
between the lodges. Many a young man, I
knew, was gazing at me enviously; nearly every
one of thein, at one time or another, had tried

Dec 28, 1907.1

FOREST AND STREAM.

1009

to get this girl to share his lodge, and I, 1 had
got her. Had I not good reason to be proud
and happy? Of course I had, for she cared for mc
as much as I did for her; she also was happy.

"We rode out across the sage and grease-
wood flat bordering the river, then up the val-
ley's slope on to the big plain, Seamed with deep,
brushy coulees putting in to the river. Away
in the distance was my herd, and we went to-
ward it, riding along a narrow ridge between
two coulees. We were talking and laughing,
never thinking of any danger, when suddenly a
gun boomed behind us, and I fell from my
horse. I don't remember feeling the bullet
strike, nor falling. I merely heard the gun.
When I came to myself there was a terrible pain
in my head. The bullet had struck just here,
above this temple,, and glanced off, not doing
any damage, except to cut the scalp and let out
considerable blood. But the pain was terrible.
I saw that I must have lain there for some
time, because the sun was now quite high above
the edge of the world. When I opened my eyes
Si'-pi-ah-ki bent over and kissed me. She had
my gun on her lap, and sat facing the direction
from which the shot had come, the coulee on
the down river side of the ridge. *Oh,' she
said, 1 thought at first you were killed, and I
wanted to die, too. But I felt for your heart and
found that it was beating. I pressed your
wound as I knew the skull was not crushed. So
I just picked up your gun and watched for the
enemy to show himself.'

"Now was she not brave? Most women in
her place would just have screamed and ridden
away as fast as they could urge the horse;
would have been so frightened that they would
not have known what they were doing. She had
seen no enemy, had heard nothing. Our horses
were grazing not far away. I tried to rise, and
fell back, dizzy. *Lie still,' she said, *some one
will be com.ing this way before long, and we'll
get help.' Sure enough a rider did appear.
coming out from the river on another ridge,
and Si'-pi-ah-ki arose and waved her robe. He
whipped up his horse and came quickly; and
when he learned what had happened he hurried
back to camp for aid. A big crowd of men
returned with him, also my mother with a travoi,
on which I was taken in to my lodge. My
friends searched the coulee and found no signs
of a war party, only the tracks of a man lead-
ing down it to camp. The tracks were fresh,
made that morning, and they were the im-
prints of parfleche soled moccasins! He who
had shot me then, was some one of our own
people. Many men had gone out afoot after
their horses, but no one had been seen to re-
turn afoot; all had returned riding, driving their
herd before them. And that was all. 'Look
out,' the people said to me. 'Watch sharp;
some one in this camp is your enemy.*

"I couldn't believe it. I thought that some
friend had fired in our direction just to scare
us, and that, seeing what he had done, he had
fled from the place and sneaked home.

"Four nights later, I learned that I was mis-
taken. I awoke suddenly with a sort of fear
in my heart; with the feeling that some terrible
danger threatened me. There was no moon.
I glanced up through the smoke hole; there
were no stars; the sky was clouded over and
'twas very dark. I lay on the outside of our
couch, Si'-pi-ah-ki on the inside. I heard a faint
rustling; she was sleeping, and motionless. It

is a dog,' I thought, lying just outside against
the lodge skin,' And then all at once I knew
what it was; again I heard the rustling noise,
and, dark as it was, I saw the white lodge lining
rising, rising, very slowly a very little way at a
time. My gun was by my side. I noiselessly
cocked it, took aim where I though this enemy
of mine was lying, and fired. The flash of the
powder revealed both lodge skin and lining
raised and a hand, grasping a shining knife.
Then all was dark again, and mingled with Si'-
pi-ah-ki's frightened screams, I heard the thud,
thud, thud, of retreating feet. My shot aroused
the camp. Men rushed here and there with
ready guns inquiring what had happened. My
woman built a fire; we took lighted sticks and
examined the ground outside; there was no
blood, nor an>nhing save a pulled up lodge pin
and the still half-raised skin. *Who, who was
this enemy,' we asked, *who so desired our
death?* Why did he try to kill me? What harm
had I ever done to any of my people that must
be paid for with my life?

"I was never spoken of as a coward. I had
proved more than once in battle with the enemy
that I was a pretty good fighter; but now I
felt afraid. It is very terrible to feel that some
one is trying to bring about your death. There-
after I never went alone anywhere. When I
hunted, my cousin Red Plume always accom-
panied me, I got a youth to care for my horses,
and that was a ,great pleasure I had to give up,
for nothing is more pleasant than to round up
your band and drive them in to water, listening
to the thunder of their hoofs, watching them
play, their fat, sleek, hard bodies shining in
the sun. Also, more than all else, I feared the
night; the darkness. When we went to bed,
first we put out the fire, and then pretending to
occupy one couch, we would quietly step over
and take another one. We couldn't talk to each
other any more at night; not even whisper; and
that was hard to two young people who love
and have so very much to say to each other. I
got two big dogs and kept them always tied
except when we moved camp, and I made them
savage. Always, they slept inside, one by the
doorway, the other by our couch.

A winter and a summer passed, and then my
father-in-law died. So, as my perhaps-to-be
wives* no longer had a home, I took them. I
had always intended to do so in time. They
wished it, their older sister wished it, and so did
I. We were four happy persons. My enemy
had not troubled me for a long time, and I
looked* forward to a life of peace. Also, I be-
came somewhat careless. On the very night
that the two new wives came to my lodge, away
out beyond the confines of camp there came to
our cars the sound of shots and the cry of the
enemy, an Assinaboine war party some of our
young men had discovered as they came sneak-
ing in to steal our horses. Like every other
man, I seized my weapons and ran toward the
place. From the time I left my lodge I heard
some one running behind me, but I had no
thought of danger until, twang! went a bow
string and an arrow pierced my left shoulder,
burning my flesh as though it was made of fire.
I could not use my left arm at all, but, turning,
I raised my gun with my right arm as quickly
as I could, and fired at the person I could but

•The jovmgtT sisters of a woman a man married were
his potential wives. If he did not wish to marry them, he
had the right to choose their husbands.

dimly see running from me. The flash of the
gun blinded me for a little time, and when I
recovered from it, there was no one in sight,
no longer any sound of running feet. I turned
and crept homeward by a circuitous way, mov-
ing very silently through the tall sage brush. I
had no place out in the fight beyond, not with
one of my own people waiting for just such a
chance to shoot me in the back. Again I had
a terrible feeling of dread, and that, with the
loss of blood from my wound, overcame me.
I manziged to reach my lodge, and fell within
the doorway as one dead.

Before I came to life they drew the arrow
from my shoulder, so I did not feel that pain.
It was just an arrow; plain and new, and
straight, without one mark to designate its owner.
And it had a terrible barbed point; they had to
push it on through and break it of! in order to
piill out the shaft.

"I lay ill and low hearted for some days. The
chiefs held a council, and the camp crier went
about telling loudly their words: This is to
the cowardly, mean dog who seeks the life of
a good man. Let him beware; let him cease
his wrong doing, for if discovered he will be
given to the Sun; he will be bound to a tree
and then left to starve and thirst until his
shadow passes on.'

"Little good that would do, I thought.
Sooner or later, at some unguarded time, he
would succeed in his attempt, and my shadow
would go on to the sandhills, not his. More
closely than ever I now kept watch for him;
more carefully than ever my women and my
friends guarded me from possible surprise.
How I longed to meet him face to face, to fight
him with gun, or knife, or club, or even with
bare hands. T planned what I would do if I
ever got him in my power, how best to make
his dying a long day of great suffering.

"You can understand how unpleasant a camp
life is to an active man. How, instead of sitting
idly in your lodge you long to mount a horse
and ride out over the plains ; if not to hunt, why
just to ride and see the plains, and the moun-
tains rising from them, and to watch the game
and birds ; to see the cloud shadows sweep over
the big land; to feel the wind, made by the
gods, gentle or fierce, as their heart happens
to be at the time. And I couldn't go and see
it all live it all, as others did, when they pleased.
I could only go when someone was willing to
accompany me. During many idle days I did
much visiting, and gave many feasts myself. One
by one I considered every man of our people
as that enemy of mine. And see, not one of
them all but gave me friendly smiles and greet-
ing, and yet some one of them wanted my life.
Tiine and again my women talked over those
who had desired to marry them, who made pro-
posals to their parents for them. There had
been many, it is true, but not even among them
could we point to one as possibly this enemy.
Every one of them was married, and certainly

content and happy.

"Two winters passed. In all that time noth-
ing occurred to disturb us, except that I felt
sick, having pains in my stomach, in my head,
and often, when starting to rise from a seat. I
became blind and dizzy, and weak, and would
just fall back in my place. This sickness grew
worse and worse. We called in doctor after doc-
tor; men and women who had a great favor
with the gods, who had medicines that cured

JOIO

FOKtlST AND STREAM.

[Dec ^. \gorf.

all ills. But neither their prayers nor their bitter
drinks did me any good. I lost my desire for
food. I became weaker and weaker. I hated
to die. I was still young; my women loved me.
I loved them. I wanted to live and be happy
with them, but most I wanted to live because
some evil one so desired my death.

**One day there came some visitors from the
North Blackfeet camp, and I gave them a feast.
They remarked upon my thinness and ill health,
and I told how I was afflicted. *Why,* said one,
'there is a way by which you can recover. Our
people have a sacred pipe which always cures
this kind of sickness. It is now owned by Three
Suns. Go you at once and get it; the value of
it is great; no less than fifty horses, but what
are horses compared to health?'

'^Instantly I determined that I would have the
pipe, but outwardly I made excuses. Said that
I was too ill to travel; that I had tried every-
thing, and had concluded that there was no cure
for my trouble. I had made my plans even be-
fore I spoke. The very next night Red Plume
carried out such things as were needed for the
journey. Saddles, robes, a couple of parfleches
filled with various foods, and cached them in a
coulee some distance from camp. The next
night he had two of my best horses there, and
when the fires had gone out and the people slept,
Si'-pi-ah-ki and I stole out to the place, and
were soon mounted and heading for the moun-
tain trail leading to the north. My other women
were to live in Two Plume's lodge during my
absence. Of course we were excited as we
started out, and I felt quite strong; but long,
very long before daylight, I became weak and
dizzy. By this time we had got to the foothills,
the children of the big mountains, and riding
to the top of one we dismounted to rest, secur-
ing our horses in a little pine grove on its side,
concealing ourselves in the tall green bunch
grass. My woman placed the robes for me,
covered me from the dew, and I slept, she her-
self taking my gun and sitting by my side, watch-
ing, listening, for any danger.

"I was awakened by the sun shining in my
face. Si'-pi-ah-ki bent over me with that patient,
mother-like smile 1 had always loved to see, and
that never failed to cheer. 'Why yes,* I an-
swered her question, T feel much better. I will
be able to ride a long ways to-day, but first we
are going to cat, then you will sleep while I
keep watch.'

"She descended the hill to the creek, and came
back with a bucket of water and we had our
morning meal. I had kept watch for some time
when I saw a lone horseman far out on the
plains, in the very direction we had come. I
thought at first that he was hunting; someone
from our camp in quest of meat. But no, there
w^ere buffalo in sight not far to the north of him
and he did not turn toward them. Instead he
came steadily on, right on our trail, plain to
be seen in the green grass of early summer. I
awakened my woman. There he is,' I said,
pointing. 'There is our enemy. At last the day
has come w^hen we shall see his face, when either
he or I will die. I am glad.'

"He was still far out on the plain. 'When he
comes near,' I said, T will steal down to the
brush there, where we crossed the little creek,
and as he rides down the bank into it I'll shoot
bim from his horse.'

" 'Yes,' my brave woman agreed, 'and I'll hide
i «. the other side with a big club, and this knife

of mine. He won't think of anyone there, and
if you should miss him, why, I can do some-
thing I hope. But you will not miss, such a
good shot as you are. He will just tumble off
his horse into the water. And if we cannot kill
him, if he should kill you, then, my husband,
our shadows will go together to the sandhills,
for I will kill myself.'

"I noticed that our pursuer often stopped and
turned his horse and looked back, and all around,
and then he would start on again swiftly. 'He
is afraid of being seen on our trail,' I said. 'I
hope that nothing will prevent him from coming
on.*

"But there did, and it was a great disappoint-
ment. Some riders appeared off to the south of
him, and he turned at once and disappeared in
a big coulee which ran down into the Two Medi-
cine River. We saw no more of him for some
time, and then, away further down, we saw him
leave the valley and strike across the plains to-
ward Badger Creek. There was no use of our
remaining on the hill any longer. We mounted
and continued our journey.

"In good time we came to the Blackfeet camp,
and to Three Suns' lodge. The old man received
us kindly, and when I told him why I had come
he gave me the sacred pipe without hesitating
at all, agreeing to send his son and another young
man back with us to receive the fifty horses I
gave him. We stayed there some time, he pray-
ing for me and teaching me the ceremonies of
the pipe, until I knew them well. Then we re-
turned home and met with no incident by the
way worth telling. I had steadily grown stronger.
Little by little my sick spells wore away until
I felt as I do now, perfectly well and strong.
Also, I now had good, instead of bad dreams,
one especially quite often. 'You shall survive
the attempts on your life,' my secret helper told
me. 'You shall outlive your enemy.'

"This gave me courage, a strong heart, and
I went oftener out on the hunt, and to just ride
around. Never carelessly though, never alone.
For three winters I was not troubled, as I
learned, just because I was so watchful. The
very first time I did take chances this happened :
We were nearly out of meat, both lodges of us,
so Red Plume and I went out after some. It
was a cloudy spring day, warm, still, but the
clouds were above the mountain tops, and we
decided that rain would not fall, not until night
at least. We had been encamped a long time
at that place down on the Bear (Marias) River
in the Medicine Rock bottom, and game had
moved out some distance from the valley* scared
away by the hunters. We rode away southward
up the Dry Fork, and it was nearly midday be-
fore we sighted game, several bunches of ante-
lope, then a fair-sized herd of buffalo. These
last were feeding on the south side and on top
of that long flat butte, the one rock walled at
its eastern end. We rode up a deep coulee on
its north side, then climbed it, and found our-
selves right among the animals. We chased
them across the flat top of the butte, killing only
one cow, Red Plume only wounding the one
he fired at. That wasn't enough meat, and we
loped our horses on down the steep and rocky
slope. There the buffalo had the advantage of
us of course, as they could descend a hill more
than twice as fast as the best horse could. Down
on the flat it would be different; there we could
regain lost ground and complete our kill. But
I never got there. My horse fell and sent me

rolling until I brought ap against a boulder. I
wasn't hurt, only scratched in places, nor did
the fall break my gun. But it was different with
the horse. One of his fore legs was broken, and
the ball that was intended to bring down meat
sent his shadow to the sand hills. Red Plume
was lucky. Down on the level he killed three
fine young bulls. He is a fine shot on horse-
back and a very quick reloader. The three ani-
mals lay within the length of a hundred steps.
He felt as badly as I did over the loss of my
horse. It was one of my best runners, and he
often rode it himself. 'Well,' he said, 'what is
dead stays dead. \Yc cannot help it, so let us
fletermine what is best to do now. I think that
we had better skin our kill, cut up the meat, and
then, taking just the tongues and a few ribs, ride
home double on my horse. FU come back to-
morrow with some of the women after the skins
and everything.'

" 'I don't like to ride double,' I told him. 1
never did, even when I was a boy, if you re-
member. It is still a long time until dark, so
just ride in to camp and lead out a horse for
me, while I stay here and do the skinning and
meat cutting.*

"He objected. 'Not that I mind the ride,' he
said. 'Think of yourself, that enemy of yours
may be even now somewhere out this way watch-
ing us.*

"We argued the matter for some time, but I
had my way. Not long after Red Plume left
the wind began to blow and then it began to
rain. I kept on with my work, however, and
skinned and cut up the animals. By that time
I was very wet. I covered the meat with three
of the skins and then crouched down under the
other one, but I could not keep warm, and I was
very uncomfortable. Finally, I could not stand
it any longer, and throwing off the cover I arose
and started homeward. The rain was falling
harder than ever, the wind blowing more fiercely.
I was nearly blinded by the water, but splashed
on faster than ever, expecting to meet Red Plume
about half way out, and go on in to the cheer-
ful fire awaiting me just as fast as I could make
my horse travel.

"The trail on the Dry Fork is pretty straight,
cutting the bends of the valley. Sometimes it runs
beside the stream and again up and across a
point. All at once I began to be afraid. 'This
is a good place for that enemy of mine to way-
lay me,' I thought, trying hard to keep the water
out of my eyes, and scan every place ahead. I
know now that my secret helper was trying to
warn me of danger, but I could not quite be-
lieve it. 'In such a storm as this/ I tried to
make myself believe, Tie would not be out, and
anyway if he were he could not know that I
am hurrying home afoot over this trail.* Well,
for all my arguments I couldn't feel easy, and
so, when a gun in some bushes off to the left
of the trail banged, and flashed red, and I felt
a bullef tear through my thigh, I wasn't a bit
surprised. There was a small thicket right there
on the right of the trail, and I tumbled into it
purposely. The shot had not knocked me over,
but I acted as if it had, hoping that this man,
who wanted to kill me, would show himself ana
give me a chance to kill him. I no sooner fell
into the bushes than I straightened up and looked
out through the screen of thk:k leaves. I looked
and looked. No one appeared. I heard no
sound but the wind and the pattering rain, and
the rush of the rising stream. My wound began

Dec. a8, 1907.I

FOREST AND STREAM.

lOII

to be very painful. Considerable blood was run-
ning from it, but not enough to make me be-
lieve that a vein had been cut. I pressed both
holes tightly with my thumb and forefinger, and
kept very still except that I could not help
shivering, nor keep my teeth from chattering.
I felt easier at heart than I had, anyhow. My
enemy had done all he could this time. He
would not dare approach my hiding place, and
Red Plume could not be far away. When he
came we would at least learn who this coward
was. He did come before I expected him, lead-
ing a horse for me, riding a fresh one himself.
I tried to rise, but the effort was too painful.
So I shouted, and he rode up and dismounted
at the edge of the brush. I explained what had
happened, where I thought my enemy was con-
cealed. 'No,' he said, *he couldn't be there. A
little ways back I saw some fresh horse tracks
across the trail, going in the direction of the
lower ford of the river.'

" Then go,' I said. *Ride as fast as you can.
Overtake and kill him or trail him into camp
and learn who he is.'

"He did not speak, helped me to rise, and
lifted me up on to his horse. As soon as I took
my fingers from the wound it bled as freely
as it had at first. He stuffed some tobacco into
the holes, tore his shirt into strips and bound
it. 'You just hang on, if you can,' he said at
last, 'and I'll lead the horse. I am going to
see you home as quickly as I can get you there.'

"It was dark when we got in, and I had be-
come so weak that I was reeling in the saddle
like a drunken man when they lifted me off and
laid me on my couch. That very night I had an-
other good dream. Again my secret helper en-
couraged me. 'Be firm-hearted,' he said. "You
shall see the green grass of many sunmiers. You
shall be happy here long after your enemy has
become a shadow in the sand hills.*

"So I did take courage, and when my wound
healed I went about again with caution as usual.
All this happened before you came to us. You
know all about the other times that this dog has
tried to kill me."

"And of course you now know that he can't
kill you," I said, when he had concluded his nar-
rative.

"Of course I do," he acquiesced. "My secret
helper is certainly of the Sun. I can depend on
what he tells me."

This night, as we sat in our friend's lodge, I
thought again of the many attempts that had
been made to murder him, and of the man who
so desired his death. I longed to know what
his motive was, and I wished very earnestly to
see him brought to justice. Such a deadly hatred
of one man for another, and the persistent at-
tempts of the one to kill the other, by stealth,
are not uncommon with white people, but a simi-
lar case had never been known among the Black-
feet, nor in any other Indian tribe so far as I
have been able to learn. There have been deadly
strifes and murders, but never in an underhand
way such as were these attempts to murder Lone
Man.

We were invited to several feasts that even-
ing, and passed about a half hour with each host.
At 9 o'clock or a little later we were back with
our friend. "We will smoke another pipe or
two before retiring," he said, drawing the board
before him and beginning to cut and mix the
I'herbe and tobacco. The door curtain was drawn

aside and an old, old, bent and wrinkled and
gray-haired woman entered and dropped to her
knees clasping and unclasping her shrunk and
withered hands.

•'Welcome, old woman," said Lone Man, stop-
ping his work and looking at her sympatheti-
cally, knife poised above the little heap of the
mixture, "Speak, what can we do for you.
Will you have food — tobacco?"

"Oh, chief," she whined, "oh, great and gener-
ous heart, as you love your pretty wives I pray
you to have pity. Listen: My grandson, Run-
ning Eagle, is more sick than ever this night,
and near to death. In his long, long illness he
has tried many doctors, has paid them all his
wealth, but none has helped him. I beg you to
take down your sacred pipe, and pray for him.
He has nothing to give you, his last horse has
gone to those doctors. Great chief, generous
heart, have pity pity on — **

She broke down and sobbed as only the old
and weak can sob.

"Don't cry; don't cry," said Lone Man. "Of
course we'll take down the pipe; he shall smoke
it; wc will pray for him. Go quickly and tell
him to come in."

"Ai yah!" the old woman cried. "He can no
longer walk. He is not even conscious. He
must be carried — "

Lone Man's wives looked up at him question -
ingly. He nodded his head and they arose and
went out, and presently returned with other
women, carrying the sick man on his robe couch.
They laid him down on the left of the fireplace,
between it and one of the women's couches. He
was terribly emaciated; had evidently long suf-
fered from some internal trouble; cancer of the
stomach, perhaps; certainly not tuberculosis. He
seemed to be sleeping.

Lone Man and his head wife hurriedly painted
their faces with that dull red earth, the sacred
color, and then Si-'pi-ah-ki carefully took down
the sacred roll, the sacred sacks and placed them
in front of their couch. The woman drew a live
coal from the fire, took from one of the sacks
a pinch of sweet grass and dropped upon it. As
the sacred, perfumed smoke from it arose they
rubbed their hands in it, to purify themselves
before beginning the ceremony. The woman
then removed the wrappings all but the last one
of the pipe — really a pipe stem, any bowl being
used that would fit it.

,Now Lone Man took the red paint his com-
panion handed him, and bending over the sleep-
ing man painted on his face the symbols of the
sky gods. On his forehead the sun, on his chin
the moon, on his cheeks a star. He moved rest-
lessly several times while it was being done.

A number of songs were now to be sung be-
fore the last covering could be removed, and the
gorgeous stem, beaded and feathered and hung
with colored hair, exposed, and lifted from its
place. The first was the Song of the Robe. I
have heard people say that Indian songs are
"mere discordant ki-yi-ings." Those who said so
had themselves no knowledge of music. To them
anything classical would have been wholly un-
appreciated. I say that there is genuine music
in many Indian airs. This Song of the Robe, for
instance, is a grand and solemn thing express-
ing the veneration and adoration of the human
soul for the infinite, and it is as truly pleasing
to the educated ear as is any part of the Messiah.
They began it, and the sound of their voices
aroused the sick man. He opened his eyes and

they widened in terror as he beheld our host
sitting there near him. "Stop! stop!" he cried,
half raising and supporting himself by one frail,
trembling arm, and raising the other as if to
ward off some threatened blow. One of the
women, his wife, reached over and attempted
to lower him back on his couch.

"Let go of me," he shrieked. "Take me out
of here; away from this terrible pipe which has
brought this sickness upon me."

"Oh, be still, my son," the grandmother
wailed. "He knows not what he says," said his
wife, sadly. "Do not listen to him, Lone Man."

"I do know what I say," the sick man cried.
"I am dying, and I'll tell it all. I am beaten, and
I acknowledge it. I am the one who so often
tried to kill you, Lone Man, and I would have
succeeded had you not got that terrible pipe. Its
power has been greater than mine; it has pro-
tected you and saved you from each of my at-
tempts. Take me out, you women, and let mc
die elsewhere unless he wishes to kill me here."

"Tell me why you did it," said Lone Man,
bending forward and speaking in a kindly voice.
"What have I ever done to you that you should

want my life?"

"What did you do ? Why, you got the women
that I wanted. I loved them. I have always
loved them. If I could have killed you I might
have got them. Take me out of here, you
women, at once."

"Friend," said Lone Man, "I forgive you. Wc
will forget what you have done, and now we
will try to heal your trouble. If my medicmc
has brought this upon you we will ask it to re-
store you to health. Si'-pi-ah-ki, once more the

song."
The woman stared at him in amazement.

"What!" she cried, '*you ask me to sing and

to pray for one who has so wronged us, who

made us live in fear for your life, and grief for

your suffering all these years? I refuse."

"Yes, yes," cried the other wives. "Her words
are ours. Oh, do not aid him."

"Let us be kind," said he. "If I have for-
given him, surely you may too. Si'-pi-ah-ki, as
you love me, listen to what your kind heart tells
you. Now again, the song."

They ^ang it, both with more fervor than be-
fore, and the sick man dropped back upon his
couch and closed his eyes. One after another
they went through the songs. Then Lone Man
lifted the stem and, holding it aloft, prayed
earnestly for the recovery of Running Eagle, and
for good health and long life, peace and happi-
ness for us all. It was a very impressive scene.

At last the ceremony ended. The sick man
had roused up and drawn a few whiffs of smoke
through the sacred stem, and muttered his
prayer of supplication to the gods. The women
arose and carried him out to his lodge. Silently
the women prepared their couches, made a bed
for Berry and me with some extra robes and
our blankets, and silently we all laid down to
sleep. "And yet," said Berry after a little, as
though concluding a conversation, "white people
say that Indians never forgive an injury!"

"They pass judgment on many matters," I
added, "about which they have no knowledge."

Running Eagle died the next day.

The Forest and Stream may be obtained from
any newsdealer on order. Ask your dealer to
supply you regularly.

IOI2

ST AND STREAM.

[Dec. 28, 1907!

Views on Rattlesnakes.

Wymore, Neb., Dec. \6.^Editor Forest and
Stream: My inquiry as to how a rattlesnake
carries his rattles, published in Forest and
Stream of Sept. 14 last, has received some atten-
tion from your correspondents, and I have re-
ceived quite a number of personal letters on
the subject in which the writers have tried to
enlighten me. I did not make the inquiry be-
cause I believed that I needed any light on the
subject, but because I knew that most men, even
ranchmen who kill hundreds of these reptiles
every year, would answer the question incor-
rectly, and for the further reason that a little
discussion would correct some very common
errors as to the questions involved, and the char-
acteristics of the snake.

Some of the answers in your columns and
some of the many personal letters received by
me give partly correct answers, but most of
the letters give incorrect answers.

The first answer published, that of Mr. Jaques,
in your issue of Sept. 28, was wrong in every
particular.

The answer of Mr. Moody in your issue of
Oct 5 was correct as to the position in which
he carries his rattles, but wrong as to their being
continuations of the vertebrae, and he was also
wrong in speaking of the rattlesnake as a bird.

It is not a bird. . .

The answer of Mr. Johnson in your issue ot
Oct 12 was correct as to the snake carrying his
rattles edgewise, and that they have no light-
colored side, but wrong as to the way he shakes

bis tail. ^ ,, __ „ . -

The photograph and letter of Mr. Kelly in the
issue of Nov. 16 are both to the point as to the
* way he carries his rattles. He is right m say-
ing that the rattles are not a continuation of the
vertebra, and that they get a new rattle at each
shedding of he skin ; but he is wrong in saying
"They are horny hardenings of the skin, like
a man's toe nails." A man's toe nails are not
homy hardenings of the skin; at least mine are
not

the venom in the wound, and this, perhaps, ac-
counts for the many cures by whiskey. ^

When struck, cut the wounds downward, being
careful not to crt too much or too deep, and
suck the wound. The venom taken into the
mouth or stomach is perfectly harmless. Or if
you are alone, and cannot reach the wounds with
your mouth, and can heat the blade of your
knife red hot. use that. But when hunting snakes
carry a syringe loaded with permanganate of
potash, and inject it into the wound and you

will find it a perfect cure.

A. D. McCandless.

I have never seen a snake in the position shown
in the picture. It is not in position to strike,
or rattle, and invariably you will find it coiled
in an oblong loop, with the rattles lying across
some part of the body and just behind the head.
As I have killed and skinned many rattle-
snakes, and have observed them closely, I will
give your readers some snake lore that I be-
lieve on investigation they will find correct. I
sent three beautiful skins, with rattles attached,
to Forest and Stream some years ago.

A rattlesnake carries his rattles on edge. They
have no light-colored side. They never have
holes worn through them. They do not drag
them on the ground when crawling. They slope
up from the end of the tail on the under edge,
and are usually carried at an angle of about

fortv-five degrees. , . . ., 1.

A rattlesnake does not shake his tail when
rattling. The shedding of the skin each year
disckses the new rattle. When in proper posi-
tion the rattlesnake can strike nearly one-half of
his length. You can run the tine of a pitchfork
down through the center of his head, and his
rattles will still stand up and buzz for hours but
draw a sharp knife lightly across the back of
his neck and the tail will lie down and the
rattling cease. The power house is in his head,
and the current that sounds the warning is car-
ried by the spinal cord.

It pains me to have to say that whiskey is
not an antidote for the bite of the rattlesnake; in
fact, it is about the worst thing the patient can
take, as it heats the blood and thus stimulates the
absorption of the venom and gives you a head-
ache the next dav. Not one person out of a
dozen struck by a rattlesnake receives any of

To Get Rid of Fleas.

Mr. L. O. Howard, the entomologist, has re-
cently made public a note concerning two rem-
edies against fleas which he is anxious to have
tested by the public, and about which he will be
glad to receive reports. For reasons which Mr.
Howard gives, the matter is one of interest to
every one, and although for many of the readers
of Forest and Stream it may not be practicable
to make these tests, there are many others resid-
ing in moderate climates who can do so. Dr.
Howard may be addressed at the Department of
Agriculture, Washington, D. C. Dr. Howards
note is as follows : ■, . n

Aside from the great annoyance caused by tleas,
their agency in the carriage of the bubonic plague
has been so well established that it is important to
test every proposed remedy or preventive. Since
the publication of my circular No. 13 on this
subject, I have received information concerning
two remedies vouched for by careful persons, but
have not had a good opportunity to test either.

Mr. E. M. Ehrhorn, the well-known entomolo-
gist who is deputy commissioner of horticulture
in California, gives me the following: Fill a
soup plate with soapsuds; in the center place a
glass of water with a scum of kerosene on the
top; place the soup plate on the floor in an in-
fested room and set fire to the kerosene at night.
Fleas in the room will be attracted and will jump
into the soapsuds.

Another remedy is sent me by the well-known
writer on ants, Miss Adele M. Fielde, with the re-
quest that I make it widely known. Miss Fielde
states that during long residence in Southern
China, where fleas swarm even in clean houses,
she made her own house immune through many
years by dissolving alum in the whitewash or
kalsomine that covered the interior walls, putting
sheets of thick paper that had been dipped in a
solution of alum under the floor matting, ayd
scattering pulverized alum in all crevices where
insects might lodge or breed. Powdered alum,
she states, may be sprinkled upon carpets already
laid and then brushed or swept into their meshes
with no injury to the carpets and with the cer-
tainty of banishment to many insect pests, in-
cluding both moths and fleas.

Sheets that have been soaked in alum water
and then dried may profitably enclose those that
are spread nearest to the sleeper. From ten to
twenty cents' worth of alum judiciously used in
each room of the house will effect much good in
the prevention of dangerous insects.

Grouse Habits.

Stockton, Md., Dec. iS-— Editor Forest and
Stream: In reading Mr. Hammond's extremely
interesting paper on the ruffed grouse I was
struck by the very mysterious trait in the bird s
habits known as the "crazy time." Could not
this be due to the parent birds deserting the
young ones? W. H. Ocker.

The Forest and Stream may be obtained from
any newsdealer on order. Ask your dealer to
supply you regularly.

Of Writing About Animals.

Editor Forest and Stream:

It is a fact that some animals sometimes do
some things which are utterly unaccountable
under any rules of action of which we have
any knowledge. To illustrate:

A few years ago, on a bright midwinter day,
I happened to be the occupant of a shooting
blind located near the middle of a channel be-
tween the shores of two low marshy islands
off the Virginia coast. The channel, about two
miles long, and, where my blind was located,
about a quarter of a mile wide, was a well
patronized flyway for waterfowl when changing
their feeding places. Soon after midday the
flight slackened so considerably that I con-
cluded to eat a cold lunch which I had brought
along.

While so doing I noticed that suddenly a
shadow, cast from behind, came on my blind
just in front of where I was sitting. Quickly
looking up and back I saw, about ten or twelve
feet above me, a great blue heron, apparently
about to alight on the blind. He evidently saw
me j ust as I saw him, and at once swerved ott
to the right toward the nearest shore, probably
200 or 250 yards distant. As he was not the
kind of game I was after I merely stood up
and watched the ponderous swing of his big un-
gainly wings as he flew away. After going
about a third of the way to shore he suddenly
wheeled and started straight back toward me.
Knowing the danger of a possible blow from his
ugly bill, if we came to close quarters, I picked
up my gun, and, without taking any particular
aim, fired a shot just to frighten him away. He
paid no attention to this, but came straight on
As the possession of the blind then seemed
likely to become the question at issue, I now
shot to kill with the other barrel, and the heron
dropped dead not over twenty yards from the
blind.

Now, I think it perfectly clear that that bird
in so acting under those conditions, was led
by some motive or purpose of which we, human
beings, have no knowledge whatever. I can-
not account for his actions under any rules
which govern human conduct. The blue heron
of the Atlantic coast is not an aggresive bird,
and so far as my knowledge goes never attacks
anything except the little fish and small vermin
he feeds on, and never fights except when closely
cornered, and then in self-defense. His desire,
and in fact his determination to alight on that
blind— a mere clump of cedar bushes— could not
have arisen from physical exhaustion or weari-
ness, for no migratory bird ever becomes ex-
hausted or over weary in flying a mile or two
from one feeding place to another. The odor
of a cold ham sandwich, even if it caught the
odor, would hardly have led the timid, cowardly
thing to turn back on its course to alight at a
place where it knew there was a man and a gun.
That bird, to my apprehension, was guided by
some instinct, purpose or rule of action, about
which the human intellect knows nothing, and
when we say that it did what it did, from some
motive or purpose which would have led a man
to do the same thing under the same conditions
—which is the way in which some writers argue
—we are saying more than we know.

Just here I suspect that some of our alleged
nature writers— pseudo naturalists— make a mis-
take They see an animal do something which,
if a man did it, he would do for a certain rea-
son; therefore the same reason must have been
the animal's reason. Thus what appears to be
an abnormal act is made the basis of a false

sketch of animal life. , x 1 • 1 t 1^

Now, if I felt so disposed, I think I cou d

make a fairly credible fake story out of the cold

facts above stated. How I saw the heron com-

Forest

and

Stream

A Weekly Journal. Copyright. 1907, by Forest and Stream Publithinf Co.

George Bird Grinnell, President,
346 Broadway, New York.

Charles B. Reynolds, Secretary.
346 Broadway, New York.

Louis Dean Speir, Treasurer.
346 Broadway, New York.

Terms. $3 a Year. 10 Cts. a Copy. j.
Six Months. $L50. >

NEW YORK, SATURDAY, DECEMBER 28, 1907.

VOL. LXIX.-No. 26.
No. 346 Broadway. New York.

THE OBJECT OP THIS JOURNAL
will be to studiously promote a healthful interest
in outdoor recreation, and to cultivate a refined
taste for natural objects.

—Forest and Stream, Aug. 14, 1873.

NINETEEN HUNDRED AND SEVEN.

This old planet, in its travels through space,
has reached and passed the point which gave us
our shortest day. Already we are nearing the
sun again, and the advent of spring is not so
very far away as it seems. The year is almost
a memory.

The angler, the shooter and the nature lover
found it a twelvemonth of many disappoint-
ments— of seasons seemingly gone astray.
Winter lingered in the lap of spring so long
that summer was at hand ere the snowdrift be-
came assuredly a thing of the past. Trout fish-
ing there was little or none that could be fol-
lowed under conditions even remotely approach-
ing the ideal. In early summer the mountain
brooks were icy and stoves were still hugged at
eventide, when the results of the day's fly-fish-
ing were recounted over the cigars.

Summer passed amid discouraging drouths
that dried up the trout brooks over a wide re-
gion, while in the North the salmon fishermen
found little to console them for their long jour-
neys, and the seasons there were out of joint.

In the autumn the cold fingers of the frost
king were withheld from forest and bay, and
the wildfowler fretted over the non-appearance
of seasonable game, while the foliage hid the
wily old grouse that had survived the misfit
season. And when the leaves at last left their
parent stems, the truth slowly dawned on the
forest rovers that the grouse were gone, for
that season at least.

Despite all these seemingly discouraging ele-
ments crowded into one year, there are few
sportsmen who look forward to the coming year
and its seasonable sports with anything but a
philosophical spirit. Empty creels, light bags,
fruitless junkets far afield are all a part of the
season's sport — for the angler and the shooter of
1907 did not reckon their pleasure by weight and

number.

"Better luck next time" seems peculiarly in
place at this time, for in wishing you all a happy,
prosperous and successful New Year, we can-
not forget this bit of angling and shooting phil-
osophy.

results of the half-hearted sentiment against de-
spoiling our evergreens, but it is rather the re-
sult of failures to obtain natural trees in suffi-
cient quantities to supply the demand, and it
is doubtful if it will replace the evergreen so
long as the latter can be secured in trainload

lots.

When sentiment and practical common sense
stand on opposite sides of a question, there is
seldom doubt as to the outcome. To teach our
youths to forego the fun of a noisy Fourth of
July and to contemplate a treeless Christmas, are
matters that will require diplomacy and tact.

It is possible that the artificial Christmas tree
will in the future gradually replace the natural
one if it is made sufficiently attractive. Certainly
it can be made to serve the purpose without the
enormous waste necessary to adapt the natural
tree to individual requirements, and it is also
possible that it can be made of less inflam-
mable material. If its use will obviate the
anxiety of every parent lest a fire follow the
Christmas festivities, it may in time come into
more general use, and its manufacture furnish
employment for a large number of persons and
profits for its makers.

CHRISTMAS TREES.

The enormous demand for Christmas trees
and its effect on forest preservation is one of
the hardest nuts the forest protectionists have
ever attempted to crack. It may be thought
that the artificial Christmas tree is one of the

AMATEUR FISHING RODMAKING.

Reference has frequently been made in Forest
AND Stream to the constantly increasing num-
ber of persons who desire to make their own
fishing rods. This wish exists epecially among
beginners, who inquire almost daily for informa-
tion relating to materials, tools and instructions.

A great many anglers have adopted the short
bait-casting rod, the free-running multiplying
reel and artificial lures that are used so much
nowadays in preference to the older methods of
angling with live bait. These short rods are
much easier to make than the fly-rods, and
novices are encouraged to try their skill at rod-
making, often with surprisingly flattering re-
sults. . a

In this day no youth who is handy with tools
need forego the pleasure of fashioning his own
rods because of the expense, for excellent wood
and metal-working tools are cheap and all the
metal parts of rods can be purchased in the open

market.

Of late years rodmaking literature has not
kept pace with the demand for practical infor-
mation, but early in the New Year Forest and
Stream will begin the publication of a series of
papers on this subject, written by Perry D.
Frazer. The series will be for beginners, and
each step in the work will be treated carefully
and thoroughly, and the text will be further ex-
plained by photographs and drawings. The mak-
ing of each style of bait- and fly-rod will be
treated separately, and chapters will be devoted
to materials, tools and all the numerous sub-
jects about which the novice desires information.

THE ILLINOIS PHEASANTS,

•

In Illinois it is the practice of the Game Com-
mission to distribute the eggs of game birds
among the farmers in the spring. These eggs
are shipped from the State game farfn to all
persons who will promise to care for the young
birds from the time they are hatched undei
domestic hens until they are large enough to
shift for themselves. The recipients of eggs are
also required to report to Commissioner Wheeler,
in order that his department can keep a fairly
accurate record of the work.

This method of distributing pheasants througli-
otit the State may be said to have passed the ex-
perimental stage, but it seems that the results
for the season just closed have been disappoint-
ing, if the reports from various parts of Illinois
are accurate, for they are to the effect that but
fifty-five per cent, of the eggs sent out hatched,
representing a very important loss to the depart-
ment. Carelessness in handling the eggs during
shipment is believed to be the chief cause of this
loss, however, and we understand that a new
plan is proposed. This is that in future the game
wardens from various parts of the State will be
required to report at the pheasant hatcheiy «t
a stated time. There they will be placed in
charge of the pheasant eggs, which they will take
home with them and distribute among the far-
mers of their respective neighborhoods. In this
way it is believed the loss in eggs through failure
to hatch will be largely reduced.

It seems that the pheasants which were hatched
tmder farmers' hens have thrived and are in
good condition, and that these will mate and
raise broods of their own in due time. The
State pheasantry produces several thousand eggs
every year, and the farmers are sufficiently en-
thusiastic over the plan to do their part in assist-
ing in the work of propagation, while their in-
terest in the young birds is not likely to cease
with their liberation.

The plan has distinct merit. A man who places
pheasant eggs under his hens will watch them
carefully, protect the chicks until they are strong
enough to look out for themselves, and take care
that they find food and shelter during the first
winter. He feels a sort of responsibility, and
pride prompts him to watch over his charges
until they become full fledged game birds and
the legitimate prey of the sportsman.

This is but another form of, advertising, and
advertising, if handled properly, is profitable. It
serves to assist the game commission in its ef-
forts to propagate and protect the game mam-
mals and birds, and to spread the gospel of law
observance by enlisting the services of every
citizen who is willing to keep an eye on a few
eggs, and to see that the chicks receive food
and shelter for a time.

The work of the Illinois commission is attract-
ing the widespread attention it deserves. .vii»*-i'^

». r»

-V.' '

The Peril of Lone Man

A Blackfoot Indian Tale

By J. W, SCHULTZ

As the country merchant loves to ride out
beyond the bounds of his own town and
look over the broad fields of the
farmers, yellow with ripening grain ready for
the reaper, so the old-time Indian trader loved
to look upon the big camp of the plains people,
red with drying meat and white flesh side of
newly stripped hides ready for tanning into
robes. But I fancy that in the heart of the
Indian trader there was a kindlier feeling, less
of a spirit of grasping than these same merchants
have. The Indian trader was an anomaly. If
he charged his customers enormous prices for
his goods, he also gave to the needy and to
his friends with a prodigal hand. Generally
his interest in the welfare of the people to whom
he had become attached was greater than his
desire for gain; and so it came to pass that when
the buffalo were finally killed off, not one in
fifty of these men could show much of a bal-
ance on the credit side of his ledger. I merely
mention this to explain why, as we rode into
the edge of the Blackfoot camp one autumn
afternoon in the long ago, my old friend Berry
exclaimed: "Plumb red and white, isn't it!
My! but they're happy."

Passing along between the lodges, women
ceased from their occupation to look up at us
with smiling faces, and make some joke about
our coming; and here and there a man shouted
out: *'Our friends have arrived. You shall

feast with us."

And yet most people believe that the Indians
are a silent, taciturn people! Well, they do ap-
pear to be so before those whom they instmc-
tively know despise them.

We rode on and dismounted in front of Lone
Man's lodge; a youth sprang to take charge of
our horses, and we entered the home of our
friend. ^'Welcome, welcome,'* he said heartily,
motioning us to seats on either side of him,
and then shaking hands with us, his comely,
intelligent face alight with pleasure. One by
one his three young wives came in, three fine
looking, long-haired, clean and richly dressed

It was a fine lodge, that one of Lone Man's;
about 22 feet in diameter, of good height, made
of twenty new, white soft tanned cowskins
artistically cut and sewn together. All around
close to the poles was a brightly painted lining,
between which and the outer covering the air
rushed up and out through the top, carrying
the smoke of the cheerful fire along with it.
Here and there were luxurious buffalo robe
couches, with painted willow back rests covered
with buffalo robes, and in the spaces between
them were piled set after set of bright, pretty-
figured parfleches, containing the stores of
clothing and finery of the family. Suspended
above the head of our host, securely fastened
to the lodge poles, was a long, thick buckskin-
wrapped roll, containing a medicine pipe. At
each end of it were some red-painted, long-
fringed, rawhide sacks filled with various sacred
things. Our friend was a medicine man. Once,
when very ill, he had paid fifty horses for the
pipe, and through its miraculous power, the Sun
had listened to his supplications, and restored
him to health. The sick now came to him, and
he unrolled the sacred bundle with the pre-
scribed ceremonies and songs, ».paint^d the
sufferers' faces with red symbols of the sky
gods and prayed for their recovery as the
fragrant smoke of tobacco and burning sweet

grass arose.

food.

Some visitors came in and we repeated what
we thought would interest them, and told why
we were there: to learn how they were going
to winter; if in one locality, or in moving about.

We had our own view of matter; we wanted
them to remain where they were, at the foot of
the Snowy Mountains, and I may as well say
here that before we left camp they promised
that they would. So we built a substantial
trading post there, and had a very good trade.
To look at our good friend, Lone Man, as he
sat there in the glow of the little lodge fire that
night, laughing and joking, and at his three un-
usually handsome wives, happy in ministering to
the wants of their husband's friends, one would
not have thought that they had ever known
trouble; but they had. For years a grim spectre
had hovered over them. Death in the form of
some unknown enemy, in most unexpected
ways, at the most unusual times, had more than
once nearly overtaken Lone Man, the popular,
the kind, the helping friend to the poor and
afflicted. Why he, of all men, rich and kind and
generous, should have an enemy, and that enemy
a member of his own tribe, was a mystery
which had never been solved. He had never
quarreled with any one. Not a man nor woman
was there in all the tribe at whom the finger of
suspicion could be pointed.

The winter previous to this time Lone Man
had paid us a somewhat long visit, and one
night he told us in detail the story of his es-
capes from this mysterious foe. "It began," he
said, "the very day after I married my first
wife', when I was feeling happier than I ever
had before, and I had always been a pretty
happy youth. I was very proud, too, that morn-
ing. Why should I not have been, with just
the prettiest girl in camp riding by my side-
well, maybe not any prettier than my Pwai-6-ta
and my youngest woman, Pus-ah'-ki. You re-
member how they looked in those days, don't
you? Such smooth-cheeked, bright-eyed, quick
and graceful girls as they were. And don't you
remember their hair, how the long braids of it
almost touched the ground as they walked

along?

**We had eaten our first meal together, Si'-pi-
ah-ki and I, and then we rode out to round up
my herd of horses and drive them into water.
I held my head pretty high as we passed on
between the lodges. Many a young man, I
knew, was gazing at me enviously; nearly every
one of them, at one time or another, had tried

Dec 2^ 1907.1

FOREST AND STREAM.

1009

to get this girl to share his lodge, and I, I had
got her. Had I not good reason to be proud
and happy? Of course I had, for she cared for me
as much as I did for her; she also was happy.

"We rode out across the sage and grease-
wood flat bordering the river, then up the val-
ley's slope on to the big plain, seamed with deep,
brushy coulees putting in to the river. Away
in the distance was my herd, and we went to-
ward it, riding along a narrow ridge between
two coulees. We were talking and laughing,
never thinking of any danger, when suddenly a
gun boomed behind us, and I fell from my
horse. I don't remember feeling the bullet
strike, nor falling. I merely heard the gim.
When I came to myself there was a terrible pain
in my head. The bullet had struck just here,
above this temple, and glanced off, not doing
any damage, except to cut the scalp and let out
considerable blood. But the pain was terrible.
I saw that I must have lain there for some
lime, because the sun was now quite high above
the edge of the world. When I opened my eyes
Si'-pi-ah-ki bent over and kissed me. She had
my gun on her lap, and sat facing the direction
from which the shot had come, the coulee on
the down river side of the ridge. 'Oh,' she
said. 'I thought at first you were killed, and I
wanted to die, too. But I felt for your heart and
found that it was beating. I pressed your
wound as I knew the skull was not crushed. So
I just picked up your gun and watched for the
enemy to show himself.'

"Now was she not brave? Most women in
her place would just have screamed and ridden
away as ifast as they could urge the horse;
would have been so frightened that they would
not have known what they were doing. She had
seen no enemy, had heard nothing. Our horses
were grazing not far away. I tried to rise, and
fell back, dizzy. *Lie still,* she said, 'some one
will be com.ing this way before long, and we'll
get help.' Sure enough a rider did appear,
coming out from the river on another ridge,
and Si'-pi-ah-ki arose and waved her robe. He
whipped up his horse and came quickly; and
when he learned what had happened he hurried
back to camp for aid. A big crowd of men
returned with him, also my mother with a travoi,
on which I was taken in to my lodge. My
friends searched the coulee and found no signs
of a war party, only the tracks of a man lead-
ing down it to camp. The tracks were fresh,
made that morning, and they were the im-
prints of parfleche soled moccasins! He who
had shot me then, was some one of our own
people. Many men had gone out afoot after
their horses, but no one had been seen to re-
turn afoot; all had returned riding, driving their
herd before them. And that was all. 'Look
out,' the people said to me. 'Watch sharp;
some one in this camp is your enemy.'

"I couldn't believe it. I thought that some
friend had fired in our direction just to scare
us, and that, seeing what he had done, he had
fled from the place and sneaked home.

is a dog,' I thought, 'lying just outside against
the lodge skin.' And then all at once I knew
what it was; again I heard the rustling noise,
and, dark as it was, I saw the white lodge lining
rising, rising, very slowly a very little way at a
time. My gun was by my side. I noiselessly
cocked it, took aim where I though this enemy
of mine was lying, and fired. The flash of the
powder revealed both lodge skin and lining
raised and a hand, grasping a shining knife.
Then all was dark again, and mingled with Si'-
pi-ah-ki's frightened screams, I heard the thud,
thud, thud, of retreating feet. My shot aroused
the camp. Men rushed here and there with
ready guns inquiring what had happened. My
woman built a fire; we took lighted sticks and
examined the ground outside; there was no
blood, nor anything save a pulled up lodge pin
and the still half-raised skin. 'Who, who was
this enemy,' we asked, 'who so desired our
death?' Why did he try to kill me? What harm
had I ever done to any of my people that must
be paid for with my life?

"I was never spoken of as a coward. I had
proved more than once in battle with the enemy
that I was a pretty good fighter; but now I
felt afraid. It is very terrible to feel that some
one is trying to bring about your death. There-
after I never went alone anywhere. When I
hunted, my cousin Red Plume always accom-
panied me. I got a youth to care for my horses,
and that was a great pleasure I had to give up,
for nothing is more pleasant than to round up
your band and drive them in to water, listening
to the thunder of their hoofs, watching them
play, their fat, sleek, hard bodies shining^ in
the sun. Also, more than all else, I feared the
night; the darkness. When we went to bed.
first we put out the fire, and then pretending to
occupy one couch, we would quietly step over
and take another one. We couldn't talk to each
other any more at night; not even whisper; and
that was hard to two young people who love
and have so very much to say to each other. I
got two big dogs and kept them always tied
except when we moved camp, and I made them
savage. Always, they slept inside, one by the
doorway, the other by our couch.

A winter and a summer passed, and then my
father-in-law died. So, as my perhaps-to-be
wives* no longer had a home, I took them. I
had always intended to do so in time. They
wished it, their older sister wished it, and so did
I. We were four happy persons. My enemy
had not troubled me for a long time, and I
looked, forwand to a life of peace. Also, I be-
came somewhat careless. On the very night
that the two new wives came to my lodge, away
out beyond the confines of camp there came to
our ears the sound of shots and the cry of the
enemy, an Assinaboine war party some of our
young men had discovered as they came sneak-
ing in to steal our horses. Like every other
man, I seized my weapons and ran toward the
place. From the time I left my lodge I heard
some one running behind me, but I had no
thought of danger until, twang! went a bow
string and an arrow pierced my left shoulder,
burning my flesh as though it was made of fire.
I could not use my left arm at all, but, turning,
I raised my gun with my right arm as quickly
as I could, and flred at the person I could but

*The younger sisters of a woman a man married vcrc
his potential wives. If he did not wish to marry them, he
had the right to choose their husbands.

dimly see running from me. The flash of the
gun blinded me for a little time, and when I
recovered from it, there was no one in sight,
no longer any sound of running feet. I turned
and crept homeward by a circuitous way, mov-
ing very silently through the tall sage brush. I
had no place out in the fight beyond, not with
one of my own people waiting for just such a
chince to shoot me in the back. Again I had
a terrible feeling of dread, and that, with the
loss of blood from my wound, overcame me.
I managed to reach my lodge, and fell within
the doorway as one dead.

Before I came to life they drew the arrow
from my shoulder, so I did not feel that pain.
It was just an arrow; plain and new, and
straight^ without one mark to designate its owner.
And it had a terrible barbed point; they had to
push it on through and break it off in order to
pull out the shaft.

•*I lay ill and low hearted for some days. The
chiefs held a council, and the camp crier went
about telling loudly their words: This is to
the cowardly, mean dog who seeks the life of
a good man. Let him beware; let him cease
his wrong doing, for if discovered he will be
given to the Sun; he will be bound to a tree
and then left to starve and thirst until his
shadow passes on.'

*You can understand how unpleasant a camp
life is to an active man. How, instead of sitting
idly in 3rour lodge you long to mount a horse
and ride out over the plains ; if not to hunt, why
just to ride and see the plains, and the moun-
tains rising from them, and to watch the game
and birds; to see the cloud shadows sweep over
the big land; to feel the wind, made by the
gods, gentle or fierce, as their heart happens
to be at the time. And I couldn't go and see
it all, live it all, as others did, when they pleased.
I could only go when someone was willing to
accompany me. During many idle days I did
much visiting, and gave many feasts myself. One
by one I considered every man of our people
as that enemy of mine. And see, not one of
them all but gave me friendly smiles and greet-
ing, and yet some one of them wanted ray life.
Time and again my women talked over those
who had desired to marry them, who made pro-
posals to their parents for them. There had
been many, it is true, but not even among them
could we point to one as possibly this enemy.
Every one of them was married, and certainly
content and happy.

"Two winters passed. In all that time noth-
ing occurred to disturb us, except that I felt
sick, having pains in my stomach, in my head,
and often, when starting to rise from a seat, I
became blind and dizzy, and weak, and would
just fall back in my place. This sickness grew
worse and worse. We called in doctor after doc-
tor; men and women who had a great favor
with the gods, who had medicines that cured

lOlO

FOKtlST AND STREAM.

[Dec. i#% 1907.

'One day there came some visitors from the
North Blackfeet camp, and I gave them a feast.
They remarked upon my thinness and ill health,
and I told how I was afflicted. 'Why/ said one,
'there is a way by which you can recover. Our
people have a sacred pipe which always cures
this kind of sickness. It is now owned by Three
Suns. Go you at once and get it ; the value of
it is great; no less than fifty horses, but what
are horses compared to health?'

"Instantly I determined that I would have the
pipe, but outwardly I made excuses. Said that
I was too ill to travel; that I had tried every-
thing, and had concluded that there was no cure
for my trouble. I had made my plans even be-
fore I spoke. The very next night Red Plume
carried out such things as were needed for the
journey. Saddles, robes, a couple of parfleches
filled with various foods, and cached them in a
coulee some distance from camp. The next
night he had two of my best horses there, and
when the fires had gone out and the people slept,
Si'-pi-ah-ki and I stole out to the place, and
were soon mounted and heading for the moun-
tain trail leading to the north. My other women
were to live in Two Plume's lodge during my
absence. Of course we were excited as we
started out, and I felt quite strong; but long,
very long before daylight, I became weak and
dizzy. By this time we had got to the foothills,
the children of the big mountains, and riding
to the top of one we dismounted to rest, secur-
ing our horses in a little pine grove on its side,
concealing ourselves in the tall green bunch
grass. My woman placed the robes for me,
covered me from the dew, and I slept, she her-
self taking my gun and sitting by my side, watch-
ing, listening, for any danger.

"I was awakened by the sun shining in my
face. Si'-pi-ah-ki bent over me with that patient,
mother-like smile 1 had always loved to see, and
that never failed to cheer. 'Why yes,' I an-
swered her question, 1 feel much better. I will
be able to ride a long ways to-day, but first we
arc going to eat, then you will sleep while I
keep watch.'

"She descended the hill to the creek, and came
back with a bucket of water and we had our
morning meal. I had kept watch for some time
when I saw a lone horseman far out on the
plains, in the very direction we had come. I
thought at first that he was hunting; someone
from our camp in quest of meat But no, there
were buffalo in sight not far to the north of htm
and he did not turn toward them^ Instead he
came steadily on. right on our trail, plaiti to
be seen in the green grass of early stnnmer. I
awakened my w^oraan. "There he is/ I said,
pointing. There is our enemy. At last Ae day
has come when we shall see bis face, when either
he or I will die. I am glad.'

"He was still far out on the plain. 'When he
comes near,' I said, 1 will steal down to the
brush there, where we crossed the little creek,
and as he rides down the bank into it I'll shoot
him from his horse.'

" 'Yes,' my brave woman agreed, 'and I'll hide
4 «. the other side with a big club, and this knife

"I noticed that our pursuer often stopped and
turned his horse and looked back, and all around,
and then he would start on again swiftly. *He
is afraid of being seen on our trail,' I said. *I
hope that nothing will prevent him from coming

on.

'This gave me courage, a strong heart, and
I went oftener out on the hunt, and to just ride
around. Never carelessly though, never alone.
For three winters I was not troubled, as I
learned, just because I was so watchful. The
very first time I did take chances this happened:
We were nearly out of meat, both lodges of us,
so Red Plume and I went out after some. It
was a cloudy spring day, warm, still, but the
clouds ygtrt above the motmtain tops, and we
decided that ram would not fell, not until night
at least We had been encamped a long time
at that place down on the Bear (Marias) River
in the Medicine Rock bottom, and game had
moved out some di#ta«NBe from thev^alleXp scared
away by the hunters. We rode away southward
up the Dry Fork, lind it was nearly midday be-
fore we sighted game, several bunches of ante-
lope, then a fair-sized herd of buffalo. These
last were feeding on the south side and on top
of that long flat bime, the one rock walled at
iu eastern end. We rode up a deep coul6e on
its north side, then climbed it, and found our-
selves right among the animals. We chased
them across the flat top of the butte, killing only
one cow. Red Plume only wounding the one
he fired at That wasn't enough meat, and we
loped our horses on down the steep and rocky
slope. There the buffalo had the advantage of
us of course, as they could descend a hill more
than twice as fast as the best horse could. Down
on the flat it would be different ; there we could
regain lost ground and complete our kill. But
I never got there. My horse fell and sent me

rolling until I brought up against a boulder. I
wasn't hurt, only scratched in places, nor did
the fall break my gun. But it was different with
the horse. One of his fore legs was broken, and
the ball that was intended to bring down meat
sent his shadow to the sand hills. Red Plume
was lucky. Down on the level he killed three
fine young bulls. He is a fine shot on horse-
back and a very quick reloader. The three ani-
mals lay within the length of a hundred steps.
He felt as badly as I did over the loss of my
horse. It was one of my best runners, and he
often rode it himself. *Well,' he said, 'what is
dead stays dead. We cannot help it, so let us
determine what is best to do now. I think that
we had better skin our kill, cut up the meat, and
then, taking just the tongues and a few ribs, ride
home double on my horse. Fll come back to-
morrow with some of the women after the skins
and everything.'

" T don't like to ride double,' I told him. 1
never did, even when I was a boy, if you re-
member. It is still a long time until dark, so
just ride in to camp and lead out a horse for
me, while I stay here and do the skinning and
meat cutting.'

"He objected. 'Not that I mind the ride,' he
said. Think of yourself, that enemy of yours
may be even now somewhere out this way watch-
ing us.*

"The trail on the Dry Fork is pretty straight,
cutting the bends of the valley. Sometimes it runs
beside the stream and again up and across a
point All at once I began to be afraid. This
is a good place for that enemy of mine to way-
lay me,' I thought, trying hard to keep the water
out of my eyes, and scan every place ahead. I
know now that my secret helper was trying to
warn me of danger, but I could not quite be-
lieve it. *In such a storm as this/ I tried to
make myself believe, *he would not be out, and
anyway if he were he could not know that I
am hurrying home afoot over this trail.' Well,
for all my arguments I couldn't feel easy, and
so, when a gun in some bushes off to the left
of the trail banged, and flashed red, and I felt
a bullet tear through my thigh, I wasn't a bit
surprised. There was a small thicket right there
on the right of the trail, and I tumbled into it
purposely. The shot had not knocked me over,
but I acted as if it had, hoping that this man,
who wanted to kill me, would show himself ana
give me a chance to kill him. I no sooner fell
into the bushes than I straightened up and looked
out through the screen of thick leaves. I looked
and looked. No one appeared. I heard no
sound but the wind and the pattering rain, and
the rush of the rising stream. My wound began

)OIO

FOKtlST AND STREAM.

[Dec. W5. 1907.

all ills. But neither their prayers nor their bitter
drinks did me any good. I lost my desire for
food. I became weaker and weaker. I hated
to die. I was still young; my women loved me.
1 loved them. I wanted to live and be happy
with them, but most I wanted to live because
some evil one so desired my death.

"One day there came some visitors from the
North Blackfcet camp, and I gave them a feast,
'riuy remarked upon my thinness and ill health,
and I told how I was afflicted. 'Why/ siid one,
'there is a way by which you can recover. Our
I'c )i)le have a sacred pipe which always cures
tlii^ kind of sickness. It is now owned by Three
Suns. Go you at once and get it; the vahie of
it is great; no less than fifty horses, but what
arc horses compared to health?*

"I was awakened by the sun shining in my
face. Si'-pi-ah-ki bent over me with that patient,
mother-like smile 1 had always loved to see, and
that never failed to cheer. 'Why yes,* I an-
swered her question, *I feel much better. I will
be able to ride a long ways to-day, but first we
are going to eat, then you will sleep while I
keep watch.*

"She descended the hill to the creek, and came
back with a bucket of water and we had our
morning meal. I had kept watch for some time
when I saw a lone horseman far out on the
plains, in the very direction we had come. I
thought at first that he was hunting; someone
from our camp in quest of meat. But no, there
were buffalo in sight not far to the north of him
and he did not turn toward them. Instead he
came steadily on, right on our trail, plain to
be seen in the green grass of early summer. I
awakened my woman. 'There he is,' I said,
pointing. 'There is our enemy. At last the day
has come when we shall see his face, when either
he or I will die. I am glad.*

"He was still far out on the plain. 'When he
comes near,' I said, 'I will steal down to the
brush there, where we crossed the little creek,
and as he rides down the bank into it Til shoot
^lim from his horse.*

" *Yes,' my brave woman agreed, 'and I'll hide
i i. the other side with a big club, and this knife

'T noticed that our pursuer often stopped and
turned his horse and looked back, and all around,
and then he would start on again swiftly. 'He
is afraid of being seen on our trail,' I said. 'I
hope that nothing will prevent him from coming
on.'

"This gave me courage, a strong heart, and
I went oftcner out on the hunt, and to just ride
around. Never carelessly though, never alone.
For three winters I was not troubled, as I
learned, just because I was so watchful. The
very first time I did take chances this happened :
We w^ere nearly out of meat, both lodges of us,
so Red Plume and I went out after some. It
was a cloudy spring day, warm, still, but the
clouds were above the mountain tops, and we
decided that rain would not fall, not until night
at least. We had been encamped a long time
at that place down on the Bear (Marias) River
in the Medicine Rock bottom, and game had
moved out some distance from thevvallex. scared
away by the hunters. We rode away southward
up the Dry Fork, and it was nearly midday be-
fore we sighted game, several bunches of ante-
lope, then a fair-sized herd of buffalo. These
last were feeding on the south side and on top
of that long flat butte, the one rock walled at
its eastern end. We rode up a deep coulee on
its north side, then climbed it, and found our-
selves right among the animals. We chased
them across the flat top of the butte, killing only
one cow, Red Plume only wounding the one
he fired at. That wasn't enough meat, and we
loped our horses on down the steep and rocky
slope. There the buffalo had the advantage of
us of course, as they could descend a hill more
than twice as fast as the best horse could. Down
on the flat it would be different; there we could
regain lost ground and complete our kill. But
I never got there. My horse fell and sent me

rolling until I brought up against a boulder. I
wasn't hurt, only scratched in places, nor did
the fall break my gun. But it was different with
the horse. One of his fore legs was broken, and
the ball that was intended to bring down meat
sent his shadow to the sand hills. Red Plume
was lucky. Down on the level he killed three
fine young bulls. He is a fine shot on horse-
back and a very quick reloader. The three ani-
mals lay within the length of a hundred steps.
He felt as badly as I did over the loss of my
horse. It was one of my !)cst runners, and he
often rode it himself. *WeIl/ he said, 'what is
dead stays dead. We cannot help it, so let us
determine what is best to do now. I think that
we had better skin our kill, cut up the meat, and
then, taking just the tongues and a few ribs, ride
home double on my horse. I'll come back to-
morrow with some of the women after the skins
and everything.*

" 'I don't like to ride double.' I told him. 1
never did, even when I was a boy, if you re-
member. It is still a long time until dark, so
just ride in to camp and lead out a horse for
me, while I stay here and do the skinning and
meat cutting.'

"He objected. *Not that I mind the ride,' he
said. 'Think of yourself, that enemy of yours
may be even now somewhere out this way watch-
ing us.*

"The trail on the Dry Fork is pretty straight,
cutting the bends of the valley. Sometimes it runs
beside the stream and again up and across a
point. All at once I began to be afraid. 'This
is a good place for that enemy of mine to way-
lay me,* I thought, tr>ing hard to keep the water
out of my eyes, and scan every place ahead. I
know now that my secret helper was tr>nng to
warn me of danger, but I could not quite be-
lieve it. 'In such a storm as this/ I tried to
make myself believe, 'he would not be out, and
anyway if he were he could not know^ that I
am hurrying home afoot over this trail.* Well,
for all my arguments I couldn't feel easy, aad
so, when a gun in some bushes off to the left
of the trail banged, and flashed red, and I felt
a bullet tear through my thigh, I wasn't a bit
surprised. There was a small thicket right there
on the right of the trail, and I tunJjlcd into it
purposely. The shot had not knocked me over,
but I acted as if it had, hoping that this man,
who wanted to kill me, would show himself ana
give me a chance to kill him. I no sooner fell
into the bushes than I straightened up and looked
out through the screen of thick leaves. I looked
and looked. No one appeared. I heard no
sound but the wind and the pattering rain, and
the rush of the rising stream. My wound began

T-o^S^

QlET WOLP^

-u*^. 1^^

Charles Lewis Shaw

We'll make a solemn wager on your cunnings.

— Hamlei'

A WOMAN is considered by the ordi-
nary Indian as he would his
cayuse or dog. That is a mis-
take. The woman sometimes asserts
herself. Then there is trouble.

It was the first week in July. In the
broiling hot sun of a northwest summer
there had come across the Battle River
the Blackfeet, the Sarcees, the Piegans
and their cousins from Montana, with
the swiftest horses of the South', to try
conclusions on the race track wnth their
hereditary enemies, the great Cree Na-
tion, as they had done in other days in
bloody foray and fiercely fought battle
before the white man came. And the
white man was there, racing, betting and
haggling over conditions in the Lingua
Franca he had picked up from the half-
breed. And the half-breed found, per-
haps, on that race track, the only place
where his dual nature gave him an ad-
vantage over both.

For four or five days there had been
racing from daylight to dark, handicaps,
private races, tribe races, races accord-
ing to the programme, races of all kinds
and at all times. Any one wanting a
race could be accommodated, and many
wanted. The fever of the race possessed
\yhito, red and mixed. It was a saturna-
lia of sport.

All night long, in the hundreds of te-
pees throughout the bluffs which sur-
rounded the beautifully level plain that
did duty as the course, 'the games of skill
and chance, from the legerdemain of the
Cree stick game to draw poker, went on
to tlie accompaniment of the tom-toms.

Lying in a shack, half a mile awav, on
the outskirts of the settlement, the Amer-
ican could tell by the time of the monot-
onous Indian drums whether the stakes
were high or the play was fast and furi-
ous. The Englishman dropped in after
midnight. He had bought himself out
of the Mounted Police a few weeks be-

fore; said barracks were dull, that the
Canadian Pacific Railway had knocked
all ch.arm out of Western life and that he
was going East. He knew the Ameri-
can and made him get up. He wanted
to talk to him. When the Englishman
talked, which was seldom, he was worth
listening to and the American got up.
Before the Englishman had finished, he
had dressed himself.

And then they went out and stole a
horse.

The fact that the horse was the prop-
erty of the Major commanding a troop
of the Nortli West Mounted Police add-
ed piquancy to the theft. The Ameri-
can, who was a lawyer and had a legal
conscience, called it '^borrowing". The
Englishman said he didn't care a rap
what it was called, the Major's horse
was the only thing in the district on four
legs that could beat Grey Wolf's pinto
mare, and they had to have him.

Grey Wolfs Pinto was known far be-
yond the Blackfeet and the American
suggested that even the Major's troop-
horse hadn't speed enough, grain-fed
though he was, and he hinted something
about doping the mare under the cir-
cumstances. The Englishman loved a
horse and as they strode along in the
mocn-light towards the gate of the pali-
saded Police fort, he said that sloping a
horse was worse than murder, that he
wouldn't be a party to it and that the
girl wouldn't do it for fifty Pierres anv
way; she had been brought up with the
Pinto and he believed loved the pony.

Then the Englishman went and lied to
the Sergeant of the Guard and hinted
mysteriously about an Indian rising and
his secret mission, as an old policeman,
from the Major to carrv dispatches to a
fort fifty miles away. And the Sergeant
felt flattered at being taken into the con-
fidence of his chief, and was dulv im-
pressed with the idea of an Indian rising:
the said hope being the something that

(19)

FIELD AND STREAM

keeps the red-coated riders of the plains
alive; and he told the gate and stable
sentries not to say anything about the
absence of the Major's horse or the Ma-
jor would be mad.

The Englishman and the American
then took the Major's horse away and
painted out the beautiful w^hite star in
his forehead and the three white stock-
ings and the brand mark. The Amer-
ican's artistic temperament was aroused
and he wanted to paint a white star on
his breast and throw in a few flourishes
on the hindquarters. But the English-
man said he only wanted him disguised
enough to pass once through a crowd
and then if the Major found out he didn't
care — an exceedingly small amount. The
Major wouldn't miss him until after the
race as there was no parade in the morn-
ing and the Sergeant was impressed with
the Indian rising idea.

It was late in the afternoon when the
race between Grey Wolf's Pinto and the
Englishman's unknown was called. Ev-
ery other event had been dwarfed into
insignificance, for wasn't the swiftest
pony of the South at last matched and
there was a strange story being whis-
pered around regarding the stakes. The
Englishman, so it was said, had wagered
ten gallons of contraband whiskey
against Grey Wolf's daughter, the beauty
of the Blood Reserve, that he would
beat the Pinto on a horse he refused to
name. It was a novel bet even in that
Western land where everything went.
Indians might buy their wives and often-
times wagered them when their stock of
ponies ran out, but a daughter was a lit-
tle bit different; and in the face of a
prohibitory liquor law to bet ten gallons
of whiskey with a half-rebellious Indian,
altogether shocked the moral sense of the
Saskatchewan. But the Saskatchewan
wanted to see the Pinto pony run.

The Englishman had explained to the
American that the only way he could
get Grey Wolf to put up his daughter
was to bet the whiskey. A Blood Indian
would sell his mother for fire-water and
he knew Grey Wolf. The only thing
would be the bother of getting the whis-
key if he lost. **But Pierre stuck to me
the time I had the ruction with those

Stonies in the Peace Hills a year ago,**
the Englishman had said, "and it is the
only chance of doing him a good turn
before I go down East. Grey Wolf w^ill
never give his daughter to a half-breed
Cree interpreter of the Mounted Police
if he were oflFered a thousand ponies.
That Cree dash in Pierre spoils him in
the old Blood's eves. Pierre wants her
though and I think she want^^ him and,
if I win this afternoon. Til do the pater-
nal 'bless ye. my children' act and then
try and make my peace with the Major."

Everybody didn't know^ this and when
the Englishman went up to the Major's
party, the ladies were cool, and the Ma-
jor became interested in his conversation
with the Hudson Bay Factor, and he
slipped away under cover of the yells
and sounding tom-toms that announced
the appearance of the Pinto — the Indian
horse.

She was a beauty as she loped past in
her slender litheness. An Indian pony?
Yes. But in her complex nature the old
Arab blood of her Spano-Moorish an-
cestry had asserted itself and show^ed in
the brightness of her eye, the poise of
her head and the grace of her slim legs.
The marks of the Arab could even be
seen in the piebald spots on the sleek
coat that had given her the name Pinto.
And the American felt that the Major's
horse would have to nm to win.

The course was half a mile straight
away and the two contestants moved off
to the starting point. The Englishman
avoided the crowd but even in the dis-
tance, riders, horses, and trappings show-
ed the characteristics of the races they
belonged to. The coal-black horse of
the Englishman looked heavy and strong
contrasted with the almost cat-like am-
ble of the pony, his rider sat erect in the
cavalr)' saddle like the trained soldier he
was, while the Indian almost crouched
on the bare-back of the mare that he con-
trolled with his gripping knees and the
shaganappi thong about her lower jaw.
And then it seemed to come as it often-
times did on the prairies of the West
that it was a race of races — white and
red. And the white man bet their hard
cash against the ponies and rifles and
furs of the Indians, bet them to a finish —

r
r

w
<

X
M

<
O

r
O

FIELD AND STREAM

lliat is wlien the red man has nothing left
on earth to bet.

There was a pistol shot, a fierce yell
from civiHzed and savage and they were
off. The IMnto sprang easily to the
front and seemed for the first few hun-
dred yards to l)e increasing the lead at
every stride. The trooper was held w*ell
in hand and was going magnificently.
The American knew that the English-
man was relying on the superior staying
qualities of his half-l)red horse over the
grass-fed pony. lUit half a mile is a
short course and at the quarter the Eng-
lishman was four lengths behind. The
Pinto didn't falter at the terrific pace and
the American felt that the race would be
won or lost on the home stretch. No
pony can keep that pace up on grass
alone, he thought, but she seemed to be
doing it. The troop-horse was letting
himself out now and the space between
the two was diminishing. "Oats will
tell,''mutterod the American, *'but \\'\\l
he have time?'*

Gradually the Englishman drew up
until his horse's nose was at the pony's
flank. Only a hundred yards now! The
game little pony seemed to realize that it
was now or never. The black horse of
the w^hites was at her quarter and the
cheers of anticipated victory were al-
ready coming from the white men's
throats. She gathered herself together
for a last effort and as she gained a few
feet there was silence still as death in the
sw^aying mass of onlookers. Only fifty

yards, when the stillness was broken by
a shrill call from the lips of a young
squaw who thrust herself a little beyon I
the crowd th?t lined the course as the
galloping horses came up. Xo one heed-
ed it except the Pinto. It was the call
the i-ony ha<l never disobeyed, the call
it had known from tlie days when a frol
icsonie filly it had l)een the companion
and playfellow of (irey Wolf's daughter.
For a strange understanding growls up
between the horse that dwells in the tents
of men and its master or mistress. And
the Pinto heeded not the desire of vic-
tory or the urging or voice of its rider
but swerxxd whence the voice had come.
What caused the pony to bolt was a
subject of animated discussion at prairie
stepping places, around tepee fires and
in Mounted Pohce mess-rooms for halt
a year. People didn't sto]) to discuss
the affair as the Englishman rode in a
winner, for there was considerable inter-
est taken in half a dozen Indians and
r(|uaws that h?d been ridden down by
the Pinto in her bolt.

When the Major's daughter was asked
to be a witness of the marriage of Pierre
and Grey Wolfs daughter that evening,
she felt kindly towards the Englishman
and asked him to dinner — which is a
considerable condescension on the part
of a daughter of a Major of the N. W.
M. P. And when the ladies had left, the
Major wanted to know^ what the Eng-
lishman would take for that very decent-
looking black horse he rode.

•5,

^TiSPIEB

I would not wander long o'er city streets

An atom, mid the ever-deepening crowd;
I would not change my fate for his wh^
meets
Strange faces ever twixt the crib and
shroud.
Give me the song of birds, the voice of kinc.
Dale, forest, flowers and meadows stretch-
ing wide.
One friendly face that smi!es down into mine.
One htart my cwn and I am satisfied.

— Lalia Mitchell

137

Pemmican Making.

Chippewa Bay, N. Y., Jan. S.— Editor Forest
and Stream: Can you give me the form.ula and
directions for making pemmican? W. W. W.

[We know of no formula for the manufacture
of pemmican. The method of preparing it, how-
ever, is described in "Blackfoot Lodge Tales," p.
206. The flesh of the animal to be used is cut
in thin flakes and dried in the sun. The dried
meat is then lightly roasted by being toasted on
the coals of an aspen or cottonwood fire. This
roasted dried meat is thrown on a skin and
beaten with sticks until it is reduced to very
small fragments. The pounded meat is mixed
with a certain amount of melted tallow, or fat from
the marrow, put into rawhide bags, and rammed
down tight with a large stick until the bag is
full, when it is sewed up. Then the pemmican
makers jump on it, to expel all the air, and when
the grease is cold, the pemmican is as solid as a
stone, and about as heavy. Sometimes when
made in small quantities, the dried meat is
beaten to powder between stones. This was the
old method of making .buffalo pemmican. Of
course, at the present time, pemmican is not
made except as a curiosity, or, commercially, for
use with Arctic expeditions. We presume that
the flesh for such pemmican is kiln dried, but
we do not know about this. — Editor.]

iBVoLcVy

286

THK AMKRICAN ANTHKOI'OLOGIST

\n^

[Vol. IX

NOTES AND NETVS

Childbirth among the Blackfeet. — When the time ap-
proaches for a woman to be confined a lodge is pitched for her
a little way from the camp. No man enters this lodge, unless it
be the husband, and he remains only for a short time.

When the time for confinement is close at hand the different
medicine women (doctors or midwives) come, each one bringing
with her her medicine. When the labor pains come on the sick
woman selects the woman who is to treat her. What she is to
pay is already tied up in a bundle and is put out at the time
when she chooses her doctor. She is doctored only to the ex-
tent of this fee.

The sick woman may call for only one doctor at first, but if
any trouble occurs she may call for a second or a third to assist,
the others present taking no part unless they are asked to help,
although they are always present until the child is bom and
taken care of.

When the child is born it is taken by the doctor and certain
ceremonies follow. The child is washed in cold water. The
umbilicus is cut, but not with a knife ; an arrowhead must be
used. Then the midwife lays the child upon the ground and
she and her assistants — if she have any — get out their red paint
and offer up prayers, asking for health and good luck for the
infant. If it is a girl, they pray that she may be virtuous and
be like the good mothers in the camp ; that she may be guided
aright in all her ways through life and may long survive. For
a boy they pray that he may have long life; that he may be a
brave man, may have a kind heart, and may be a worthy person
among his people.

After these prayers are ended they paint the child red over its
whole person. The afterbirth is then gathered up, and a prayer
made that the woman may survive this sickness and may be a
good mother to the child. Then the old woman carries away
and disposes of the afterbirth as she pleases ; sometimes burying
it, or throwing it in the river, or hanging it in a tree.

The next morning the midwife is asked in again and the child
is again washed in cold water, the paint being all washed off.
The same prayer first made is repeated, and the child is painted
again. For this a small fee is given.

That evening the child is again washed clean. Sometimes
the infant is painted only once or twice, sometimes every day
for ten days or two weeks, the prayers being offered at each
painting.

The mother of the sick woman, even though she may be a
doctor, performs no part at the birth of her grandchild.

George Bird Grinnell.

October 1931

OR eS'T and OUTDOORS

OCVwsJ^

n d i a n

g e n d s and

( omments on their Effect on Indian Character — Why Indians are

called ^^bow-legged' '

GREY

OWL

MANY superstitions have grown up by the long asso-
ciation with Nature of my people — ^a thoughtful,
simple people — imbued with the spirit of the Wild.
Qose observers of the phenomena by which they were
surrounded, they no sooner attempted to account for them
than they became in-
volved in an intricate
maze of legends and
superstitions. Their
account, for instance,
of the Creation is per-
haps fantastic, yet the
White Man's concep-
tion of it is scarcely
less so, and not a whit
more logical.

I speak as an In-
dian.

To them the animal*
are not inferior, mere-
ly different, each with
its peculiar and re-
markably adequate
gifts. To those of
them who have not
become callous
through long associa-
tion with commercial
interests, the killing
of an animal is a per-
sonal matter, not to be
done without due rea-
son, they being co-
dwellers in the same
environment, and the
Indian having a kin-
dred feeling for them.
With regard to some
species he must make
some atonement, and
should he destroy a
creature the name of
which he bears or that
is the patron beast of
his clan, the act has,
to him, all the aspect
of a murder. These
beliefs are unf ortu-
nately dying out

amongst the modem type of Indian, and are adhered to
mainly on account of fear of possible consequences.

Knowine the intimate history of all these creatures, and
his attitude not being that of the lord of creation but rather

A camera study
of Orej Owl

that of a part of it, the imaginative mind of the Indian,
calHng as he does all animals brothers, endows them with
a number of attributes supposedly only possessed by
humans. And it has yet to be satisfactorily proved that they
do not possess a great many of these human traits.

To mention one in-
stance that comes to I
my mind, I recall once I
seeing a bear deliber-
ately shoving large
rocks over the edge of
a considerable cliff,
apparently for no
other purpose than to
hear the resultant up-
roar, upon each recur-
rence of which he
made loud noises
which might have
been expressions of
amusement.

Under the old re-
gime, or until the ex-
ploitation of Wild
Life by traders and
others changed him of
necessity to a killer
pure and simple, the
Indian, having no
sporting instinct, re-
garded hunting mere-
ly as a means to
provide meat and
clothing, and was not
overly lustful to kill.
Most of his supersti-
tions in regard to ani-
mals were of a more
or less benevolent na-
ture, and propitiatory
in character. W h t v]
beaver were killed,
the bones were not to
be eaten by dogs, the
kneecaps and skull
being especially safe-
guarded. Beaver car*
casses, or the pa ^s riot
consumed, were re-
turned to their natural element, the water, holes being cut
in the ice for the purpose. The Indian was often put to
great labor, trouble and inconvenience to fulfil his obliga-
tions in this direction. {Comin^d on page 32)

(National Parks

Branch;

'on E8X and OUTDOORS

'CTOBER

>3l

October 1931

OR e3T* and OUTOOORA

ANTHER

UNTING

zvi//i ''Cougar'' Smith

^n Instance where ^'Sherlock Holmesing" in the Wilds Brought a Cash Reward

By HAMILTON M. LAING

IT WAS the first time I had ever been privileged to go
with " Cougar " Smith on one of his prowls after the
panther cats in the big woods, but in all the many
times I have been
with him since I have
never seen a finer ex-
hibition of woods-
craft. One October
day he told me that
next morning he was
going off for a day's
hunt to try to locate
a family of cubs that
had been left in the
woods when a deer-
hunter had killed the
mother, and when he
asked me if I would
care to go along I was
not slow in saying T
would. I had heard
much of the prowess
of Smith in the Van-
couver Island woods
and his success in col-
lecting bounty on the
big cats. Most of his
hunting is done of
course in winter when
there is tracking
snow ; the present
problem seemed vast-
ly more difficult.

Exactly a week pre-
viously a logger
named Good had been
hunting for deer out
from the camp of his
employment and by a
whim of chance had
got a shot at a female
panther and killed
her. As she was nur-
sing young, Good
hoped to find the
family — for cubs as
well as grown cougars
<lr^w $40 a head of
bounty money from

the British Columbia government, exclusive of the pelt —
so he gave out the news that his victim was a male. Good
killed the panther on Sunday; it was the next Saturday
that Smith learned the truth and got Good on the phone.

Conrar " Smith with his two canine assistantii and the three cubs that put

fl50 in his Jeans because of hi« woodscraft

The logger admitted that he had been unable to locate
the young and agreed that next day he would lead Smith
to the scene of the kill.

Never could a hunt
have had less auspi-
cious start. The cou-
gar-hunter had acute
lumbago so that every
step hurt him. Wherf
we reached Camp 3
and I ran over to the
cabin designated as
Good's, I could find
no one. When I tried
a ga i n — after being
assured by camp folk,
— and in manner to
rattle the hinges, I
was informed by a
feminine voice issuing
from bed clothes that
Good had gone off
with his dog to the
woods very early. I
conveyed the inform-
ation to the cougar-
hunter and indicated
that our hunt was
over, but he said he
was not going home
just yet.

For half an hour we
talked with various
folk here and then a
young chap said that
he knew as much as
anyone of the matter.
Which was little
enough. If we would
go out the logging
railway about a mile,
we would find the
track branched. On
the end of the left
arm an old trail came
out of the timber.
Good had packed the
cougar out on that
trail.
So we set out. To me the task ahead was impossible.
By comparison the needle in the hay-stack seemed simple ;
it was on a par with the old one about: given the ships
course and height of mainmast, to find the Captain's

#
^

Christian name. But I followed — or rather was led by
Watch, the energetic young collie that the panther-hunter
tied to me because the wrenching of the eager brute as
he tugged at the leash was agony to a sore back. The
hunter had brought but one other dog: little Nellie, a
quite small fox terrier that despite her size knew a great
deal about panthers, in fact might well have been said to
be the brains of the pack.

We traversed the logged-oflF lands and then came to
the end of the grade to find that it ended in a fresh bum.
There was no vestige of trail. Balked again; but Smith
declared he would circle and find it, and turning off to
the left plodded into
the burn toward the
green timber a half
mile off.

Soon we were in the
heavy green woods —
the usual coastal
jungles of great firs,
cedars, and hemlocks
with thickets of salal,
huckleberry and new
growth of the conifers
above the green moss
and fern-clumps of the
damp and shadowy
forest floor. I thought
of the needle in the
hay-stack again as I
followed my leader.
We circled constantly
to the right and pre-
sently my comrade
stopped to examine
some blazes and trail
signs. Plainly some
one at some time had
called this a trail.
There were the marks
of travel on a log; the
blazes were black and
well grown over. Smith
was not satisfied that it
was the trail he sought
so crossed it and con-
tinued down the slope
until the light of the
burn and swamp assur-
ed him. Then he re-
turned to it.

Before long he stop-
ped again at a muddy
spot where the trail
crossed a tiny rill that
was scarcely more than
a seepage, and he said,

"Good went along here. There's the dog's track too." It
was a big footprint and Good was a large man. Heading
into the woods and fresh — this plain on account of the
fact that in mid-week there had been a heavy rain. We
were making a beginning.

We followed this faint old pathway till nearly noon.
Now the tracker stopped at some new trail signs and
asked me what I made of it. The base of a small hem-
lock had been scraped and torn; some great hoof-prints
in the mossy earth told the tale : a bull elk had been rub-
bing his antlers here. Then my eye caught a movement
ahead and I saw a man crouching and hurrying toward
us — we were being stalked. So we gave a hail and then Good

Most of the cougar hunting is done In winter, when there Is tracking snow

came up with his dog, all rigged out and ready for business.
Like a small boy caught in the act, he admitted that
he had changed his mind overnight and determined to.
make a last try ahead of Smith in the morning. ThevI
panther-hunter questioned him easily and bit by bit the^l
details unfolded. Good had been looking for a deer in
a quite open burn when he saw the big cat mount a log.
When he fired she sprang away and his dog went barking
off apparently in hot pursuit. By the time he had chased
the dog down the hill and across the hollow where he
found him running a deer, he realized he was being fooled
so returned to where he had seen the panther. Within

fifty feet of the log on
which she had been
standing, he found her
dead — shot through the
shoulder. He insisted
that he had seen no
sign of young. The
mother had died close
to her kill, the latter
having been almost en-
tirely c o n s u m ed and
furthermore the bones
of the deer had not
been disturbed since.
No, he didn't mind
Smith trying, and so
giving directions to the
kill, told him to help
himself and proceeded
homeward.

The directions I
thought were sketchy
enough. We were to
follow the trail another
mile till we would
come to a recent burn
through the timber
where a big grey rock
stood on the right.
Turning here we were
to proceed along the
low ridge until the
break in the trees on
the left denoted a big
swamp. The kill was
not far back from the
swamp.

To find a few bones
in all that pathless for-
est ! — my faith still was
low. But the hunter
now was chuckling.

" I'll find it all right.
ril just watch the dogs.
We're doing fine."
We presently came to the rock and without a wav^
Smith turned and plodded off through the burn and as
though guided by some instinct I could not fathom, at
length said :

" See the dogs! The kill must be over there.*'

And it was. Lying among trampled bracken and fire-
weed in the quite open bum was what was left of a
black-tail — a few sections of backbone, a bit of the skull
and some clots and the paunch and some entrails. The
sickening smell of carnage still was on the air.

"Well what do you make of it?" I asked after my
comrade had poked about for a few minutes.

" Just as I expected. There arc two or three cut^^nd

OR eSX and OUTDOORS

October 1931

they are about four months old and eating meat. Good's
dog chased them away when he shot the old one — that
was the * deer ' he was running. Good probably had them
treed over his head and didn't know enough to look up.
The only question is; where did they go? They did not
return here — not since the rain anyway. They have gone
back to the kill before this one. At any rate they are
starving now. We must hunt all these windfalls."
But I called for explanations.

"Quite simple," he continued. ''i>Dok here at this
big bed in the bracken with the little beds beside it where
the mother has been lying suckling the cubs. See the base
of this small cedar all
scratched by tiny claws
— no big cougar could
do that. Look at these
droppings" — he broke
them with a stick —
** full of deer hair
showing they have
been eating meat. An
old panther alone would
not trample down
a fraction of this
bracken. How could
Good miss it all?"

For nearly an hour
we hunted through all
the nearby windfalls,
the little terrier poking
into nooks and corners
and Watch ranging
more widely. Then
Smith declared for
lunch. If I would boil
the billy he would take
another wider circle
and return in half an
hour.

About the time the
black billy was singing
cheerfully, I heard a
sudden loud baying
from Watch, but I did
not receive the expect-
ed hail, and by and by
the hunter trudged
back.

" Only a c o o n," he
said, a bit disconsolate-
ly. "But we are not
beaten yet."

So after we had
eaten, we circled again
even more widely and
then as the afternoon
wore away we turned
. southward toward the swamp. By and by we stood upon
'a high brow and looked down upon a half-mile expanse
of narrow marsh that was broken by two small treed
islands.

" We must search those islands," declared the cougar-
hunter.

So we scrambled down and finding a natural bridge
formed by log meeting log, crossed safely and investigated
the first island. But there was no sign of any game there.
We did the same with the next, but it, too, was barren of
result. Whereupon we scrambledi back up the abrupt
bank and worked homeward. It was here that we saw
^hc itack of a man and dog in the clier soil of the brow —

Cooirar cubs about four months old.
eating: meat and following:

Good had done some woods-combing, too, it was plain.

It was here too that suddenly we were frozen immove-
able by a cry coming up from the swamp. But it was
only the hoarse scream of red-tailed hawk and our spirits
fell again. Anyway, the hunter explained that panther
cubs do not cry so. Instead of the meow of domestic
pussy they make a shrill little whistle. He had raised
the young like kittens in his home and understood every
detail of their ways.

Smith was plodding doggedly, gradually completing a
circle of the kill. The pain in his back had in no whit
relented and every step hurt him. About the only trump

in his hand now that
I could see was per-
severance. There was
little room now ap-
parently for scout-
craft.

But perseverance was
high card and Smith
held the ace. For sud-
denly with a new note
of interest in his voice
he called me to his side.
Half way down the
slope below us in a
little patch of earth
dried out in the sun-
shine of the last two
afternoons, there was a
round footprint. When
we went down and ex-
amined it, the tracker
pronounced it the print
of a young panther and
plainly it had been
made within the last
two days. One of the
cubs had been here.

We hurried along
the bank anxious to
make best use of our
few remaining hours
of light. Soon we saw
another track, but it
proved to be one made
by Good's dog. Never-
theless the plot was
thickening; for in a
few minutes we came
on some cat prints and
while we were exam-
ining them, suddenly a
shrill yelping from the
little terrier burst on
our ears, followed by a
tremendous bow-wow-
ing from Watch, the outcry coming from behind us and
below the bank.

" They've found them ! " cried Smith. " Run quick, —
I can't— and save Nellie! They'll kill her!"

Guided by the din, I rushed back along the brow, found
a place where I could tumble down, and in a few moments
had reached the scene of the rumpus. Down in a narrow
passage under a jumble of rocks that had fallen from
the face of the cliff I could dimly discern a tangled mass
of white and grey and tawny brown as dogs and cats bit
and clawed and roared as they fought their ancient feud.
" Save Nellie ! " — I could hear Smith calling frantically

as besought a way down the cliff. (Continued on Page 32)

(Note yardstick.) At this ace they are
the mother from kill to kill

LITTLE PLUME,

The yellowing leaves of the cottonwoods
were softly dropping to earth through the still
night air, when the spirit of Little Plume left
his lodge in Two Medicine Bottom on its
journey to the sandhills. It was very quiet*
But a moment later the stillness was broken by
the shrill wailings of the women, who were
mourning for the husband, father, and brother
who had left them; and the next day in camps
up and down the river and on other streams all
over the reservation there was mourning for
the chief who had gone.

Little Plume was a chief. As a young man he
had been buffalo hunter and warrior, knowing
little else than that. An orphan, he had been
taken as a boy into the home of the great chief
Three Suns, and by observing the acts and
listening to the wise words of the family head,
the thoughtful boy had chosen the right path of
life. From his early youth he had been untir-
ing in the chase, brave on the war path; but as
he matured, he began to think of the welfare
of his people. As the older men passed away,
the tribe came to look more to him for advice,
and that which he gave was always good. As
the new conditions of civilization kept crowd-
ing upon them more and more, his broad mind
saw more and more clearly the dangers to
which his people were exposed and the needs
and opportunities of the new life. Did a friendly
white man talk to him with a sympathetic heart,
Little Plume listened carefully and questioned
intelligently, groping among a maze of new
ideas for such as he migfit apply to the situ-
ation of those about him.

In all the tribe of the Blackfeet no man was
so generally beloved as he, and naturally so,
because of all the Blackfeet no one had so great
a love for the Blackfeet people.

Of the men who during the last thirty years
have stood out foremost. before their fellows in
the tribe, hardly any now remain. White Calf,
and Double Runner, and Running Crane, and
Running Rabbit, and Bull Shoe and many an-
other have departed on their long journey.
Little Plume is the last to go.

The old-time Indians often possessed heroic
virtues, and among these one of the most im-
portant was love for their fellow tribesman.

UoMjt ouvO. "hj^r^JU^, In^. \3JfOCf

t-yrj

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A BUckfoot Cheyenne.

It was winter. The people were camped on
Lodgepole Creek, near the Big Horn Mountains.
Buffalo were close and small game was plenty.
The snow was very deep, and the people did not
watch their horses closely, for they thought no
war parties would be out in such cold and in
such deep snow.

The chief of this camp was also a medicine
man. On the ground at the right of his bed
in his lodge was always a space where red-
painted wooden pegs were set in the ground in
a circle. Above this hung the medicine bundles.
No one was allowed to step or sit in this circle.
No one might throw anything on the ground
near it. No one might pass between it and the
fire. It was sacred.

It was a very cold night. The wind blew the
snow about so that one could hardly see. The
chief had gone to a feast in a lodge near his
own, and his wives were in bed, but one was
still' awake. The fire had burned down, so that
the lodge was almost dark. Suddenly the curtain
of the doorway was thrown back. A person
entered, passed around to the back of the lodge,
and sat down in the medicine circle.

"Now, what is this?" the woman thought;
"why does this person sit in the medicine

circle?"

She said to him, "You know that this is the
medicine circle? Quick! get up and sit down
somewhere else. My husband will be angry if
he sees you there."

The person did not speak nor move, so the
woman got up and put wood on the fire, and
when it was light she saw that the man was a
stranger, for his clothing was different from the
Cheyennes', but she could not see his face, which
he kept covered, all but his eyes. The woman
went out and ran to the lodge where her hus-
band was, and said to him, "Come quickly. A
stranger has entered our lodge. He is sittmg
in the medicine circle."

The chief went to his lodge and many with
him for all the chiefs and warriors had been
feasting together, and they carried in more wood
and built a big fire. Then the stranger moved
toward the fire, nearer and nearer, and they saw
he was shaking with cold. His moccasms and
leggins were torn and covered with ice and his
robe was thin and worn. The chief was greatly
troubled to see this person sitting in his medicine
circle, and he asked him in signs, "Where did
you come from?"

He made no answer.
Again he asked, "Who are you?"
The stranger did not reply. He sat as close
to the fire as he could get, still shivering with

cold. ,

The chief told a woman to feed him and sne
warmed some soup and meat over the fire and
set it before the stranger. Then he threw off
his robe and began to eat like a dog that is
starved, and all the people sat and looked at
him * He was a young man, his face was good

•When an enemv has e-»en or drunk iii a lodge be is
.afe for the time being. He will not be harmed

and his hair very long, but he looked thin and
his clothes were very poor.

The stranger ate all the soup and meat and
then he said in signs, *! came from the north.
I was with a large party. We traveled south
many days and at last saw a big camp by a river.
At night we went down to it to take their horses,
but I got none and my party rode off and left
me. They told me to go with them and they
would give me some of the horses they had
taken, but I was ashamed. I had taken no horses
and I could not go back to my people without
counting a coup, so I came on alone, and it is
now many days since I left my party. I used
up all my arrows and could kill no food. I
began to starve. To-day I saw your camp. I
thought to take some horses from you, but my
arrows are gone; I should have starved on the
road. My clothes are thin and torn; I should
have frozen. So I made up my mind to come
to your camp and be killed.

"Come, I am ready. Kill me! I am a Black-
foot." * ,
A pipe was filled, lighted and passed around,
but the chief sat thinking. Everyone was wait-
ing to hear what he would say.

At last he spoke. "An enemy has come into
our camp. The Blackfeet are our enemies. They
kill us when they can. We kill them. This man
came here to steal our horses and he ought to
be killed ; but you see he has come into my lodge
and sat down in the medicine circle. Perhaps
his medicine led him to the place. He must have
a powerful helper.

"There are many lodges in this camp, and in
each of these lodges many seats, but he has
come to my lodge and has sat down in my
medicine circle. I beUeve my medicine helped
him, too; so now I am afraid to kill this man,
for if I do it may break my medicine. I have
said."

Every one said the chief's talk was good. The
chief turned to the Blackfoot and said, "Do not
be afraid, we will not kill you. You are tired.
Take off your leggins and moccasins and lie
down in that bed."

The Blackfoot did as he was told, and as soon
as he lay down he slept, for he was very tired.
Next morning when he awoke there by his
bed were new leggins for him and warm hair
moccasins and a soft new cow's robe, and he
put these on and his heart was glad. Then he
ate and the chief told him about the medicine
circle and why they had not killed him.

In the spring a party of Cheyennes went to
war against the Crows, and the Blackfoot went
with them and he took many horses. He went
to war often and soon had a big band of horses.
He married two Cheyenne women and stayed
with the Cheyennes. Sometimes they asked him
if he would ever go back to his people, and he
would say : "Wait. I want to get more horses,
and when I have a big band, a great many, I
will take my lodge and my women and children
and we will go north and I will make a peace
between the Cheyennes and Blackfeet."

One summer the people were running buffalo.

They were making new lodges. One day the
men went out to hunt. At sunset they came
back, but the Blackfoot did not return. Next
day the men went out to look for him and they
searched all over the country. Many days they
hunted for the Blackfoot, but he was never seen
again. Some said he had gone back to his peo-
ple; others said that a bear might have killed
him, or he might have fallen from his horse and
been killed, and still others thought a war party
must have killed him and taken the horse with
them. Neither man nor horse was seen again.

G. B. G.

THE SQUAW MAN.

The account of life "In the Lodges of the
Blackfeet," that is now appearing in Forest and
Stream, has attracted much attention. From
many parts of the United States, from Great
Britain and from the Philippine Islands, we have
had inquiries about it, and have been asked by
people, who had heard of the tale without seeing
it, where the book is for sale and what is its

price.

To the old-time dweller on the plains the truth
of the descriptions of the buffalo land and its
wild inhabitants appeals most strongly. The
ethnologist who has studied the mind of primi-
tive man, and above all he who has lived with
Indians, recognizes that here is a tale told by one
who knows the Indian of the tribe he is describ-
ing better than the Indian knows himself. The
notable characteristics of the story, which call
out the sympathies of the reader most strongly,
are its truthfulness, its humanity, and its sim-
plicity.

The story portrays the true life of the Indian,
his social intercourse, his true ethical standards
and his true human nature, all of which vary
from those of the white man in the matter of de-
gree only, and in comparison with certain known
classes of the white man such comparison is dis-
tinctly in favor of the Indian.

For many years now the term squawman —
by which is meant a white man who lives with or
is married to an Indian woman— has been a
superficial term of reproach, most used by per-
sons who are as ignorant of Indians as they are
of the white men who have married Indian wo-
men, and so without real meaning. Those who
use it know that the term is one of prejudice and
reproach, but do not know why it is so. It is a
good thing that at last a squawman has arisen
who has the power to tell a faithful story of the
life led by a white man with an Indian wife in
the camps, in the trading posts and in the settle-
ments. The old time squawman was just as good
—and just as bad— as the man who had a white
wife, or as he who had no wife at all. The bad
meaning that the word has come to have, arose
no doubt from the few cases occurring in modem
times where a white man has married an Indian
wife, for the purpose of securing her share in
the tribal property, or of being supported by her.
But this is something that occurs every day in
the centers of our highest civilization.

The old-time man who married into a tribe of
wild Indians was entitled to just as much re-
spect and consideration as his daily life showed
was his due. In the fact that he had married an
Indian woman there was no reproach.

'4 J

v^l-l

The Story of Spo-Pee:

From the New York World.

Mrs. Ella Clarky wife of Malcom Clarky a Blackfeet Indian of
Montana and a graduate of the Carlisle Indian School^ came to Carlisle
last March with a party of Indian pupils. From Carlisle she went to
Washington^ D. C, in company with her husband and other members of
the Blackfeet delegation who were going there an some trihal business.
On her return to Carlisle en route home she told of her accidental meeting
with Spo Pee and how she finally got him to talk. Her story coincides^
in the main, with that given below. — Editor.

OP PEE "the silent Ipdian," had served out thirty-
two years of a life sentence for murder before
a Blackfeet Indian woman (Mrs. Malcom Clark)
visited him at the Government Hospital for the
Insane, across the river from Washington, and
charmed him out of his silence with a Blackfeet
baby song. Spo Pee felt the call of old memories
of the Western prairies stir within him and he
broke his silence under the spell of music.

He told his history to the Indian woman and the story created
a sensation. It resulted in an investigation by the Indian Office of
the Interior Department, and Spo Pee was pardoned by President
Wilson.

The old man's story begins in the early '80s on the Montana
prairies. Spo Pee was a great hunter and a warrior as well, and
the pride of the Blackfeet was carried deep in his heart. In those
days the buffalo had not disappeared from the face of the prairies,
and alfhough Spo Pee carried his smoothbore with the other braves,
he had learned the trick of drawing a bow with the best of them.

Many a Blackfeet maiden cast shy eyes upon him as he passed.
To his wigwam Spo Pee brought many a haunch of buffalo and
many a costly skin or its equivalent in ammunition and trifles from
the traders of the scattered posts.

Spo Pee^s People Are Massacred.

npHE buffalo began to grow scarce, and one day the bison were
-^ forgotten, for the white man had crowded his red brother and
there was bloody war on the prairies.

Spo Pee was one of a party of war painted braves that rode away
from an Indian village one morning at dawn, for the battle was on

I7:>!=7A.'c=k!i;;

il!»"1

'iliP'*^V''iV*

^™7:irjrAXiii,-nii;

Indian, or rather, his descendants, until the average Indian n6w has
more money than the average white man. /

Having money, however, is different from keeping it. /The rich
Indian is considered legitimate prey by some white m^, and the
Government hitherto has not protected its red wards from the
money-loving pale face. Rich in some respects, the Indian is poor
in others. In stamina, in ambition, in the proper sprt of pride, he
is lacking. But when it comes to money and its equivalent he is no
longer "Poor Lo.'* — Birmingham (Ala.) News.

PRESIDENT WILSON has signed ^ order setting aside
^ 4,600 acres of land along the Pond d'Oreille River, Washing-
ton, as a reservation for the Kalispel Indians. They have lived on
the land for generations, but there has been a gradual encroach-
ment of white settlers. The President has signed a similar order
setting aside land in Utah for the Goshute Indians. — Greensburg
iPa.) Tribune. \ /

TpHE policy of the Federal Government in closing all saloons in
-*" the Indian lands ceded to the United States in 1855, and now
constituting a greater portion of the State of Minnesota north of
the forty-sixth parallel, has been upheld by the Supreme Court as a
valid exercise of the guardianship over the 7,000 Indians still in
that section. More ^han 382,000 white persons live in the ceded
territory. — Williamsport (Pd.) Grit.

A TREATY dated 1797, sanctioned by the Senate and signed
-'^ by the President/ was successfully used by three Seneca In-
dians in the Supreme Court as a defense agairtst the charge that they
were illegally fishing in Eighteen-Mile Creel^ says a Buffalo dis-
patch. The arrests were made by a deputy warden.

The case came before Justice Pooley on habeas corpus proceed-
ings. Chief Kennedy produced the book containing the treaty
which gave the Indians perpetual rights to fish and hunt in the sec-
tion of the country where they were arrested. \

Justice Pobley held that the treaty superseded the State laws
and the Indians were released. — Houston (Tex.) Post.

,'>

)

A Blackfeet Conveyance in the Days of Spo Pee

• i

Mn. Malcom Clark and Her Three Children at Their Home on the Blackfeet Reservation, Montana

;?'j!Zii''A.x::iiK^i!"

September \\

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TheEedManIE 13

L .aliliti^llb.ariHlh..rtibi. Jlli.^ftii.

with the white man. All day they rode and at night they came back
to the village, but something had happened during the day.

The war party had been gone but a few hours when a war party
of the white men rode out from one of the army posts with a brutal
officer at its head. The soldiers rode over the brow of the hill and
down a gentle slope, and there they came upon the Indian village.

Only the women, children and the old men were home, for the
braves and the warriors had gone away on the war path. Simple
and terrible were the directions the officer gave to his men.

"Wipe 'em outP' was his order, and then followed one of those
Far West tragedies that cause the white man shame even to this day.
The soldiers were soldiers and war is war, so the women and the
children and the old men had no chance. Unarmed and defense-
less they stood and died while the bullets rained upon the camp.

Every woman, every child, and every Indian patriarch perished
there on the prairie, for the white men, hardened with Indian war-
fare, showed them no mercy. Slaughtered in their wigwams not an
Indian lived to tell the tale. The bodies were dragged outside and
the village set on fire. The cavalrymen mounted their horses and
rode away over the horizon.

At evening the Indian war party returned to find only a heap of
ashes and the dead bodies of their families to mark the busy village
that had stood there at dawn. Spo Pee, searching with the others,
suddenly grew stiff and the cry of a wounded animal came from his
throat. Before him lay the murdered form of his mother beside
the ashes of his wigwam.

The Oath of Revenge.

SPO PEE said never a word as he prepared her body for the In-
dian burial. They made a little Indian cemetery of the victims,
placing the bodies on the rude platforms, out of the way of the
wolves and coyotes, and then Spo Pee went on the warpath in
earnest. No longer was the white man the enemy of his people.
The white man was now Spo Pee's own deadly enemy and he swore
an oath that he would not die until ten of the white men were gone
to their reckoning as payment for his mother's murder.

The old army records show that the officer who ordered the
massacre was severely reprimanded for his bloody work, but all
the reprimands of earth would not restore the mother to Spo Pee.

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September

A day or two later the body of a murdered white man was found
on the plains. Spo Pee was rounded up by the soldier patrol and
because he was the only Indian found in the Territory of Montana
near the body of the white man, he was brought to trial before the
Territorial courts.

The proud spirit of the Indian brave scorned to beg for mercy
or even to plead in his own behalf. He was found guilty of murder
by the court, but the judge was a kind man and he felt that Spo
Pee, if he killed the white man, had been acting along the natural
lines of Indian revenge.

The penalty for murder in Montana in those days was a quick
hanging, the quicker the better, but Spo Spee had earned the sym-
pathy of the trial judge and the sentence was made life imprison-
ment, rather then the death penalty.

Expected Death by Torture.

Y^^^HEN Spo Pee was sentenced to spend all the rest of his life
behind prison bars and never again to feel the freedom of
the wide prairies, his spirit did not bend, for he deigned not to ask
the nature of his fate. He felt that the white man would put him to
death at leisure, and, as befitted a brave of the Blackfeet race, he
would not show a sign that terror was at his heart and brain.

They took Spo Pee to the Detroit Federal prison, and the
name of Spo Pee began to grow dim. To the soldiers he was "only
an Indian" and not worth worrying about. The grass grew long
above Spo Pee's trail and he no longer hunted the buffalo and the
white man on the rolling plains of Montana.

When they locked him up in Detroit Spo Pee merely believed
that his imprisonment was another variety of the refined cruelty of
the white man. He was convinced that his imprisonment was
merely the forerunner of his death — a pause before the white man
led him forth and executed him in some diabolic fashion as hap-
pened to suit the tastes of the white man at that moment.

His guards at the Detroit prison, however, felt that Spo Pee's
mind was failing. His silence only deepened with the passing of
the days, and when the case reached the attention of the prison
officials they decided to send Spo Pee to the Government Hospital
for the Insane at Washington, where all other insane prisoners
were sent.

•^

Septemther

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Spo Pee did not know that he was considered insane. His trans-
portation to the asylum more than thirty years ago was simply
another move in the game of torture, he belived. All attempts to
get him to answer questions at the Government Hospital failed,
just as the same attempts had failed at Detroit.

The days lengthened into weeks and the weeks into years, but
as the years went by Spo Pee became one of the features of the
institution and the Indian and his peculiarity were pointed out to
visitors.

From time to time, parties of Indians came to the Government
hospital and many of them tried to converse with the Blackfeet
brave. But their language was not the language of Spo Pee and he
regarded them with sullen hate and refused to break his silence.
Always he waited, year after year, for the long-delayed vengeance
of the white man, which he felt sure would come some day in
terrible form and end his servitude forever.

The winter of 1913-14 was changing into spring when a party of
Blackfeet Indians came to Washington on business with the agents
of the Great White Father. While they were in Washington, they
decided to visit the Government Hospital where Spo Pee was in-
carcerated, still serving out his life sentence under the belief that
any day might be his last on earth.

Even to Spo Pee the memories of the plains were growing vague,
and he had come to regard his place of confinement as home. The
guards were kindly to the old Indian, but his calm, silent com-
posure never relaxed. When the party of visiting Indians came to
the Government hospital, one of the guards showed them Spo Pee.

"Ask them to talk to him," said one of the guards to the inter-
preter. "He might belong to their tribe.*'

Several of the Indians tried to induce Spo Pee to speak, but they
were not successful. There was a little Indian woman in the party,
however, who was very curious about Spo Pee's history. She de-
termined to persuade the Indian to break his long silence, and she
set about the task with all the patience of an Indian woman.

Lullaby Melts a Heart.

CJPO PEE made a few harsh sounds, but the Indians could not
^ understand. From long silence he had forgotten even the ac-
cents of his native speech.

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Then the little woman pushed forward. She silenced the men
and spoke to Spo Pee. She dropped the questioning tone the
braves had used, and from, her lips came the sounds of the "little
people's talk" — the baby talk of the BlackfeeL

They were simple little words she spoke, delivered in a lulling,
sing-song tone, that only the mother and babies of the tribe could
understand. Years before, those sounds had been heard by Spo
Pee at his mother's knee, and they stirred strange memories within
him.

She sang to Spo Pee of the villages, of the plains, of the wide
prairies, and the vanished buffalo. The old man's eyes lit with a
strange fire and she began to question him. She asked Spo Pee,
among other questions, his name, and the long-silent Indian opened
his mouth and said: "Spo Pee.^*

But the little woman did not pause. She kept steadily on her
sing-song chant — the chant of the "litde people," and suddenly Spo
Pee startled those about him with the question: **Where is Three
Bears ?"

This was the first question that had fallen from Spo Fee's lips
in all those long thirty-two years, and one of the members of the
party, startled out of his Indian stolidity by the question, answered:
"Three Bears has been dead for twenty-six years." •
The words, however, meant nothing to Spo Pee, but he under-
stood the Blackfeet death sign and they told him in sign language
of the passing of Three Bears. A shadow passed over the face of
the old Indian and he seemed saddened, but the spoken word had
rolled back the silence of three decades and Spo Pee had spoken.
Two days later the Indian woman came again, and Spo Pee
asked her when the white man would put him to death. Curious
at his question she drew out the story of his strange belief of com-
ing execution and the story made a sensation.

Spo Pee told her of braves long dead and of tribal history that
had died with her fathers. When the Indian woman left the insti-
tution she went at once to the office of Cato Sells, Commissioner of
the Indian Office of the Interior Department. She told Mr. Sells
of the case, and he promised to make an investigation.

Mr. Sells kept his promise to the Indian woman, made not
more than two months ago. He had a search made into the early
court records of Montana, and he laid this data before the Depart-
ment of Justice. It was found that the white man for whose mur-

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der Spo Pee had been sentenced to life imprisonment had really
been killed across the border in Canada and that the Montana court
was without jurisdiction.

Spo Pee was questioned, and he declared that he killed the man
in self defense. He said the man was a trader who tried to kill him
and that to save his own life Spo Pee struck first. The Depart-
ment of Justice acted favorably on the case, but while all this in-
vestigation was being made the news of it was kept from Spo Pee
and from the public. Mr. Sells said he was afraid that a hitch
might occur, and if the old Indian had been told his hopes might
have been raised, and the failure of the investigation would embitter
him still further against the white man.

The time came when the Department of Justice acted favorably
on the application of Spo Pee for a pardon. This application was
made by Commissioner Sells on behalf of the old warrior and he
was in total ignorance of the effort that was being made on his be-
half. Finally the matter was placed before the President and the
Department of Justice approved the application for a pardon.

The Great White Father, who does not make haste in deciding
for his Indian children, considered the application for several days
and finally signed it. The application, with the President's signa-
ture attached, was delivered to Commissioner Sells last Tuesday
morning. (July 9, 1914.)

He did not at once go to Spo Pee, but he sent one of the agents
of his ofllice across to St. Elizabeth's, in the Anacostia hills, where
Spo Pee had spent thirty-two years of his life as the price of a ter-
ritorial court blunder, made when the West was "wild and woolly''
and the life of an Indian held at low valuation.

Tardy Justice at Last.

THEY broke the news gently to the old Indian and when he
realized that he was finally free and about to return to his native
Montana hills and prairies, he permitted himself a broad smile. At
9 o'clock Tuesday night Spo Pee, grave of face but happy as a child
at heart, was brought to Commissioner Sells's oflfice in the Pension

Building.

They told him to make ready his belongings for the journey back
to the land of his fathers. They told Spo Pee that the buffalo had
disappeared from the plains, that the Indians, too, were nearly gone,

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IK* September 4

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and that the white man no longer fought with his red brother for
the possession of the land.

Spo Pee nodded gravely and went back to tha Government
Hospital to spend his last night of confinement. Early on Wednes-
day morning he was up at his work. He gathered together all his
belongings and early in the forenoon Spo Pee, accompanied by an
officer of the Indian Office, left Washington for the land of his
fathers.

The Blackfeet have been given a reservation up in Montana,
not very far from the town of Great Falls, and here Spo Pee will go
to live out his days. The white man is making tardy recom pence
for the injustice that cost Spo Pee nearly a lifetime of confinement,
but Spo Pee is an old man now, and hate, like love, cools with age.

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CARLISLE, PA.

Drawn by R. Clapham

IN THE FURY OF THE RUT

t_:j^- ^^e^r- V^c.%.

By James Willard Schultz.

Author of "My Life as an Indian," "Floating on the Missouri." etc

OR more years than I care to
count I have been obsessed by
the desire to write this story
of the person who, born into
the world by a mother with
barren breasts, was reared on
the milk of his parents' dogs.
I have wished to tell what
effect this had upon him phys-
ically and mentally, but I have
been deterred by the fear that no one would
believe me— or rather the old friend who told
it to me— and I do not wish either of us to be
called "nature fakers."

Hugh Monroe (Rising Wolf), ex-Hudson
Bay Company, and €x- American Fur Company
man, told the tale to me in the long ago, and
knowing him so well, knowing him to be abso-
lutely truthful, I believe it. Yet I never would
have retold it had I not obtained evidence to
prove that the story is true. This evening I
met a gentleman who has lived many years in
the far East; he informed me that wolves
steal numbers of children in India ; the moth-
ers place their babes in the shade of a tree
when working in the fields; along comes a
wolf and, snatching one, carries it to the den
to feed to her young. Occasionally, although
generally severely lacerated by the animal's
teeth, for some unknown reason a child is per-
mitted to live and is nursed and fed by the
animals. The British Indian Medical Associa-
tion has recorded five such cases ; the children
were rescued from the wolves and placed in
the Government Asylum in the Hill country.
None of them lived long; the change in diet
and environment caused them to simply waste
away. One of them was the original of Kil-
ling's "Mowgli."

Here, then, is the tale, transcribed from my
journal under the date: December 28, 1879. I
wrote it that night by Rising Wolfs lodge-fire,
and just as he told it to me as we sat smoking
together. I translated it, however ; there were
some Blackfoot guests there also, and he spoke
in their tongue:

"In the first year of my residence with the
Blackfeet, away back in buffalo days, I made
friends with a man named Is-sis-tse (Wolver-
ine), whose lodge w^as always placed next to
the one in which I lived, in that part of the
great camp circle belonging to the Black
Quiver gens. We were both mere youths, but
he had been married for over a year to a girl
much younger than he. She could not have
been more than fifteen when I first met her, a
slender, delicate looking little thing with long,
heavy braids of hair and big, black, intelligent
eyes that had a world of love in them when-
ever they were turned upon her youthful hus-
band. Young as she was, that spring she gave
birth to a boy, a surprisingly large, well-formed
child to spring from such a frail little mother.
As might have been expected in such a child
woman, she had no milk in her breasts for her
offspring. First one woman and then another
was asked to nurse it, but each one had a babe
to nourish and could not rob it for another's
child. Here, there, the infant was carried and
allowed to take a little milk from this one's and
that ones' breast, but it never got a sufficient
quantity. Most likely this changing from one
to another's milk also was a cause of its fre-
quent ilhiesses; any way, the child soon
became thin and puny, and we all thought that
it would die. Both father and mother adored
it, and 'twas pitiful to see them bending over
it, almost distracted when it wailed for that
which was not to be had.

"One evening when I was visiting Is-sis-tse
and planning a hunt, one of his dogs sneaked
into the lodge and sniffed around for scraps of
food. It was a female, and her teats hung low
from her body, swollen and heavy with their
fullness of milk. There !' my friend exclaimed,
pointing at her. There! little mother of my
son, is milk a-plenty; the child shall fatten

on it.*

"Pik-sah-ke (Bird Woman) was horrified.
'What!' she cried, 'feed our child milk of the
most filthy and most despised of animals? I
can not allow it. Most likely the milk would

THE PACIFIC COAST MAGAZINE

173

poison it ; if not — well, surely the gods would
never favor a child reared in that way.'

"Is-sis-tse leaned over, propped his chin wiMi
his hand, and considered her words. Then,
calling the bitch to him, he pressed a little
of her milk into the pahn of his hand and
tasted it. ' Tis rich !' he said, 'thick and rich !
There is no doubt the child would grow fat
and strong upon it; but what you say about
the gods may be true. I will call a feast, invit-
ing a few wise ones to come and talk over this
matter. Hurry and roast a few tongues.* He
stepped outside if the lodge and shouted the
invitations, calling three times each person's
name and adding: *You are invited to come
and eat and smoke with me.'

"They soon came, five ancient 'medicine* men
— ^as the frontiersmen called them. They were
not doctors, however, but, so to speak, priests
of the Sun thought to have great favor with the
lord of day through the eflScacy of a sacred
pipe and various mystic objects they possessed.
The broiled buffalo tongues were placed before
them and they leisurely ate portions of the rich
meat. Then Is-sis-tse filled, lighted, and passed
his big, black stone pipe, and as it went from
hand to hand he told his trouble and asked the
guests' advice. 'Ah!* 'Ah!' they severally
exclaimed, and looked at one another.

" 'What think you of it?' one asked the com-
pany in general And 'What is your opinion
in this, my friends,' queried another.

"'Friend,' said one to Rising Feather, 'you
are the oldest of us all ; wisest of us all ; tell
us what you think about this.'

"Thus appealed to, the white-haired old man
straightened up and, after due deliberation,
said : 'Without doubt, the Sun never intended
dogs' milk for human food, but he caused it to
flow from all animals alike for the same pur-
pose: to support the life of the newly born.
As this poor child's mother has no milk, surely
the gods will not turn from it in anger if it be
fed by an unclean animal. If any harm were
to come, would it not fall upon the parents,
who caused it to take the milk, instead of the
helpless child ? I am of this opinion : the little
one may take the dog's milk, a very small
amount at first, and until we see what effect it
has. You two, the father and mother, you
must purify yourselves, make sacrifices to the
Sun, pray often for his pitj' and powerful help.*

'*'Ai! At! It is truth. Your words are ours,'
his listeners exclaimed.

"Said one: 'Even now the child cries from
hunger ; let it suck the strange teats right here
before us while we pray for its welfare.'

" 'Sis-oom ! Sis-oom !' her master called, and
the huge bitch came sneaking in from her shel-
ter in the sage-brush, where lay her new-born
pups. She was of that breed-of-the-North
dogs that disappeared about the same time as
the buffalo, but from a different cause; in
their case strychnine, with which baits for
wolves were poisoned. There were two dis-
tinct breeds of Blackfeet dogs, both of
undoubtedly ancient lineage and such persist-
ent primitive traits that they inter-bred no
more than do their brothers, the wolves and
coyotes. One of these breeds was a long, low-
set, bench-legged animal like what we can
imagine a cross between a dachshund and a
coyote might be. The other was a huge,
grizzly-coated, wolf-headed, wolf-like dog of
exceedingly aggressive temperament. No white
man was safe from them, especially after night-
fall, unless he wore a blanket or robe when
walking about in camp. Broadly speaking,
they were not demonstratively affectionate
creatures, perhaps for the reason that their
owners never made pets of them; yet they
were very loyal to the members of the lodge to
which they belonged, and when not off forag-
ing were never far from its edge, sleeping
beside it in the coldest winter weather, and in
summer dozing on its shady side.

"Sis-oom cringed before Is-sis-tse with
drooping head, and tail-tip nervously wagging
between her legs, while he fed her morsels
from a sheet of dried meat. 'Her teats must
be washed with sweet-grass water,' said Rising
Feather, who by common consent had become
master of ceremonies. 'Also, the pups must be
killed, that they may not again defile them, and
because there is no more milk than the child
will need. Who will make way with them?'

'There was no answer. Unlike other Algon-
quin tribes, the Blackfeet were not dog eaters,
and moreover, while they considered them to
be foul creatures, they reverenced them in a
way, believing that they possessed certain
occult powers, such as seeing the ghosts that
are abroad in the night. They held it to be a
sin to kill the animals. I doubt if any one of
the people would have made away with them,
but I had no such scruples. While the animal
was being washed with the scented and sacred

174

lyE STERN FIELD

THE PACIFIC COAST MAGAZINE

173

water I hurried out and killed and buried the
seven wee pups.

"At the crucial moment the young woman
hesitated. 'Oh/ she cried, tears streaming
down her cheeks, 'I am afraid— afraid ! Never
was such a thing done before. I fear that the
gods will be angered ; that the milk will prove
poisonous to my child and it will die.'

"'Girl!' said Rising Feather, sententiously,
'unless your child thrives on this milk it must
die anyhow; this is your only chance to save
it ; take courage and let it feed while we pray.*
"The little one voraciously imbibed the
longed-for milk. Sis-oom at first growled omi-
nously and struggled to rise, but Is-sis-tse held
her fast and she soon desisted ; Rising Feather,
having lit a pipe and blown a whiff of smoke
skyward, another to the ground, prayed ear-
nestly : 'Hai-yu, Sun ! Hai-yu, Above People !
And you, dwellers in the deep waters ! Pity us
all ; men, women, children, take pity on us all
and give us long life, abundant food, good
health, and happiness. Hai-yu! all you Sacred
Ones! Listen to my prayer. Pity this poor
child ; it can not live except by the milk of this
unclean animal. Cause this milk to strengthen
it, oh, Sacred Ones! Let the child grow fat
and strong upon it, let it live to become a pow-
erful hunter ; a terror to the enemy ; the pride
of the father and mother who so dearly love
it. Hai-yu! all-powerful Gods! listen, oh,
listen to this prayer and have pity on us all.'

*'* Hai-yu! Hai-yu!' the listeners cried.
'Grant his prayer, oh. Sacred Ones! It is our
wish; listen to this prayer and have pity on
us all.'

"There was an interval of silence in the
lodge ; and all eyes instantly watched the child
enjoying its long-needed nourishment. *It has
had enough for the present,' said Rising
Feather, finally, and Pik-sah-ki snatched the
child to her bosom. It cried loudly upon being
separated from its new-found food supply.
Sis-oom, released from durance, shot out of
the lodge to her nest in the brush. Again the
big pipe was passed from hand to hand and
the talk became general; a little later we all
arose and went our several ways.

"Sis-oom missed her pups and went whim-
pering and nosing from lodge to lodge in
search of them, at last howling dismally over
her loss. Is-sis-tse called her in to him again,
and the child was fed by her several times dur-
ing the night. By the next evening she had

apparently forgotten all about her pups, and
finding that she was well treated and well fed,
took up her abode in the lodge. In a couple
of more days she regarded the babe as her
own; she was jealous of its mother, whined
for it, and licked it with her soft tongue just
as if it were really her own offspring.

"Weeks passed and the little one thrived
wonderfully upon its extraordinary diet. I am
inclined to believe that dog's milk has more
nutritive, more strengthening properties than
that of the human animal. Naturally the time
came — all too soon — when Sis-oom's teats
began to dry up, and soon after that she would
growl and struggle when required to nurse the
child, although she loved it none the less, and
was uneasy when it was taken away from her
side. Finally, when she would or could give
no more milk, another council was held,
another bitch with new-born pups was selected
to take her place. Sis-oom did not like this
addition to the family, although 'twas one of
her daughters, and nagged and bit the inter-
loper whenever she found an opportunity.

"By the time this second foster mother's
milk ceased to flow, Sis-oom gave birth to
another litter of young which were promptly
put out of the way, and again she nursed the
child. Thus several years passed, Sis-oom
alternating with others of her kind in supply-
ing the child's necessary food. The young one
had early been named by Rising Feather, after
due prayer and sacrifice, Pe-awh-ko-mi (Far-
away-he-howls). This in memory of an inci-
dent in the christener's war days not relevant
to this story.

"Pe-awh-ko-mi, from the beginning of his
creeping — and we may say conscious days —
was happy only when with Sis-oom and the
other dogs of the family. They were well-nigh
inseparable, especially he and Sis-oom. He
seemed to have imbibed something of dog
nature with the milk he thrived upon, and from
constant association with the animals. In his
creeping days he would often grasp Sis-oom
by the hair of each flank as she stood over him
and, hanging on tenaciously, partly rise and
suckle a teat. If annoyed by any one when
creeping about the lodge, he would spring

stiffly forward and back just as a puppy does
under similar provocation, and make queer

little puppy-growl-like exclamations of anger.

When Sis-oom growled or barked he would

scurry to her with all speed.

;

"It was a great trial to Pik-sah-ki that the
boy did not show for her the affection that a
child naturally shows for its mother. Neither
did he care for his father, nor, as he grew
older, for other children. Dogs were his play-
mates and companions, the faithful Sis-oom
always at his side. Once she rescued him from
the river, grievously lacerating an arm in seiz-
ing and dragging him to the shore. Other
children early learned to keep away from him ;
when they found that he would not associate
with them they retaliated by abusing him until,
one day, he seized a youngster larger than
himself, threw him to the ground, and bit his
throat severely, following the example of the
young dogs he played with. Sis-oom, too, was
no friend to other children ; she would not
allow them to go near her foster child.

"Naturally, Pe-awh-ko-mi was a long time
learning to talk, as he associated so little with
his kind. Yet he was more than ordinarily
intelligent, and during the long winter days in
the lodge he could not help but learn, con-
stantly hearing the conversation of his elders.
It was not until he was seven or eight years
old that he began to take some interest in
human affairs. Then, above all things, he
loved to listen to the tales of the gods and the
god-like animals — progenitors of those of the
present day, strange creatures that had the
power of speech and could change themselves
into men and women when they so willed. Of
A.ncient Wolf— he who, away back in the dim
past, in the very beginning of things, was
chief of a village that owned a buffalo corral
where buffalo were tolled over a cliff and into
it to furnish food for the people — he never
tired of hearing. Such tales were not told in
the daytime, lest the tellers, as a punishment
for mentioning the gods while the sun was
above the horizon, should lose their eyesight.
So the boy went often and more often to Ris-
ing Feather, who was already blind, and lis-
tened to his stories of Ancient Wolf and others
through long hours. Intently he listened and
pondered, never tiring. He learned the 'Wolf .
Song* the old man taught him, a strange, weird
song which, although it is a song without
words, makes the listener fairly see the wide,
sombre plains, and distant wolves, grim, gaunt,
lifting their melancholy voices in long-drawn
rising and falling cadence. 'Grandfather,' the
child would say, 'Did I not sing it correctly?
I know the wolves; I hear them nights; I

know what they are thinking when they cry
so long and sadly away out there in the dark.'

" 'And what do they think ?' Rising Feather
would ask.

" 'Oh ! much, my grandfather. Mostly they
cry because their hearts are low; they mourn
for their dead and the days when they, too,
lived in comfortable lodges surrounding a cor-
ral red with the meat of buffalo.'

**'Ai! At! No doubt; no doubt,' the old
man would agree, sagely nodding his head.
'They do, indeed, cry sadly.'

"When Pe-awh-ko-mi was fourteen years
old Rising Feather's shadow departed to the
Sand Hills, where are congregated the shad-
ows (souls) of all the Blackfeet who have
gone before. After his death the youth kept
more aloof from his people than before. Try
as his parents would, they could not induce
him to treat them with affection. He simply
would not or could not share their joys and
sorrows. He was never cross with them; he
was always dutiful; but he asked not to know
what was in their hearts. He hid his thoughts
from them and when in the lodge would sit
and stare absently at the fire, never speaking
save to answer some question. In pleasant
weather he was always away with his dogs —
Sis-oom's numerous descendants — exploring
the country adjacent to camp, and as he grew
older riding far out on the plain, the dogs
trailing along at his horse's heels. In time he
became a skillful hunter, a good shot, and kept
the lodge well supplied with meat and skins.

"On one of his hunts Pe-awh-ko-mi captured
three wee wolf pups and brought them home.
As he had been raised, so were they — on dog's
milk, which they shared with three pups of
their own age. Although she strenuously
objected to the little strangers at first, their
foster-mother soon came to regard them as
her own offspring. They grew to be huge
specimens of their kind, and showed great
affection for Pe-awh-ko-mi. It was interest-
ing to see them playing with him, wagging
their tails and frisking like so many dogs, or
trailing after him for a hunt.

"It was customary to learn the way of the
war trail at an early age. The youths went a
number of times with parties as novitiates —
pipe-bearers and servants of the partisans or
leaders of the expeditions. One morning,
when he was about seventeen years of age,
Pe-awh-ko-mi surprised his parents by inform-

176

WESTERN FIELD

THE PACIFIC COAST MAGAZINE

1/7

ing them that he was going to war and asked
his mother to furnish the necessary equipment :
several pairs of moccasins, an awl, some nee-
dles, sinew thread, and a pouch of pemmican.
Of course they objected to his plan, especially
when they learned that he intended to go alone.
*You have had no experience,* said his father.
*You will surely fall into the hands of the

enemy.'
"Watchfulness and caution will enable mc

to avoid that,' he replied.

" 'You have not yet taken the great fast and
found a sacred helper,' his mother urged.

" *I do not need the fast,' he told thcoL 'Ever
since I can remember, Ancient Wolf has been
my sacred helper, and none of the gods have
greater power. I know that he will help me
to escape the dangers that everywhere await
those who go away to war.'

" *If go you will, then I must accompany you
and teach you the way of it all,' said his father,
*but first we will have a sacred sweat, purify-
ing our bodies; we will make sacrifices, and
we will get a sacred-pipe man to daily call out
our names before the people and pray for us
during our absence.'

"That does not please me!' Pe-awh-ko-mi
exclaimed. 'Ancient Wolf, I tell you, is my
sacred helper and I need no other; nor any-
thing else that you mention. Also, I go alone.'

"He did go alone— save for his three wolves,
from which he never parted. The people who
stood grouped about their lodges watching his
departure shook their heads. Pe-awh-ko-mi
was a mystery to them; they did not care to
talk about him, but they thought much. Was
he, they wondered, a sane person, and as he
claimed to be, truly a favorite of Ancient Wolf,
or was there something lacking in his intelli-
gence? Some there were who hinted that a
person who had been raised on dogs' milk
might be expected to act differently from other
people.

"There was sadness enough in one lodge.
Is-sis-tse and Pik-sah-ki sat by their little fire
and talked about the absent one. 'He never
would listen to my counsel,* the father com-
plained.

"*0h! powerful gods,' the mother cried,
'guide him back safely to us who so dearly love
him. Oh, you Above People! Make love to
grow in his heart for us, even as our hearts
are full of love for him !' Daily, and for many

days, the two made sacriBccs to the sacred
ones and prayed for their son's safe return,

**Pc-awh-ko-mi was away a very long time —
so long that it was thought he was dead ; and
then, one day, to the surprise of every one, he
returned. He rode into camp driving a fine
band of horses, leading one packing a lot of
weapons and finery of all kinds, and followed
by his wolves. Three scalps were tied to the
mane of the horse he rode. He came silently,
not with a rnsh and singing die victory song
as do those retoming from successful raids.
He did not even smik as he rode through the
great camp, and looked neither to the rigjit
nor left. Therefore, the people did not shout
his name in praise, but stood and as silently
watched him. He dismounted in front of his
lodge ; his mother came out and, clasping him
to her bosom, began rhanting the song of
praise. He released himself from her arms
and entered the lodge, leaving her to unpack
and care for the horses. The wolves scattered
the dogs from the shady side of the lodge,
scratched the ground, turned around and
around, and laid down.

"How happy Is-sis-tse was when he saw his
son, and how proud when the mother broc^t
in in the fine weapons and beautiful things that
had made up the padL 'TcU us about it,' he
said, examining the weapons and smoothing
out the finery. Tell us where you went, my
son, what you did, how you obtained these
beautiful things and Ac scalps.'

" 'I just took them,* Pe-awh-ko-mi replied.
'I killed the men and took their scalps and
property. Where? Oh, over on the other side
of the Back-bone-of-tfie-world' (the Rocky
Mountains). He would say no more about his
raid. Many visitors came to the lodge. Is-sis-
tse feasted them and passed the usual number
of pipes, and felt relieved when they were gone,
they were so very strange in their ways because
he could not— and his son would not— tell the
story of this successful raid.

'•From that time on, between greening grass
and falling leaves, Pe-awh-ko-mi passed his
days in lone expeditions of war. Always he
returned with plunder — horses, fine wearing
apparel, weapons, and often scalps. On one of
his earlier forays he brought back a handsome
young woman. He did not tell— and she could
not— where he had captured her. She seemed
not to understand signs, and her language was
diflFercnt from any the Blackfeet had ever

heard. She was a busy worker and kept her
lodge neat and clean. She made no friends,
turning coldly from even her mother-in-law.
Theirs was, indeed, a mystery lodge. No one
ever heard the young couple talk or laugh;
they never entered other lodges and gave no
feasts; they had no children. Because they
were regarded with suspicion and even dread,
by some, mothers would scare unruly children
into obedience by saying : 'Hush ! Mind, now,
or I will call Pe-awh-ko-mi.'

"With certain of the surrounding tribes the
Blackfeet were on friendly terms. These, in
turn, were friendly with others whom the
Blackfeet ever warred against. Through those
friendly to both sides passed news of one
enemy to the other. From the Kootenays the
Blackfeet learned that the Pen d'Orilles, the
Flat Heads, Nez Perces, and others beyond the
Back-bone-of-the-world lived in constant fear
of a strange and powerful enemy who not only
stole their horses and other property, but
prowled around their camps and killed unwary
men by seizing them and, apparently, tearing
open their throats with his teeth. The Gros
Ventres also told of this terrible person ; they
said that the Crows, the Assinnaboines, Chey-
ennes, and Crees were frequently harassed by
one they had named 'Weasel-man,' because he
killed his victims just as that animal does— by
cutting their throats in order to suck their
blood. Not a mark of knife, arrow, or war
club had ever been found on any of his
victims.

"The visitors who brought news of the ter-
rible Weasel Person of course heard what
their hosts suspected, that this tearer of throats
was no less a person than Pe-awh-ko-mi ; and
through them in time the far tribes learned
that he who so harassed them was a Blackfoot.
Thus it came about that one day in new-grass
time a deputation of Gros Ventres arrived in
the Blackfeet camp with a message from the
Crows. 'We learn,' said the latter, 'that one
of your people, a man named Pe-awh-ko-mi, is
the person who has so long infested our coun-
try and killed so many of our people in a foul
and fearful manner. To Pe-awh-ko-mi, there-
fore, our young warrior Broad Eagle sends
these words : "Dog- face ! I dare you to meet
and fight me at any place you may choose
within the next two moons. I do not expect
you to do so, for I believe you to be a coward,
a despicable dog who dares not meet an enemy
face to face." '

"Having heard the messengers, the Blackfeet
chiefs considered the matter and then sent for
Pe-awh-ko-mi. He refused to attend their
council. Tell them,' he surlily said to the
young messenger, 'that if they wish to sec me
they can come here to my lodge.'

"Humiliating as this was, they were, per-
force, obliged to go to him, accompanied by the
Gros Ventres. It was the first time any of
them had entered the lodge, and as they took
their seats they looked around it curiously, and
some of them, perhaps, half fearfully, expect-
ing to see gruesome things there stored.
Weapons and costumes and scalps of the
enemy there were, more than they had ever
seen in the possession of one man, but nothing
unusual met their eyes and they were some-
what disappointed. Pe-awh-ko-mi gave them
no greeting, lit no pipe; his silent, sad-faced
woman prepared no feast; there was a long,
embarrassing silence, and evidently the young
man did not intend to break it At last old
Under Bull, the head chief, coughed hesitat-
ingly and began : 'Kyi! Pe-awh-ko-mi. You
have heard the tales that our friends have
brought from time to time about a man who
kills certain of our enemies by tearing open
their throats ? 'Well,' the chief continued, 'thus
and thus they say:' repeating the awful tales
as shortly as possible— 'and at last they declare
that you are that person. Do they speak the
truth ?'

"There was no answer, Pe-awh-ko-mi gazing
•abstractedly at the ground in front of him as
if he had not heard. More and more ill at
ease. Under Bull hesitated long before con-
tinuing what he had to say : 'The Crows send
you a message by the young Gros Ventres;
their leader will repeat it to you,' he concluded,
with a sigh of relief.

"Nervously, and as quickly as possible, the
young man gave him Broad Eagle's words.
Pe-awh-ko-mi straightened up in his seat, his
jaws clicked sharply, and his eyes shone. T
will meet him!' he said, in a voice that was
almost as loud as the roar of a wounded grizzly.
'I will meet the Broad Eagle. Do you chiefs
agree with the Crows as to the time and the
place.'

"In the season of ripe cherries was the time
appointed for the meeting of the two combat-
ants, and the place was to be at the junction
of Warm Spring stream and the Yellow River
(the Judith). Thither the Crows moved from
the Yellowstone, making frequent camps and

178

WESTERN FIELD

hunting by the way, and thither also traveled
the Blackfeet in the same manner from the
North country. The two tribes had agreed
upon a truce, to be broken under no considera-
tion for at least a moon after the meeting of
the two men.

"In due time scouts of each tribe reported
that the other was but a day's journey away,
and then, one afternoon, the Blackfeet trailed
down into the timbered valley of the large
stream, the Crows into that of Warm Spring,
and soon hundreds of new-made lodges
gleamed white in the green cottonwood and
willow groves. The great chiefs met and
feasted and counciled, making final arrange-
ments regarding the matter that had brought
the hostile tribes together. There was much
visiting and feasting and dancing; it was as
though they had ever been friends and allies
instead of enemies.

"The combat was set to take place on the
fourth day, and a place was chosen for it on
the bare plain between the two streams. Those
were anxious days for Is-sis-tse and Pik-sah-ki.
They constantly visited their son to give
advice, to entreat him to make rich sacrifices
and pray the gods for success. As always, he
made no reply, gave no sign that he heard
them. They made sacrifices to the Sun for him,
and the mother — whose love never failed in
spite of his coldness — vowed to build a Sun-
lodge if the great god favored him in the com-
ing strife. That Pe-awh-ko-mi did not care
for his parents was another reason why thtf
Blackfeet so disliked him, for that was consid-
ered a great sin.

"The morning of the anxiously-awaited day
came at last and the people hastened to the
appointed place, the Crows gathering on the
south, the Blackfeet on the north side of it.
The Seizer bands — police of the camps —
allowed none to go there armed ; a death strug-
gle was to take place and in the excitement of
it, had they weapons, relatives and partisans
of the combatants might start an encounter
that would involve the whole people. There
was a long wait; the great crowds talked in
low tones; their voices sounded like the far-
away hum of marsh flies. At the east side of
the place stood the chiefs of the two tribes
having a final talk. At last they raised their
hands and shouted to the fighters to come
forth.

"The young men arose at once, cast aside
their robes, walked out from the edge of the

lines of anxious spectators, and stopped, facing
each other. Proud and straight and tall they
were, and richly dressed in fringed and painted
garments of fine buckskin and trailing head
dresses of eagle-tail feathers. The Crow car-
ried two scalps attached to his shield. The
other's war shirt, front, back, and sleeve seams,
and the outer seams of his leggins were black
with them. It was the first time the people
had seen him so dressed, and loud and deep
were the exclamations of surprise. How many,
many were the lives that were represented by
the black and glossy fringe!

"Raising bow and quiver and shield and then
depositing them on the ground, Pe-awh-ko-mi
cried: T dare you to lay yours aside.' The
Crow did so without a word. In like manner,
at the Blackfoot's challenge, they cast aside
their knives. Their sole weapon was the war
club — a small, oblong, sharp-pointed stone
securely fastened to a semi-pliable handle of
rawhide bound with willow withes. At Pe-awh-
ko-mi's side stood a big wolf, the only one he
had at that time. Numbers of them he had
raised, but they generally disappeared in the
mating season to breed and raise their young,
occasionally returning to him when that task
was completed.

"Broad Eagle was the first to move, starting
toward his enemy with slow and careful steps.
Pe-awh-ko-mi did not move. Nearer and
nearer the Crow came to him and the people
held their breath in their anxiety. Was it pos-
sible, they asked themselves, that their strange
kinsman was, after all, a coward? I was anx-
ious, as excited as the rest; there was a chok-
ing sensation in my throat — my heart beat
furiously and a strange chill crept over me.

"It happened quicker than anything I ever
saw before or have seen since: Pe-awh-ko-mi
suddenly rushed at his enemy, parrying a blow
with his war club that sent the other's weapon
whirling into the crowd, and stooping, he
seized the Crow below the knees and tossed
him backward over his head. The man struck
the ground prone on his breast, and before he
could move Pe-awh-ko-mi was upon him, seiz-
ing him by the wrists and bending his arms
backward and together until he had them
firmly in his grasp. He seemed to have the
strength of a dozen men. Half turning the
prone and helpless Crow, with a fearful cry of
rage and triumph he bent and buried his teeth
in his victim's throat, and so did the wolf
which had been restlessly, excitedly following

THE PACIFIC COAST MAGAZISE

179

Lis movements. Both man and animal tore at
it in a perfect frenzy of delight. For an
instant the man paused and looked up, seeming
not to see the people who stood speechless,
motionless, horrified at the ghastly sight of
him — mouth, cheeks, chin, and bosom smeared
with red blood, and he clearing it from his lips
with his tongue ! Unwarily he had released his
hold of his victim, and the dying Crow, push-
ing aside the wolf with one hand, with a last
convulsive effort raised up and struck him fair
in the temple with the other, in which was
clutched a piece of sharp and slender rock. It
pierced the bone, and the Blackfoot fell over
on the Crow with twitching muscles and died
before the latter bled to death.

"A great roar went up from the people, and
with one accord the relatives of the dead men
rushed to the still forms. Pe-awh-ko'mi's

woman was the first to reach them ; shrieking,
laughing, dancing with joy, she spat upon the
body of her man, kicked it, grabbed up hand-
fuls of earth and cast them in the bloody face.
Then, breaking away from those who seized
her, she fled through the crowd and disap-
peared, and was never seen nor heard of again.
"And so died Pe-awh-ko-mi, the most un-
understandable and bloodthirsty man who ever
trod the Northwest plains."

♦ ♦ ♦

Dear old Hugh Monroe— superstitious man
that he was— was always firm in the belief that
with the milk of the dog, upon which he was
raised, Pe-awh-ko-mi acquired the instincts,
the traits of the dog. In other words, he
believed that matter in a marked degree affects
the mind. Who shall say that he was mis-
taken ?

Among the Black feet at Festival-Time.

By James W. Schultz, of Kipp, Montano.

for mYn v"" ^^rl^^l" \^u'i''Z^'''^\^\: ^^^''^^^ ^'"^^^^^ ^^^ ^^^^^ ^"^°"& ^^^^e picturcsquc redskins

^L^^^JjrZ'J K ""^ ^'^ r^^'u'^^^ ^^^ ^ "^^^ scientific value, partly on account of its absolute

nn^^L^L? }^^ because of the extraordinary photographs with which he has furnished his text.

ZLl ^lA^ u'^ ^^'""^^ a graphic account of perhaps the most remarkable Pagan ceremony

in tnc world, with striking photographs showing almost every phase of the curious ritual.

HE Blackfeet Indians reside in
Northern Montana and in the pro-
vince of Alberta, Canada. 1 hey
have been separated so long from
the parent stock (the Algonquins)

that they now have nothing in common with

their brother tribes. Their

customs and traditions have

changed, their dialect is

different, and they have, for

a very long time — several

centuries, in fact — been at

war with the people of their

own blood.

In their prime they num-
bered 80,000 souls. To-day

there are but 6,000. War

with the white man, small-
pox, and "fire water" have

nearly exterminated the race.
A general study of the

Blackfeet, their conditions

and customs, has well repaid

the writer for the years he

has spent among them ; and

of especial interest to him

has been their religion. It

is quite without a parallel

among all the peoples of

the world, civilized or savage,

for it provides no happy

future life for the departed

spirits.

The origin of the devotion

to the Sun is traced to a

mythical brave named Scar-
face, so-called because of a

disfigurement. Scarface made

love to the daughter of a

rich chief, and she told him

that she would marry him

when he got rid of his scar.

It was unkind, but Scarface

resolved to see what could

be done. After consulting

all the animals, from the wolverine to the

wise beaver, he was taken across the great

waters by two swans to the land where the Sun

and Moon hved, with their son Morning Star.

All the other children of the Sun and Moon

MR. JAMES W. SCHULTZ WRITES FROM THE
BLACKFEET RESERVATION AS ** ONE OF THEM-
SELVES," AND IS THEREFORE AN UNQUES-

From a] tioned authority. [Photo.

had been killed off by some mysterious birds,
whom Scarface tackled and demolished one
after the other. He was cut up himself, how-
ever, and returned home to have his wounds
bound up by the horrified Moon. When the
Sun came home and learnt what had been

done, he asked Scarface to
name his own reward.

On the earthly visitor ask-
ing to have his scar removed
the Sun produced a mys-
terious black ointment and
anointed him. Not only was
the disfigurement taken away,
but Scarface was a changed
man, radiantly beautiful to
look upon. Thereafter the
Sun took him into his confi-
dence, and taught him all
the mysteries of his power
and medicine, and how the
people of the earth should
pray to him and make
sacrifices. Finally, the Sun
gave the young man certain
medicine tokens, as well as
beautiful weapons and clothes,
and then Scarface parted
sadly with the Moon, and
with Morning Star, who was
very sorry to lose his friend.
Finally, the Sun led him
forth and pointed far, far
away to where they could
see the earth, wide and flat.
And he showed him a broad,
shining road,* saying : "Fol-
low that, and it will take you
straight home."

Scarface faithfully carried
out the Sun's instructions,
teaching the people how to
pray to him and make sacri-
fices ; how to build the great
lodge which they were re-
quired to give the god each year, and what
ceremonies to perform when doing so. Thus,
through this young man, the people became
possessors of great knowledge, and learned

* The Milky Way. _ " ^

MY "MECCA" BET, AND HOW I WON IT.

AMONG THE BLACKFEET AT FESTIVAL-TIME

great effort, however, I had the tact to utter
these words : " In the name of the Rasoul^
bring me water, for I am fainting from my
wounds."

The result of this appeal was extraordinary,
for the two men at once turned and left me at a
run in order to get me what I wanted. Half
crazy with terror, I pushed my way through the
dense throng, and hurried in the direction of
our khan. Before I had gone 300yds. I was
amazed to see before me the un-
fortunate Kolobja, calmly strolling
about and ** doing " the sights, for
all the world as though he were a
tourist. I hurriedly pulled at his
garment, and whispered to him to
follow me. I am afraid that this in
itself drew suspicion upon us both.
Perhaps he did not recognise me,
owing to the blood that covered my
face ; but, at any rate, he remained
where he was. I had no time to
return for him, and hurried on as
fast as I decently could. I looked
neither to the right nor to the left
until I had gone a long way, and
then I ventured to look back. What
I saw thrills me with horror eveft at
this distance of time. The wretched
Kolobja was in the hands of the twa
men who had suspected me in the
Kaaba, and I have no doubt that he
was torn to pieces after a short
examination. The unhappy man has
never been heard of since, so there
cannot be the least doubt as to his
fate. To this day I am much
affected when I see the photo, of
him which I have lent for reproduc-
tion in this narrative/ '

Blame me or not as you please for not going
to his assistance; but I ask you, what good
would it have been? Would it not have meant
the loss of two lives instead of one ? My con-
science is clear.

When I saw that Kolobja was seized I fairly
raced out of the city, and then pushed on and
on, thirsty and hungry, until I tumbled exhausted
to the groundy only half conscious. I remained
thus until the evening, when I roused myself

and took the main caravan road. I tried io
clean my face with dust, and covered my
wounded forehead with the garment I had
about me. 1 then hurried straight on into the
desert until I was at least three miles from
Mecca.

Here I spent the night in hunger and
wretchedness, and next morning joined a caravan
returning to Jeddah, posing as a devout beggar
throughout the journey. And certainly I was a

WHEN I SAW THAT KOLOBJA WAS SEIZED I FAIRLY RACED OUT OK THE CITY.

beggar, in that I had to beg for food, and devout
in my thankfulness at my miraculous escape.
I was obliged to walk the whole of the way
to Jeddah (about five days), as I had no money
with me. Arrived there once again, I was
helped by the agent of M. Klong and others
whom I knew directly or indirectly. A day or
two later I sailed direct to Port Said, proceeding
from there to Constantinople and from thence
home to Sofia.

».

Vol. v.~11.

where to turn in times of sickness, danger, and
distress.

Now, I have transcribed the above straight
from one of my note-books, in which I wrote it
many years ago, just as it was told me by the
old men of the tribe as we sat about the
evening fire. A digression it is, and, as matter,
outside the peculiar scope of The Wide
World; but you will see that it is not irre-
levant It is indispensable if you wish to
understand what follows. Many changes have
taken place since the dim days of Scarface.
The buffalo has disappeared, and the Blackfeet
themselves become a race of herders— raisers of
beef instead of hunters of buffalo. They have
become proficient in many of the ways of
civilization, but through all their varied ex-
perience they have faithfully clung to their
religion. Missionaries have threatened them
with a life in hell instead of the Sandhills,*^
and the Government, even, which guarantees
religious liberty to all, has sought to prevent
them from holding their annual festival to the
Sun, It was held as usual last summer, and
armed with a camera, and accompanied by an
artist friend, the writer attended it from start to
finish.

In his instructions to Scarface the Sun said
that when any male person was grievously
sick, or in great danger, it would be proper
for his wife or mother to vow to build a
great lodge to the god, and make sacrifices
to him, if only he would cause the one in
question to regain his health or escape the
dangers which beset his way. If the person
making the vow were pure and good, if the one
prayed for w^as deserving, then the Sun said he
would heed the prayer of the female suppliant.
As usual, there was much sickness among the
Blackfeet last winter, and before spring several
women had painted their faces and clothing red
— the sacred colour ; and had gone about
through the camp, calling on everyone to bear
witness that if the people they prayed for were
restored to health they would build a lodge for
the Sun and make many sacrifices to him.
When making this vow it was the duty of any
man who knew that the woman was not every-
thing she ought to be to say so, whereupon she
would be in disgrace for the rest of her life.
In the old days if it happened that a wicked
woman made the vow she was killed by the
soldier band.

Spring came at last, and preparations were
b^un for the great festival. The tongues of
the cattle butchered at the Agency weekly were

* Sandhills, the mythical purgatory of these Indians (Blackfeet—
Spat-si- Kwa), a barren, sandy waste lying to the north-east of the
Cypress HilU, Province of Alberta, Canada.

collected by the medicine women, as we may
term those who made the vow, until they had
300— the number the Sun required. As fast as
they were obtained these tongues were cut into
thin sheets, and dried with much ceremony by
the medicine women, and certain other women
whom they called in to help. Before being cut
the tongues were boiled for a few moments, and
not a drop of the water was allowed to be
thrown out, it being drunk as soon as cool.
While the tongues were being cut some old
men sang, one after another, some medicine
songs, principally songs without words. There
are 300 different songs for the tongue cut-
ting. The moment a woman makes the vow
abo'. e mentioned there are certain things which
are for ever after prohibited to her. For example :
she must never handle meat, nor dig in the
ground ; she may not touch a bear skin ; cannot
build a fire, nor carry out ashes from the fire-
place. These rules the Sun made in order that
those performing this vow should be distin-
guished as under his special protection. Anyone
breaking one of them is sure to go blind.

The place selected for the building of the
great medicine lodge last year was a broad level
flat several miles to the west of the Agency,
where there was ample room for the great camp.
The time always appointed is the opening of the
servis-berry season, when the fruit hangs ripe and
dark on every bush— that is to say, generally in
the last days of June. We repaired to the place
on the 28th, and the next day the camp moved
in. At the head of the long procession
came the medicine women,* riding their red-
painted horses very slowly, and accompanied by
their husbands. Following them came their
pack-horses bearing the sacred tongues and the
medicine sacks containing the incense, paints,
and costumes. Then came the main body of
the people riding and driving— a long, long
column of them ; and as they arrived they took
up their appointed places on the flat and pre-
pared their camp. In a few minutes all but the
centre of the prairie, where the Sun's lodge was
to be, was covered with the white tepees of the
tribe ; and the horses, hundreds and hundreds
of them, were turned out to graze on the
neighbouring hills.

The next day the actual ceremonies of the
festival began. Four days of certain rites were
to be performed, and on the last of them the
huge lodge to the Sun was to be erected. In a
large tepee on the north side of the unoccupied
portion of the flat the holy medicine women
were gathered with their husbands. They had
put on the garments prescribed by the Sun,

* I was strictly forbidden to take a photograph of these interest-
ing devotees-

THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE.

THE UKOAD LKVEL FLAl' SELECTED FOK THE MEDICINE LODGE FESTIVAL LAi.T SI'KING. ALL EVEi* ASM FIXED OX SOiaE MEJklliEKS OF

THE PARTED HAIR SOCIETY, WHO ARE SHOWING HOW THEIR PAST GREAT DWEEBS VEKB DCKKEl.

From a Photo, specially taken ^or " Tlu WuU IVitrid Jtl^mxme,"

which have been handed down from one to
another for generations. They consisted of
dresses made of elk-skin, with togas of the same
material and head-dresses of snake-skin, of
raven-tail feathers, and the white-furred weasel
Their faces were painted red with an outer
band of black, thus representing day and
night. We endeavoured to get a photograph
of these women, but were forbidden to bring
the camera anywhere in their vicinity. They
began on the first day to give portions of the
sacred tongues to the people, who came in
crowds as soon as the sun had risen. The
husbands of these women priests, with a
number of aged men, sat by to see that no un-
deserving woman obtained any of this sacred
food. No one whose reputation was not of the
best was allowed to receive the strange sacra-
ment. As each family was given its portion
(from a quarter to a whole tongue), they went
on to make way for others, and then the
portion was divided so that each member
received a little of it. Holding it aloft,
everyone then said a
prayer to the Sun, ask-
ing for long life, health,
and happiness, as well as
an abundant supply of
food and protection from
the enemy. Then break-
ing off a small bit of the
meat and pushing it into
the earth, each one said :
" Oh, ground person ! Oh,
mother, we present to you
a piece of this sacred
tongue. Have mercy on

After the prayer they ate their portions in
silence, and then, separating, went about visiting
and gossiping as usual. Having given out
tongues for a time, the medicine women
repaired to a point just east of the place
reserved for the Sun's lodge, and erected a
sweat-house of one hundred willows, one half
of the sticks being painted black and the other
half red. Rocks were heated near by in a large
fire, and when all was ready the priestesses
escorted the men to it who were to "take the
sweat.'* These were their husbands, and
several old men, who, as owners of various
sacred medicines, were supposed to be especially
favoured by the Sun. The firamework of the
medicine sweat-house was now covered with
robes and blankets. Next, the men one by
one ciawled inside, and divested themselves
of their clothing. The hot rocks were then
passed in and placed in a little hole dug in
the centre of the structure. A pail of water was
now handed in, and on top of the lodge was
placed the skull of a large bufialo-bull, half of

AMONG THE BLACKFEET AT FESTIVAL-TIME.

its broad, white forehead being covered with
spots of red paint and one half with black.
These spots represented the shots of the enemy,
which, among other things, the Sun was to be
petitioned against. All being ready inside, the
oldest of the husbands of the medicine women
dipped a buffalo tail in the water, and sprinkled
the red-hot rocks. Steam began to rise, and all
those with this leader, as well as the women
outside, chanted the buffalo-bull song — a weird,
solemn tune in minor chords. Then the old
man prayed, saying: "Pity us, oh Sun— men,
women, and children. Have pity on us all, and
let us survive. We are building you a lodge. We
are about to fulfil the words of your commands
long since given to our fathers. We pray that
what we are about to do will find favour in your
sight. Give us all a long life. Give us health ;

on the south side. On this the great day of
the ceremonies, crowds of prosaic outsiders —
tourists and excursionists, in fact — b^an to
arrive early. Some were on horseback, some
in wacfiions ; whilst others came by the trains
of the Great Northern Railway, which is here
but a mile from the border of the flat As we
watched . the crowds of people, some of them
fashionably dressed ladies and gentlemen and
children, wandering through the camp and
gazing at the many curious objects, and as we
saw the trains of the Great Northern go thunder-
ing by, we could not help but think of the days
when we had seen this same tribe performing
their religious rites where, as yet, the foot of the
white man had scarcely trod. There they still
roamed the prairies where they willed in search
of the buffalo and the elk, and with savage

IGNORING THE EXCURSION- TRAIN^' OF THE G.N.R., THESE TYPICAL BLACKFEET URATES WEXT THB0I;;GH
THEIR GREAT CEREMONIAL AS THEIR FOREFATHERS DID BEFORE THE WHITB MAX CAME.

From a Photo, specially taken for " The Wide World Magazine*

VEKK tVT ON. NOTICE THE

us.

THE SWEAT-HOUSE OF BENT WILLOW-RODS BEFOSK

CEREMONIAL BUFFALO SXCU.

From a Photo, specially taken /or * Tkt Widk Wmii Me^msime.*

give us plenty of food. Protect us from the
snare of the enemy. Have pity on us; have
pity on us."

The prayer over, more songs were sung, and
then there was further praying by others, and
again more songs, the ceremony lasting perhaps
an hour. When at last the coverings were
raised and the men came out they were dripping
with sweat, and, repairing to the stream near
by, they plunged mlo its cool depths. All this
day, and the succeeding three, the medicine
women neither ate nor drank. They were not
to touch food or water until after sunset of the
day on which the big lodge was erected.

On the second day another sweat-lodge was
erected on the west side of the clear space, and
the same performance was gone through as on
the preceding one. The next day after that
one was built on the north side ; and early in
the morning of the fourth day the last one,
completing the four cardinal points, was erected

ferocity fought and drove away other tribes
which they found upon their lands. That was
but a few years ago; but what a change since
then ! Here was the railway close at hand,
which had brought the change about Here
were the white-skinned people who had hemmed
them in — who, in one way and another, had
reduced their numbers from thousands to hun-
dreds ; and who, in a few short years, would
fence in, plough up, and reside upon this last
remnant of the great hunting grounds of the
red men. And yet here, in the face of these
evidences of civilization — ignorant of the fate
which is soon to overtake them— these poor
people were pra>nng to their god as of yore, and
making sacrifices to him of their best, with
implicit faith that he will still bring them safely
through all adversities.

A number of young men were now digging a
circle of holes in the space between the lodges
in which the forked sticks were to stand, which

THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE.

AMONG THE BLACKFEET AT FESTIVAL-TIME.

HEUE WE HAVE A PHOTOGRAPH OF TME GKEAT M0>10XE IjODG^K ERECTED IN HONOUR OF THE SUN.

ITS C051STKUCT10X WAS llAKKED BY STRANGE CEREMONIES.

From a Pk»t9. sf^ximify imUm fm- ** The Widt World Mag^azitur

EVERY PHASE OF

would form the support of the wall of the great
lodge. Then a larger and deeper hole was
made in the centre of the circle for the great
forked post which would hold up the roof. At
last they were ready, and, springing upon their
waiting horses, hundreds of men hurried away
to the wooded valley over the hill to cut
and bring back the necessary timbers and
brush. Presently they were seen returning,
dragging with their lariats the long poles, heavy
posts, and piles of leafy brush. As the sturdy
horses flew over the
g r o u njd , regardless
of the heavy strain
of the lariats, numer-
ous light riders rode
alongside the posts
and shot them full
of holes, shouting
the war - cry and
singing their songs
of triumph. They
were illustrating the

way they serve the

enemy. Arrived at

the place where the

holes were dug,

each post was laid

in position, ready

to erect ; and then

suddenly a great

hush fell upon the

people. Out from

the lodge where they

had been staying

came the medicine

women, preceded by

their husbands, all

in single file, and

walking very slowly "^"^ j;^ /^ SL tTS^?^

in step to the time Fnm * Pktt*. ^tdmUj tmktm

.iimmi-«ii^mii<l>*«iWH WT'-t l"l' ! »*f ■«

of a sacred song they were singing. The women
wore the costumes they had assumed the first day
of their fast, but the men wore nothing except a
" breech-clout," moccasins, and a black blanket
thrown over their shoulders. Their bodies and
legs were painted red, with black stripes. The
faces of both men and women were painted red,
whilst in black on their foreheads were represen-
tations of the Sun and the Morning Star ; a black
streak was also painted down each cheek just in
front of the ears. Advancing to where the

centre post lay, the
little party passed
entirely round it,
and then stopped a
moment, while the
women offered up
some prayers. Then
they went round it
again and again,
four times in all.
After the last round
the men stepped up
on the post, and the
women returned to
their lodge. After
a moment the men
began the Raven
dance, flapping the
blankets with which
they had covered
their heads in imita-
tion of the bird's
wings. The Sun
told the brave Scar-
face that of all birds
he liked the raven
best — it was so
cunning, so tireless

L KAVEN MEDICINE MEN WHO DANCED ^qJ gUre in itS QUeSt

SEEK AT THE TOP OF THE PAGE. ^ C A "U

^ "7-** Widt WorU Magazitur lOr 1000. ncnCC

the bird plays an
important part in
the ceremonies.
The dancers
stopped at inter-
vals, and at the
conclusion of
their fourth
dance they drop
ped their robes
in the crutch of
the post and
then fled. At
once the young
men of the dif-
ferent societies
of warriors ad-
vanced, singing
and shouting.
They placed the
butt of the post
in the hole,
raised it as high
as they could

with their hands, and then with light lodge-
poles pushed and held it in an upright position,

THESE ARE THE THREE PRIEST-DEVOTEES, WHO DANCE AND PRAY IN THE
MEDICINE LODGE AND WHISTLE WITH THE WING-BONE OF AN EAGLE.

From a Photo, specially taken for " Th€ Wid€ World Magazitur

THE BUFFALO-TAIL SOCIETY OF BRAVES DANCING INSIDE THE MEDICINE LODGE.

From a Photo, specially taken for " The Wide World Magazine:'

while others tamped the dirt firmly about its
base. The wall-posts were then put up, and
long heavy poles placed in the crutches
from one to the other. Next the roof-
poles were laid, the butts of them resting
on the wall frame and the tips in the
crutch of the centre post, in which a
bunch of birch brush had already been
laid. And now a warrior stepped forth
with a fresh beef-hide, which he cut into
strips for fastening the roof-poles to their
supports. As he cut each strip he re-
counted a deed of valour— the killing and
scalping of an enemy here, the taking of a
band of horses there, feats of great danger
he had gone through, and so on. He
was vigorously applauded by the surround-
ing throng. Lastly the brushwood was
laid up against the wall, everywhere save
a space on the eastern side, which was
left for a doorway. Three men now went
inside — men who during the year had
vowed to the Sun that if he would grant
their request (either the recovery of them-
selves or their relations from sickness)
they would act as the Ai-tup-is-kat-si*
when the people built the god's lodge.
The prayers of these three had at least
been granted, for here they were making
preparations to fulfil the vow. As the
women had fasted for four days they
were now to fast so long as the cere-
monies continued— in this case two days.

* Untranslatable.

^,.L..i..3.«v»w.,.. There is no English equivalent fof
this word ; though perhaps as near a definition as may b«
given is "whistles for everyone."

THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE.

OFFERIXGS OF THE INDIANS (kOHES, BLANKETS, ORNAMENTS, ETC.)
HUXG OK THE BIG CENTRE-POST AND APEX OF THE LODGE.

Frwm m, Phato. specially taken for " The Wide World Magazine.''

With some brush they had brought for the pur-
pose they quickly made a little alcove inside the
great lodge, covering the ground with layers of
the prickly juniper vine, upon which they were to
sleep at nights! During the day it was to be
their duty to stand in front of the entrance to
their alcove and whistle, dance, and pray,
each being provided with an ancient whistle
made of the wing -bone of an eagle, which
was blown in imitation of the cry of that
bird. These men were supposed by their
incantations to keep the rain from coming, and
if a black cloud showed itself above the horizon,
they redoubled their exertions, and frantically
waved their hands at it, commanding it to
depart As they had been made well after their
vows to the Sun they were said to have great
influence with the god ; so one after another,
and in little groups, the people came and asked
them to pray to the Sun in their behalf. Each
of the faithful brought his offering to the Sun, a
choice robe, a blanket, or some article of use
and adornment, to all of which were attached
bunches of the sage which is found on all the
plains of the West, and, as the Sun told Scarface,
is a sacred plant. Handing the offering to one
of these priests, as we may call them, the person
asked him to present it to the Sun for him.
The priest first painted a strip of black on the
person's forehead. Then, taking the offering,
he passed it several times over the giver's

shoulders and head, held it aloft, and
uttered the prayer. As these offerings
were received they were hung at the top
of the big centre-post and on the apex of
the lodge, where they remained as mute
evidence of the people's faith in their god
Here, too, in the old days, those warriors .
who had escaped great dangers fulfilled their
promises, and were suspended by incisions
in their back or breast, suffering terrible
agony, until the flesh gave way and they fell
fainting to the ground.

While the people were crowding into the
great lodge to make their offerings there
arose outside a great cry of " Here he is !
Here he comes ! " and we rushed out to
see what was the cause of the excitement.
AVe found an Indian, surrounded by a big
crowd, who held a large, writhing, wriggling
rattlesnake of the deadly diamond-backed
variety in his hands, as carelessly as if it
had been a length of rope. The snake
darted its wicked-looking head here and
there, thrust out its fire-red tongue, and

AMONG THE BLACKFEET AT FESTIVAL-TIME.

SUDDENLY THE MAN OPENED HIS MOUTH AND THE SNAKE

THRUST IN ITS HEAD."

From a Photo, specially taken for " The Wide World Magazine,*

ONE OF THE GUILDS OR SOCIETIES OF BRAVES DEMONSTRATING HOW ITS HEROIC DEEDS WERE ACCOMPLISHED IN THE PAST.

From a Photo, specially taken for " The Wide World Magazine''

sounded its rattles ceaselessly, as though very
angry.

"The Sun is good," said the snake-man, in a
loud voice, so that all could hear him. " He
has given me power over these
crawling creatures whose bite
is death. Great is the Sun."

Lifting the snake higher, he
held it so that its head was
close to his cheek, and it
seemed to rub against him,
feeling along by his ear, up
under the crown of his hat
and along his eyes. Suddenly
the man opened his mouth,
the snake thrust in its head,
and he closed his teeth on
it so tightly that we could
see its skin wrinkle under
the pressure. We thought
he was going to bite it in
two, but after a moment he
again held it out, opened its
mouth, and allowed us to
see that the fangs were intact.
All the afternoon the snake-
charmer went round perform-
ing this feat. We learned
that he had had two of the
reptiles, but one had escaped
during the preceding night.

Up till now the warriors of

the tribe had not been

especially noticeable. But

during the rest of that day

and for the next two they

became the centre of interest ;

for, during that time, nearly

every one of them publicly

" recounted his coups " — his

deeds of valour, that is to

say — with the aid of others,

showing just how he pcr-
Vo\ v.- 12.

THIS IS THE BLACKFEET CHIEF, LITTLE
PLUME, THE DEMONSTRATING OF WHOSE
PAST EXPLOITS PROVIDED QUITE A CON-
SIDERABLE MELODRAMA.

From a Photo, specially taken for *' The
Wide world Magazine"

formed each deed. These exhibitions were
enacted both in the lodge and outside near by
it, and were vivid portrayals of the fierce war
the Blackfeet used to wage against the surround-
ing tribes. We were especi-
ally pleased by the recital of
a chief named Little Plume.
He appeared on the scene,
beautifully dressed in buck-
skin shirt and leggings orna-
mented with bead-work and
ermine skins, and after telling
of several raids against the
enemy, while but a lad, he
remarked, " At last I got
married." Here his wife ap-
peared leading a horse, upon
which were packed some bed-
ding and a couple of skin
sacks. " I said to my wife,"
went on Little Plume, " * I
have but a few horses — only
forty, counting the colts. Now
let us pack our horse with a
little food and our robes,
and go to the country of the
Crows. I will take many
of their horses and perhaps
kill some of the braves.' So
we started, travelling by night,
and in the daytime hiding
in the timber along the foot
of the mountains. At last we
arrived in the Crow country.
After travelling all one night
the sun arose, and we found
we would have some distance
to go to get into the timber,
where we could hide and rest
until night should come again.
I looked carefully over the
prairie and the surrounding
hills, but could see no sign

THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE.

of the enemy. * We are safe enough,' I
said ; * but still, let us hurry and get into cover.'
At last we arrived at the timber, and were
suddenly attacked by three Crows. I killed
them all."

Little Plume and his wife now started to walk
out in the open space reserved for the exhibition,
the woman leading the horse. At the same
instant two men representing Crow Indians
appeared about a hundred yards distant,
cautiously sneaking over the ground, with rifles
cocked, and stopping every few steps to look
and listen. Suddenly they perceived Little
Plume, and at the same time he saw them, and
cocking his rifle commanded his wife to lie
down. As the woman crouched to the ground
the Crows fired simultaneously. Little Plume
returned the fire, one of the men falling and
dropping his gun as naturally as if he had
indeed been killed. The other, who had a
muzzle - loader, poured some
powder into the barrel, and
was hastily getting a ball
down on top of it, when
another shot from Little
Plume dropped him also,
though he struggled to regain
possession of his gun which
he dropped when he fell, his
left leg evidently being broken.
Little Plume ran up and shot
him again at close range. Just
as he fired another actor,
representing a third Crow, ap-
peared, mounted on a powerful
black horse, and charging
down to where the squaw lay,
jumped off" the animal, grabbed
hold of her, and attempted
to raise her into the saddle.
She screamed and struggled,

and her husband came running back as fast as
he could. The Crow, seeing that he could not
force her on to the horse, now got out his knife
and attempted to stab her, but she held on to
his arms so tightly that he could not use it
Just then Little Plume came running up and
gave him a fierce lunge in the breast with his
narrow knife. With a wild yell the Crow fell to
the ground ; the woman fainted beside him, and
her husband, triumphant, went through the
motions of taking his enemy's scalp.

Thus, the "counting of the coups " went on
for two days, and the spectators saw many vivid
phases of Indian warfare illustrated in a manner
worthy of experienced actors. There was much
dancing, too, by the different societies into
which the warriors are divided. In the late
afternoon of the second day after the great
lodge was erected the festivities came to a
close. There was a hurried packing up of the

tepees ; horses were harnessed,
saddled, and packed ; and
the pNeople scattered out in
all directions towards their
homes. The setting Sun
looked down on the great
lodge erected in his honour,
standing alone on the deserted
pbin, the offerings to him idly
floating and swaying in the
evening breeze-
Next year, at the same time,
another Sun festival will be
given. Those wishing to see
the interesting ceremonies, as
described and photographed
here, can obtain good accom-
modations at the Agency,
which is only a mile from
Durham Station on the Great
Northern Railway.

THIS SQUAW IS THE WIFE OF LITTLE PLUME.
SHE "acted" with HER HUSBAND WHEN HK
SHOWED HOW HE HAD FOUGHT THE CROW

INDIANS.

From a Photo, specially taken /or " TIU i^'id^
IV or Id Magazine.'*

OxK.'Ws^^, - Se-\,\.\^OC>

A Blackfoot's Burial

By Theodore H. Hittell.

The Blackfoot warrior, cold in death,

A grim and ghastly corse,
Bolt upright, like a man with breath,

They bound upon his horse.

His limbs, in fringed buckskin dressed.

They tied from side to side;
And down his back, from bristling crest.

His feathers floated wide.

Upon his saddle front they lashed

His scalps, above a score;
Some large, some small, some rudely gashed.

Some thick with clotted gore.

Around his neck his wailing squaws

Arranged his triple chain
Of eagle talons, grizzly claws,

And fingers of his slain.

His corded right hand grasped his spear,

The flint-tip to the fore;
His left, his bow ; and, hanging near.

Long shafts his quiver bore.

'Twas thus, as from Shoshone fight

He oft had come in pride.
They decked him now, in martial plight.

For this, his last wild ride.

The sun was sinking low and red ;

The Tetons were aglow;
His kinsmen closed about the dead ;

The torrent foamed below.

The horse was loosed ; he jumped aside ;

He reared; he pitched; he lunged;
To throw his burden vainly tried;

Then forward madly plunged.

They followed fast ; they shouted loud ;

They chased him round and round;
Till, frenzied by the frantic crowd.

He leaped, with fatal bound,

Over the beetling granite whirled.

Into the raging tide;
Down, down, torn limb from limb, they swirled;

Done was the Blackfoot^s ride.

How to Do Without Servants

By Florence Jackson Stoddabd

IT is a long time since Owen Meredith
declared that "civilized man cannot
live without cooks," but before that,
Cervantes had said, or reminded the
world, that "the devil sends cooks. The
housewife of today who tries to regulate
her domestic affairs to harmonize with
the ideas of the times, and the conditions
of the country, realizes that both these
statements are true, in part, at least. In
the United • States, the question ot do-
mestic service becomes more and more a
problem as the means of following other
employments increase, and the ^rsons
who might be counted on in former
times as making a class from which to
draw the house worker, have developed
beyond that stage and are now able to
have homes of their own.

The discouraged mistress of a less am-
bitious period, unable or unwilling to do
her own work, believes that this state ot
affairs is the result of a too great mix-
ing of classes, or that people who were
once energetic and thrifty, anxious to
earn reasonable wages by ordinary means,
are too proud or too lazy to engage in
the employments that they are fitted tor
and are only overcrowding the markets
of cheap clerkships or factory places in
order not to be known as "living out.
There is some truth in this supposition,
but it does not comprise all the reasons
for defection in the ranks of house
workers. As Kipling would say : That
is another story," and as such can wait.
The subject to consider at present is,
"How to do without servants?"

While acknowledging, then, both the
necessity and the desire of every woman
who has a home 'to keep it in the best
possible manner, and to make it an abid-
ing place of peace and happiness, we can-
not fail to recognize that to do this with-
out servants, that is without help in the
unavoidable drudgery of daily routine,
requires two qualities— strength and de-
termination—strength of body as well as
of mind. More often it is the latter only
that is possessed, and the woman so en-
dowed is fond of saying, "Oh, I work on
my will power; I'm not much m the

way of strength, but 1 can do a whole
lot when I determine to."

Unfortunate creature, and unfortunate
home ! For the daj irill come when she
no longer can spur on the worn-out body,
and the housework so indefatigably dis-
charged will hare made an invalid, be-
fore her time, of one whose wiU power
rightly directed would have kept her
healthy, and not deprived her home of
any necessary thing. Behold, then, a
sacrifice to the unnecessary! A sacri-
fice, probably to pounds and pounds of
sweetmeats put up at a c-ost of strength
that could have been weighed in the les-
sening avoiidupoi*, as the worker roasted
her skin and her brains bending over
fires that were, if she did but have per-
ception to see it, her own funeral pyre,
not consuming her at once, but length-
ening the torment through years and
making her at last a wreck, useless to
family or to herself- And this was the
effect of using the will power to work on.
Or here is another, a sacrifice to home-
made bread! Mountains of bread have
been made and baked by frail women,
kneading out in vouth the strength that
they will want bv and by to enable them
to even cut the' bread for their tables.
Here is another who is a sacrifice to
Sunday dinners. Xot to the eating, but
to the nervous strain and physical labor
imposed by getting a meal of elaborate
dainties at the end of a week already
used up in hard work. Oh ! the respon-
sibility Sunday dinners will have to an-
swer for one dav ! Dinners that feed, to
unwholesome ^rging, the persons who
partake, making them fit only for a
drowsy evening, while the cook that civ-
ilized man cannot live without, is now
also scullery maid, doing up piles of
dishes, or like Charlotte, she may, bav-
in'' seen her lover carried past her on a
shutter, "like a well-conducted F/son,
went on cutting bread and butter." Or
to apply the idea, the wearj housewife,
having cooked, served (for more like y
than not she has seated all the family
comfortably and then trotted about serv-
ing them, never once allowing the har-

THE COMMERCE OF BLOSSOM LAND

449

•

For almost every one knows that a so-
called '"extract" is not a simple extract
at all, but a combination, a product of
art. There are three or four basic odors,
and with these the perfumer works,
blending, mixing, as the painter uses his
primary colors to make the most delicate
tints and shades. Each flower contains
its quota of sweet, which when extracted
is called the otto of that flower, but from
some of the sweetest blossoms no otto
can be extracted, and here comes in the
perfumer's skill. To make a heliotrope
scent, or a lilac, the primary odors have
to be blended, and when in successful
proportion, fixed, as the artist fixes his
colors, with odors, some unpleasant and
most all costly, musk and ambergris, but
with staying prop-
erties that will hold
the fleeting combina-
tion just secured.
Jasmine, tuberose
and violet, in differ-
ent proportions, are
in almost every so-
termed extract or fa-
miliar compound as
the Jockey Club or
new mow^n hay.

To make one
pound of rose oil, it
is stated, the otto of
five million blossoms
is required, or one
hundred pounds of
violets, or twelve mil-
lions of violets to make a single pound
of violet oil, and wlien this is supple-
mented with the further numerical state-
ment that Parisian perfumes alone con-
sume over a million pounds of flower oil

a year, an idea of the industry is

«/ '

gained.

One of the pleasant features of the
industry is the occupation it offers to a
large number of people, and light work,
too, adapted to girls and women. For
leaving the preparation of flowers tor
perfumes out of the calculation, there is
employment for a large corps of women
in the dressing and arrangement of at-
tractive packages.

The manzanita perfume, made by the
California firm, is said to possess pe-

carries its individual frasrrance to other
states and countries with a suggestion
or reminiscence of a shaded land where
wild azaleas grow, mingling their per-
fume with the piny odors of the favored
spots where lives "the red-limbed man-
zanita.

Quaint is the record of historic scents,
for that perfumes were considered to be
of enough importance to record we know,
for we have been told that maidens in
ancient Greece and Rome had their par-
ticular perfume which they were allowed
to use, always a simple scent, as matrons
were allowed the compound extracts, a
queen boasting of twenty-seven. From
the mvth of Medea, the pioneer per-
f umer," past Poppcea to Queen Elizabeth,

who perfumed her
wigs with Spanish
leather steeped in
musk, we have had
all sorts of foibles,
some based on known
properties, others
with no firmer foun-
dation than my lady's
whim ; from the be-
ginning of history to
the present day the
record is broken, but
picturesque in its
lapses as in detail.
And from the cus-
tom of ages we have
gathered a few hints
which the modern
perfumer does not ignore. One is that
jasmine used alone tones the system, but
that almost all of its compounds debili-
tate and depress. n . n o
Who can sav that that is all fable.''
That lavender" is soothing, even to my
ladv of nerves, who can deny ? The cit-
rene scents, neroli, bergamot and orange-
flower water are said to be stimulating,
while neroli, with jasmine added by nig-
gardly fingers, should be used when
Madame has hysteria, so that laughter
shakes the tears from her lashes, bo per-
haps in future novels manzanita may
supplant the shop-worn eau-de-cologne,
and that heroine of the Pacific may ban-
ish her nerves or soothe her headache
with the subtle perfume and cooling

JAPANESE IRIS BED

'^H^^ '?„r-i..ro!;r;;ant ;u-^s..o„ «. ...c „„„»...».

Sunset Magazine,
AprU, 1923

interpst in one of the garages. She
and Vier partner did not agree on
the lianagement and she soldfcut
to hii. The garage she now dKvns
was men for sale under Ipnk-
ruptcA proceedings and /Mrs.
WilsonXagain borrowing money,
bought ft. For a long tim« it was
a losing \enture, and sherhad to
get right\in with the oAer me-
chanics aid help make Expenses.
Gradually because shf believed
in "delivetthe goods jfe you said
you woulX even '\W you lose
money," tlings begfn to grow
easier. Th4 first yejir showed a
little profit! the s^ond year a
larger one, tie thir<jf year business
was so profit Ale th^t Mrs. Wilson
is now able tlspedd half her time
at her houselteping, giving after-

Interesting Westerners

noons only
when necessi
overalls and t
"At first,"
that men res
the garage wis
not only my, c

.^he garage.

but

It's no easy

ut it pays —

rive it all the

^arises she dons
les any job.
e says, "I found
:ed the fact that
un by a woman,
tomers, but the
men who workeH for me, but 1
asked no faVorsVnd after I had
shown ther^ that 1 knew as much
about thei^ businels as they did I
won their respect,
game foi^'a woman
if you're willing to
eflFort it requires."

Mrs. Wilson now H|s ambitions
for a six-story garagjL plans for
which are in the maki^. She ex-
pects to pay for it qit of the
revenues of the business which
three years ago went into bank-
er •■^•w.-^
A Blackfcct Artist

LONE WOLF sat in his'tepee
at the edge of Glacier Park
in the Rocky Mountain foot-
hills, painting on canvas with
masterful strokes. For an hour
and a half I watched in silence
while from rough outlines ap-
peared the gaunt figure of an aged
Indian, seated cross-legged in a
tepee, his gaze fixed upon a deer-
skin at his feet. Then Lone Wolf rose,
carefully wiped the brushes and turned
toward me, standing at the full height of
his straight and angular six feet.
"What is it to be?" I asked.
"Memories," he replied in a voice deep
and vibrant. "Memories of an Indian who
has parted with all his possessions but
the deerskin. On it he is painting the
story of his life. Iron Eater posed for the
figure. Now I am painting it in."

And no one has keener vision than Lone
Wolf in depicting the tragic story of the
vanishing race of red men. He is a Black-
feet Indian, whose tribe is passing to
hunting-grounds where white men may
not encroach. I had been introduced to
him by Susan, wife of Two Guns White
Calf, who does not speak English and
whose daughter Mary is a tribe inter-
preter. The reservation is near Glacier
Park; Lone Wolf's cottage and his studio
tepee are above a little stream, tributary
to Medicine river. Here he was born on
a" wild wintry night thirty-eight years ago

Lone Wolf Is a Blackfcct Indian artist. He paints remarkable pictures portraymrf tKc

characters, customs, traditions and tragedies of tribes wlio are victims of

governmental neglect, nis income lie skares witk Lis people

and grew to boyhood among the customs
and traditions of his people. In summer
he modeled figures of horse, buffalo,
cougar and bear from clay found in a
brook. Yellow Wolf, his grandfather,
saw that the work was good and did not
chide him when the small fingers filched
a bit of ochre or crayon from the lodge of
the tribal painter, and on a bit of deer-
skin or the shoulder-blade of elk or buffalo
tried to paint the animals familiar to
him. There came unhappy days when he
had to go to school where nothing in-
terested him but lessons in drawing. At
eleven he was punching cattle with young
bucks whose evil deeds he mistook for
glorious heroism. Expelled from school
at twelve because he rebelled at a routine
of chores he became an expert horse-
wrangler, rode in contests, engaged in
various deviltries including a cattle raid,
was arrested and handcuffed; leaping to
the back of a cayuse he escaped the
sheriff by putting the manacles over the
saddle horn and guiding the horse with

his knees. Lone Wolf has redeemed him-
self since then. Today the sheriff is one
of his staunchest friends.

Among the Navajos in the Grand Canon
of the Colorado he punched cattle,
painted landscapes, posed for the movies,
won a beautiful belt trophy as champion
bronco buster of Arizona and Old Mexico.
His first canvases were sold in 1908. Last
year a dozen paintings exhibited in New
York City revealed the soul of the artist
and his insight into the hearts of men.
This year's exhibit will be a dramatic
portrayal of the first Americans in their
great present need of government aid.
When Montana was taken from the Black-
feet they numbered seventy thousand.
Not two hundred survive. Ever friendly
to the whites, they did not resist invasion.
Lone Wolfs heart is with his people. He

said: ^ « t, .

"They are grossly mistreated. Their
ration is pitifully small. They are denied
hunting and fishing. Every summer I
return, bringing food and clothing, and

1 have som^tinnes cooked all day for the
hungry. I share my income with them.
If Americans as individuals would provide
for them as wards during the winter it
would be a great mercy [to my unfor-
tunate people."

ESTELLE Le PrEVOST.

laska s X

Interesting Westerners

years to do all the clerical work himself
in addition to his other duties. He had to
work with a land whose coast line, in-
cluding islands, is long enough to encircle
the globe; a country with more area than
England, Ireland, Scotland, Norway,
Sweden and Finland combined, and a
climate as diversified as that of the United

reasurer

THERE^kasn't a cent in the Treasury,*'
said Wwtein G. Smith, Territorial
Treasurer of Alaska. We were sitting
on the sun-porCTlof his comfortable
home, looking doWn over the city
of Juneau to the Hue Gastineau
Channel where con^te build-
ings and ore dumps oif three
great gold mines wer
fleeted in the water,
rumble of ore cars came
from the mountain back
of us. Steamers laden
with the season's salmon
pack lay at the docks
below; trading schoon-
ers of fur buyers and
the gas boats of fox-
ranchers and halibut-
fishers rode at an-
chor in the bay.

"Yes," he contin-
ued, "though Alas-
ka produced in
wealth nearly nine
hundred and fifty
millions of dollars
from 1867, the year
of its purchase, to
1920, there wasn't
a jingle cent in the
Treasury in 191 3
when the oflSce of
lerritorial Treasurer
was created at the
meeting of the first
Alaska Legislature. I
was given the appoint-
ment because no one
else wanted it, I reckon.
I here wasn't even a tax
law drafted then and it
didn't look as if enough
money would come in to pay
office rent, let alone a salary.
My first equipment as Treasurer
was exceedingly modest. I hadn't
a book or a pencil and went into
debt personally for printing, stationery
and rent. In two little rooms h
Juneau I set up a couple of rickety
and an old desk that had been
out of the Governor's residence.

"It was over two months bdbre
of revenue came in. By thunime I was
up to my ears in debt, bjjf too busy to
worry. The first legislative was making
new tax laws to supplv^e Treasury with
funds, but thejr were bjrazing trails in their
line as I was in nutfe. Falcon Joslin, a
well-known Alaskih operator, voiced the
popular opinion jpT all my Job-comforting
friends when tfe said confidentially one
day, anent \nese laws: *Smith, honestly,
I don't thjiik you can raise a dollar on
anyof'eni!'"

But Smith hadn't been a banker all
his business life for nothing and he set
to work to find a solution to the para-
doxical financial problem of Alaska — the
richest territory in the world, with the
poorest treasury . He was obliged for two

As to how

s, results will

while he will

iro\Nn

cent

Tnere wasn't a cent in the treasury when
Wal stein G. Smith was appointed Territorial
Treasurer of Alaska. Nothing to it but its
high-sounding title. But you can make
bricks Without stra^v if you have brains and
energy oi the Walstein G. brand. He
has saved Alaskans financial face

States. Sections of it are as mild in
temperature and as accessible all the year
as the northern part of California, while
others are frozen in, ten months out of
twelve, and have only two mail deliveries
a year. It was Smith's job to reconcile
these conflicting areas, as regards tax
returns, and figure out how the residents
of the outlying districts might get their
taxes in to the capital at Juneau before
they were delinquent — for the law takes

Sunset Magazine,
AprU, 1923

not into account inaccessibility, snow and
ice, but commands that properties must
be sold when taxes become delinquent.

That Smith did solve Alaska's financial
problem is evidenced by t« prosperous
state of the Treasury todaf^ and by the
fact that he has remained/in oflSce ever
since the oflfice was creat
he overcame the obsta
have to speak for him, #or
tell what every other official has done to
benefit his country, m amount of ques-
tioning will make jfim talk of his own
achievements.
Here is an Example of the amus-
ing things that come up. In
December he sent to a store-
ke^er nine hundred miles in
e interior a notice to pay
a delinquent tax of ^25
for dispensing non-alco-
holic beverages. In June,
on the first mail out,
the following answer
was received:

Dere Sir: I dont ow

you any taxis. I dont

sell non-alcholic drinks

all I seU is beer I make

myself out of hops and

malt, and I dont sell

$25 wort a year, if I

hav to pay this taxis I

hav just to quit seDin

it thats all.

Smith's first Alaska
experience in bank-
ing was not as
Treasurer. In 1907
he was sent to es-
tablish a bank at
Katalla, a new town
where two rival rail-
roads and two break-
waters were building.
It had seventeen sa-
loons, the reputation of
being the wildest place
in the Territory, no har-
bor, and was a place of
terrific gales, the Pacific
rolling in to break on a bar
that stretched across the
front of the town. Steamers
came to anchor two miles out,
unloaded cargoes and passengers
on to scows and launches — when the
weather permitted. Very often it
d dn't. Smith made two attempts to land
before he was able to go ashore, then was
forced to leave his baggage aboard, owing
the storm. His endeavors to land his
ish, books and furnishings for the First
k of Katalla are history. Ella Higgin-
her book on Alaska refers to him
itinerant banker. She writes:

Onewhole banking outfit including everx-
thing n^kssary for the opening of a bank save
the cashi«| who was already there, and the
building, \Wch was waiting, was taken up on
the steamer?^ot being able to lighter it a^ore
the steamer ^rried the bank to Cook Inlet
(eight hundreAiiiles). Upon its return condi-
tions again mafc it impossible to enter the
bay and the ban^^as carried back to Seattle.
When the steame™gain went north, the bank
went too; when the %eamer returned, the bank
returned.

aslman
wasKt

Finally some caslmand the safe were
landed but there wasKt a chair to sit on
nor a book to begin wkh, so Smith was
forced to wait again, me found himself

4. — .

The Pikuni or Blackfeet Indian of Today

^OLD-MAKER has come again to the Pikuni. His partner,
Snow-Maker, is with him. They came from the Far North
country and they are great cowards. They visit the Pikuni each
year, for they know that these Indian children fear them greatly.
Cold-Maker and Snow-Maker shake hands with each other and
laugh, as they hover over the Great Mountains. Looking down
on these helpless people who have been driven from their shel-
ter and hunting grounds, to .the open prairie, they say, "Now
we have them in the Piskun ^Buffalo Corral' and this winter
we shall make them suffer, as we have for the past 100 win-
ters. We have with us our great helper, who has been our
chief, always. He is old now, but he is powerful. His name
IS the Indian Bureau. His heart is glad when he can bring
misery and suffering to the Indians. We three, of much
power, have no pity. Ah-h!"

The Indian Bureau is 100 years old. Here are four ex-
amples of conditions on the Blackfeet Reservation which I
have seen with my eyes. Hundreds of like cases exist thruout
the reservation, which clearly shows the unfitness of the Indian
Bureau and its workings.

1. An Indian Lodge, the home of a little boy who is in-
fected with T. B., his neck and face a mass of running sores,
btrips from an old soiled apron were bound about the boy's
head. He wore no shoes or stockings. A torn cotton shirt
and khaki trousers was all that the boy wore. A sister has
trichoma. One wash basin was used hv the entire family. The
girl would dry her face with her apron and the boy would use
his sleeve. No physician had visited this family, neither have
they been cautioned by anyone about danger of infection. Lack
ot proper food was clearly evident. It was supper time and a
pail of berry soup was all that they had. The day was cold
and rainy and they all wore thin, cotton clothes.

2^ A widow with two little children, one of whom she was
nursing, lives with her old father. He is a pure blood
and is highly respected by his people. These little children's
legs were bare. They and their mother wore thin cotton
dresses. The weather was biting cold. All the food that they
had was a little smoked meat, given them by a friend. The
mother is tubercular.

3. A child in a neighboring lodge is afflicted with trichoma,
bhe uses the same wash basin that the other children use. No
visiting nurse or physician to tell them otherwise.

4. A certain school presided over by a most capable, splen-
did woman, who works for a mere pittance. She loves those
Indian children; that is why she stays there. I inspected the
sanitary conditions in this school and found an earthen drinking
fountain with a jet faucet. The jet was broken and the chil-
dren were obliged to suck the water with their lips, from the
metal jet. There was one wash basin for all. No towels, either
cotton or paper. The girls used their aprons to wipe their
faces on. The boys their sleeves for the same purpose. As
cited above, trichoma and T. B. exist in nearly all families.
The chance for contagion is apparent. If the teacher com-
plained, in all probability she would be "fired."

T. B. and trichoma, as well as unsanitary conditions, exist
m nearly every lodge on this reservation to such a deplorable
degree that it is a menace to the safety of the public. The
great hotels and chalets that are built on the stolen lands of
the Blackfeet Nation employ no Indians. It appears that they
do not wish to endanger the health of their patrons. However,

it remains a fact that both guests of the hotels and citizens
of nearby villages come in close contact with disease thru in-
termingling at stores, postoffices, railroad stations, etc.

The Indian agent on this reservation is doing all that he
can. He knows the conditions and is on the job all the time.
He is sincere in his efforts to bring content and comfort to"^
the Pikuni. Thru the eflForts of this agent the raising of crops
has improved. If this agent had the benefit of funds that are
ruthlessly wasted by the Indian Bureau, the public would
soon see a great change for the better, in the deplorable con-
ditions on this reservation. What can an agent do with disease
when the Bureau furnishes him physicians at a salary of $1,000
per year?

Y^U may say, "Why don't the Indians work?" There is no
work. This reservation is isolated. The hotels will not em-
ploy an Indian, even as guide in the mountains, which were
once theirs. "Why don't they farm it? Why don't they raise
stock? They have no money with which to carry on success-
ful farming or stock raising. Their income from leasing land
at 10 cents an acre, amounts to about |16 per year. This
money is nearly always held for payment for supplies gotten
m the past. They do not have adequate teaching. Neither
does the climate warrant successful crop raising each year.
One Indian planted his cabbage like carrots are planted. He
was never told to thin them out or transplant. The Pikuni
have no tribal or individual herds.

The head of the Indian Bureau writes that he has visited
this reservation, that he found all the Indians contented and
happy. He speaks with a crooked tongue. When there is a
sickness in an Indian family, the heads of this family are not
contented and happy. Their hearts are sad. Any white per-
son who goes to the other side of the curtain, which is guarded
by the Indian Bureau, will find conditions as ctated. Few
white people know the evil workings of the Indian Bureau.
They believe the Bureau to be just, for this Bureau spends
vast sums of money belonging to the Indians for printing
literature, telling of the good work being done for the Indian.
The white people believe it to be true. The tongue of the
Bureau is crooked. The Indian Bureau is one of unjust op-
pression, cruelty and unfitness. It is bad. Apparently all
that the Bureau has done for the Indian in the past 100 years
has been to rob him, waste his money and tell him that his
God is a nothing God.

A pure-blood Pikuni, a great buffalo hunter in the old days,
was standing on a rock overhanging a canyon. Pointing to
where the sun comes from he said, "All that country at one
time belonged to my people. The Great White Father lied to
us with a cunning tongue. He stole our lands. That is why
my shirt is ragged cotton and not made from the hide of an
elk. That is why we have no warm blankets for the old people
and children. That is why the Pikuni suffer. Look, Apinawki-
Pita, the Pikuni is like that band of sheep, which you see graz-
ing on the bench land and owned by the white man. He has a
sheep herder there with his dog, to guard the sheep and keep
them from straying. There are sheep herders for all the In-
dians. The Indian agent is the sheep herder. The Great White
Father is the owner of us all. He is a bad owner, for his bands
are dying fast and soon there will be no more Indian sheep."

That is all I have to say. Apinawki-Pita.

Wash. (c. F. Schuster.)

•n*

The Pulse of the West

Sunset Magazine.
FetMnary, 1923

A Vanisking Glory

A feneration a^o tlic picturesque lodges of tie Blacklcet skeltered a tappy and contented people. Today

two-tkirds of tke children are tubercular, most of tke adults are ctronically undernourislied and tke

old arc actually dying of Lunger and exposure. Details of tte sordid drama are given on page 38.

The Pulse of the West

Sunset Magazine,
February, 1923

A Vanisliing Glory

A generation ago tlic picturesque lodges of tie Blackfeet skeltered a bappy and contented people. Today

two-ttirds of tlie children are tubercular, most of tbe adults are ctronically undcrnourialied and the

old are actually dying of Lunger and exposure. Details of tte sordid drama arc given on page 38.

NNolA.ToA-. :ti.> «^h.\'^cy.-

CHIEFS LOMELY DEATH

Noted Indian Warrior Dies in
Hospital Here.

NONE OF HIS TEIBE AT. HAND

White Calf, Aged Eighty, Scarred with
the Wounds of Many Battles, Had
Come to Washington to Protest in Be-
half of His Fellov/s on Lame Deer
Reservation— Seized with Pneumonia.

White Calf, head chief of the Blackfoot
Indians, who played a part in the cele-
brated Indian wars of the West in the
'GOs, and fought on many a bloody battle-
neld with Gen. Miles, winning that so -
dier's high regard for his m«Uary abili-
ties, died at Providence Hospital at ll:^o
o'clock last night of pneumonia, aged
eighty years. He came to Washington
less than a week ago to lay before In-
dian Commissioner Jones a protest from
his tribe, located at the Lame Deer Reser-
vation, in Montana, against proposed
measures to lease certain valuable lands
from the Indians, but while his mission
was largely successful, the aged chief,
battle-scarred and worn out by prolonged
fight against encroaching civilization, did
not live to see his pleadings with the
Great White Father successful. In his
day White Calf was a power to be reck-
oned with, and in the annals of the In-
dian uprisings of the Jkirthwest he has a
place as secure as th^bf Sitting Bull or
Big Foot.

No Indian at His Death Bed,
White Calf died alone, with Hot a fel-
low-chief or brave to take a message
back to his people. Yesterday morning
the band of aboat half a dozen Indians
from the Montana reservation which
came to Washington on Sunday to plead
for their fights returned to Lame Deer
and left the head chief of the tribe In
the hospital. Their work was concluded
and they cpuld not stay. They carried
with them the sad news of his illness, and

Calf could not live.

The Indian was taken 111 three days ago
with a severe attack of pneumonia. Dr.
Thomas N. Vincent was called In at the
Indian boarding-house on Third street
northwest, where all Indian visitors stay,
and had the venerable chieftain removed
to the hospital. There he grew rapidly
worse until the end came late last night

White Calf had at least one friend In
Washington, and Dr. A. C. Merrlam, of
the Biological Survey, last night mourned
his* loss. Dr, Merrlam some years ago,
while on a survey In Montana, met the
chief, and an intimate friendship sprang
up between them. When White Calf was
taken 111 Dr. Merrlam gave him every at-
tention possible, and finally summoned a
physician.

Body Covered with Old Wounds.
In the early sixties, when White Calf
wag In the prime of manhood, he was an
aggressive participant in the Indians'
struggle for supremacy against the whites.
When taken to the hospital the phy-
sicians marveled, for never before hM
such a man been treated there. White
Calf was covered with wounds. His aged
body had been cut and torn in innumer-
able frays. His breast, when bared, was
literally covered with gunshot wounds,
now long since healed, while his limbs
and trunk bore witness to the strenuous
life he had led.

It was in connection wltfi the famous
Chief Big Foot, and the historic battle
of Wounded Knee, that White C^lf first
won enduring fame. On that occasion,
when the United States troops, under
Capt. Whiteside, engaged hand-to-hand .
with the remnants of Red Cloud's band.
White Calf was in the heart of battle.
Big Foot's band had agi'eed to surrender
to the government troops, and the In-
dians, including squaws and papooses,
were drawn up on a small plain surround-
ed by hills.

Big Foot was ill with "the white man's
disease" at the time, and White Calf,, a
little ohlef then, was in command of a
portion of the band. The order of the
troops was that the Indians should sur-
render their arms, but this order was mis-
understood. . , X ji

The soldiers then attempted to disarm

the red men.

The Indians were crouching o^^,,^"^®
ground, chanting their death song. Whon
the first hostile move of the troops was
made In an Instant the plaintive chant
changed to tho war song. The Indians
spvang to their feet, drew rlfies from be-
neath their blankets, and opened fire on
tho troops afshort range. Troops and In-
dians then engaged in ^ ^,^^2'^^r? i
strug£?lc, which makes one of the blooci-
lest pases in American Indian war his-
tory. White Calf, after the Indians were
forced to surrender, was sent witli the
remnants of thi? band from reservation to
reservation in Dakota and Wyoming For
some years the Indians have been living
It Lame Deer, Mont., about ninety miles
north of Fort Keogh.

rorgfli^ & Stre

I LIFE AMONG THE BLACKFEET.

I BY J. WILLARD 8CHULTZ.

Eleventh Paper— Folk-Lore.

THE OLD MAN MEETS A WONDERFUL BIRD.

VS the Old Man was walking in the woods one day he
saw something very queer. A bird was sitting on the
limb of a iree making a peculiar noise, and every time it
made tbis noi^ its eyts would go out of its head and fasten
on the tree, tlien it wouM make another kind of a noise and
itsejes would go back to their place.

•'Liitle Brother," cried the Old Man, * 'teach me how to
do thaL"

"If I show you how to do that," replied the bird, *'you
roust never let your eyes go out more than three times a
day, for if you do, you will l>e very sorry."

When tJie bird had taught the Old Man the trick he was
very glad, and did it three times, then he stopped. *'That
bin i has no sense,'' he said, **what did he tell me to do it
only three times for? Fll do it again, anjhow." So he
made his eyes go out a fourth time, but alas I he could not
call them back again. Then he cried to the bird: **0h,
Little Brother!" lome help me get back my eyes." But the
little bird did not answer him. It had flown away. The
Old Man felt all over the trees with his hands but he eouldn*t
get his eyes, ami he wandered all over crying and calling
the animals to help him. A wolf had much lun with him.
The wolf had found a dead buffalo, and taking a piece of
the meat which smelled, he would hold it close to the Old
31an's oo^, then the Old Man would say, **1 smell something
dead," and he would groji^e all around in hopes to find it.
C^oe when the wolf was doing this, the Old Man caught
him, and phicking out one of its eyes put it in his own head,
then he was able to find his own eyes, but he could do the
trick the little bird taught him no more.

Moral: Do as you are told.

THE OLD MAN RUNS A RACE.

One day the Old Man killed a jack rabbit and quickly
built a fire to roast it on. Far off a coyote smelled the cook-
ing, and coming up limping very badly, holding up one of
his paws, he said: **01dMan! Old Man! Give me a little.
I am very hungry."

Then the Old Man said to him : *'Go away ! If you are too
lazy to catch your eating I will not feed you."

•'My leg is broken," said the coyote. **I can't run. I am
v«ry hungry."

"Go away," said the Old Man; '1 will not feed you."

Then the coyote limped away. Pretty soon he came back
again and asked for only one leg of the rabbit.

"Here," said the Old 'Man, *'do you see that butte way over
there? Let's run a race to that butte, and whoever eets there
first will have the rabbit. "

''All right." said the coyote. So they started. The Old
Man ran very fast, and the coyote limped along after him.
Bui when they had got close to the butte the coyote turned
Toand and ran back very fast, for he was not lame at all.

He had been fooling the Old Man. The Old Man ran back

as fast as he could after the coyote, and when he got to the
fire ihe coyote was sitting upon a little hill eating the rabbit.
"Oh, my little brother, " cried the Old Man, "give me a
piece of it."

"Come and get it," said the coyote, as he swallowed the
last pifce of it, and trotted off on the prairie.

Moral: Feed the hungry. Things are not always as they
look to be.

THE OLD MAN PUNISHES A THIEF.

One night the Old Man sat by the fire roasting a piece of
meat. It was a ver>^ large piece of meat, and he went to
sleep liefore it was cooked. A lynx, which had been watch-
ing him, now crept up and began to eat the meat. The Old
Man woke up, and seiing what was going on grabbed the
lynxKiyinff, **Oh, you thief," and he pulled off his tail, all
but a shfirt p»ece, and pounded him on the head, making his
no!* very short 'There," said he, throwing him out "into
the brush, "that's the way you lynxes will look after this."
To this day the lynxes have short tails and noi-es.

[Note.— Many of the btst legends which explain the differ-
ent plienom'r'ua of nature are related with the doings of the
Old Man, but unfortunately they are ^o indecent that they
cannot be tran-lated and Drintrd.— J. W. S. I

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landlord, except on the payment of a
tnkwn as * compensation for disturbance.'
tentot may sell his tenant-right to another,
has Vhen all the privileges as against the landlord
whicltt the original tenant enjoyed. In thi/way
are soured the three * Fs,' — Fair rents, I^ity of
tenureV and Free sale. In this way, also, t^e land-
lord is almost completely deprived of any ^al con-
trol of h\s property.

The aOfc has not been, by any meaj(s, a dead
letter. Bfehty-five sub-commissioner/ were, in
1883, engaged in the work of deternmiing * fair
rents,' and tke number was afterwards somewhat
increased. ^ a result a general reduction in rent
was effected, amounting on the av/rage to about
twenty per cenV and in some cas/s to thirty per
cent and upwa^s. This virtuaUly amounts to a
confiscation of fipm one-fifth ti one-third of the
capitalized value oV landed estates in Ireland. Its
moral effect may iW to a stily further reduction
in value : for who\ can be dure that a govern-
ment which has conflecated ohe-fif th of the estate
will not subsequently Wfisofete it all if peace and
quiet shall not f ollow ^s ^ result of the present
measure?

Both acts above mentiJ
intended to favor the gn
proprietors. The purchj

the case of estates whicli f ( ^

of the encumbered esftateJ^ court, was favored by
the authority given to the\ Irish board of works,
in 1870, to advance/two-thMs (increased in 1881
to three-fourths) oy the pur^ase-money at three
and a half per cenf interest, A) be repaid at inter-
vals during a period of thirtV-five years. It has
already been proposed to exteAd this authority so
as to let them afdvance all the purchase-money at
a lower rate oyinterest, for a loAger time.

He would Jbe a bold man iiiieed who would
assert that these acts, sweepingWs they are, con-
stitute any rfeal contribution to th* actual solution
of the Irish problem. Such a statement could only
be made bVone who had a poHticai point to gain,
or who hai given but little attentid^ to the actual
investigation, even at second hand,\of the social
and economic conditions which prevail over a large
part of Areland. The difficulty liesldeeper than
any mere landlordism, and it will not ie long until
the Ir^h land question will be again t\ the front,
and yiiat, too, whether Ireland be im(
ih rule.

led contained provisions
bh of a class of peasant
)f holdings by tenants in
under the jurisdiction

jr English

TAese acts, however, mark a new era in English
legislation on this subject. They indiqate (and
he/ein lies the hopeful feature of the c^) that
tl^ English people are now ready to take kp this

Id similar questions in earnest. They are now

remfi of laisseZ'faireism, to disregard ajarfmist
speecfi^s about approaching communism/w social-
ism, an^^ close their ears to the ol^^ng about
the suprem^a<jredness of private,|rfoperty. They
are now defKmiined, after g^tfmg all the light
they possibly chn from e^^fiomic and historical
science, to makeN^e or the only means wiiich
promises any solut^K;whatever, viz., that of
actual experimenjTOon. >;nie outcome of the
recent experimeiits in IrelMii. to which the late
acts have been practically limh^, will afford
great assistance in the solution oh^he Scottish
and English land questions, which mus^pon come
fi'um.

THE BLACKFOOT TRIBES.

At the late meeting of the British association
for the advancement of science, a committee of
the anthropological section presented a report
(prepared by Mr. Horatio Hale) on the tribes of the
noted Blackfoot confederacy. The report com-
prises many particulars relating to the origin and
history of the tribes, the character of the people,
their mythology, languages, and mode of govern-
ment, and their present condition. The facts
have been mostly derived from correspondence
with missionaries now residing among the people,
and from official documents, with some memo-
randa made by the author of the report during an
exploring tour in Oregon. Only a brief abstract
of the information thus brought together can here
be given.

The tribes composing the confederacy are, or
rather were, five in number. Tlu-ee of these,
foi-ming the nucleus of the whole body, are the
original Blackfoot tribes, who speak the same lan-
guage, and regard themselves as descended from
three brothers. These are the Siksika, or Black-
feet proper ; the Kena, or Blood Indians ; and the
Piekane,or Piegans (pronounced Peegans), — a name
which is sometimes corrupted to * Pagan Indians.'
To these were added, when the confederacy was
at the height of its power, two other tribes, — the
Sarcees, who joined them from the north ; and
the Atsinas, who came under their protection
from the south. The Sarcees are a branch of the
great Athabascan or Tinneh family, which is spread
over the northern portion of the continent, in con-
tact with the Eskimo. The Atsinas, otherwise
known as Fall Indians and Gros Ventres, are
shown by their language to be akin to the Ara-
pohoes, who once wandered over the Missouri
plains, but are now settled on a reservation in the
Indian Territory.

The dividing line between the United States and

SCIENCE -Supplement.

tIDAY, NOVEMBER 20, 1885.

recen\land legislation in

ENGLAND.

The attitude of the English government toward
the land question hasVndergone a thorough revo-
lution within the last^^eneration. Thirty years
ago all propositions to reform the abuses which
had grown up under the present system of land
laws were uniformly met b^Joud protests about
the sacredness of vested inter^ts, the * natural-
ness' of the existing order, aiwi the danger to
society and the government of disturbing it in any
way whatever. It was insisted that it would be a
violation of all sound principles of pohtio^ economy
for the government to go beyond its pn^ince so
far as to interfere with the relation of landl^d and
tenant, or that of tenant and laborer, or that
ing between these classes as a whole and the ^^^
lie. So vigorous was this protest, and so in
cordance with the prevailing views as to the true
sphere of government interference, that reformers
were usually content to withdraw their proposi-
tions.

But this attempt to delay or prevent much-
needed reforms in governmental policy was des-
tined to bring with it the usual penalty. Tl '
disease, wliich might have been modified, if vfyt
entirely cured, by mild remedies rightly applied at
an early stage, became more and more deep^ated
and serious with every passing year. TM move-
ment for reform, too long delayed, and /athering
force with every rebuff, has finally u^ved irre-
sistible, and in its onward sweep ha^ carried the
government and the people f ar jfcyond what
would have been necessary if legj>((mate demands
had been satisfied in the first pla

The evidence of this is seen/(^ery plainly in the
changed attitude and poUcWbf the government,
which lias recently giveiT most unmistakable
evidence of its determma^on to take up the ques-
tion in earnest, and to Ifove no stone unturned in
order to seciure a permanent settlement. In this
endeavor, limited thds far chiefly to one phase of
the Irish land que^ion, it does not propose to be
checked by any4heoretical considerations as to
the true limits of government interference. It
stands ready/to do any thing wliich promises to
afford pernianent or even temporary relief. If
necessarvVit vnW declare martial law. It will

confiscate landed estates by the wholesale. It
will change a tenant at the will of th^andlord
into a tenant at his own will. It wiUrconvert a
tenant into a proprietor. It will leM money, to
those wisliing to buy land, at low ra|!es of interest
and on insufficient security. It yvl destroy all
freedom of contract in regard W^the use of land.
It has, indeed, already done all i^ese things.

Tlie proof of these statements is to be found in
the history of recent acts of Parliament on the land
question. * It is impossiblerto convey a clear idea
of such a complicated pn)blem as the Irish land
question in a brief space, but one or two of the
most important poiii)Js may be set forth which
will illustrate the ^r-reaching sweep of recent
legislation.

The act whicl/really introduced the new policy
was that of 1970, which declared whole classes of
contracts hitnerto in vogue between landlord and
tenant to ife void both in law and equity, and
established the novel principle of compensation for
disturbamce or damages for eviction. It took from
the landlord the right to dismiss a tenant so long
paid his rent. It secured to the latter a just
c^pensation for all improvements, whether made
itlkpr without the consent of the landlord, and
conferted on him the power to sell his tenant-
right, w(th all the privileges pertaining thereto.
This act ^^ in form, therefore, a great encroach-
ment on th^ontrol of the landlord over his prop-
erty. But a^it did not regulate the amoimt of
rent which theVjatter might exact, it left him,
after all, in pract^al control of his property, since
he might raise tl\ rent at will, and evict the
tenant if he did no^hoose to pay it. It rather
aggravated than lessened the difficulty.

The act of 1881, whiclWas the most important
act relating to Ireland, w^s the logical outcome
of the act of 1870. It finisW the work which
the latter had begim by estaWisliing a series of
optional courts for regulatingVents. They are
optional in the sense that either landlord or tenant
may resort to them in case he is^ot contented
with the terms of a lease. The courf^^n case of a
resort to it, fixes the rent which the landlord may
exact. When the rent is thus judiciall^xed, it
is to hold good for a period of fifteen yearS^hen,
by a similar process, it may be modified ^o suit
altered circumstances during another perio^of
like duration. As long as the tenant pays the reW;

» Economic aspect of recent legislation. By Williait
Watt. London, Longmans^ Green^ dt Co.^ 1885.

November 20, 1885.]

SCIENCE.

457

Canada has cut the confederacy in two. Meet
of the Piegans, with the few surviving Atsinas,
reside on the American side, where a large reser-
vation has been set apart for them, along the head
waters of the Missouri River. The residue of the
Piegans, with the Siksika, Kena, and Sarcee
bands, dwell on reserves laid off for them near
the southern boundary of the Canadian north-
west territories, adjacent to the Rocky Moun-
tains. Thus the lands occupied by these tribes,
though much diminished in extent, are in the
same region which they held fifty years ago,
when their confederacy was the dominant iwwer
among all the Indians west of the MississippL At
that period their numbers were reckoned at thirty
thousand souls. Various causes, but more espe-
cially the ravages of the small-pox, have greatly
reduced them. The population of the four Cana-
dian reserves is computed at about 6,500, divided
as follows: Blackfeet (Siksika), 2,400; Bloods
(Kena), 2,800 ; Piegans (Piekane), 800 ; Sarcees,
500. On the American reservation there are
stated to be about 2,300, mostly Regans, with some
Sarcees. This would bring up the total number
of Indians in these tribes to nearly 9,000 souls.

The country inhabited by the Blackfeet was the
favorite resort of the buffalo. The vast herds
which roamed the plains, or found shelter during
the winter in the woody recesses of the moun-
tains, furnished the tribes not merely with food,
but with the skins which made their tents and
their clothing. The complete extermination of
these animals, which has taken place during the
last five years, has made an entire change in the
mode of life of these Indians. From a race of
wandering himters, they have become a com-
munity of farmers, and, as the official reports
show, have displayed a remarkable aptitude for
the arts of civilized life. Under the direction of
superintendents and farm instructors appointed
by the Canadian government, they have erected
comfortable log-houses, well furnished with cook-
ing-stoves, table-ware, and other household appU-
ances, and have raised large quantities of potatoes,
barley, oats, turnips, and other esculents. They
have shown themselves always orderly and pru-
dent in their dealings with the government and
the white settlers.

The Blackf oot language was formerly supposed
to be entirely different from any of the languages
spoken by the surroimding tribes. This was the
report of the first explorers. Further investiga-
tions have shown that this opinion was not well
f oimded. The language proves to be Algonkin m
its grammar, but to be in a large part of its
vocabulary widely different from other Algonkin
tongues. It is evidently a mixed language, of the

kind which results from the conquest of one tribe
or nation by another speaking a different tongue.
What is known of the history of the Blackfeet
shows how tliis conquest and intermixture may
have taken place. The Blackfoot tribes formerly
inhabited the Red River country, from which, as
there is good reason to believe, they were driven
westward by the Crees, who formerly dwelt in
Labrador and about Hudson Bay, but who now
occupy the ancient homes of the Blackfeet along
the Red River and the Saskatchewan. The
Blackfeet, when they retreated to then- final
refuge in the valleys and plains along the eastern
slope of the Rocky Mountams, had in their turn
to overcome and absorb the population which they
found there. The traditions of the people, and
other circumstances, seem to show that the tribe
thus conquered — and whose language probably
furnished the foreign portion of the Blackfoot
vocabulary — had come from the west or Oregon
side of the mountains.

In fiulher confirmation of this view, it is shown
that the Blackfeet have not only a mixed language,
but also a mixed religion. WhUe their legendary
cosmogony and their principal deities are purely
Algonkm, thek chief religious ceremony, the
famous sun-dance, to which they are fanaticaUy
devoted, — the most extraordinary trial of faith and
of endurance known among the western Indians,
— is clearly of exotic origin. It is wholly un-
known to the other Algonkin tribes, except to a
few Crees, who have apparently learned it from
the Blackfeet. It also prevails among the Dakotas,
but chiefly in the western bands nearest to the
mountains and to the Blackfeet.

The form of government among the Blackfoot
tribes, as among the Algonkin tribes in general,
is very simple. Each tribe has a head chief, and
each of the bands composing a tribe has its subor-
dinate chief ; but the authority of these chiefs is
Uttle more than nominal. Theu- prerogatives are
chiefly those of directing the movements of a
camp, of presiding in council, and of representing
the tribe or band in conferences with other com-
munities. The term * confederacy,' applied to
the union of the Blackfoot tribes, is somewhat
misleading. They have no proper inter-tribal
lea^e, like that of the Iroquois nations. There
iTsimply a good understanding among them,
arising partly from the bond of kinship, and
partly from a sense of mutual dependence. Even
ti^ three proper Blackfoot tribes can hardly be
said to have a general name for their whole com-
munity, though they sometimes speak of them-
selves as Sawketakix, or * men of the plains, and
occasionaUy as Netsepoyd, or ^people who svesk
one language.'

458

SCIEJ^CE.

[Vol. VI., No. 146.

The foregoing, as has been stated, is only a
brief summary of the contents of this report,
which is given in an abridged form in Nature, and
will doubtless hereafter be published in full by the
association. The facts which it presents disclose
in the people of this aboriginal Switzerland quali-
ties much above the average, and should lead to
further inquiry into their history and cliaracter-
istics.

SOME REACTION-TIME STUDIES.

The study of reaction times derives a^ great in-
terest and importance from the fact tl(at by this
means another bond of relation b^ween mind
and matter becomes apparent. All material actions
require time. Mental actions as well, from the
perception of a sensation to the highest expression
of the inteUect that offers itself to experimental
investigation, also occupy an appreciable amount
of time. This mental time is not constant as the
time of a falling body in space, but is affected by
slight variations in bodily and mental conditions.

M. Beaunis ' has studied the effect of one impor-
tant mental requisite, namely, expectation. The re-
actions were made to a visual sensation, and 36
l)ersons besides himself (most of whom were med-
ical students) were experimented upon. A signal
{advertisement) was given, whereupon the subject
held himself in readiness for the flash of light, so
as to react by pressing the key as quickly as pos-
sible. The time between the signal and the flash
of light is the expectation time ; that between the
light and the seeing of it, the reaction time. The
expectation time was varied from .3 sec. to 3
sec. , and the following conclusions were reached : —

(1) As others had already shown, the reaction
time is shorter if a signal is given than if it is not.

(2) The longer the expectation time, the shorter
the reaction time. The experiment may be com-
pared to the problem of finding an object in a
dark room by bringing the hght of a bull's-eye
lantern upon it. When there is no signal, that is,
when directed to find the object without time to
get the lantern ready, it would evidently take
longer to find the object than it would if time
were given to get the lantern in position ; and the
longer this time, the quicker would the object be
foimd. The attention acts as the bull's-eye lan-
tern.

(3) The difference between the minimum and
maximum times is greater than when a signal is
not given, and increases as the expectation time
increases.

(4) The influence of several individual differ-
ences, etc., was evident. In two of the medical

> Revue pkHotophique, September, 1885.

students the reactions were always slow. In
many it was very quick. M. Beaunis was the^nly
person who was accustomed to this kind/bf ex-
perimentation, and in his case a much/ smaller
percentage of experiments had to be thrown out
as faulty than in the others. The effec;t of health
was marked in one case. Feeling sightly indis-
posed in the morning, M. Beaunis's Reaction time
was .37 sec, i.e,, abnormally slow, ,/ln the after-
noon it was .222 sec, showing t^at the normal
condition was returning. Two 10urs later it was
normal (.160 sec). /

An extremely interesting research is that of
Guiccordi and Banzi,' in whiph they compare the
reaction time to a sound impression in normal per-
sons with the same in patients suffering from
auditory hallucinations, ^fhe reaction time is ob-
tained somewhat in thi^ way. The making of
the sound which serves as the stimulus sets into
motion a chronosdppe, .which the subject stops, as
soon as the sound fe heard, by pressing an electric
key. In this way the following table, giviug in
seconds the time necessary for hearing the sounds
was prepared : —

=t:

Average of 10 shortest reactions out of 50
Average variation - - -

Average of remaining 40 reactions -
Average variation - - • \ -
Average of all 50 reactions -.
Minimum time - - - \-
Maximum time - - - •'. •

Normal. Hallucinated.

.1012
.0033
.1259

.oi:«

.1135
.0885
.1781

.0947
.0046
.1403
.0206
.1175
.0802
.2287

Taking the mean of the 10 shortest reactions, or
comparing the minimum reaction time, we see
that those suffering from hallucination are quicker
in their perception of soimd ; and this difference
must be ascribed to morbid irritability of these
centres of apperception. On the other hand, the
other averages, and especially the average diver-
gence from the mean reaction time, i.e, , the average
variation, and the maximum time, show that nor-
mal persons can command a steadiness and regu-
larity of the attention, which is impossible in those
afflicted with sound hallucinations.

In many cases the reaction time is and must be
studied imder rather artificial conditions. This
circumstance is apt to weaken inferences drawn
from such studies to similar processes in normal
mental activity. In a recent study - of the time
necessary for recognizing letters, numbers, colors,
etc., this difficulty has been successfully overcome
Small letters were fastened to a revolving drum,
and looked at through a slit of variable width in
a screen held before the letters. The letters are

» Revue philosophique, September, 1885.

' "Ueber die zelt der erkennung und benennung von
schriftzeirhen, bildern und farben,'^by J. M. Cottell. Phi-
losophiche studien (Wundt), vol. if., No. 4. Leipzig, 1886.
The work was done in the psychophysical laboratory of
Johns Hopkins university.

V^o>rc-«

u^^c^^:^^l:^^[^rr

848

LIFE AMONG THE BLACKFEET.

BY J. WILLARD fiCHOI.TZ.

FROM where rise the transparent, niflhing Htrenms, which
form the headwaters of that mighty northern river, the
Saskatchewan, Houth to the Yellowstone; from the foothills
of the Rocky Mountnins between these *wo rivers, east to
about the 104th meridian of longitude, west from Greenwich,
was once the home of the Black feet. Here, as nowhere
else in our whole country, has nature piled up great moun-
tains and spread out vast prairies with a more than lavish
hand. All along the western border of this region, the
Rockies lift their snow-capped peaks above the clouds. In
the northwestern part are the Porcupine Hills. Southeast of
these the three lonely buttes of the Sweet Grass Hills stand
surroundeil by a vast expanse of prairie. Further to the
southeast, and running parallel with the ^^i^sp"", are the
Bear s Paw and Little Rocky Mountams. South of the Mis-
souri between it and the Yellowstone, is a vast cluster of
ranges the Highwood, Belt, Judith, Moccasin and Snowy
Mountains. Between these mountain ranges, and between
the river valleys stretches everywhere the great prairie.
Not the brilliantly flowered prairie of the south, nor the
ffreen marshy plains of the far north. Except for a few
thort weeks in early spring, the short, sparse bunch grass is
sere and yellow. The ashy gray of the sage brush but adds
to the general sombreness of the landscape. Perhaps m the
distance a range or two of mountains may loom up with
startling distinctness, although a hundred miles away, or
thev may appear enveloped in a blue misty haze, the ''gather-
ins of the ghosts." The* seemingly dreary prairie is not
wUhout its beauty. Everywhere it is cut and seamed with
ffreat deep ravines, whose perpendicular walls are crowned
with fantastic columns and figures of sandstone, carved by
the storms and winds of ages.. Here and there, on some
hiffh bleak ridge, a few scattering pines may be seen ; short
stunted trees with huge gnarled limbs and great black roots
which twine around rocks.and creep into fissures, seeking a
secure foothold against the fierce blasts of winter.

Not so very long ago these prairies were graced with
countless hei-ds of buffalo and antelope; along the wooded
valleys of the stream, and on the pinecovered slopes of the
mountains, were once numberless bands of elk, deer, sheep
and bears. Some of the game is yet to b« found. Bands of
the ancient inhabitants are yet to be seen— small remnants
of a once mighty nation. Still camping where their fore-
fathers were wont to pitch their lodges, some of them pre-
serve their native dignity and hold to their ancestral
customs as sacredly as ever; others are demoralized, dis-
couraged and indifferent. On the prairie, but partly con-
cealed by the thin grass, lie the bleached skeletons of the
buffalo. In the trees by the river, securely fastened on their
aerial sepulclu-es, lie the motionless forms of the many dead,
whose ghosts are happy in another laud. The broad, deep
trails, where thousands were wont to pass on their annual
hunts, are now grass-grown and nearly obUterated by the
leveling hand of time. To those who were accustomed to
Hce tlu* prairie covered with living forms, the smoke of a
thousand lodges curling upward in the still, clear air, the
change is marvellous which a few short years have wrought.
Tl^rc are rhose of us, Idle dreamers, who would that it
might be otherwise. But it may not be. The weaker
organism must give way t# the stronger, the lower to tin?
higluT Inti'llect. Before the bullets and far deadlier fire-
water of thi« whites, these Hlnjplu men have l>een swept away
like leaves before a wind. "But they were only Indians. '
MavHome. True: yet they were human beings, they loved
thllr wild, free life as well as we love our life; they had
pleasures and sorrows as well as we.

It is not the purpose of this paper to give a history of the
Blackfeet since the discovery of their country by the whiteH.
It is enough to say that like most all other Indians they have
bitterly opposed the march of civilization and have been
defeated, and that the "Piegans," one of the tribes of the
Blackfeet yet remaining on United States territory, are
in as destitute a condition as is possible for a DeooU to be.

ever saw were a detachment of tl.e Hudson ^ Ba> Comj^^^^
which established a trading post on l^,^^„^,'^'K''^ri';,randl
the close of the last century. In the 30"™''\9fVhP Black
Clavke-8 expedition, the nan-ator mentions ineeUng the B^ack

feet when the expedition were on tins i^me ot "'^^ "'"' -
ran<^e Blackioot^tradition, however makes no mention o

IKct, and the writer is incliLed »« l-'^'X ' ^^ek siS
tribe must have been mistaken for Blackfec 8ure J sucn

an important event as the first ^^^'t^^^.^Sj '„'„'', and iii
country would have been "'cl«d^d ui tlieir tiaditions am. i

their unwritten history Mr. Jos. Kipp has 'li%h""°\°^Se
the first white man they ever saw ^outli o^ the basRatcn
wan he having come up the Missouri to the mo*" J <'}. '"f.
Marias River with an expedition of the American Fui Com

^Tt'thTt^: Ihf American Fur Comp-y establ^hed it.|

uHllies, the Sarcees and Gros Ventres, ^^^^^^^^^^L^^^^^^^
tribes were without diflioulty kept beyond the boundaiies oti

its vast hunting ground. . , Black-

The Blackfoot natitm consists of three ^F^^^^v Tinin h^
feet Bloods and Pieoans. ^ach tribe ^onsists ot a nunii ei
S'^'^gent" s' ^ a -gens'' being a body ol eonsangum^^^^^
dred in the male line. Below is a complete lisi ^t the geme^^^
oreach tribe. Tbe, writer ^^^^^ taken great pains^^^^^^
late the names so as to retain the meaning as eloseh as pos
sMe Any one familiar with an Indian language will undei-
stand how difficult this is to accomplish. ,

Tribe Siks-iiJi-Mh-Bbic^oat, from Sih^-r-nuU, black, andj

iih-kuhtehU, foot. •

Gentes;
PHh'M-nah'-inah-yik.<i---not{eu bows.

3/o-^(2A'-//>8-//.'.'^— Many medicines.

.S/A-;«?ir?'-<5-M//^— Black elks.

E-md-i^-prfJik'Shytk^y-T^o^Hrnxked.

AhM'-sUm-U'H- Much manure. •

Si-yekH—lA'di'ti. ^

rUk-Mk XAvJ— Biters.

Ph'-tl'kfnn-lktf,
.Si//.7/•-.^)^-/^<)^v/Ax--Early-flnished eating.

Ap -pf^'kl-yU'^—^kunkH.
Ik''MU(tk'tr1-ifh ' ./^^/^/>;^?^H— Meat-eaters.

i^^frlbe -Bloods/' hl'-nnh. The '}''^^^^:^^^^^^^
pertain. Perhaps it was originally Ah -ki-nah-m^r^y^

chiefs.

Gentks;

^lA^/i4//'-/y-/vUv*— Black elks.

I'.yd-mrhke-kdn.'iks^HYuXorH.
.4A.Avw'.//?<«-f/»/'«^/»— Many lodge-poles.
^//.;?/?^<?-4•A>/m^— Behind direction

fs4He' Klfi(fh-'Woo(\» ''Bloods."
In-Mk''Sd-yh-sfo7n4kM--Lon-rA(iU]^^^^

Bloods.

Pis-kms-sti-yiks.
Stkfi-ah'-pf}n-U''^—-Bh\c}i blood.
Aklk'-st)}fi-iin-ik>i.
JSsW-o-kafi-hnlkii—llmT shirts.
Ah-kl'-2:)0'k/ik.H—Manj children.
Sdk'Sinah' -))Ufh-yik.<^— ^hort bows.
Ap'-pe-ktytka — Skunks.
Ak-o'ta»h -iA-^— Man> horses.

Tribe 'Tiegans." P^-Ar///-^— spotted tan, that is, a robe
which has hard spots on it after being tanned.

Gentes;

E-niikS'lks — Small.

Ap'-pe-k^-y^kn — Skunks. ^

Kd-me-tlks' — Buffalo manure.

E' 'pok-i e-mtkR — Fat roa'sters.

^/i'-j^i-^/ip-ZA-/?— Blood-people.

ye-i/nr-yiks— One eaters. - ,

Kut' I4m4ki<—'i Laugh.

Sik'f(t'i<i-i)nm-lks — Black moccasin soles.

J^l7i -ik-szy-tsd-ylka — Ea rly -fi n ish ed ea ti n g.

jfe-ah'trah' jiei-sek.'i — Seldom lonesome.

Md-twin'-lks — All chiefs.

E'liuk-si'-kuh'k^-jyimlkti.

I8k-8m''l't0p'lk^ — Worm people.

Medh'-ki/i'lyeka—rBig tops.

Sfk'-d pdk-si-)mk8 — Black fat roasters.

Md-kfrm'-iks — Mad campers.

^^e'tot'-si-UU'Stflm-lkn — Bulls co ne close.

S)k' -oh-ket-ifi/n-ika — Black smoke-holes.

Mo'tah' -tdH-lki(— M&uy medicines.

Ne'tM-m-klt'Si-pup-U's --One will their hearts.

Ah-kl-ye-kd'k'tn 'Us— Many loose women.

It will be readily seen from the trnnslations of the above,
that each gens takes its nnme from some peculiarity or habit
it is supposed to possess. Thus, the Black foot gens "Slid-
ers" was so named on account of the great love the people
had for sliding down the hanks into the ice on hulTalo ribs.
*'Bchind direction" is the name for the nortli. The gens
'•Behind direction" Bloods was so called because it was
tiroatly attached to an extreme northern ])ortlon of the great
hunting groundn. The gens "Kuf I-Tni Iks— ? l.auLdi,'^ was
so callecl because Its members were Hehh.mHcen to laugh.
••ICAt'l" is the sound which asks a direct oiKstion and may
be represented in our language by the words do, did, Is, are,
anci was, when used in asking direct (|ueMtions. The Plcgan
gens "Blood-people," received its name on account of its
members' abnormal appetite for cooked blood. The name of
the gens "Small" is perhaps the only one which gives no clue
to its meaning. Long ago, says tradition, thin gens was out
on a hunting expedition, and, ^meeting a camp of mountain
Indians, traded buffalo robes for robes of different m(>unlain
animals Upon returning to camp the other Piegans \f ere
surprised to see them wearing tiicli sfinnll robes, and ever
since they have been callofl "S?riall. *

are common to one or both ot the Other tribes. This is
caused by persons leaving their own tribe to live with an-
other one, but instead of uniting with some gens of the
adopted tribe, they have preserved the name of their an-
cestral gens for themselves and their descendants. It is not

tops" is also a comparatively new name. Each gens is gov-
erned by a chief chosen by the ceremony of the "Medicine
I Lodge"* which will be described in another place, llowx^ver,
it can hardly be paid that chiefs govern the gentes. Matters
of ir^porttince relating to a §ens only, are discussed by the
leading men, and a decision rendered by the opinion of the
majority. Matters of less consequence, such as the disputes
about the ownership of a horse, a family quarrel, or a theft,
are carried straight to the chief for his decision. Subjects
of importance to the tiribe arc discussed in the centrally lo-
cated lodge of some chief or "medicine man," and as in the
gentile council, a decision is rendered by the majority. A
tribal council is attended by all the chiefs, medicine men
and married w^arriors of the tribe. A council is called
'they-all-talk,'' a tribal and a gentile council house "in -the-
I middle-talk-to-each-other-house. "

The Blackfeet have very few laws for the social and mih-
Itary government of the people. The law regarding murder
is, that the murderer must be killed by some of the male
[relatives of the murdered; if the murderer escapes, some one
of his male relatives may be killed in his place. If a married
man, who has no near relatives, dies, the widows may de-
mand some warrior of his gens to avenge him. Thus, in the
story of "Red Old Man," which is as follows: "And some
widows, whose husband had been killed by the Crows,
painted their faces black and came to the lodge of lied Old
Man, saying, 'Our husband is dead, we have no one to
avenge him,' and the women cried. Now Red Old Man's heart
was good. He could not bear to hear the women crying, and
he took his \yeapona and rushed out, saying, 'Cry not. I
-Will UVenge his death.' " A woman guilty of adultery was
punished for the first offense by cutting off the end of her
nose; for the second offense she was killed. For lesser
crimes there is no punishment save the contempt and Jeers of
the camp, which are dreaded as much as thejxinaltyot death.
A coward, one who will not go on war expeditions, is made
to wear the dress of a woman, and is not allowed to braid his
hair. His relatives ca.st him off, and he leads a miserable
life, begging from lodge to lodge and sleeping with the dog?.

As the members of a gens are nil relatives, however re-
mote,^ men are prohibited from marrying with io it, they
must seek wives from some other gens. Polygamy is prac-
ticed. All the younger sisters of a man's wife are his poten-
tial wives. If he does not choose to marry them, he must
be consulted regarding their disposal to other men. There is
no marriage ceremony. A man having found a woman he
thinks will suit Mm, sends one of his friends to her parents'
lodge, Avhen, in a roundabout way, he is praised for his
valor, good heart, etc.

After an interval of a few days the friend is again sent to
make a formal demand for the w^oman. The parents of the
woman then call a family Council to discuss the advisability
of letting the young man have her. Often a price is set — a
number of horses, valuable finery, etc. If within his means,
the young man pays it, whereupon the bride is escorted by
some female friend to his lodge, where she immediately en-
ters upon her duties as if she had always been accustomed to
them.

If a man die his widows may become the wives of his
eldest brother. However, if he does not choose to marry
them, they are at liberty to marry any one else. If a mail
wish to divorce his wife, he accomplishes it by taking back!
the price he paid for her. The woman is then at liberty to]
marry again. The first woman a man marries is called his
*'sits-beside-him-wife;" she is invested with authority over
all the other wives, and does little but direct the work of the
other wives and attend to her husband's wants. Her place
in the lodge is on the right side of her husband's seat. She
enjoys the great privilege of being allowed— to a certain ex-
tent— to participate in the conversation of the men, and
often, at informal gatherings, take a whiff out of the pipe as
it is being smoked around the circle.

Female children are generally named by their mothers or
some female relative. Male children by their fathers or
some male relative or fiiend. Female can always be distin-
guished from male names by the terminations, thus: Ante-
lope-woman, Sitting-up-in-the-air-woman, Little-clk-teeth-
womau, etc. As soon as a young man has taken part in
some brave deed he is allowed to choose a new name for
himself by which he may be known for the rest of his life.
However, names aie considered a man's personal property]
as are his bows and arrows or his shield, and are often
bought and sold, large prices sometimes being paid for them
Favorite men's names are White Shield, Bear Chief Won-
derful Sun, Running Wolf, Yellow Wolf, Wolf-coming-up-
the-hill, Young Bull, Water Bull, etc. A very singular
custom exists among the Blackfeet, that a man must not
under any circumstances, meet or speak to his mother-in-law'
and if this rule be broken, the mother-in-law may exact a
heavy payment from the offender. The writer has be(»n
unable to learn anv special reason for this. Homo nav that
tlie sun made the law, others that is improper for a man to
meet his mother in-law for fear she might hear hlmsay some-
thing impolite. • « J u

[to* UK CONIINl'KD.J

they
It will be noti<

h tribe has a few gentes which!

FOREST AND STREAM.

;UFE AMONG THE BLACKFEET.

BY J. WILLARD SCUULTZ.
SECOND PAPER.

IN ancient times the Blackfeet used dogs Jo transport their
households goods when moving camp. But the people
were not then very migratory. In those days the dwellings
were made of stones, sticks, mud and grass. Tradition,
however, does net n:ention the size or shape of them. With
the advent of the horse (Blackfoot PC-nO-kuh'-me-ta, i. c,
elk dog) all this was changed Instead •f building stationary
dwellings the people made portable lodges of tanned buffalo
cowskins; and, mounted on their strong ponies, roamed at
will all over their vast domains. The first horses the Black-
feet possessed were stolen from the South. It is said that
"those who made stone arrow points saw not horses." So it
must have been at about the close of the last or the beginning
of the present century that they first possessed them.

Befoie the days of trading posts the Blackfeet made kettles
of earth, cups and ladles of mountain -sheep and buffalo
horns, bowls of wood, fleshers and tanning implements of
flint and bone, and awls and needles of bone. Knives were
made of flint, bows of mountain-sheep horn or wood, backed
with sinew and sometimes with snake skin. Arrow and
spear points were of flint, long, narrow and slightly barbed.
The ancient dress of the men consisted of a cowskin shirt,
breech-clout, belt and leggins, and a toga of cowskin or a

buffalo robe.

The women wore a short-sleeved gown of cowskin, short
leggins of some kind of fur, and a cowskin or buffalo robe
toga.

Moccasins were made in winter of buffalo robe. In sum-
mer of cowskin with parfleche* soles. Necklaces, bracelets
and earrings were made of animals' teeth and claws and
birds' claws. White, ^yellow and reddish earths were used

for paint.

The Indians are represented as being a silent, sullen race,
seldom speaking and never laughing or joking. However
true this may be of some tribes, it is certainly not true in
regard to the Blackfeet. The social customs of these people
are an interesting study. Let us imagine ourselves in the
midst of them for a day and see how they live. It is just
sunrise and the fires are being kindled; vast quantities of
smoke are rising from the smoke-holes of the lodges and
ascending in thin columns in the still morning air. Every-
where women may be seen carrying water and food for the
morning meal. Here, close by, is a large, plain lodge. Let
us enter it. As we push aside the curtain and enter with
much diflSculty through the small oval hole, we are greeted
b7 the owner of the lodge with the salutation, * Enter,
friend; sit," and with a wave of his hand our host motions
us to a seat on his left. While he is preparing a pipe full of
tobacco, let us examine the interior of the lodge. The seats.
or more properly lounges, are each about seven feet long.
At either end of them are inclined frame works of willows,
on which as also along the entire length are spread buffalo
robes. Behind, brightly painted cowskins are hung to more
effectually keep out the cold air. Between the lounges, in
the Uttle triangular spaces, are piled vaiious sacks of painted
parfleche, which contain dried meat, dried berries, and dif-
ferent articles of general utility. Our host's seat is directly
opposite the doorway; on h s right are the seats of his wives;
on his left, where we are sitting^ are the visitors' seats. Sus-
pended from a lodge-pole behind a long row of drying
meat is a baby. It is swathed in a huge roll of furs and only
its head is visible Like most all Blackfoot babies it never
cnes, but restlessly rolls its great black eyes about as if
seeking to understand what is going on about it. For the
first year of its life the baby is kept in this roll of cloth,
incapable of moving either hands or feet. At the end of
that time it will be released, a straight, well-formed child.

While we are smoking the pipe, we hear the owner of an
adjacent lodge shouting out for a * 'feast," that is, giving out
the invitations. He says:,
M6k'-5t-se-pe-tan ki-t(im-0k-5-wah Nat'-O-wap-ah ki-tfira-

Red Eagle you will eat Blind Medicine you

Ok-O-wah Ap'-pB-kun-ny ki-tiim-0k-5wah
wiJl eat White Spotted Robe you will eat

and 80 forth through a long list of names, and at the close
adds:

Ne'-ok<^k\im ki-toks-o-tchts-t-po-wai.
Then you will smoke aud they.

He has mentioned our names m his shouted invitations, so
of course we must attend. As we enter the lodge we find we
are the first arrivals, but the other guests soon come in and
take their places, according to their rank, near the host or
near the doorway. **MediciMe" men sit next the host. Next
to them come the chiefs, warriors and old men. The young
immarried men are seldom invited to a feast. Before each
guest is placed a plate of food, which is all he may have. If
he does not eat it all, he may carry the remainder home with
him. No food is set before the host, however; he does not
eat in the presence of his guests. Every one eats slowly, and
a general conversation is cHrried on. Sometimes the talk is
about the success of a war party, or again one may tell of
some funny incident, at which there is a general laugh.
When all have finished eating, the gi*eat stone pipe is filled
with a mixture of **larb" and tobacco, and handed to the
guest on the extreme right, who lights it, after which it is
smoked in turn to the extreme left and then handed back to
the one who lighted it, and thus kept going around the circle
until it is smoked out. After three pipef ulls of tobacco have
been smoked, the host ostentatiously knocks out the ashes
and says, "Kyi!" whereupon the guests arise and file out of
the kxige. All day this feasting is kept up, and often far
into the night.

While tne men thus while away the hours in feasting and
smoking, the women may be seen steadily at work, tanning
robes or skins, drying meat or berries, or making moccasins.
The children pass their time in mimic warfare and danc-
ing, or making mud images of men and animals. If in win
ter, they may be seen sliding or spinning tops on the ice.
The tops are made of bulls' horns, and are kept in motion
by whipping with pliable thongs. These children may be
seen in the middle of the winter, playing on the ice and snow
without clothing or moccasins. If they become sick nature
is their only physician, but nature's work is hindered bv the
incessant drumming and singing which is kept up until the
patient either dies or recovers. Only the very strongest con-
stitutions can successfully buffet the ills of Blackfoot child-

♦Bdwhlde.

hood. Is not this a good illustration of the survival of the

Gambling is a favorite amusement. On pleasant days the
men have an out-door game which is very popular, ine
small wooden wheel used is about four inches in diameter
It has five spokes, and on these are strung different sizes and
colors of beads. At each end of a level space logs are placed
about thirty feet apart. The wheel is rolled back and forth
between these logs by two players, who throw arrows at it.
Whichever first succeeds in bringing his arrow in contact
with a certain spoke which has been agreed upon wins tne

^The only other game the Blackfeet have is what we call
**kill the button.'^ It is played by both sexes. >Vheii only
men play, a large lodge is cleared, and an equal number ot
players take their places on each side of the lodge. In front
of them are placed rails on which time to the gambling song
is beaten with sticks Each man bets with the one directly
oppohite him, and the stakes are piled up in a heap on the
ground. Some skillful player now takes two little bones,
one white and the other painted red. As the soug is begun
he deftly tosses the bones from one hand to the other, rubs
his palms together aud finally holds out both hands for the
one opposite to gue^s which contains the red bone, ihc
winner then takes the bones, and thus the irame is kept
ffoing, first one side losing then the other, and sometimes it
18 kept up for a night and day. The bets vary in value from
a necklace to two or three horses. This gambling song is
the most weird tune the writer ever heard. At first it is a
scarcely audible murmur, like the gentle soughing of an
evening breeze, then it incireaees in volume and reaches a
pitch unattainable by most voices, sinks quickly to a low
bass sound, rises and falls like waves and finally dies away.

But whon the sun has gone down, and darkness spread her
sable mantle over the land, then the Blackfoot camp may be
said to have fairly waked up. Bright fires are kindled m
every lodge. The sound of drum, song, and laughter fills
the air. The Indian dogs, which have dozed on the sunny
sides of the lodges during the day have also waked up, and
mock their brethren in the darkness beyond with long drawn,
melancholy howls. In one lodge may be seen a gimip ul old
men, smoking the great stone pipes, and telling of the
"deeds of other days." In several lodges, professional story
tellers are entertaining large audiences with tales of the past
and stories of the adventures of the ancient men and animals.
As the speakers become interested in the stories they are re-
lating, they rise to their feet, and with wonderfully perfect
gesticulation and voice, imitate the movements and speech
of the characters in their legends. Grouped about them sit
the dusky listeners, never moving nor speaking except to
laugh at some funny part of the story. So spellbound are
they at the rhythmic voice and movement of the speaker that
the men forget to keep the pipe lit, and the women drop the
half sewed moccasin trom their motionless hands.

There, in another lodge, a party of young m(tn are going
through a war dance preparatory to a raid on the horses of
some neighboring tribe. In another lodge a party of men
and women are having a social dance. Near the doorway
sit the musicians, who beat time to the dance song on drums
made of rawhide stretched over a hoop. On one side ot
the lodge stand the men, on the other the women. As the
drumming begins all sing and dance. The ''step" is a double
bending of the knees. Occasionally a woman will dance
over to one of the men, and deftly throwing her toga over
both their heads, give him a hearty kiss, whereupon there is
a general burst of laughter. For this favor the man is ex-
pected to make the woman a present of some little article of
finery. Standing by the fire are huge bowls of food ot
which the dancers partake at intervals. Such was the life ot
the Blackfeet when the writer first knew them. With plenty
ot buffalo meat for food, and plenty of buffalo robes for
clothing, no people were happier than they. But now, sur-
rounded by a strange race which is driving the game from
their land and depriving them of their means of sustenance,
what wonder that they are silent and sullen?

[to be continued.]

fave^T

OJM

goo

LIFE AMONG THE BLACKFEET.

BY J. WILLARD 8CHOI.T7..
THIRD PAPKR.

THE Blackfept are pre-eminently a prairie people. The
great cafions and wooded slopes of their mountains are
unknown to them. On the prairte. however f/om the Dask-
atehewan to the Yellowstone, there is not a streamlet or
sloueh by which they have not pitched t^eir lodges, ine
reason for this is that it has always been much easier to kill
bXk> Vhan mJuntain animals, and as bufEalo have always
^*n found near their camp, they have never been obh^ed to
tlamberover the mountaiijs '« search of food Agam the
fountains have always been ^^ihtiMhj ho«/'lf '4'J|^'
f^hich, although no match for the Bla^kf^t on the pmr^
Tould totally destroy them once they penetrated the timberea

'1S forSetnuXS thTFoREST and Strkam the writer
hi"des rlS^" ^hemamier in which tije Blackfeet u^^to
catch buffalo * Another ingenious method of hunting was
the Pis Xtse'-kav for catching eagles. Perhaps of all the
artiSs used for Srsonal adornment, eagle feathers were tlie
most highly prized. Thev were not only used to decorate
^P^drSel gaments and shields, but they were held as a
stan^ar^ valuT A few lodges of people in need of eag e
featherewould leave the main camp and move up close to

he fo^twSs where eagles are genemlly more numerous
.Ko/^t nn the nrairie Having arrived at a good locality,
lach maVseSKttile knoll fr hill, and with a stone knife
and sSdi other rude implements as he I^^es-sed dug a pit m
the too of it large enough for him to lie in. Within arm s

engSf of the moSh of the pit he securely pegged a wolf skin
to tie ground, which had previously been stuffed with grass
tn make it look as life-like as possible Then, cutting a slit

n rK. Sorted a large piece of fougbbu.1 meat and

daubed the hair about the slit with blood and liver.

In the evening, when all had returned to. camp an eag e
dance was hell in which every one participated. Eagle
son^ were sung, whistles made of eagle wing-bones were
-°wn and the ''medicinemen" prayed earnestly for success
Thr next morning the men arose before daylight, and
Tmok^ tw^pipes to the sun. Then each one told his wives
Ind all the women of his family not to go out or look out of
thelo^ge until he returned, and not to use an awl or needle
at any liml of work, for if they did the eagles would surely
scraKto, but to sing the eagle songs and pray for his

-°T^irwUhout eating anything, each man took a human
skull and repaired to his pit. Depositing theskull m one end
^nl hH carefully covered the mouth over with slender wil-
t^: «nZra9^ and Mn? down, pillowed his head on the
S. anVwalted f or ^"Wb to come. With the rising of
~^e quote from Mr. Schultz's paper in the Forest and Stream of

"^ WntV^W lone ago I happened to be camped with a gens of the
Not 80 yeo^ long ^u i ""Fw Round, situated some fifteen

Pe-gun-ny, at a place ja"™ ""'"JT» " gjj 'jy jn the evening 1 saw
railes abote here, on the Marias wvei.tar.y

old Po-kah-yah-yl, to '^^°^%\'?^^t^.^l^^ioEitoUo^eA, aid was
not far <>«^i»"<l ^\"°?A ^ ^^ttTy o^si^uf ^^^ the riVer were

and how many winters ago did you use it?

^I^%'aos?d;yVw^^^^^^^ ^"?v^H^ "l^"^

v^^io ind Irrow J and somltiiues we used the pis-kan When we

^^aI ^«/, w we m^st found a httle open glade by tlie river where
PK^«^?H^?imldo^ and ended in a cut bank astiign asaman
R^'J^Jf^i^ cut bank wTbSStrst^^^^ feace clear around the edge of
f J^™ii^ w^ti^ biz trees to make the fencc-logs and sticks, and
i^tfhtn^* tt^t ^dliSpTo keep the buffalo from breaking out.
anything that woma^eui^ y ^ prairie, two lines

?h\Tevermvlg^^^ ^^^}f.d .

^ oT^I^iSS nefore we inw^ to make a drive we always had a

••The night Derore we in^u medicine men ail wore

hnSaoiXs i^dsSrte buffSo songs. Every one prayed to
buffalo rooes, anu suu^ ^" . Horiv the next morning the

"BuffalS-l The bSffa^waTffrTt^i little scai-ed; then they began
band had i<ot clone to the etige of the piakan, ^J^^J't^^^].^^^^

^^u^n-nr^capt^" I'^'er'Vv'TtyJhv'^ bead of buffalo in thU manner

E^i'"fl^jCtt,o^Jr°eV^^a';e-?ag7S.v^
than a hundred were taken.

the Sim came all the little birds, the ^ood-for-nothmg birds,
the crows, ravens and hawks, but with a lon^ sharp-pointed
stick the watcher deftly poked them off the wolf skin. The
ravens were most persistent in trying to perch on the
skin, and every time they were poked off would loudly
croak. Whenever an eagle was coming the watcher would
know it, for all the little birds w®uld fly away, and shoitly
an eagle would come down with a rush and light on the
ground. Often it would sit on the ground for a long timo
pruning its feathers and looking about. During this time
the watcher was earnestly praying to the skull and to the
sun to e:ive him power to capture the eagle, and all the lime
his heart was beating so loudly that bethought the bird
would surely hear it. At last, when the eagle had porchedl
on the wolf skin and was busily pludiing at the tough bull
meat the watcher would cautiously stretch out his hands,
and crasping the bird firmly by the feet, quickly biar it
down into the cave, where he crushed in its breast with his

knee.

The deadfall was another contrivance the Blackfeet had
for catching animals, especially wolves. It is possible, how-
ever, that the early fur traders taught them how to make it.
The running noose was extensively used at the PIs-kans for
catching wolves. Antelope were caught in a manner like
that practised by some African tribes: long lines of bushes
were stuck up < n the prairie like the initial letter > , the
Unes joining on some sharp knoll or hill, where a large pit
had been dug and covered over with light poles and grass;
a man was concealed behind every bush; -a few men then
drove a band of antelope into the mouth of t he ^ , and from
there they were quickly scared on into the pit, afts^r whi(»h .
they were kiP jd and the meat distributed among the hui»k«a;^

Meat waft the principal diet of the Blackfeet. They either i
ate it frenh by boiling or roasting it. or they dried it and
made ii into pemmican, which consists of finely-pounded
Jrv meat, grease and berries. Every summer va,^t quantities
■^f berries were dried and preserved for winter use Black-
foot dehcacies were pemmican, dried tongjie and back fat,
marrow guts and **boss ribs." but perhaps the greatest of all
delicacies was an unborn buffalo calf.

In ancient times the Blackfeet cultivated but one plant,
the tobacco. This plant is not indigenous to the Northwest,
but it is easy to conceive how the Blackfeet came to possess
it The tribes Were not always at war with each other;
treaties were often made which remained unbroken for
\ears, and during these years of peace a lively intertribal
commerce was carried on. Thus in time the tobacco plant
was carried from tribe to tribe westward to the land of the
Blackfeet, and perhaps even across the Rockies to the tribes
on the Pacific Slope. , , , ^ _ ,.

The writer was told not long ago by an old Cree Indian
that his people used to make yearly journeys from the north
Saskatcheway to the Yellowstone to exchange their furs
with southern tribes for paint. A good illustration of In-
dian commerce.

9^n

"life among TH^BLACKFEET.

BY J. WILLARD 8CH0LTZ.
FOURTH PAPER.

THE Blackfeet divide the year into two seasons, winter.l
stO-ye meaning * 'closed," and summer, nft-pOs, mean-J
inff ''onen "' These seasons are subdivided into months, a
month being the length of a moon— about twentyeight days.!
Different phases of the moon are termed: ^^ #

New moon-An'-ndk-ntam, or -m sight ,,

Half moon-Stahk-tsI kf ff^dk ntum, or '*half m sight.
v.Full moon— Ksrs-tos-Im, or "round."
Last quarfgr-E-ne, or * 'dead.'' ^ „ , ,. i

Different seasons of the year are termed : ,8pnng- grass
starts up;" early summei— *'make lodges; midsummer—
-berries rlpp;"autumn-*'leave8 drop;" early w nter-
-water freezes;" mid winter- -very cold." The people have
no idea how many months constitute a year. One old fellow
told the writer that winter has seven months and summer
nine. It is customary to note the duration of any important
event by counting the days with sticks.

The cardinal points of the compass are named : North— |
Ap-pat'-Os-Ohts, ^'behind direction;" South-Am-skftp Ohts
-ihead direction;" East-PB-nftp'Ohts, -low direction,'' and
West-Ahmet -Ohts, "up direction." Intermediate points|
such as Southwest, Northeast, etc., are not recognized.
SpL'aking of the wind, it is said to be going to a certain

direction, not coming from. :„4«,^a*i„„

The class names for animals are exceedingly interesting.
Three ffreat classes arc recognized: First, Spahts -aJi-pBK-
seks, or -above animals," including everything which flies;
second SO-Ohts'uh-pek-seks, or -beyond animals, including I
all strictly land animals; third, Kse-Ohts-uh-pek-seks, or
**under animals," including fishes, lizards, crabs, polly-
wogs," turtles and the beaver and otter.

Animals are named from some peculiarity of habit, motion,
color or shape which they possess and some from the sound
which they make. Antelope and deer are collecUvely named
lAh-wa-kas. meaning "runners." Distinctively, the antelope
fe called -prairie runner." the white-tail deer -swaying
tail" and the black-tail -black-tail." The beaver is called
-the tree biter" and the otter -wind hair." its fur being used
to wind around scalp locks. Buffalo are termed e-neah.
which is very nearly the same as e-ne' the word for death.
Ducks generally are called -red feet." The owl is named
-all ears " the bull bat -fighter." The chicadee (Parm atrxA
\eapillu8) is called ne'-pO-mfik-r. for docs it not always keep
saV ng ne'-pO-mfik-t! nB'-pO mfik-t! -Summer is coming!
summer is coming." There is not a single quadruped to be
foSn the country for which the sfackfeet have not a
name. But many of the birds especially the ^J?J^tory^ones,
are not named other than to be called -little animals.

All birds and quadrupeds are supposed to have languages
as well as men. Of all the above animals, the geese are said
to be most intelligent. -They have chiefs who go ahead and
watch out for good camping f ^^un^^' ^^f ® 'f Pjf^^^^
food, and where no enemies are to be found. Of all quad-
riiDeds the beaver is considered the most intelligent. He
works in the summer and in the winter he has a warm hole,
plenty of food, and does nothing but eat, dance, sing and

'^^ifhe Blackfeet orof uselv decorated »nrflr«iraiP yrlri^r^^^^ I
skins, etc., with brightly painted dseigns Flgurefl havmgl
sham anirles are the most common. Many °o^^^p® ^*i?X
om«ave deeds in pictographs on large ^^^^^ Bat-
ties, war expeditions, the number of scalpa ^<^»«f;^^^^^
Ifntftd and the whole is interspersed with Pictures oiinei

iS^\^X& whlcu WM extinct levorttl hundred yenri
Slid ft common metbml of P'cturlnK ftnlmaU.

ThnBlttckfoet have a arnat many different sonm. iney
1. J ho™r WDM wltfiout words, wive one drlnWngw^ng

'SSuUheold mT The writer ba« e-^tt^whol vffi
L«;«M <tn^ tn rpneat them on thoviolln, buthtti wnouy laiiea.
nK he ever^met a white man who could repeat one of

^^'rhk muslcBl scale of the Blackfeet U quite different from
ouM oX a few of the bass soundi cnn be produced on the
Xno the hiKher ones not at all. As the songs ate nearly all
S a iacred nature, they will be partlculaflMd In another

ilace. -^

nv " al>ove ui. if tMt ^oat had ^©on on tTO top of Mount
Irii Ellnn, I imftginud he «ml not feci Mitfer if our allies
eve ^ny w^y ncftJ* »*♦ completely fagged out m we did, but
erne « WHH not the caMc. Tiie Identity of the tfanie had not
i\uA cluMHcd m certain more than Ave mlnutcM before one of
otJ/ "Stick" Indhms that had carried about a hundred and

^en pounds over the trail, and the only one having hl»
yrin with him (a flint-lock, Hmooth-bore Hudson Bay mu»-
ret), started in pursuit and soon was seen across the valley,
uiaking his way up the steep snowbanks until he looked like
an ant crawhng over a white wall. The goat in the mean-
time, having w^alked around once or twice to show that he
really was a goat, remained as immovable as if he had been
placed there solely for statuary purposes. The "Stick," in
his maneuvers, had gotten three or four hundred feet above
the goat, and I believe would have bagged him, if it had not
been for a little black mongrel cur that had followed him up
and evidently frightened the game, which came trotting
down the mountain flank. The Indian followed him like a
chamois, stopping only when the goat would stop. The
animal, after running on a level for some time, changed his
course and came bolting straiglit for camp, within lour or
five hundred yards of which heran, getting every one excited,
one Indian borrowing the Doctor's carbme cartridges and
grabbing up my Winchester, another with a Springfield rifle
and a box of revolver cartridges, put out after him, but none
of them ahead of the indefatigable "Stick" (except the goat).
Two or three wild shots from camp and the game started up
the eastern mountain side, as if he wanted promotion, the
''Stick" sticking to him about thiee hundred yards behind,
like a hero. On they went, until the goat was fully as high
as he had been on the opposite side, when the "Stick" and
the other Indians gave up the chase. A big Chilkoot brought
back my rifle, with the wrong cartridges jammed into the
feed magazine, chamber and muzzle. If I had been starving
I do not believe I would have wanted that chase for all the
goat meat in Brooklyn.

Early on the mornmg of the 11th my packers commenced
stringing out to ascend the snowy pass that frowned down
on us at an angle of not less i;han sixty degrees. How these
small Indians, not averaging over 140 pounds, could carrv
100 pounds up such a precipitous mountain side was marvel-
lous beyond measure. In many places the ascent seemed
almost perpendicular, the Indians crawling up on their hands
and knees and using the stunted spruce and juniper roots to
assist them alon^. In other places along the snow banks
probably covering glacial ice, the unloaded packers had to
ffo forward and prepare the trail so that footholds could be
had in places where a misstep would have sent them many
hundred feet down, and where those packers having boxes
often scraped them on the ire, so steep was the incline. One
or two hundred feet was climbed at a time, and then a rest
for a few moments alternated until by 10 o'clock we
stood In the little gully of snow that the Indians said was
the top, for by this lime we were in a dense fog which
drifted along and hid everything from view, although it had
been as clear as crystal when we started. From the summit
we descended quite rapidly for a few hundred yards, which
brought us on a small lake two or three hundred yards
across, with not onlv ice upon It but the Ice deeply covered
with sno^. This little lake was discharging Its waters to
the northward and was therefore one of the sources of the
Yukon. From here the walk was still on the snow for four
or five miles, and some of the packers put on their snowshoes
to keep fRJm sinking in the softer places. Where the bfinln
/Hitractcd to a narrow gorge we could hear the wntcr
4BBer us as we traveled on the snow, and a little further on
these snow-bridges had caved In, showing their abutments to
be twenty.five and thirty feet thick.

At about five in the afternoon we caught a glimpse ot tlie
lake at the Yukon's head, where the Indians, acting as|
packers, would deposit our effects and return and at seven
we landedour weary selves on its picturesque banks, thank-
ful that the worst was over. What was my surprise when
the packers came straggling in to have them sling their packs
before me to show that all was right, demand their money,
coolly remarking that they would return that night some ot
them even to the head of canoe navigation on the Dayay. 1
was fflad enough to get rid of them and to be left alone with
mv own party and the Indians that were to go through with
me so that we could construct our raft and commence that
journey which is more in keeping with my title than this

hasty preamble has been.

[to be continued.]

LIFE AMONG THE BLACKFEET.

BY J. WILLARD SCHUI.TZ.

FIFTH PAPER.

I ' I

k^'^l^HE method of Mythologlc Phylosophy,*' says that
1. eminent ethnologist. Major J. W. Powell, **is this:
kll the phenomena of the outer objective world, are in ter-
nreted by comparison with those of the inner subjective
world. Whatever happens, some one does it; that some
one has a will and works as he wills. The basis of the phi-l
losophy is personality. The persons who do the things
which we observe in the phenomeuft of the universe are tne
<rodsof mythology— ^/'^ rm?iWH in a poMlumi. Under this
svstem whatever may be the phenomena observed the phi-

3oloicSlosoph}":^^^^^^ ThuH in the mythologlc
Ssffy of the filackfectV In the beginninK . wa« a great
CmbTn ^^vhieh everything was conceived, ««>«"«>«. t^e^«.
man everything was in this womb and thev fought contm-
uaUv ^o ^ who should be born ttrst. Once, when they
fought furiously, they burst the womb and a man i«mped
outCt 80 all be animals »nd everything called him Old
Alan and he named them my Young Brothers The Old
Man made the people, but instead of putting hands on them.
Kuron cKlike tlie bcrs. and they dug roots and at.

S for fcxKi. In those days the buffalo used to drive tht
hemes lor lotn . ^ ^ ^^^ ^^^^ q^^ ^

irrtld Cn^SS alC when the buffalo were feasting on
em ami whtThe sa« what they were doing he sat fown
nd cr"ed rndU .re his hair. And he said: "I b^ve badly
;if ti.,. ™ onle thev cannot defend themselves." And he
made tbei^"P'^' ",',.J '' t a few ™-ople. and with his stone
a sHt the r pa vV making tlngirs thereon And he
knlie siu ui«^»» /nnkn howtt and arrows, and knives. And
1"^'^^1L Sr ift «rnr«^^ Htmngent that they ndght bend
n?n"iwUl gS W^ talked to the people, saying:

Whon the HI Talo again come to drive you into then!*-

l-'fE AMONG THE BLACKFEET.

In^.'l.a .5ftc.77./rtV. KfFTH PAPER, /i^. 1423^4

^^'^PHE method of Mythologlc PhyloHophy," says that
All • ^^^^^^ ethnologist. Major J. W. Powell, •'is this:
All the phenomena of the outer objective world, are inter
preted bv comparison with those of the inner subjective
world. Whatever happens, some one does it; that some
one has a will and works as he wills. The basis of the phi-
losophy 18 personality. The persons who do the thimrsi
which we observe in the phenomena of the universe are the
gods of mythology— ^//^ cofimos h a pantheon. Under this
system, whatever may be <he phenomena observed, the phi
losopher asks 'Who doe,s it?" and 'Whv?' and the answer
comes *xl god with his design.' * * "'^ The actors ii
mythologlc philosophy are gods." Thus in the mytholoffii
philosophy of the Blackfeet: In the beginning was a great
womb m which everything was conceived, animals, trees
man, everything was in this womb and they fouirht contin-
ually to see who should be b.orn first. Once.^when thev,
fought furiously, they burst l!he womb, and a man jumped
out tirst. So all the animals and everything called him Old
Man, and he named then^ by Young Brothers. The Old
Man made the people, but instead of putting hands on them
he put on claws like the Jbears, and they dug roots and atr
berries for food. In thos6 days the buffalo used to drive tht
Pf ople into pfs-kans, and then kill and eat them. One day ,
the Old Man came along wht?n the buffalo were feasting on
them, and when he saw what they were doing, he sat down
and cried and tore his hair. And he said: *1 have badly
made the people, they cannot defend themselves.*' And he
went to where were yet a few people, and with his stone
knife slit their paws, making lingers thereon. And he
taught them to make bows and arrows, and knives. And
he made their right arms the strongest that they mieht bend
tjie bow with gi-eat force. He talked to the people^ siivine :
**When the buffalo again come to drive you into the pls-
KAn, go quietly and hide your weapons under your robes.
When you kave come into the pls-kan, then draw your bows
and shoot rapidly/' And the people did as they had been

!urately counted an^emcnihcredr The head chief of the

is the one who has counted the most "coups." When-

be dies, or when he becomes too old to go to v;ar, the

jwho has counted the most "coups" next to him becomes

head chief. The chief of a gens is the warrior who, of all

iers belonging to the gens, has counted the most "coups."
Tow, when all the "coups" had been counted, all the

mng men who had been In battle for the first time were

lade warriors. Hlits were cut in their backs, and cords
massed through them, to which were attached buffalo heads,
and the young men ran a long ways, dragging the heads by
the slits in their backs, and if any one cried or would not
run, he could not becorve a warrior. Women, too, came
into the lodge, and they wore clothes like the one of whom
they would speak. Their hatt* was dressed the same and
they were painted like him, and they touched the Sun's
things and told what brave deed the one of whom they spoke
must do that they might always love and honor him.

Now, when all these ceremonies had been done, generally
at the close of the third day, the people returned to their
lodges and the medicine men only remained behind, to whom
came the sick that they might^survive. The medicine men
cured them. After that the O-kSn was left and no one could
come near it, or take away the presents which hung in it, for
everything belonged to the Sun. And after this, when a
man was very sick, and even the Vmedicine men" were not
sure they could save him, then would the head wife of the
sick man put on a garment of cowskin only, and barefooted,
she would walk all about among the lodges saying loudly:
"Take pity Sun! very sick lies my husband. You have seen
my ways; you know that I am not guilty of any sin.
Pity take and make my husband well; 1 will build you a
lodge; I will make the 0-kfln. We all will build the 0-kftn
and make you presents. Hear me, hear me, and give us full
lives." So it happens that every summer when the berries
are ripe that a lodge is built for the Sun. Sometimes only
one woman promises to build it, and again, many women
make the promise. .

The building of the 0-kftn and the attending ceremonies is
designed lor three purposes; first, any woman who has been
unfaithful to her husband is then pretty sure to be exposed
and killed, and in this way adultery is suppressed to a great
extent; second, the lodge is built for the Sun, the wonderful
Above-People, and the Old Man — it is an offering to the gods;
third, the public counting of the "coups" is designed to
stimulate the warriors to brave deeds, that they may receive
the plaudits of the people. A chieftainship is an enviable
position among the Blackfeet, and can only be obtained ]>y
most indomitable courage in war.

[to bk continued.]

Origina

Defective

480

LIFE AMONG THE BLACKFEET.

BY J. WILLARD SCHDLTZ.
SfXTH PAPER.

THE religion of the Blackfeet is a strange mixture of three
stages of mythologic philosphy. It^consists of remnants
of Hecastotlteisniy a complete Zootheism, and, to a certain
extent, Physitheism. *

So far as the writer knows, only three inanimate things
are worshipped now l\y the Blackfeet, but there is conclusive
evidence that their religion was once pre eminently hecasto-
theistic, that is, that they wOi^-ship^ed trees, rivers, moun-
tains, rocks, in fact, all inanimate tnings. There is a certain
fossil found in the blulls along the rivers which is much the
shape of the buffalo. It is called c-nls'-kim, buffalo rock,
and is worshipped by all. It is sometimes hung on the necks
of little children as a necklace, but is more frequently de-
posited in the ** medicine" sucks of the ^'medicine men.'*
Tlie legend of it is as follows:

Lone ago, in the winter time, the people were starving,
for no buffalo could be lound. The young men went out to
hunt every day, but not even a poor old bull could thoy
I find. They waited and waited for the buffalo to come,
'saying: *'8urely they will be here to-morrow," but they did
not come ; and at last the people were so hungry and weak
that they could not move the camp. Now, one day a young
married man killed a jack rabbit, and he hastened home and
said to one of his wives: "Go qujckly now and get some
water; we will cook this rabbit and eat it." When the
young woman was going down the path to the river she
heard something singing, and she looked about to see what
it was Tnere, jammed into a crevice of the bark on a cot-
ton-wood tree, was a stone (the e-nis-kim), and with it a few
buffalo hairs, for there had a buffalo rubbed himself. And
the woman was afraid and dared not go past the tree. And
the e-nis-kim sung a beautiful song, and the woman stood
and listened. And when it had finished, it said: "Take me
to your lodge,' and when it is dark call all the people and
teach them to sing my song. Pray, too, that you may not
starve; that the buffalo may come, and when it is once more
day your hearts will be glad." So the woman took the
e-nis-kim home and gave it to her husband, telling him all
that had occurred. In the evening all the people came and
learned the song and prayed, and while it was yet dark they
heard the buffalo coming. Many came, and the sound of
their running was like thunder, and as soon as it was day-
light the hunters went out and killed many fat cows, and the
peoples' hearts were glad.

Another object of hecastotheistic worship is a large red
and white colored rock lying on the side of a hill some five
miles above Fort Conrad on the Marias River. It -was once
on the very top of the hill, but successive raining seasons
have gradually washed the loose soil from under it, so thai
each year it moves down a few feet. The Blackfeet regard
this as a supernatural power and consequently worship it.
Seldom does one pass by it without making it a present of a
bracelet, or string of beads, or something of more or less
value.

The middle butte of the Sweet Grass hills is also wor-
shipped. The worship, however, partakes more of fear than
veneration. It is said that if any one happens to camp by it,
that it will appear to him in his dreams and ask him for a
woman, promising in payment some of the game which is so
plentiful on its slopes. Camps are never pitched at its base,
and any one hunting about it must make it a present.

It is not unlikely that there are more objects of Blackfoot
I hecastotheistic worship than the ones given above, but as yet
the writer is unacquainted with them.

Zootheism forms an important part of the Blackfoot re-
ligion. Still, the animal gods hold but a secondary place
among the wonderful beings, the rulers of the universe. Each
Indian has his own secret god, either an animal or a star, or
I constellation of stars. Having arrived at the age when he
may go on the warpath, each young man goes out on the
prairie or to some lonely spot by himself, and then fasts for
four days and four nights. Whatever he dreams of, as he
'lies in a half insensible state, he takes for his god, for his
secret helper. But the Blackfoot's prayers are not directly
to this secret helper. The wonderful animal which he takes
for his own god is not directly asked to fulfill his wishes.
Animals are supposed to be much nearer the supreme gods
(the Sun, Moon. Old Man, and the Stars) then mortal man,
and the secret helper is implored to ask the supreme gods to
grant w^hatever the Indian may pray for.

Of the physitheistic gods, the Sun stands at the head ; next
to him in power is his wife, the Moon, and after them the
Morning Star, their son, named E-pI-stl-ahts — early riser. In
I the mythic tales which will close this paper, the reader v/ill
find accounts of the doings of the wonderful animal gods
and bright people of the sky.

The soul, that part of the person which never dies, is sup-
I posed by a Blackfoot to be his shadow. After death this
shadow leaves the body and travels to the Sand Hills, a large
barren tract of prairie some thirty miles deyond the sweet-
grass hills Here, living in lodges which are not visible to
|the mortal eye, are all the Blackfeet who ever lived on earth.
Their daily occupations are the same as those they pursued
Ion earth. **Still," said an old fellow to me once, **what a
life-for-nothing life it must be. Their bones have no meat
on them, their horses and dogs are only skeleton dogs and
I horses, and they hunt, kill and eat skeleton buffalo. But,"
continued the old fellow, "how useless it must be to eat only
what looks like the shadow of meat."

Before death the shadow is called kwO-tdck; after death it
takes the form of the* skeleton and is then named stfi-au.
Although the Sand Hills are the homeisuof the many dead, the
stfi-auks, or, as we may translate it, the ghosts, do not always
live there. They have the power to come and go unseen,
and often visit the spots which were dear to them, and it is
thought that they are always present at a death to lead the
new ghost to his future home.* A ghost also is capable of
avenging any wrong which may have been done to him
before death. Sometimes he will c#bae and whistle over the
lodge of anyone he hales; sometioaes he shoots invisible
arrows, which quickly kill any oi.e whom they may hit.
Enemies, who have been killed and scalped, are thought to
I be 8p<»cially invested with this power of shooting invisible
arrows. Not long ago the Cree Indians made a raid on the
horses belonging to this place, and in the fight which ensued
two of them were killed and scalped by the Blackfeet. A
few days since, a little child— belougmg to one of the Black-
feet who were in the fight — was taken suddenly sick and

died in a few hours. The reason assigned for its deaiu was
that the ghost of one of tbe fallen Crees had shot it.

Every person, after death, is supposed to go to the Sand
Hills. 'Hie good and the bad are both certain to go. The
"happy hunting grounds" of anotherworld are unknown to
the Blackfeet. Their idea of a future life is a dreary ever-
lasting make-believe existence, a pantomime of the life in

this world. ^ , ., -i i *

Disease is supposed to be caused by the many evil ghosts
which are constantly hovering about, seeking an opportunity
to take life. These ghosts • have many ways of causing
death Sometimes <hey shoot their invisible arrows; some-
times they cause small, unseen animals to enter pers(ms and
eat their vital parts; again, they kill by degrees, causing one
to suffer and linger for a long time in great agony ; and
sometimes thev commence at the feet and kill one slowly,
every day killing up tqwacrf the body a little further until

death at last ensues. ^, , ^*^ , ,. *, ^ i,:

When a person dreams, the Blackfeet l>elieve that his
shadow has in reality been away from his body and actually
participated in the acts of which he has dreamed. The
dream is thought to be a special gift from the gods, thus en-
abling man to look forward into the future and ward off any
danger that may be threatening him. If a man dreams that
he has seen a person long since dead, he immediately on
waking makes a present to the gods, entreating them to
drive the death ghosts away. If he dreams of anything good,
he also makes a present to the gods, to P^y them lor the
good fortune which they may give him. Thus, no matter of
what one dreams about, it is sure to be interpreted either for
good or bad.

Wj(ut4 ^^M>xx/>iio.4i^;y^^^

^^artsnjm ^oun$t

LIFE AMONG THE BLACKFEET.

BY J. WILLARD SCHULTZ.
SEVENTH PAPER.

THE Blackfoot medicine practices consist chiefly of incan-
tations. Sk)me few roots and herbs are used, and bleed-
ing and blistering is also practiced.

In Blackfoot a **medicine man" is called a Bear-man and a
''medicine pipe" a bear-pipe. The bear, the wonderful
monster, most powerful of all the animals, is thought to be
—like the strange white buffalo— the special property of the
gods. Whenever a person killed one he left the meat as
an offering, and took only the claws for a necklace, and a,
small piece of the hide to wrap around the bear-pipe. Any
one but a Bear-man terms the bear Kl'-vu. The Bear-man
however, must never use this word, the name for the animal
being Namp'-ska. Unfortunately, the writer has been unable toi
learu the meaning of either of these words. A bear-pipe is
in reality no pipe at all, merely a very long wooden pipe-
stem, beautifully wrapped and decorated with pieces of all
kmds of fur, scalps, and many colored feathers. When in
use any large pipe-bowl is smoked which will lit the stem.
\\ hen not in use it is rolled up in fur, and in pleasant
weather hung on a tripod outside. At other times it is kept
suspended on a lodge pole just above the seat of the ownerJ
A large quantity of tobacco and herb is always kept with the
bear-pipe, and besides this, the following articles which are
used in the pipe ceremonies: A strip of white buffalo robe,
which is placed around the forehead of the Bear-man, one or
more rattles, the dried scrotum of a buffalo bull filled with
small pebbles, a pair of wooden tongs, a bag of red paint,
another of sweet grass, and a string of bells made of dried
buffalo hoofs.

When not in use, no one may touch a bear-pipe except
the B(?ar-man, Nttmp-skan, and his head wife, the Bear-
woman, Namp-ski' kl. When it is suspended in the lodge
no one may pass between it and the fire; fire or ashes may
not be carried out of the lodge, and the wood in the fireplace
must be laid so that the sticks touch each other in the center,
the long ends projecting away from the pipe. When a per- 1
son enters a Bear-pipe-man*s lodge he must, on leaving, go
out by the same side of the lodge by which he entered. For
instance, if one should pass by the right side of the lodge on
entering and on going out go around the left side of the
lodge, tnus making a complete circle around the pipe, he
would be sure to have some bad luck befall him. Months
frequently pass during which the pipe is not unrolled. Cer-
tain occasions only warrant this important ceremony. At
the o-kan', as before stated, the bear-pipes are smoked, and
again, the first time thunder is heard in the spring. A bear-
pipe is valued equal to from ten to fifteen or more head of,
horses, and frequently is bought and sold. If a man pos-
sessing one of these pipes dies, the pipe and all its appur-
tenances is buried with him. The writer has never wit-
nessed the ceremonies at the changing of ownership of a
•pipe, and is unable to say whether the pipe is then smoked
or not.

Only within the last few weeks has the writer been able
to learn anything at all of the ceremonies and duties of the
Bear-men, and only after repeated disavowal of all belief in
the white manr's God was he allowed to witness the peculiar
ceremonies. The first time he was present the pipe was only
unwrapped, the occasion being the healing of a sick woman.
The Bear-pipe-man was an old giay -headed man. When ij
entered the lodge it was already well filled with men who
had been invited to participate in the ceremony. Between j
the aged Bear-man and his wife, the Bear-woman, was the
pipe, as yet unrolled, lying on a carefully folded buffalo robe.
Plates of food were placed before each guest, and when all
had eaten and a common pipe had been lighted, the ceremony
commenced. With the wooden tongs (made of a forked
branch of willow) the woman took a large coal of fire from
the fireplace and dropped it on the ground directly before
the bear-pipe. Then, while every one joined in singing a
pipe song, a beautiful, low, plaintive chant, she took a bunch
of dried, sweet grass and, alternately raising and lowering!
her hand in time to the music, at last dropped it on the coal.
As the thin column of perfumed smoke rose from the burn-
ing herb, both she and the Bear-man leaned over it and,,
grasping handfuls of it, rubbed it over their persons to purify
themselves before touching the sacred pipe. They also took
each a small piece of some kind of root from a little bag and
ate it, signifying that they purified their bodies, not only on
the outside, but on the inside.

The man and woman now faced each other and began the,
Buffalo song, keeping time to the music by touching witm
their clenched hands— the right and left alternatefy— the
wrappings of the pipe. Occasionally, they would make the
sign for buffalo— vi«., both hands— tightly closed— elevated!
to and touching the sides of the head, forefinger of each
crooked obliquely forward to represent the horns. Aftef^
singing this song for some ten minutes they changed the
tune to the Antelope song; and instead of touching the pipe
wrappings with the clutched hands, which represented the
walking of buffalo, they closed the hands, leaving the index
finger in the form of a hook and the thumbs partly extended
and in time to the music, as in the previous song, alternately
touched the wrappers with the right and left hands, and
occasionally brought the hands to the side of the head, mak-
ing the sign for antelope, and uttered a lond Kuhl to repre-
sent the whistling or snorting of the animal.

At the conclusion of this song, the woman put another
bunch of sweet grass on a coal ahd carefully undid the
wrappings of the pipe, holding each one over the smoke thatf
it might be pure. At last the last wrapping was removed,
the Sear- man gently grasped the stem, and every one begin-i
ning to sin§ the Pipe song, he raised and lowered it several
times, shaking it as he did so, until eyery feather and bit of
scalp and fur could be plainly seen.

At this moment the sick woman entered the lodge and
with great effort, for she was very weak, walked over to the
Bear- woman and knelt down before her. The Bear-woman

then pru«lu^;«a ^^JMAMt^ V,-e ^4 ^«a T>aint and painted a broad

band across the sick woman 8 loreheau, a a&iLKs ao^n tHel
; and a number of round dots on each cheek; then pick

* .% __• i. «,"U« l\a1/l if iir\ tnxiTQrd tViA filrv ftnf

♦s "m

A^:SCr^,^sr-

492

LIFE AMONG THE BLACKFEET.

BY J. WILLARD BCHULTZ.

Elffhth Paper.

NOT long ago, about the 1st of May, the first thunder of the
season was heard. I went immediately to a Bear-man s
J lodge and found him drumming and singing the Thunder
song **To-morrow, mv son, to-morrow," said the old fellow
as I looked in at the doorway, **we will dance, come to-mor-
row I am only singing now because my heart IS glad. Ihe
next day. at the proper time, with a number of other guests,

1 1 entered the lodge. , ^* ♦!,«

The pipe-stem had already been imroHed. In front 01 tne
fire were two huge kettles of cooked berries and a large
wooden bowlful of them was given to each guest. Each
one, before eating, took a few of them in his fingers and
rubbed them into the ground, saying, **Take pity all Above-
people, look at us." , , , .

When all had finished eating a large black stone pipe
bowl was filled and fitted on the Bear-pipe stem, the Bear-man
then held it aloftmnd quickly lepeated this prayer: **Li8ten,
Thunder, listen, Old Man, Sun, all Above-peof le, all Above-
I animals, listen, take pity. You will smoke; the Bear-man
fills his pipe. Let us not starve; make the berries large and
sweet; let the bushes have a heavy load. Look at all the
women and little children ; look at us all; let us reach old
age, let our lives be complete. Let us destroy our enemies,
help the young men in the battles; man, woman, child, we
all pray to you; take pity and give us good.'*

He then took the pipe and danced with it as in the pre-
I vious ceremony. At this time another storm had come up
and the thunder crashed directly over our heads. "Listen,
said the Bear-man, as he stopped dancing. *lt hears us;
we are not doing this uselessly ;** and he raised his face, ani-
mated with enthusiasm, toward the sky, his whole body
trembling with excitement, and holding the pipe aloft once
more repeated his praver. All the rest of the people were

i***vw v««, .«^ pipe was nanaea lo a guest on the right
the circle. Another guest took a lighted brand from the
fire and counted four '♦coups," at tlie end of each **coup
touching the bowl with the fire, and when he had repeated
the last one the pipe was lighted. It was then smoked back
and forth around the circle, each one as he received it for
the first time repeating a prayer before he put the stem to
his lips. When it was smoked out a hole was dug in the
ground, the ashes carefully knocked into it and covered
over, and the Thunder ceremony ended.

When people are so sick that they cannot leave their
lodge they often send for a Bear-man to come and "doctor '
them. Although certain roots and herbs are used for medi-
cine, as before stated, the most efficacious remedy is thought
to be the I-so-ktn-uh-kin, the sonp for the sick. These songs
are not the property of any individual or gens, but may be
sung by any one. They are supposed to drive away the evil
ghosts. The drum is always an accompaniment of the I-so-
ktn-uh-kin, with sometimes rattles, hoot bells and whistles.
All the women of the lodge join in the singing. Sometimes
the chief doctor or singer blows upon the patient thr©ugh
a bird's wing-bone, after each breath uttering a loud "whoo!
Water is also blown in the form of spray. In cases of rheu-.
matism and other diseases when the pain is very often acute
in certain parts of the body it is usual to bleed the place by
cutting an incision or two with a knife. Blistering is done
^th hot rocks, and sometimes dried prickly pear thorns are
inserted in the flesh, and burned, the thorn being consumed
to the very point. People of one gens very seldom doctor
people of another one. Although any one may be a doctor
only one or two persons in a gens— those who have been yer>^
i successful with patients— have much practice. Sometiroesi
the doctor is a man and sometimes a woman. When one of
these doctors is called upon to practice on a sick person, it is
customary to demand a present at the very beginning, a
horse or a number of robes, after a day or two another present
[is exacted, and it often happens when a man's sickness is
protracted that he is obliged to pay out his very last horse
and other valuable property in doctor fees.

S^TJr^^iv . W^is o^i d=ter now sick? Give h^ a

complete life., dive us «;^'S!!\»"ti,^^'SS "-^
t the conclusion of this short prayer au ine peppip
m-m-m-m-ah! and reaching out their arms fold( ^

I across their breasts, signifying that they took thewords to
their hearts. Everyone now conamenced the Pipe song,
and the Bear- womaff^ passed the 'pipe-stem over different
parts of the sick woman's body, after which she arose and

left the lodge. . ,. v. i ^ i

The old man then took a common pipe which had been
lighted and blew three whiffs of smoke toward the sky, three
to the ground and three on the bear -pipe- stem, and then re-
peated mucli the same prayer as that said in the ceremony of
the o kan. Three drums were then produced, the war song
commenced, and the old man. rattle in liand, danced three
times from his seat to the doorway and back. This was an
entirely new dance to the writer, and was intended to imi-
tate the movements of the bear. The old man stooped down
very slightly, kept all his limbs very rigid, extended his
arms like one giving a benediction, and danced back and
forth in time to the music in quick, sudden steps. He then
took the pipe-stem, and holding it in front of him, went
through the same performance. Afterward the pipe-stem
I was hande<l to the guests, and each one holding it aloft for
a few seconds made a short prayer. The person who sat on
the left of th(^ writer prayed for a continuance of life for his
wives and children, the person on the right prayed for suc-
cess in horse stealing. This concluded the ceremony.

mat

LIFE AMONG THE BLACKFEET.

BY J. WILLABD 8CHULTZ.

Ninth Paper.

^'^.

K each tribe of the nation are two painted lodges, one

. colored red, the other white. The owners of them, like
he Bear-men, are supposed to be favorites of the gods, and
[able to cure sickness. The value of one of these lodges is
about equal to fifteen heads of* horses, and they are fre-
quently bought and sold. The tradition regarding them is
Ithis:

Long ago, the three tribes of the Nation were camped on
Bow River. One day two young men were sitting by the
river making arrow shafts. Directly beneath them, where
the water ran swiftly against a cut bank, was a large whirl-
pool. One of the young men happening to look down, saw
la large lodge in the bottom of the whirlpool, and he said to
his companion, **0h look! See that beautiful lodge down
there;" and his friend looked but could see nothing but the
water ever whirling round and round. Then said the other,
**I am going down into that lodge," and his companion tried
to dissuade him, saying, '*Donot go, for the River people
will grasp you and you will never return." But the young
man was not afraid, and pulling off his clothes, he dived
into the water.

When he had got to the bottom of the river, he came to
|the lodge, and it was painted red, and he went round to the
j doorway and entered it. Only one person sat in the lodge,
an old man whose hair was very white and long. He did
not speak or look up but kept singing a strange song. Hanging
up, on the inside of the lodge, were many buffalo robes, fine
furs, and weapons, all of them painted rea, and at the doorway
hung a bunch of hoof bells also painted red. Now, after a
long time, the old man raised his head and he said, **Why
have you come in?" And the young man said, *'0n the bank
of the river I was making arrows, and way down in the
water I saw your lodge; and I wished to see the way you
live. That is why I came." Then said the old man, **Your
heart is brave, return to your people and make a lodge like
mine; it shall be Nat-os'-e (of the sun) and the Sun will be
glad."

When the young man returned to the bank he found his
companion weeping and calling him by name, for he thought
he was drowned, and he told all that he had seen in the
underwater lodge. As the^ stood looking down into the
whirlpool the other young man saw ^ lodge at the bottom
and quickly dived into the water. After a time he returnetl
and told his companion of his adventure; the lodge which
he found was painted white, and inside were white buffalo
robes, and white furs, and white painted weapons, and
there was an old man who had spoken just as the other old
man had spoken to the first young man who went down.
Then the young men hurried home and told what they had
seen, and they each made a lodge like the ones they had
|found in the whirlpool.

Nearly all the different tribes of Western Indians with
I which the writer is acquainted, build **sweat lodges." The
Blackfeet are not an exception, but it is very probable that
their traditions regardiner the origin of the * 'sweat lodge"
and the purposes for which it is used* are different from
those of any other Indians. A(^ording to tradition, the Old
Man first built a sweat lodge and told the people to do so
that the sun would quickly hear their prayers.

A sweat-lodge consists of a framework of light willows,
covered with cow skin. It is in the shape of a hemisphere,
about three feet high and six or seven feet in diameter. In
the center a small hole is dug in the ground, in which are
placed red-hot rocks. Every thing being ready, those who
are to take the sweat crawl inside, the cow skins are pulled
tightly down, so as to exclude all circulation of air, and
water is thrown on the hot rocks, causing a dense steam which
makes the perspiration fairl}^ drip from one's body. When
Ithe sweat is over (it generally lasts for an hour and a half),
Ithe cow skins are removed and the framework left for the
3un, it never being used a second time.* During the process
Df sweating, prayers are offered by the Bear-man or painted
lodge man. If neither of these be present, the oldest warrior
lakes the prayer. Occasions for building a sweat-lodge are :
'o pray for the success of a' war party ; to pray for the re-
covery of persons from illness, and for a continuance of life.
S-naks-ap-Il e-nfiks-ap-I! **Let me (be) old, let me (be) old,"
IS the constant prayer of every Indian. Women never en-
r a sweat-lodge.

Mr. Joseph Kipp once told the writer that when the small-
3X was raging among the Indians they would crowd into
Isweat lod^s, take an unusually hard sweat, and then jump
into the icy waters of the nver. Many, he said, never
Ireachcd the bank ^gain ; hundreds of them being chilled and
powerless to combat the strong current, were swept away.

When a war party is mad« up, the one most noted for his
bravery and success is chosen for leader. Before starting it
'is the duty of tihe leader to build a sweat-lodge for a Bear

pipe-man and any others whom the Bear-pipe-man may in-
vite. Prayers are offered for the success of the party, and
beside the sweat-lodge the leader erects a pole on which is
hung a valuable present for the sun. Each member of the
war party also makes the sun a present, and sometimes a
sacrifice. This sacrifice consists in cutting off a long lock of
hair or a piece of flesh, and sometimes a joint of a finger,
and giving to the sun. Women also make these sacrifices,
the reason for so doing being that if they give the sun a
piece of their body he will be glad and preserve them and
their relatives from death. Every day during the absence
of a war party the Bear-pipe-man mounts his horse and,
rattle in Imnd, rides all through the camp, calling out in a
loud voice the names of the absent ones. He also visits the
lodges of the relatives of the absent war party and sin^s and
prays that they may be successful, the women all joining in
the songs. In the event of a war party returning with scalps
of the enemy, a war dance or scalp dance is held. AJl the
women wear the shields, weapons and finery of their hus-
bands, and have their hair parted .and their faces painted
just like a man's. One or more women carry the scalps on
slender poles, and have the lower half of their faces painted
black. The men, most of them having drums, form into a
line, and opposite them stand the women. All sing, and in
time to the music the women gradually advance and come
up to the men, then fall back, and again advance, and so on.
When an enemy is killed near camp it is customary to bring
in his feet and nands, which are shot at and kicked around
by the women.

When a person dies, and as soon as life is pronounced ex-
tinct, the female relatives of the deceased securely wrap the
body in cow skins and robes, and having built a stout scaf-
fold between the branches of an adiacent tree, they fasten
the corpse to it with innumerable thongs. Contrary to a
statement by John Young, of the Piegan Agency, all per-
sons— men, women and children — are buried in this manner.
Sometimes, however, chiefs are buried in their own lodges.
There are two ways of burying in lodges; one is to suspend
the deceased on a platform high enough from the ground to
prevent the wolves from reaching it; the other method, as
described by Mr. Kipp, is to dig a ^ave directly under the
accustomed sitting place of the chief. After the body has
been laid in it a strong platform* is built just above it and
covered over with stones and dirt. The wei^ns of a dead
person were always buried with him, and in the graves of
women and children articles of housewifery and toys were
always placed. At the burial place of a chief or a noted
warrior several horses were generally killed. At the burial
lodge of a chief which the writer once found, were the skel-
etons of four horses. Mourning observances devolve chiefly
upon the women. The wife or mother of a deceased per-
son lacerates the calves of her legs, cuts off her hair and a
joint of a finger to show her grief. The father or husband
cuts c^ part of his hair and goes without leggins for a num-
ber of days.

For the first few days succeeding a person's death all the
near relatives of the deceased spend the greater part of the
time on hills adjacent to the camp, where they sit and
mourn, calling the name of the dead person over and over
again, until they become so hoarse they cannot speak. After
a short period the men give up mourning altogether. A
wife or mother, however, mourns for a year or two, not
daily, but at irregular periods.

LIFE AMONG THE BLACKFEET.

BY J. WILLARD 8CHCLTZ.
Tenth Paper— Folk-Lore.

THE OLD MAN AND THE ROCK.

Once the Oid Man was crossing a large prairie, and becom-
ing tired, he sat down on a rock to rest. After a fime he
arose to resume his journey, but before going he threw his
robe over the rock saying, ''Here, I give you my robe because
you have let me rest on 'you. Always keep it." And he
went away.

Now he had not traveled on very far when it began to rain,
and meeting a coyote, he said to it: ** Little brother, little
brother, run back to that rock and get my robe, and we will
get uDder it and keep dry." So the coyote ran to the rock,
but returned without the robe. "Where is it?" the Old Man
lasked. "Si-yah!" replied the coyote, "the rock said you
gave him the robe and that he was going to keep it."

Then the Old Man was very angry, and he went back and
jerked the robe off the rock saying, **I only wanted to bor-
row the robe imtil this storm is over, but now that you have
acted so mean about it I will keep it. you don't need a robe
anyhow, you have been out in the rain and snow all your
life, and It will not hurt you to alwavs live so." Saying
which he and coyote went up in a coulee and got under the

robe.

Ere long they heard a noise, and the Old Man said:
* 'Little brother, run up on the hill and see what is making
that noise." Soon the coyote came running back and said:
"Run! run! the big rock is coming." and they both ran
away as fast as they could. The rock gained on them and
the coyote, running into a badger hole, was run over and
killed. The Old Man was very scared, and as he ran he
threv/ off all his clothes, but the rock kept gaining on him
all the time. Not far off he saw a band of buffalo bulls,
and^ he cried out to them, saying:. "Oh, my brothers, help
me,* help me; stop that rock." And the bulls all ran at it
and tried to stop it, but it crushed in all their heads. Deer
and antelope also tried to stop the rock, but they shared the
same fate as the buffalo, and a number of rattlesnakes
formed themselves into a lariat and tried to noose the rock,
but those that formed the noose were ground to pieces. The
rock was now very close to the Old Man, so close that now
and then it would strike his heels. As he was about to give
up he saw a flock of bull-bats circling over his head, and he
said to them: "Oh! my little brothers, help me; I am
almost gone." Then the bull-bats flew down against the
rock and made their peculiar cry, and every time they struck
it they chipped a pie^e off, and at last the chief bull-bat
broke the rock in two. Then the Old Man, to pay them for
saving his life, made very wide mouths on them and named
them "PTs-tO'-rks"— fighters.

Moral : When you make a present never take it back.

THE OLD MAN AND THE ELK.

One evening the Old Man was walking along a ridge and
he was very hungry. Not far off he saw a large band of elk,
and he said to himself, "I will kill every one of those elk,
and then I won't be hungry." So he went up to the elk and
said, "Oh, my brothers! 1 am lonesome becau<*e I have no
one to follow me." The elk said, "Go on, Old Man. We will
follow you."

Then the Old Man led them close to a high cut bank, and
he ran up a little and got down and came under ^.he bank
where it was straight up and dtwn, and he called ou' to the elk,
"Come on, here 1 am : jump right down." But the elk Siiid,
"It is so, dark we can't see to jump. Build a fire." Then
the Old Man built a fire, but stilJ the elk wire afraid to jump.
"Don't be afraid," the Old Man said, "jump right down; it's
nice ; you will laugh. "

Then the elk jumped and were ki'lod, all except one dO'
elk, which stood on the bank yet. "I don't hear any one
laugh," she said, and she was frightened and ran away.

Then the Old Man skinned all the elk and cut the meat up
to dry and hung the tongues up on a pole. When it wa^
daylight he went off, and at night came back very hungry.
All the meat was gone; the wolves had eaten it all up. lie
took down the tongues one by one, but they were all hollow ;
the mice had eaten all the meat out of them. So the Olu
Man had nothing to eat that nisrht.

Moral: Never kill more meat tiien you need.

THE OLD MAN MAKES SOME BAD WEAPONS.

Once the Old Man was fording a livtr when the current
oarried him down stream and he lost his wea)>on8. He was
very hungry, so he took the first wood he could find and
made some arrows, a bow, knife and spear. When he
had finished them, he started up a mountain. Pretty soon
he saw a bear dig^ng roots, and he thought he would have
some fun, so he hid behind a log and called out "No-tail ani-
mal, what are you doing?" The bear looked up, but seeing
[no one kept on digging.

Then tbe Old Man called out again, *^'Short-tail ground
eater, what are you doing?" Then the bear rose up on liLs
hind feet, and seeing the Old Man ran after him. The Old
Man commenced shooting arrows at him, but the jioints only
stuck in a little way, for the shafts were rotten and the bear
pulled the points out as fast as they struck him. When the
arrows were all gone he threw his spear, but that too, was
rotten, and broke off. Then the Old Man grasped the bear
by the hair and tried to stab him, but the knife handle also
broke, for it was rotten. All his weapons were broken, so
the Old Man turned and ran, and the bear pursued him. Ak
he ran, the Old Man looked about for some weapon, but la
could find none. Neither could he see any animal to help
him. At last he saw a buffalo bull's horn lying in the pnth.
Picking it up, he placed it on his head and turning lound,
shook nlB head at the bear, and bellowed so loudly that the
liear was scared and ran away.
Moral : Always nake your weapons of good wood.

V [to be CONTINUED.]

LIFE AMONG THE BLACKFEET.

BY J. WILLARD SCHULTZ.

, Tenth Paper— Folk-Lore.

THE OLD MAN AND THE ROCK.

Once the Oid Man was crossing a large prairie, and becom-
ing tired, he sat down on a rock to rest. After a time he
arose to resume his journey, but before going he threw his
robe over the rock saying. ''Here, I give you my robe because
you have let me rest on you. Always keep it.'' And he
went away.

Now he had not traveled on very far when it began to rain,
and meeting a coyote, he said to it: ''Little brother, little
brother, run back to that rock and get mfy robe, and we will
get under it and keep dry." So the coyote ran to the rock
but returned without the robe. "Where is it?" the Old Man
asked. "Si-yah!" replied the coyote, "the rock said you
gave him the robe and that he was going to keep it."

Then the Old Man was very angry, and he went back and
jerked the robe off the rock saying, *'I only wanted to bor-
row the robe until this storm is over, but now that you have
acted so mean about it I will keep it, you don't need ^ robe
anyhow, you have been out in the rain and snow all your I
life, and It will not hurt you to always live so." Saying
which he and coyote went up in a coulee and got under the
robe.

Ere long they heard a noise, and the Old Man saidri
'*Little brother, run up on the hill and see what is making
that noise." Soon the coyote came running back and said:
"Run! run! the big rock is coming," and they both ran'
away as fast as they could. .The rock gained on them and
the coyote, running into a badger hole, was run over and
killed. The Old Mair was very scared, and as he ran he
threv/ off all his clothes, but the rock kept gaining on him
all the time. Not far off he saw a band of buffalo bulls
and he cried out to them, saying: "Oh, my brothers, help
me, help me; stop that rock." And the bulls all ran at it
and tried to stop it, but it crushed in all their heads. Deer
and antelope also tried to stop the rock, but thev shared the
same fate as the buffalo, and a number of 'rattlesnakes
formed themselves into a lariat and tried to noose the rock,
but those that formed the noose were ground to piecjes. The
rbck was now very close to the Old Man, so close that now
and then it would strike his heels, As he was about to give
up he saw a flock of bull-bats circling over his head and he
said to them: "Oh! my little brothers, help me; I am
almost gone." Then the bull-bats flew down against the
rock and made their peculiar cry, and every time they struck
It they chipped a pie#e off, and at last the chief bull-bat
broke the rock in two. Then the Old Man, to pay them for
saving his life, made very wide mouths on them and named
them "Hs-tO'-rks"— fighters.
Moral: When you make a prcsont never take it. back.

THE OLD MAN AND THE ELK.

One evening the Old Man waw walking along a ridffe and
he was very hungry. Not fur off he 8a>v a larg** band of ilk
and he said to himself, "I will kill every one of those elk
and then I won't be hungry." So he went up to the elk and
said, "Oh, ray brothers! I am lonesome bt'caune I have no
one to follow me." The elk said, "Go on, Old Man. We will
follow you."

Then the Old Man led them close to a high cut bank, and
he ran up a little and got down and came under the bank

whereitwasstraightupandd«wn,andhecalledou' totheelk
;;Come on, here 1 am : jump right down." But the elk said!
It IS so dark we can't see to jump. Build a fire." Then
the Old Man built a fire, but stili the elk were afraid to iiimp
"Don't be afraid," the Old Man said, "jump riijht down- hi
nice: you will laugh." * *- o

Then the elk jumped and were killed, all except one dof
elk, which stood on the bank yet. "I don't hear any one
laugh, she said, and she was frightened and ran away.
,-^^||j|jj^||flMiM'***^*^^''"''>'>^ '>^^ Ihi elk and cut the meat ui^
wary ana nung the tongues up on a pole. When it was
daylight he went off, and at night came back very hungry.
All the meat was gone; the wolves had eaten it all up. He
took down the tongues one by one, but they were all hollow ;
the mice had eaten all the meat out of them. So the OlJi
Man had nothing to eat that night.

Moral: Never kill more meat tiien you need.

THE OLD MAN MAKES SOME BAD WEAPONS.

Once the Old Man was fording a river when the current
oarried him down stream and he lost his wea|>on8. He wa«
very hungry, so he took the firbt wood he could find and
made some arrows, a bow, knife and spear. When hd
had finished them, he started up a mountain. Pretty soon
he saw a bear dig^ng roots, and he thought he would have
some fun. so he hid behind a losr and called out "No-tail ani-l
mal, what are you doing?" The bear looked up, but seeing
I no one kept on digging.

Then the Old Man called out again, "Short-tail ground-
eater, what are you doing?" Then the bear rose up on his
hind f(et, and seeing the Old Man ran aft<T him. The Old
Man commenced shooting arrows at him, but the joints only
stuck in a little way, for the shafts were rotten and the bear
pulle<l the points out as fast as they struck him. When tht
arrows were all gone he threw his spear, but that too, wat
rotten, and broke off. Then the Old Man grasped the bear
by the hair and tried to stab him; but the knife handle also
broke, for it was rotten. All his weapons were broken, so
the Old Man turned and ran, and the bear pursued him. As
he ran, the Old Man looked about for some weapon, but he
could find none. Neither could he see any animal to help
kim. At last he saw a buffalo bull's horn lying in the path.
Picking it up, he placed it on his head and turning round,
shook his head at the bear, and bellowed so loudly that the
[hear was scared and ran away.

Moral : Always nake your weapons of good wood.

[to be CONTINUED.]

^' LIFE AMONG THE BLACKFEET.

BY J. WILLARD SCHULTZ. J^\H-lS^

Eleventh Paper— Folk-Lore.

THE OLD MAN MEETS A WONDERFUL BIRD.

S the Old Man was walking in the woods one day h<
^^ saw something very queer. A bird was sitting on the
limb of a tree making a peculiar noise, and every time it
made tnis noi^^e its eyes would go out of its head and fasten
on the tree, then it would make another kind of a noise and
its eyes would go back to their place. , .

''Little Brother," cried the Old Man, ''teach me how to|

do that.*' ,,.,.-, .1 1 . J .«

"If I show you how to do that," replied the bird, you

must never let your eyes go out more than three times a
day, for if you do, you will be very sorry."

When tfce bird had taught the Old Man the tnck he was
very glad, and did it three times, then he stopped. "That
bird has no sense," he said, *'what did he tell me to do it
only three times lor? I'll do it again, an} how. oo *ie
made his eyes go out a fourth time, but alas! he could not]
call them back again. Then he Cried to the bird: ^'Oh,
Little Brother!" come help me get back my eyes. But the
little bird did not answer him. It had flown away. Ihe
Old Man felt all over the trees with his hands but he couldn t
get his eyes, and he wandered all over crying and calling
the animals to help him. A wolf had much tun with him
The wolf had found a de^ buffalo, and taking a piece of
the meat which smelled, he would hold it close to the 01d|
Man's nose, then the Old Man would say, *1 smell something
dead " and he would grope all around in hopes to find it.
Once^when the wolf was doing this, the Old Man caughti
him and plucking out one of its eyes put it in his own head,
then he was able to find his own eyes, but he could do the|
trick the little bird taught him no more.

Moral: Do as you are told.

THE OLD MAN RUNS A RACE.

One day the Old Man killed a jack rabbit and quickly!
built a fire to roast it on. Far off a coyote smelled the cook-
ing, and coming up limping very badly, holding up one of
his paws, he said: ;'01d Man! Old Man! Give me a little. i

*Tlien^t'^e Old Man said to him: "Go away !^^ If you are tool
lazy to catch your eating I will not feed you."
''My leg is broken," said the coyote. ''I can t run. I ami

verv hunffry "

"Go away*," said the Old Man ; -'I will not feed you."

Then the coyote limped away. Pretty soon he came back
again and asked for only one leg of the rabbit.

' 'Here," said the Old ^an, **do you see that butte way over
there? Let's run a race to that butte, and whoever gets there
first will have the rabbit." . . ^ m, m^

"All right," said the coyote. So they started. The Old

Man ran very fast, and the coyote limped along after him.

Bui when they had got close to the butte the coyote turned

round and ran back very fast, for he was not lame at all

fne had been fooling the Old Man. The Old Man ran back

as fast as he could after the coyote, and when he got to the

fire the coyote was sitting upon a little hill eating the rabbit.

"Oh, my little brother," cried the Old Man, "give me a

r^^'Come and get it," said the coyote, as he swallowed the
last piece of it, and trotted off on the prairie.

Moral: Feed the hungry. Things are not always as tney
look to be.

THE OLD MAN PUNISHES A THIEF.

One night the Old Man sat by the fire roasting a piece of
meat It was a ver>^ large piece of meat, and he went to
sleep before it was cooked. A lynx, which had ^en watch-
ing him, now crept*up and began to eat the meat. The Old
Man woke up, and seeing what was going on grabbed the
lynx saying, *'0h, you thief," and he pulled off his tail, all
but a short piece, and pounded him on the head, making his
nose very short. * There," saitl he, throwing him out into
the brush, "that's the way you lynxes will look after this.
To this day the lynxes have short tails and noses.

I Note. — Many of the best legends which explain the differ-
ent phenomena of nature are related with the doings of the
lOld Man, but unfortunately they are so indecent that they
jannotbe translated and printed. — J. W. S. 1

yiZ.'^T^.^.

7ila>^i^A, I ^t I *

LIFE AMONG THE BLACKFEET.

BY J. WILLARD SCHULTZ.

Twelfth Paper— Folk-Lore.

THE ADVENTURES OF KUT-0-YI8.

ONG ago there lived on the Maria's River a very rich'

old man, and he had a wife and three beautiful daugh-

|ters. All the young men looked at these young women and
wanted to marry them, but their father said no. No one but
the richest young man could J^ave his daughter. From a
far off camp came a young man, very rich, and he married
the three sisters.

After a time this young man began to treat his old father-
in-law very badly. He took all his doffs away from him and
his weapons, and gave him very little to eat. Not far from
where tbey lived was a large cave, where this son-in-law,
whose name was Many Feathers, kept a herd of buffalo, and
every time he wanted meat he would let one out and kill it.
One day, when he let one out, he only wounded it, and it
ran out on the prairie. He gave his father-in-law a bow and
arrows and sent him after it. The old man chased the
buffalo a long way, but could not catch it. As he was going
along the trail he picked up a large clot of blood which had
dropped from the animal's wound and hid it in the folds of
his robe. When he returned home Many Feathers was very
angry, and he said: *'Why did you not kill that cow?"
**Becaase I couldn't catch it," replied the old man. *'What
did you pick up out there on the prairie?" "Nothing," said
the old man. *1 ran a prickly pear in my foot and stooped|
to pick it out. "

Then the old man went to his lodge and said to his wife,
'*Go quickly, old woman, and get some water, 1 have a
clot of blood which we will boil and eat." When the water
was hot they threw the clot of blood in it, and pretty soon
they heard a cry like that of a child, but they looked in the
kettle and could see nothing. Three times they heard this
cry, and when they looked in the kettle the third time they
saw a beautiful baby boy, and they took him out and named
him Kiit-O-yrs: Clot of 'Blood. In one day Ihe boy grew to
be a man, and he said to the old man, ''Father, why have
you nothing to eat in your lodge?" Then the old man told
him how his son-in-law had taken all his dogs and weapons
away from him, and that they would have Kt .rvt d to death
had it not been for thetr youngest daughter, who ntole a
little meat for them whenever nhe could. 'Nevermind,
father," said KfitO-ytH, 'iet usmnke a bow and tirrows und
a knife and we will go huntlni;." When thev had made the
weaponn they went out od the prairie and Knt 0 ytn killed fl|
fat (!ow.

When they were Hklnnlng It the old man saw Many Fea-
thern coming toward them, and he wa» afraid; but Kdt 0 yi^
lay down l)ehlnd the buffalo and Maid: ''Let him come, I will
kill him." When Many Featherw came up dose he nnld,
"Who killed that cow?" "I did," replied the old man.
"Well, 1 am going to kill you,"Hald Many Feathers, and he
commenced to string IiIh 1)0W, but Kftt-0-vls Jumped up and[
shot an arrow through his heart. Then tliey went honn; and
Kdt-O-yls killed the old man's oldest dauditers, for they had
not pitied him. and he took the youngest one for his wife.

Now, way out in the Bweet Grass llillM, there lived a big
wolf, HO m^ that a man was only a niouthfiil for him.
KQt-O-yls went to kill this wolf. WIhmi he came to where
the wolf was, he let it swallow him, and when he g< t in itn
belly he found many people there, some dead and some yet
alive. And Kdt-O-yls said to the living, ''Get up and dan(!e,"
and they all danced. KClt-O-yls held a knife lirmly on the
top of his head and every time he danced the knife cut into
the wolf's heart, and pretty soon they felt the animtd sway
land fall over dead. Then they cut a hole in its side and
crawled out, and Kat-0-yis took off the scalp and gave it to

Ithe sun.

KQt-O-yls killed all the bad animals. There weie two
great man-eating snakes which he killed, and he let only one
little one live. "The peoplo will not be afraid of little
snakes," he said, "so you can live and make little ones."

New Glasgoav Rod and Gun Club.— At the annual
meeting of the New Glasgow (Nova Scotia) Rod and Gun
Club, held Jan. 31, the following officers were elected for
the ensuing year: President. H. T. Sutherland; Vice-Presi-
dent, John k. Fraser; Secretary-Treasurer, J. Howard
Cavanagh; Executive Committee, W. B. Moore, R. A.
Walker, Jas. S. Fraser. The club is in a prosperous condi-
tion, owns a club-house, boats, decoys, and a trap-shootin.^
outfit, and the members expect to do some tall shooting this

season.

%c ^

LIFE AMONG THE BLACKFEET.

BY J. WILLAKD SCHULTZ.

Thirteenth Paper— Folk-Lore.

SCAH-FACE, THE MAN WHO WENT TO THE SUN.

THERE was once a young man who had a great scar on
his cheek. He was a very good young man. but o^c-ause
he had this deformity, the people made fun of him and calleu
him Scar-face. There was a very beautiful p:irl in the camp,
and one day Scar-face met her when she was going aiier
water and asked her to be his wife. But the girl l^jug^^;;^!

land said: '*Do you think I would marry such an ugly man
as you are? When you get that great scar off your face
then come and ask me. 1 don't want to marry an "gly man^
Now, Scar-face loved this girl, and iiis heart ^^ed J^^^a"^
she had spoken so badly to him. and he went off alone an
prayed to all the anin^ts to help him His secret l^el^er said

; to him, **Go to the Sun, he is good and will help you. 1 hen

IScHT-facc arose and start^jd on to the Sun.

After the sccoid day, he could travel only at night, tor it

fwa^ very hot. In the day time he slept in big »;olc^^ which
he dug In the ground. When he had come clo8<^ to i^^J^^^J^

\plaee, he founa in the trail some one's leaving. A war shirt
Lwas there and many weapons of strange a°<l »f^"^;[^' '^^,^^
»ut he touclied them not, for, he said, some god has left them
there and will come for them. Now a little way further on he
Let a young man, the most beautiful person he had ever seen
his U waf very'long and be wore a shirt ^"d leggms and
robe mad« of some strange animaVs fur, and, his moccasins
were embroidered in strange colors. The young i«aj? ««^'^
to him, ''Did you see a war shirt and some weapons l> ing on

Ithe trail?"

•*Yes," said Scar-face, *1 saw them.

•*But didn't vou touch them?" asked the young man.

**No," replied Scar-face, *'I thought some one had left
them there, so I dfd not take thenj."

-You are not a thief. What is your name?' said the

young man.

** Scar-face."

** Where are you going?" asked the young man.
I -To the Sun," replied Scar-face. . r i •

' 'My name, said the young man * *is E-pt-sa-ahts [early riser,
the Morning Star], the Sun is my father. Come, 1 will take
I you to our lodge. Now he is not sitting there, at night he

will enter." . j i. ♦•

They came to his lodge, very large it was, and very beauti-
ful Many unknown animals were painted on it in strange
colors, and behind it, suspended on a tripojl, were the war
clothes of the Sun, made of large and beautiful feathers and
the skins of great animals. Scar-face was ashamed to enter
such a great lodge, for his clothes were of common cow skm
and his moccasms all torn with much travel, but Morning
Star said, "Enter, my n«w friend; and fear not; our hearts
are like our faces, we conceal them not."

They entered. All about were sitting-places covered with
white robes, and everything was strange. One person sat
in the lodge and that was the Moon (KO-kO-mlk e-Is: Night-
liffht). the Sun's wife, and the mother of Morning Star, and
she spoke to Scar-face kindly, and gave him something to
leat. ''Why have you come so far from your people/ sue

said
Then Scar-face told her alwut the beautiful girl who would

___^_ re of the ugly scar on his face, and that

[he had come to ask the Sun to remove the scar. Now when
it was time for the Sun to return home, the Moon hid Scar-
faoe under a pile of robes. But as soon as the Sun got to
the door-way he stopped and said. "I smell a person."

-Yes, father." said Morning Star, "a good young man
has come to see you, a very good young man. I know he is
a good person, K)r he foumd my beautiful clothes in the trail
and did not touch them."

'*I am glad," said the Sun, as he entered the lodge and
took his accustomed seat, "that a good person enters mv
lodge. Be friends, my son," said ho to Morning Star, -with
this newly arrived young man."

The next day the Moon called Star face away out of the
lodge an* said to him, "Go with Morning Star and hunt
where you please, but never go near a large lake way out
there, tor by that lake live great blrdw with long Mliarp blll«,
which they use to pluck out people's heartn. I have had
many mm, but t\mo blrdn havt! killed them all except
Morning Btar. Never let him «© there."

Now, one day when the young men were out hunting,
they came in sight of this lake and saw the great Hharpbilled
birds swimming In the water. "Come," said Morning Star,
-let us go and kill the birds." "No, no," said Scar face,
-we must not go near them," but Morning Star ran quickly
to the lake, and so he followed, for thought he, "I may save
him." The birds, seeing the young men close, came and
fought them, and with their spears the young men killed
them all, and they cuj off their heads und carried them

home. ^

Now, when the Sun came home that night, the Moon told
him what a brave deed the boys had accomplished, and his
heart was very glad. "My heart is glad," he said, when he
had sung a song, "for the sharp-billed birds whicli have killed
my children*are destroyed. Speak, my son Scar-face, what
can I do to pay you?"

Then Scar-face told the Sun about the beautiful girl he
loved, and that she would not marry him because of the scar
on his face. "Pity me," he said; "take off this scar which
makes my heart so sad."

Then the Sun made some powerful medicine, and put it on
Scar-face, which made him handsome, and he took him and
Morning Star to the Moon, and said, "Look, mother; which
is your son?" and she recognized Morning Star.

Then he took the boys away and rubbed some more ef the
medicine on Scar-face* and again he took them before
the Moon and said, -Now,' mother, which is your son?'^
and she looked a long time, but could not tell which
was Morning Star, for the. Sun had made Scar-face beautiful,
just like his own son.

Then the Sun. gave him some beautiful clothes and food
and told him he could return home. -But, my son," said
he, -flf^ r-"*^ »^»«~y ♦imi y.j,.| \ wr^piMn x^]\o will not marr"
a good man merely because he has a scar on 1hl»lttc«Ut4«LW»l_
not a good woman. Be glad thai you did not get her. But
punish her, that the people may know that a bad face is no
sign that the heart is bad." and he told him what to do.

When Scar-face started to return home Morning Star hung
on his neck and cried, saying: "How can I part from my
friend my brother?" and tlie Moon also cried, saying: "How
can I iet my new son go away?" and all their hearts were

Now when Scar-f acci had come close to his home, he met a
vounff man, and inquired if his father still lived in the camp ;
and llarning which lodge his father owned, he entered and
sat down, and no one knew him, and when he told his father
and mother who he was and where he had been, for a long
time they did not believe him. , ,wi

Toward evening he walked out in the camp, and all the
people crowded around him to listen to his wonderful story,
and the beautiful girl whom he had loved called him away
to one side, and she said: "You are such a good-looking
man that I will be glad to be your wife," and Scar-face re-
plied: "All right, come into my lodge to night, 'and when
she liad come in and lain down beside him he smothered her
to death with a robe, for so the Sun had told him to do, and
he married good women and lived a long time, and when he
died the Morning Star vtiuw and took hlin back to the Sun,
when! ho lived forever.

U^ JJlf '/U , ^_ v^— /. ^, / f

March ao, 1884.]

FOREST AND STREAM.

LIFE AMONG THE BLACKFEET.

BY .1. WIM.AUD BCI1UI.T7..

Fourteenth Paper-Folk-Lore.

THE CAUSE OF SPOTS ON TIIK MOON.

IONG a^o tlH»ru lived u mait, who had a wife and sou,
J and Ids wife was not faithful to him. She ran away
Iwlth another man. But the woman loved her son, and
Iwoidd often dlHj^uise herself In men's clothing and go and
talk and play wfth him. Now one day, after the woman had
visited her son, the little boy said to his father. "I think J
know my mother. It is she who comes often, dressed in
men's clothes, andplays with me and tells nje stories." Then
said his father, •'When she comes again ask her to make you
some arrows and a bow.''

Not long after she came again, and the little boy safd,
"Oh, my friend, please make me u bow and some arrows so
1 can shoot the little birds," and his mother commenced to
make them. When she had ffhished an orrow, the boy's
father came in and looked at the arrow and knew that no
man made it, and he said to the woman, "You are my wife,"
and she was afraid, and did not deny it. Then the man took
his knife and cut her to pieces, and threw the pieces out of
the lodge; but instead of falling to the ground they went
way above and stuck on the moon. You can see tliem yet,
the spots on the moon.

THE WOLP-MAN.

There was once a man who had two wives. Thev were
unfaithful. Very bad were their liearts. So the man left the
main camp and lived way out on the prairie with his bad
wives. And one of his wives said to the other, i'Let us kill
lour husband and go back to the main camp, where we may
see our lovers." Now, near where they were camped was a
tall ])utte, and every night when he came home the man
would go up on it and sit and look all oven the prairie to see
where the bulfalo were feeding and to see if any enemies
were coming. And on top of the butte was a butfalo bull's
'skull, upon which he would sit. •

One day, when he was out hunting, the women went up
on the butte and dug a deep pit in it. Then they covered
the mouth of it with small sticks, »earth and grass, and
placed the buffalo skull on top.' When tke sun was almost
down they saw their husband commg home, the dogs loaded
down with the meat he had killed. "There he is, there he
is," they cried, "let us hurry and get his supper." And
when he had finished eating he went up on thb butte, and
when he seated himself on the buffalo skull the slender
I sticks gave way and he was thrown to the bottom of the pit.
When his wives heard him cry, they looked, but could not
see him, so they knew he was in the pit, and they quickly
packed the idage on the dog trawia and moved into the
main camp. "Where is your husband?" the people asked.
"Three days ago he went out to hunt, and has not returned.
We fear he is killed," they replied.

Now when the man fell down into* the pit he cried, and a
wolf heard him. The wolf said, "I hear a person crying,"
and looking about he soon discovered the man in the pit.
Then the wolf howled, Ah-h-w-o-o-o-o o-o, ah-h-w-o-o-o-o-o-o!
And when the other wolves Jieard him they came running to
see what was the matter. There came also many coyotes,
black wolves,- red foxes, kit foxes, Hadgers and mice ; the
little mice came too. And when they were all come, the
wolf who had found the man said, "Htere is mv find. In
this hole is a fallen -in-somehow-man; let us take pity on
him and dig him out, and we will have him for a brother."
Then all the animals commenced to dig, and soon had a
hole almost to the man. And when they had dug very close
'to him, the find-him wolf called out, "Hold on; I want to
say something," and when all the animals were listening he
said, "Now 1 found this man. We will all have him for our
brother, but I claim that he ought to live with us big wolves,
for I found him." All the animals agreeing to this, the big
wolf went down in the hole, and tearing down the rest of the
dirt dragged the almost dead man out. And when they had
given him a kidney to eat, the big wolves took him to their
holes; and they brought him to the hole of a big blind medi-
cine wolf, and the medicine wolf made wolf paws and a
|wolf head on him. The rest of his body was like a man's.

Now, in these days the people caught buffalo in pts-kans,*
land all around these pts-kans they made openings and set
nooses in them, so when the wolves came to steal meat they
were caught by the neck. One night the wolves all went
down to steal meat, and when they had come close to the
pYs-kan the man-wolf said; "Sit here all of you, and I will
go first and fix the places so you will not get killed," and* he
went first and sprung all the nooses. Then he went back
and called all the wolves and the others, the coyotes, foxes
and badgers, and tney all went in the pfs-kan and feasted,
and took meat to carry home.

In the morning, the people were surprised to find all their
nooses drawn out, and they said, "Perhaps it was what?"
Many nights were the nooses drawn out and their meat
stolen by the wolves. One night when the wolves came they
found only bad bull's meat and the man-wolf was angry,
and he howled out, "Ah-bad-you-give-us-oo-o-o," and the
people heard and said, "It is a man-wolf who has done all
this." So they put dried meat, pemmican and tongues in
the pts-kan, and many people hid in there.

The next night when the man-wolf came he saw the good
food and ran to it, then the men all jumped up and caught
him with ropes, and they took him to camp. When they
took him into a lodge by the fire they knew him, and said,,
"Here is the man his wives said was killed," and they
I brought his wives into the lodge. Then the man-wolf told
I what his wives had done, and they were immediately killed.

THE THUNDER BIRD.

None of the people knew what the thunder was, and the
Ipeople often talked about it, and said, "Perhaps it is what?"
Now, once the people moved toward the S weetgrass hills |
after buffalo, and one day when they were traveling two
Iboys found a queer bird on the praine, and caught it and
carried it to their father's lodge, and many people came in to
look at it, for no one had seen a bird like it, and while they
were talking it suddenly arose and flew out the smoke-hole
of the lodge, and a great thunder shook the lodge, and
knocked the people down, and they knew then that it was
the bird which made the thunder.

children, and that one day she threw them up in the sky,
where they were changed Into stars.

Sun-dogs are said to bo fires lighted by the sun to warn
the people that danger Is near. •"When you see the signal
tires, watch, for the enemy Is coming."

The foregoing h^gends are all that the writer has learned
thus far, wlilch may with propriety be printed In a i)ublic
journal.

The Rlackfoot language Is an exceedingly dIfiicuU one to
master, and the writer has decided to ojnlt any remarks upon
It, for as yet he is not sufficiently verwMl in it to glv(» any very
valuable Information regarding Its pecullarilles. Iklow is
an interlinear translation of the story of the "Wind-maker,
which will give some information regarding the structure of
the language. ^

O-meks-Iks-ah sfim'Tau* Ttstn O'-yC-au
They hunted «aw they

e tfth-wah'-kwO-e au e-tOt'eks sO-pwO -e

chased him they came very wind

sO-pwO-e e-tiin'-ilk o-pO-pO kl-yCk-au

wind blown oflf they

5-me' O'-mak-st-ktm-r e-tah-pOs -kwO-e-au et-sQ o-mak I-yek
That big water chased him toward under ran

rt-Fa-5-wut-stn-I-yek-au ri-slk -so-pw5-c Ktn-yl-yt

saw him no more they ceased wind That's it

rt-stn-O'-ye-au I -sO-pOm-stan I'sO-pOm-stan Kish-tst-pek-se
saw him Wind maker Wind maker Spotted animal

nttt'-0t-6l-niim fn-O-ye' ahk-sOyls tn-O-yB' O-tO-kfsts

like color long his tail long his ears

Bt-stn-iis'-tse.
down hang.

Free translation : Some hunters once saw the wind-maker
and chased him; there came a strong wind which blew them
off, but, persisting, they chased the animal into the lake, and
as soon as he disappeared under the water the wind ceffied
blowing. Then they knew that they had seen the Wind-
maker. He was a spotted animal, and had a long tail, and
long ears which hung down.^

T'-so-pOm Stan
wind-maker

e-tO mdt'-up-
commenced

ah-wah-kwOye

chased him

*The following aroount of the Blackfeet pis-kan was given by Mr.
SchultE In Forest and Stream of June 1, 18S2:

Not 80 very long ago I happened to be camped with a genR of trie
Pe-gun-ny, at a place called willows Round, nituated somi^ fifteen
miles above here, on the Marias River. Early in the evening: I saw
old Po-kah-yah-yl, In whose lodge I was stopping, ascend a steep
bluff not far off, and, giving him time to reach the top, 1 followLMi,
and was soon seated by his side. Directly opposite us across the
river were the remains of pls-kan. or, as the white men out here call
it a **buffalo pound." Why so called I cannot say. the literal transla-
tion of the woixi *'pi8-kan" being ^'faUing off place." ♦'Now, my
friend," said I, after I had regained my breath, "tell me all about that
pis-kan. How did you make it; how many buffalo did you catch in
one day; and how many winters ago did you use it?"

The old man's story was as follows:

*'In those days we had no gund, but used to kill many buffalo with
bows and arrows; and sometimes we used the pis-kan. When we
made a pis-kan, we first found a little open glade by the river where
the prairie came down and ended in a cut bank as high as a man.
From this cut bank we built a strong fence clear around the edge of
the glade. We used big trees to make the fence— logs and sticks, and
anytning that would help to keep the buffalo from breaking out.
Then we built two lines of stone piles far out on the prairie, two lines
that ever diverged from each other. Then the pis-kan was built.

*'Thenight before we intended to make a drive #ve always had a
buffalo dance. All the people danced. The medicine men all wore
buffalo robes, and sung the buffalo songs. Every one prayed to their
secret helpers for good luck. Early the next morning the people
went out, and hid behind the stone piles on the prairie. The medicine
man who was gomg to call the buffalo put on a buffalo robe, hair side
out, and sitting down smoked one pipe to the sun. Then he spoke to
his wives and all the women of his lodge, saying, *You must not go
outside until I return. You must not look out of the doorway or any
hole. Take this sweet grass,' giving it to his head wife, 'and every
little while bum a small part of It so that the sun wiU be glad. Pray
that we will have good luck.' Then he mounted a dark colored horse
and rode out on the prairie. When he came near a band of buffalo
he began to ride quickly in circles and cried out to the buffalo, say-
ing, 'E-ne-uh! E-ne-uhr (meaning buffalo). The buffalo were first a
little scared; then they began to follow him slowly, and soon ran
after him as fast as they could. Then the medicine man rode into
the shoot, and after the buffalo had also run in he jumped out to one
side of the stone piles, and the herd passed by. The people behind
kent rising up and shouting, which made them run all the faster.
The buffalo in the head of the band were afraid of the stone piles,
and kept right on in the middle of the shoot; those in the rear v/ere
scared by the people continuaUy rising behind them, and so pushed
the leaders ahead. When the band had got close to the edge of the
pis-kan, all the people closed in on them and with a great shout
drove them over the cut bank into the inclosure. Then with their
bows and arrows, the men killed all the buffalo; even the old bulls
were killed. The fattest cows were tlien marked for the chiefs and
medicine men by placing sticks on the tails, Ani the rest were
divided up among the people."

The above narrative is true in every respect. As late as 1865 the
Pe-gun-ny used these pis-kans on the Upper Marias. Mr. Jos. Kipp,
the well-known Indian trader, lells me that in 1864 he saw the Pe-

The rainbow is called Nap'-r-0-t5-kah tchts, Old Man's
llariat; or, more correctly, Old Man's catching instrument.
I When he wishes the rain to .cease he throws out this lariat
ind catches it all.

Tlie constellation Pleiades is termed the E-ktt-sf-kfim,
even, and the legend is^ that a woman once had seven bad

S/ackUr " U ^ '■^'k

f -tlu

B/ack/yu:t

lIU

C. Hart Merriam

Papers

BANCMSS

8(V1dc

"N.

V-

* - * •

N<iv., 28,^1903.]

FOREST AND STREAM.

41^

The Lodges of the Blackfeet.

{Concluded from page 895.)

On the southern side of the circle is a lodge belonging
to Head Carrier, an old man of some importance and
possessed of some spiritual power. The painting of this
lodge is very old, and I have no adequate explanation of
it. The black band close to the ground is unmarked, but
above, and resting on it, are a number of black, roughly
circular paintings, which represent the heads of enemies.
On the front and on the back, and so with their extremi-
ties almost touching at the ground on either side, are
two rainbows in three colors, red, blue, and black, from
below. Each runs from the black band at the ground
nearly to the smoke-hole, and so forms a high, narrow
arch. Within the rainbow, at the back, is the full-faced
figure of a naked man, about three feet high. The figure
is painted in reddish brown, but the hair, heart, life-line,
and kidneys are bright blue. The man holds in his left
hand a pipe, which he is filling in order to give the sun
a smoke. In his right hand he holds, by its handle, an

HEAD CARRIER S LODGE.

object with the outlines of an ordinary palm-leaf fan,
from the outer border of which project a number of eagle
tail-feathers. These tail-feathers he is about to present
to the sun. The butterfly cross is below the smoke-hole,
in the usual place.

Growing Buffalo's lodge shows on the south side a male
mule-deer, and on the north side a female mule-deer. The
color of each is bright yellow; the life-line is red and
green in alternating blocks. The kidneys, knees, hoof.s
and rtimp patch are green, the teats and genitals red.

White Dog's lodge shows the usual band with the
**dusty stars" at the ground, and resting on this band are
conical or oval figures, the conventional signs for moun-
tains. Besides these, at the back of the lodge, and resting
on the band, is another conventional sign— that for a prnt*

WHITE DOG S

LODGE.

tree, a broad, sharp cone, from the sides of which project
slender, upright lines a few inches long; this is yellow.
Almost half-way up the lodge, on the south side, is a male
snake, and on the north side a female snake; these are
red, yellow, and blue, in sections. At the top of the lodge,
below the smoke-hole, are three narrow red and three
narrow yellow bands alternately; these represent red and
yellow clouds. The very top of the lodge and the wings
are black (the night), with six stars (the Pleiades) on

the wings.

Red Head's lodge has the base-band red, and resting
on it are the conventional mountains. At the back and
front of the lodge, rising well toward the smoke-hole, are
great red paintings three or four feet wide, six or eight
feet high, rounded above and resting on the band below.
These represent the great masses of rock often seen on
the prairie, and against which the buffalo used to rub
themselves— erratic bowlders dropped by the glacier.
Hanging down from the smoke-hole behind are four

RED HEAD S LODGE.

horse-tails. They represent four horses stolen by the
maker of the lodge.

Slingy's lodge is old and faded. The band below con-
triins large circles — stars. Above, about half-way up the
ledge, an undulating band, twenty inches wide, runs
around the lodge ; it is composed of three narrow brown
ar.d two narrow red stripes, which is believed to represent
a river. Above this band, on the south side, is seen a
male eagle eagle in flight, showing one of the wings; and
t;P the north side a female eagle flying, also showing one
wing. On the north side the lodge-wings bear four stars
which represent the Pleiades, and on the south side seven

LONE CHIEFS LODGE.

Stars— the Great Bear or Dipper. Behind and below the
smoke-hole is the butterfly cross with the horse-tail hang-
ing from the middle. The horse-tail brings good luck;
he who has it on his lodge is likely to be fortunate in
securing horses, and to have many of them. Also it is
suggested that the lodge is sold for horses.

Three Bears' lodge has around the bottom a yellow
band showing "dusty stars," and with mountains resting
upon it. Above that it is unpainted until the smoke-hole
is reached; about this the lodge is painted yellow, and
hanging down from this yellow painting, the border of
which is horizontal, are pairs of conventionalized eagle-

claws. The claw to the south is blue, and the one to the
north, yellow. The wings show stars — the north wing the
Great Bear, the south wing the Pleiades. At the back,
below the smoke-hole, is a representation of the sun with
a horse-tail tied to the center. Above, and on either side
of the door, is a blue painted circle, in the center of each
of which are bells and a bunch of raven feathers, and
trom the center of these circles run the strings by which
the door hangs. This door must be a calf skin with the
fur left on it. I

This lodge was discovered in the following way: Once
a man with his son was out in winter hunting buffalo, and
as they were returning to the camp, the two were over-
taken by a severe snowstorm and lost their way. They
made a shelter for themselves from the green hides that
they were carrying, and lay down in it and slept. In his
sleep the man dreamed that a person came to him and
said, 'Friend, I invite you to come to my camp." He
accepted the invitation and his host told the lost man that
he wished to make him a present of a lodge. In front of

YELLOW-PAINTED LODGE.

his own lodge the host put down two blocks of wood,
painted different colors, and requested the lost man to
take his choice. He did so, and the block which he chose
v»as painted as this lodge is painted. When the lost man
awoke, the storm had ceased and the sky was clear, and
with the boy he went home to the camp. When spring
came he made himself a lodge and painted it as he had
seen the painting on the block of wood.

After that, no matter how dark the night or how bad
the storm, this man never lost his way; the lodge brought
him good luck.

Old Running Rabbit's lodge is called the Single Circle
lodge. It has only a single ornamental circle aboiit it.
it takes its name from the man who designed it. .Single
Circle Lodge was a beaver priest, and this lodge un-
doubtedly had its origin from the Beaver society. Its

si?:::e circle lodge.

SHORT ROBES LODGE.

discoverer dreamed that the otter and the beaver gave
him the lodge.

About the lodge, four or five feet above the ground,
runs a band of red, two feet wide, on which are shown
six black otters, three on each side, all running from
back to front. The females are on the north side and the
males on the south side. The white teeth and red mouths
are shown, as if half the face had been cut away. The
life-line is alternately red and green. The kidneys are
green ; except for this the animals show black. In front,
extending from the ground up on cither si 'e of the door
and almost to the smoke-hole, three feet wide and round-
ing off above, is a solid mass of red which represents the
rock in the bank where the otters lived. At the back of
the smoke-hole, high up, is a green moon with a narrow
yellow border, and to the center of the moon is tied the
luck-bringing horse-tail. Within the lodge, just above the
door, is a rattle made of calf-hoofs with a calfs tail hang-
ing down, to announce the arrival or departure of anyone

416

FOREST AND STREAM.

[Nov. 28, l(jp^.

Entering or leaving the lodge, since whoever goes in or
out is quite sure to touch the calf s tail with his head.

The yellow-painted lodge, or the otter lodge, belongs to
George Starr, an English-speaking half-breed. It shows
at the ground a black band with stars, and on the band
rest mountains alternating with cattail rushes. At the
front and back are two great red rocks— -that at the back
with a mink running up either side, that at the front
with a weasel funning uj) eithef side. The ground color
of the lodge is yelloW. Eight otters, four on either side
of the lodge, run from the back to the front. The male
Otters are on the south side and the females on the north,
slnd the same is true of the minks and the weasels. The
otters are very dark brown or black, with red kidneys, and
red and blue life-lines. The butterfly cross below the
smoke-hole at the back is blue, with a horse-tail attached
to it. The top and wings of the lodges are black and
show the Constellations — the Great Bear on the north
side and the Pleiades on the south.

Dan Lone Chiefs lodge shows at the base a band of
led sky with a single row of stars; mountains rest upon
the band. About five feet from the ground, at front and
back, are full-faced buffalo-cow heads with the tongues
hanging out. Higher up is a fringe of buckskin sewed
to the lodge-covering, and on this buckskin as a path, on
either side of the lodge, are five ravens walking toward
the front of the lodge. Each raven holds in its bill a
piece of red flannel representing a bit of flesh. Above,
and just below the smoke-hole are three bands, two red
and one yellow, which represent sunrise clouds. The
black sky (the night) shows about the smoke-hole and on
the wings, with the Great Bear on the north wing and
the Pleiades on the south. At the back is a blue butterfly
cross, and five horse-tails hang down below it.

Short Robe's lodge shows a red band below with a
regular double row of puff balls. About two feet above
this, and running all around from one side of the door to
the other, is a set of double deer-tracks. The hoofs are
blue, the dew-claws yellow, and the pasterns red. Above,
a long female mule-deer, yellow in color, shows on the
north side and a male on the south side. The nostrils,
eyes, a round spot in the ear, knees, kidneys, hoofs, hocks,
and rump patch are blue; the life-line is red and blue:
the colonng in the two animals is the same. Above, near
the smoke-hole, are bands, three in all, showing red and
white clouds. The Dipper appears on the north wing and
the Pleiades on the south wing.

In this lodge-painting among the Blackfeet various
sacred objects are commonly represented by certain con-
ventional symbols. Red, white, and blue bands stand for
the red morning cloud, the white cloud, and the blue sky ;
black indicates night; white circles are stars, rather tall
cones are mountains, half-ovals are rocks. The pine tree,
the cattail rush, and various birds and animals are readily
recognizable. Perhaps of all the signs used, the least ex-
pressive are the eagle claws seen near the top of Three
Bears' lodge.

It is interesting to note that it is the custom of lodge
painters always to show the male animal on the south side
of the lodge, while the female is placed on the north side.
I have been unable to procure from the Indians an ex-
planation of this, but it is almost always the case except
in the In^is'kim lodges, where the male is on the east or
front, and the female on the west or back of the lodge.

Although the Blackfeet give us no reason for placing
the female animal on the north and the male on the south
side of the lodge, a story told by an allied tribe is sug-
gestive. One of the creation tales of the Cheyenne In-
dians states that the first people made by the Creator were
a man and a woman, and that the woman was placed to
the north, and the man to the south, and that the Creator
sat between them and talked to them. He told them that
where the woman was it should be always cold, but where
the man was it would be warm, the grass would be green,
and it would never snow. About the man, all through the
winter, there would be birds in great numbers, but when
spring came they would all spread their wings and fly
away to the country where the woman was and would
live there until the autumn, when they would again go
south to the man's home. This very likely may have some
relation to the fructifying power of the s.m, which in the
spring moved northward, warming the earth, melting the
snow, and causing all things to grow.

The symbols by which the different objects are shown
are not intricate, but simple. All of them appear to be
true copies of nature according to the Indian school of
art. It may even be questioned whether they should be
called symbols rather than pictures.

The night with its journeying stars is mysterious. The
Sun is the most powerful of the gods, and his daily com-
ing the most important event of the Blackfeet's lives. The
red cloud which represents his rising, the Thunder-bird
standing for the dreaded lightning, the rainbow symbolical
of the clearing storm, represent the powers of the Above

people.

The powers of the earth are evident in the figures of
the prairie and in the mountains, the most impressive fea-
tures of the earth that the Blackfoot sees, and still more
strange and mysterious to him because — true prairie
dweller — he never ventures into them nor explores their
narrow defiles and dark recesses. Many of the rocks and
bowlders scattered over the prairie — especially if odd or
unusual in shape — possess a sacred character; they are
prayed to, and gifts are offered to them.

Certain mountains were prayed to, and a prayer made
by an aged Blackfoot to the chief mountain is an im-
pressive example:

"Hear now, you Chi;ef of Mountains, you who stand
foremost; listen, I say, to the mourning of the people.
Now are the days truly become evil and are not as they
were in ancient times. But you know. You have seen the
days. Under your fallen garments the years are buried.
Then were the days full of joy, for the buffalo covered
the prairie, and the people were content. Warm dwellings
had they then, soft robes for coverings, and the feasting
was without end.

"Hear now, you Mountain Chief. Listen, I say, to the
mourning of the people. Their d>yellings and their rai-
ment now are made of strange thin stuff, and the long
days come and go without the feast, for our buffalo are
gone. Useless, indeed, the drum, for who would sing and
dance while hunger gnawed within him.

"Like an old blind man your people feel their way
along, falling over unseen things, for the gods are angry.

In vain the usual offering to the Sun. Where now the
hundred tongues, the snow-white robes which always
were his share? And because we cannot find them he
turns away his eyes, making our medicine useless. So
then we fall and die, even as an old blind man who can-
not see the way.

"Hear, now, you who stand among* the clouds. Pity, I
say, your starving people. Give back those happy days-
Cover once more the prairies with our real food that
your children may live again. Hear, I say, the prayer of
your unhappy people. Bring back those ancient days.
Then will our medicine again be strong, then will you be
happy and the aged die content."

The animals which inhabit sky and earth and water are
potent in various ways, and their help is needed as well.
Of all of them the buffalo has the greatest power, but that
of the deer and the elk is also great. Birds in general
possess power, but the eagle and the raven are especially
strong helpers. The Under-water animals are powerful
as shown by the many stories told of them. Of them all
the most sacred is the beaver, to which the otter is sup-
posed to be related. The mink is another under-water
animal, and the weasel is related to it. The skins of all
these Mustelid(€ are extensively used for ornament. The
nmskrat is also a powerful helper.

The paintings on the lodges represent sacred animals or
objects which possess protective power, and the painting
was adopted and is continued to insure good fortune. It
is analogous to certain acts performed to-day by some
sects of the Christian religion, as offerings to patron
saints. The paintings thus require no special explanation
and need be accounted for by no elaborate theory.

The Trapper's Thanksgiving.

BY EDWARD A. SAMUELS.

"Yes, I reck'n old Parson Rogers was right, said
Davie Miller, my old-time guide, with whom I was
enjoying a two weeks' outing with rod and gun. ' He
said," continued the guide, and as he threw a couple
of logs on the evening campfire that was blazing before
our tent, and then returned to his seat beside me on the
bed of hemlock boughs, which filled our canvas house
with an exquisite fragrance, ''that we are all wantmg
in a proper thankfulness for the marcies.and blessm s
we are all the time receivin'; that we're i.ngrateful
critters to make the best of us. I allow that I'm no
wuss nor better than my nabors, and judgin' by my-
self, the old preacher was right. I know I've grunted
and growled when bad luck came my way, and when
better things happened along I didn't show a right
spirit of thankfulness I should have; we're a poor lot
of critters, anyhow, but I'm sartain I felt grateful
enough onct, if I never did afore nor since; in fact I ve
never let my thanks grow dim, though the sarcum-
stance happened five years ago.

**If you can keep awake a half hour or so, 1 11 tell
you about it, the story is not overlong." And this
was the story:

I was trappin' on one or two streams that empty into
Long Lake at the upper end, and had two lines of traps
each six miles long, good and strong, east and west
of my camp, that I had used for sev'ral seasons; it was
a comfort'ble log camp, and many*s the good pack of
fur I've carried away from it. There was a long
stretch of sandy beach quite handy to the mouth of
the larger stream, and there was an amazin' lot of clams
bedded in it, that would be a good spot for muskrats;
perhaps you know that the musquash, though it most-
ly feeds on the roots and herbage of water plants and
grasses, it often eats fresh water clams; in fact, the rats
kill a big lot of 'em, great beds of the shells bein^
often found on the shore where the clams bed.

Yes, it's a mighty pooty trappin' kentry up there,
mink being plentiful, and there was a good sprinklin'
of otter, too; and up the west branch there was a
beaver pond on a small stream that empties into it,
and there was quite a bunch of the critters as I found
out to my satisfaction.

I s'pose you've seen a beaver dam and know some-
thing of how it's made. I've seen a number of 'em in
my time, and I tell you it was hard to believe the crit-
ters made 'em. To build one of these dams the beavers
begin by felling a good-sized tree across the river, or
a large brook, rather; they have picked out a spot for
makin' a pond, and they cut the tree down with their
big sharp gnawin' teeth as well as I could do it with
an ax; they select a shaller part of the stream, and in
some way, they know exactly how to gnaw the wood
so that the tree will fall exactly right. By jingo! a
lumberman couldn't chop it better to have it fall at the
proper angle, which is just a little up stream. If there
is another tree on the opposite side that can be felled
so as to meet it, all the better, they get it there, you
can bet; that's the first step. The critters then begin
cuttin' sticks of green wood 3 feet or so long and 4 or
5 inches thick. Yes, sometimes nearly a foot thick, and
these they drag down to the upper side of the fallen
trees, and lay 'em clost together lengthwise. Some
people say these logs are stood on end; that the beav-
ers stick 'em down into the river bed, but I doubt it.
It stands ter reason, much as I give the beaver credit
for, that he can't handle those heavy sticks in that
way; for my part I don't see how they manage to even
drag 'em into the proper place in the dam. from a
hundred feet or more away; they must be gosh mighty
strong beasts, anyway. When all the logs are packed
together just right, they are bound or withed together
with limbs of trees which the critters weave among
'em. They are then packed with mud and clay, which
the beavers fasten on, using their big, flat tails as
trowels, and the whole is weighted down with rocks
and pebbles. You can have some idee how hard they
keep to work, when I say I've seen dams 300 feet long
and 8 feet thick, and as tight as a mill dam.

Oh, yes! They're mighty understandin' critters, and
no mistake. Some people wonder why they build their
dams; my idee is they do it so they can have a reg'lar
height of water all the time. It's not often they build
their lodges in a nat'ral pond, because that might rise
in a freshet and cover 'em; and so with a river, it
might *become too strong and sweep 'em away. No,

they prefer small streams or brooks, which can't raist-
anyway higher than the top of their dam.

Yes, the beaver dam is a mighty tight atTair. and in
winter it freezes as hard as stone.

In their pond they lay up a big stock of logs tor
provender, cords of 'em are cut down and carried near
their lodges, and their grub is ready tor 'em any time
all winter long. Oh, yes, they've got big heads, the
beavers have for sartain. The critters are gea.n'
pooty skarce, I'm sorry to say, for tlui.- pelis are
allers sartain to fetch a good price, and tie meat i-
good eatin', too; the Injuns eat the en tie anlni 1. b t
1 don't care for anything but the hind (| :arlers. wi icli
are as good as the best lamb you ever lasted: in tact.
I doubt if you could tell it from lamb, if piit befo e yon
at the table. As for the tail, when it's nicely slewed, it
makes the richest dish ever eaten; there's notl.in* tKit
ever compares with it, unless its a m»ose's ninlilc
which, when stewed, is very much like it in tiavor aii'l
richness. But that's neither here nor there, and nod in'
to do with my story. .\s 1 said afi^re, I lad two l.n v
of traps, each six miles, good and strong, and 1 iinKil
'em one day, and the other the next, and 1 II tell y m
I had to hustle to take off the pelts, get back to cam.»
and stretch 'em and git supper afore dark.

Well, I had a pretty good catch and 1 ft It rich, for
furs were bringin' a good price then. 1 had betn out
nearly the four weeks that I had planned to pi.t in. and
three days afore Thanksgiving I made my last ro mds.
takin' up my traps and bringin' 'em into camp. ()i^
course I might have done well to put in a couple of
weeks more, but I wanted to be home <m Thanksgiv-
ing sartain.

Well, on the last trip to camp I had a pooty middlin*
heavy pack, and as I had my rifle along, 1 thought,
seein' I was so well loaded, I'd cut acrost a siretch of
barrens to save a couple of miles, there bei:!' an old
loggin' road most of the way. I had hardly got out oi
the heavy growth and started in on the path when 1
saw two animals movin' about fifty rods or so in the
open; they were a couple of moose, one of Vni a l).:^
bidl with a rousin' set of horns, and the other a lwi»-
year-old bull with nothin' on his head t() brag on. Yon
may be sartain it didn't take me long to drop my pack
and begin to stalk 'em. As you very well know, a
moose or caribou is hard to stalk in the open barren,
'specially when there's no .scrub firs or pines to get
behind, but luck was with me, the wind was blowin*
from them to'ard me. and I wormed and crawled along
until I got in good shootin' distance.

I had one of the old-fashioned breechloading cavalry
carbines that threw a pooty heavy bullet mighty spite-
ful, and if it hit a moose right it knock him over, sar-
tain.

Well, I got up on my knees, took oflf my hat and
laid it on the ground beside me, and put my cartridges
on it. I had only five of 'em left and couldn't afT ird
to lose or waste any. I got a good bead on the big
one, aimin' just behind the fore shoulder, and pulled.
The smoke was hardly out of the gun afore I had an-
other cartridge in and its bullet flyin' at the otlicr
moose. I then got a third cartridge into the breech
and jumped up. The big moose was lying on the
ground about done for, but the other was tryin' to
hobble away on three legs, the off fore shoulder bavin'
been smashed. I gave him a quartering shot along the
back and he dropped.

Well, I had my hands full for sartin, two moose and
my pack and nearly a mile from camp, and only three
or four hours of daylight left. I dressed the critters
in first class shape, for they both were in good condi-
tion and well worth carryin' home, and by riggin' a
couple of poles as a sort of sledge, got both to camp
afore dark, but I was about beat out, I'll tell you.

That was on Monday, and I planned to be home on
Thursday, which was Thanksgivin' day. I had two
days left, and I had no doubt I could do it easy if I
could continue to git all my dunnage down the lake in
one trip. I had a good-sized row boat along, big
enough to carry four men and my pack, and my canoe,
but both of 'em couldn't hold traps, furs, camp oufit
and the moose. I lay awake awhile that night until I
thought out a good plan, and next morning I was up
at daybreak and makin' a raft of logs at the shore of
the lake, a few sticks bavin' been left there by lumber-
men or drifted there during high water. It was quite
a good, strong affair, and I knew it would carry the
moose and anything I wanted to put on it, and I had
no doubt I could tow it with the boat, provided the
wind was fair.

It took me till Tuesday noon to git the raft ready
and the moose loaded on it, and I had the rest of the
day to pack up my odds and ends and git everything
ready to start early the next mornin'.

About 2 o'clock I thought I'd take my rifle and
cruise around a little. You know how it is when we're
in the woods, we always want one last day's cruise
afore we leave, and I had mine and no mistake, and
I shall never forgit it, for it was the worst scrape I
ever got into, and no mistake.

I forgot to say there had been a light snow fall in
the night, not more than an inch or so, but it was
enough to last all day, anyhow. It was a good track-
ing snow, and I started out with my rifle and two re-
maining cartridges in search of somethin' in the way
^f game to top off with. I had gone hardly half a
mile afore I saw the tracks of a bear; they were the
biggest tracks I ever saw, and I knew the critter was a
whopper.

Now, I daresay you know that even when you see
the tracks of a bear it is not allers easy to foller 'em
up, for the critter is a mighty cute beast, and knows
a thing or two about hidin' his trail. I was keen to
foller him, for I knew those bij? tracks meant some-
thin' good. To throw off anyone who is follerin* his
tracks the bear goes through all sorts of maneuvers;
it is a common thing for him to travel back over his
trail, and when he comes to a windfall he'll walk along
on that as far as he can and then jump off at one side,
and you'd hardly think it possible for the beast to take
such long leaps as he does. 1

No, the bear never takes a bee line for his den. the|
natur' of the beast being a cautious, wary one. As I
said afore, the tracks of my bear were so large I knew

alc<5hi*l ^^vc of the smallest size, a 4-ounce flask of
alcohol and one of brandy, and, if you smoke, your
pipe and a tin box of tobacco. A compass you will
take, of course; but it will prove of slight service if the
cave is labyrinthine.

The rear man of the party should carry a ball or
tube of light twine for a guide line. This he will let
out as he goes along. It is an infallible guide back to
the entrance. Each of the other men should carry a
spare ball of twine. The man next to the leader should
have a 50-foot length of half-inch rope, wrapped about
him like a sash. Carry nothing in your hands but a
lantern. The camera and tlash-lights may ^ycll be left
behind for a subsequent trip. Some magnesium ribbon
should be taken, to light up hirge chambers. ^" »s also
useful in flash-light photography to get depth of back-
ground. In this case, the man who lights the ribbon
should be well concealed from the camera, or you will
get curious effects of forked lightning in your picture.

Other useful things that may be added to your out-
fit, if the party be Targe enough to carry them, are a
cold chisel, geologist's hammer, bags for specimens, a
dip-net for blind fish, a thermometer, and a pocket
aneroid. To measure accurately the height of large
chambers, carry some toy balloons with thread at-
tached. But, on the first trip, at least, go light, with
everything stowed as compactly and get-at-able as pos-
sible. Remember that you must use both hands in
crawling over difficult passages, and in climbing or de-
scending. Do not omit a ball of oiled tow or cotton.
This is to be weighted with a stone, lighted, and cast
into any sink-hole or chasm where you may fear fire-
damp This gas is only found in deep holes that have
no draft, and is, I believe, never met in caves proper.
The air of a true cavern is purer than that outside, and
you can work harder in it without fatigue. One does
not catch cold in a cave, whatever may be the tempera-
ture, unless he has been imprudent in entering before
cooling off, or emerging too abruptly. In this respect,
it is wiser to explore caves in winter than in summer.
The temperature of a cavern is constant the year round,
but that of different caves varies from each other. The
extremes, I think, are about 45 to 60 degrees. ^^

Most novices are afraid of meeting snakes or var-
mints" in caves. It is a rather foolish dread, thougft
natural. Serpents or beasts in caves of any consider-
able size are almost as rare as spooks. If, by extraor-
dinary chance, you should meet one, it will probably
be near the entrance. The only snake that I ever saw
in a cave had tumbled in by accident when frightened.
The only signs of wild beasts that I have discovered in
such places were those of a woodchuck, and some bear
beds made long, long ago. The newspapers once pub-
lished a story of our killing a five-foot rattler in a cav-
ern, and printed a photograph of the reptile for veri-
fication. The snake was genuine enough, but he was
killed outside the cave.. If you should encounter a wild
beast underground, just flash your lantern in his face

and scare him to death. ...

The only interesting mammal that I ever found in a
cave was a white bat. In a small cavern chamber, bid
and I had paused, lost in admiration of the beautiful
white incrustation that covered the rock above ai*^
all about us. Never, save after a fall of snow, when icc
crystals glittering in bright sunlight heighten the effect,
have I seen such dazzling purity of whiteness. As we
gazed, Sid suddenly pointed to something clinging
within reach above my head. It was a bat, virgin white
as the roof from which it hung. White rats m caves
1 had heard of. but not of albino bats. Sid was of the
opinion that the sudden appearance of such horrid,
antediluvian monsters as ourselves, and our voices
breaking the age-long silence, had frightened the poor
thing until its hair turned white. We iai)tured it, and
confined h in an empty lunch box. An hour or so
later, when we emergecf, our first thought was of our
prize, and how it would appear by daylight. burc
enough, it was white as snow. Some time later we ex-
amined it again, and, to our astonishment, it had turned
to a dirty yellow. I took it home. The next day it
was a common every-night bat, of conventional color.
Some of the white incrustation of the cave, that I had
brought with me in a bag, had turned to the color of
iron rust, after exposure to the sunlight. I presume
that the bat had been well dusted with it.

The difficulties encountered in cave exploration are
analogous to those of mountaineering, save that you
may need a boat, and you must depend utterly upon
artificial light. It will not do to rope the members
of the party together, for the way is often so tortuous
that such a rope would be a nuisance, if not a positive
source of danger. It is sometimes necessary to go
hand-over-hand on a rope, and such exercise should be
practiced before starting, unless one is already adept.
In such maneuvers, and in crawling through narrow
holes or crevices, go slowly and cautiously, one at a

It is hair-raising to have a man wedged in the rock
so that he cannot move. I had one such experience,
and it is enough. Some two years ago I discovered a
''blowing-hole" in a wild part of Ste. Genevieve county,
Missouri When first found it was merely a 6 or 8-
inch hole in the middle of a cattle trail. In summer a
cold blast blew from it, scattering the leaves for yards
around. The rains enlarged this opening until a man
could lower himself into it. Five feet below the sur-
face it connected with a crack in the rock that looked
as though it had been rent asunder by an earthquake.
This crevice descended at a sharp angle, but was too
narrow to admit a man. Sid and I enlarged it with a
cold chisel until, with a rope, a thin man could slide down
edgewise. It went down at an angle for 20 feet, then
vertically for 25 feet, and then connected with a cav-
ern of comparatively recent formation. Later a party
of seven men attempted to explore this cave. We were
below from seven to nine hours, but did not reach che
drainage level. It was when trying to get out that the
"stick" came. Three men succeeded in climbing to the
surface, but No. 4, when almost at the top of the
vertical shaft, got one leg fast in a crack and could not
dislodge it. The men outside could not free him, nor
could we below, for we could not get at him. No. 4
was nervy, and did not whimper, but his position was
unenviable, to say the least. His strength waned, but

he dared not let go the rope for fear of brewing his
leg. Those of us below could not get out until he did.
All the chisels in the county could not have hberated
him in a week. Finally, by careful and gentle
wriggling, the poor fellow freed his leg and reached
the surface. And he wants to go down into that cave

again. ... • 1

Well, no sport is sport unless it involves some risk.
It is something to know that your nerve has been
tested, and that it has borne the strain.

Horace Kephart.

The Lodges of the Blackfcet*

{CentiHUid /r0m /«/v 874.)

The importance of the buflfalo to all prairie tribes is.
of course, well understood. It furnished them with f<H)d.
clothing, and shelter. From its hide they made lines .ind
cinches, and with it they covered their laddlcs; the smew
\mt them thread for sewing; they carried water in its
paunch and also boiled meat in it; its ribs and its dorsal
Hpincs gave them their knives, and arrowpoints and hoes
were made from the shoulder-blades; cups and spoons
and ladles were fashioned from the horns; the hide of the
neck formed their shields and gave them glue for their
c'lrrows and their bows; the head of the humerus was used
to rub hides to make them soft; they braided and twisted
ropes from the hair ; the brain was used for tanning, and
the fat from the bones was eaten; if the people were
troubled with certain simple skin diseases, they rubbed
their bodies with the gall mixed with the contents of the
paunch, and this cured them. It is not strange, therefore,
that among the prairie tribes the buflfalo was regarded as
a most important protecting spirit, and was the chief
among all the animals of the plain.

A sacred object of great importance— because connected
with the food supply— was the buflfalo stone or iniskim of
the Blackfeet. This buflfalo stone possessed in itself some
power, which gave its possessor the ability to draw the
buffalo to him. Buffalo stones were found on the praine,
and the person who succeeded in obtaining one was re-
garded as very fortunate. Sometimes a man while riding
over the prairie heard a peculiar faint chirp, such as a lit-
tlt bird might utter. He knew the sound to be made by a
buffalo stone, and stopped and searched for it, and if he
failed to find it, marked the place and returned next day
to look for it. If it was found he was glad.

These buffalo stones are usually small ammonites or
sections of baculites or sometimes merely oddly shaped
nodules of flint. It is said that if an iniskim was wrapped
and left undisturbed for a long time it would have young
ones. That is, two small stones similar in shape to the
original one would be found in the package with it.

All this is of the olden times, and since there are no
longer buffalo, the buffalo stone is no longer useful. Yet
within a few years an old woman gave me an iniskim that
had been in her husband's family for many generations,
and told me that if I would rub this stone with the kidney
fat of a barren buffalo cow, and pray hard, I should never

be hungry. , , , . , jj

There was a time, far, far back, when the people did
not know about the buffalo stone, but at that time, in a
season of great want and suffering, the first one was
found It was winter and the buffalo had disappeared.
Heivy snows had fallen; so deep that the people could
not move after the buffalo; so the hunters killed deer and
elk and other game along the river bottom, but these did
not last long, and presently they began to starve.

One day a young married man killed a rabbit, and since
he and his wives and children were all hungry he ran
home fast and told one of the women to hurry to get
water to cook it. She went down to the stream and bent
down to fill her bucket, and as the did so she heard the
sweetest singing she had ever heard. It was near her,
but she could see no one, and for a long time she for-
got her water and looked and listened. Presently she took
a few steps in the direction from which the singing
seemed to come, and then it appeared that it came from a
Cottonwood tree close to her, and when she was near to
the tree the singing sounded almost in her ears. She
looked closely at the tree and saw wedged in the bark
by a branch an oddly shaped stone, and with the stone
some wool from a buffalo which had rubbed there. And
now she saw that the song came from the stone. She was
frightened, and did not dare even to run away. After a
little while the singing stopped, and the stone said to the
woman, "Take me to your lodge, and when it is dark
call in the people and teach them the song that you have
just heard. Pray, too, that you may not starve, and that
the buffalo may return. Do this, and when day comes
your hearts shall be glad." .

The woman took the stone from the tree and carried
it back to her lodge and gave it to her husband, telling
him about the song and what the stone had said. After
it became dark the young man called the chiefs and old
men to the lodge, and his wife taught them the song, and
they prayed as the stone had directed them. Before long
they heard a noise, a rumbling sound, at first a long way
off and graduallv coming nearer. It was the tramp of a
great herd of buffalo coming. Since that time the people
have taken care of the buffalo stone and prayed to it.

Two of the most important lodges in the Blackfoot
camp are known as the In-is-kim lodges. Both arc
painted with figures of the buffalo, and they came to the
tribe long, long ago, "in about the second generation after
the first people." Formerly all the Blackfoot tribes lived
far to the north of their present home, yet these lodges
are said to have been discovered near the place where the
Siksikau now dwell. These lodges came to the tribe in

the following manner: r • , 1. j

• One day, long, long ago, two old men, friends, had
gone out from the camp to find some cherry-shoots wXh
which to make arrows. This was on Bow River, below
the Blackfoot crossing. After they had gathered the
branches, they sat down on a high cut bluff on the river
bank and peeled the bark from the shoots. The river was
very high. One of these men was named Weasel Heart,

the other, Fisher. ^ , , ,

As they sat there. Weasel Heart chanced to look down
into the water and saw the top of a lodge and its poles
standing there above the surface. He could not believe
that what he saw was actual, yet it was bro;«d daylight,

FOREST AND STREAM.

■^P^*

and, however hard he looked, the top of the lodge and

its poles were there. a-n - j j^ ,.^.,

Weasel Heart said to his companion :/ Friend,^ do yo.i

see any object in the water or on the other side?

Fisher looked across the river and said, i see oni>

^""^No^^Sd' Weasel Heart, "I do not mean on the prairie ;
look down into that deep hole in the river and you wih

'"pi^sher'^lootTas directed and saw the !odge--it wa,
the black buffalo lodge. ^'Oh, yes," he said ; I, see i
and I see another lodge standing in front of it J hen
Weasel Heart saw that lodge, too-it was the yellow bui-

^"^Thef wondered at this and could not understand it ; biit
they were both men of strong hearts, and presently
Weasel Heart said: ^'Friend, I am going down to enter
that lodge. Do you sit here and tell me when I get to the
Sace " Then Weasel Heart went up the river and took
a drtft-log to support himself, and pushed it out into the
Lter and swam down toward the cut bluff. When he
had reached the place where the lodge was, Fisher told
hfm, and he let go the log and dived down and disap-

^'pif /SVime Fisher sat there waiting for his friend;
but at last"^after he had been there fo. half the day, he
Icoked down the stream and saw a man on the shore-it

they cannot do so; let us try to make a crossing so that
it will be easier for them." So Weasel Heart,^alone,
crossed the river and sat on the bank on one side and
Fisher sat opposite him on the other. Then Fisher said
to the people : "Pack up your things now and get ready
to cross ; I will make a place where you can cross easily.

Weasel Heart and Fisher filled their pipes and smoked,
and then each started to cross the river. As each stepped
into the water, the river began to go down, the crossing
firrew more and more shallow. The people with all their
dogs, followed close behind Fisher, as he had told them
to do Fisher and Weasel Heart met in the middle of the
river, and when they did so they stepped to one side up
the stream and let the people pass theni. Ever since that
day this has been a shallow crossing. These lodges came
from the Under-water people— 5'm ye tup pi.

Certain of the In-is -kirn are kept in these lodges in lit-
tle bags. They can be kept only in these lodges, and by

these lodge-owners. j- ^u

The yellow-painted buffalo lodge has, surrounding the
border, at the ground, a black band, fifteen to eighteen
inches in width, on which are painted a double row of
white disks, four to six inches in diameter These disks,
called stars in my article in the Anthropologist, are not
the stars of the sky, but what the Blackfeet call dusty
stars the term used for the puff balls which grow on the
prairie and which when ripe seem to inclose fine powder

■ ■■* « i, • ^iMy

■r«-»^ '»*^

*jfi-\

■I

BLACK-PAINTED BUFFALO-STONE LODGE.

was Weasel Heart, who walked up the bank until he had
reached his friend. Fisher said to him: "I was afraia
that something bad had happened to you. I have be^n
waiting a long time. You went into that lodge that you
saw (the black buffalo lodge) ; now I am going^ to do
the same thing, but I shall go into the other one.

Fisher went up the stream and then swam down, as
Weasel Heart had done, and when he reached the place,
he disappeared as Weasel Heart had disappeared, and the
log he had been resting on floated down the stream.
Weasel Heart waited for his friend as long as Fisher had
waited for him, and when Fisher came out of the water,
it was at the place where Weasel Heart had come out.
He joined his friend and they went home to the

camp. , .,, , .

When the two had come to a hill near the camp, they
met a young man, and by him sent word that the people
should make a sweat-house for them. After the sweat-
house had been made, word was sent to them, and they
entered the camp and went into the -sweat-house and took
a sweat, and all the time while they were sweating sand
was falling from their bodies.

After this the people moved camp and went out and
killed buffalo, and these two men took hides and built two
lodges, and painted them just as the lodges were painted
that they had seen in the river. ,

Now, the people wished to cross the river below the
Blackfoot crossing, but as the stream was deep it was
always a hard matter for them to get across. The dogs
and the travois were often swept away, and the people
lost many of their things. At this time the tribe wanted
to cross, and Fisher and Weasel Heart said to each other:
"The people wish to cros« the river, but it is high and

or dust. The band close to the ground therefore repre-
sents the prairie or the earth. The ground color of the
lodge is yellow, while the buffalo are brown. The bull is
painted across the front of the lodge, the cow across the
back. The pinning of the lodge passes down behind the
bull's shoulders. In the bull, the hoofs, the two eyes
(both on one side of the head), the knees, tongue, geni-
tals, kidneys, tail, and horns are green. The life-line is
red and green in alternate blocks, and the heart is green.
A spot between the horns, and the insides of the ears,
r.re red. The cow has the tail, kidneys, hoofs, ankles,
horns, tongue, ears, two eyes (on one side), and the
nostrils red. The life-line is red and green. In each
animal the tongue protrudes; each is licking the rump of
the other. Below the smoke-hole at the top is the butter-

tiy cross. ,,,,,* ^ xi.

The black buffalo lodge has the black band at the
' ground with a regularly-spaced double row of disks repre -
stnting stars. The buffalo bull and cow are black on
white ground. The bull is at the front of the lodge, its
pinning passing down just back of the shoulders. The
tongue, two eyes, horns, hoofs, front pasterns, heart, and
genitals are green, the nostrils, inside of ears, a spot be-
tween the horns, the wrists, hind pasterns, hooflets, kid-
neys, tail spot, and hocks are red. The cow is similar,
except that the tail spot is green. At the back of the
lodge there is a green butterfly cross ; the wings are
black, painted with stars, and the points of the wings
carry buffalo tails and hoofs.

The two lodges last mentioned are situated on the
northwest side of the camp-circle, and are not far apart.

George Bird Grinnell.

[to be CX)NCLUDED.]

Forest and Stream.

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NEW YORK, SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 14. 7^^

weeks with an expenditure of $8.50 to obtain a permit,
and by the t.me it had been secured the man's opportunity
for collectnig was over.

Mr. Fisher's plea for the abolition of the bond provJ-

Zhlf \^- ^u ''" " ' ^^'■°"8 °"^' •>"* there is
much to be said on the other side.

It has been the experience of the A. 0. U. Bird Pro-
ect.on Committee, when endeavoring to pass the model
aw, m any State where there has never been bird pro-
tec .on, that opposition has been made to the scientific
collection clause. The ordinary citizen is unable to
..nderstand why he should be deprived of the privilege of
shooting birds while it is granted to another person who

f thrf r%*°f r ''■'■'^-'"' *°^ ^*^'^"*'fi<= p'n>oses. It
s the behef of that committee that unless the provision

to grant a permit for scientific collecting is hedged about

by special restrictions, there will be more cases like that

frolT'law " *'' ''""" ^"^■^•°" ^■" ^ «-«^^
hJJlV ^r" '" *''' ^^'' ^''" "'""^ P^^^°"s who collected

of barter and exchange. For these men severe restric-
tions are needed. restric-

I No. M Broaowav, New Yoici

m<nt he was committed to jail, the right of trial by jury
being denied him. Hazen appealed to the Court of Quai-
ter Sessions, which held that his conviction was void
because the charter was unconstitutional. The opinion was
written by Judge George S. Purdy. The association carJ
ried the case to the Superior Court, and Judge Purdy's
decision wa., reversed. Then Hazen went to the Supreme
Court, which. Justice Dean writing the decision, upholds
Judge Purdy, and declares the conviction of Hazen ille-
gal, and the association's charter null and void because
unconstitutional. '

DOWN THE MISSISSIPPI.
We shall begin in our issue of November 21 Raymond
S. Spears story of the expedition "Down the Mississippi"
which he has undertaken at the instance of Forest and
Stream and for the benefit of its readers. Those who
followed Mr. Spears in his "Walk Down South" require
no assurance that in the new serial they have a rich

IT, Z ''"""- '^^' '^''''''' ^'" ^ ^'"^"S the many
good things to appear in the forthcoming issues of this
journal.

BIRD COLLECTING PERMITS.
The excellent bird protective law modeled by the A
O. U. Committee on Bird Protection has been adopted by
a very large number of the States of the Union. The
g*-neral excellence of this law is quite universally
acknowledged. Enforced, it protects the birds, and its
aefinition of orders, families, and so on, make quite clear
what birds may, and what may not, be killed

One of the provisions of the bill declares that any one
who wishes to obtain a permit to collect non-game birds
for scientific purposes, besides paying a fee for the per-
mit, must furnish a bond to the amount of $200

The provision as to the bond was not hastily deter-
mined on. but was the result of careful thought. It was
made a part of the bill by ornithologists, and of course not
with any desire to work hardship to actual workers in that
science. Its purpose was clearly to make the securing of
a permit difficult and expensive for the multitude of
young men and boys who fancy that they are ornitholo-
gists, but who in fact are merely collectors, who destroy
birds and gather together their skins, much as other boys
and men collect old postage stamps.

The dc-struction of birds by such collectors was very
great, and it was proper that it should be stopped. The
true ormthologist «ill kill what specimen he needs, and
no more. He may be wholly trusted. He needs no per-
mit. But a State official knowing nothing of birds or of
ornithology cannot possibly distinguish the real ornitholo-
gist from the false, and cannot be expected to exercise
aiscretion in the issue of permits. He must be bound by
a statute. -^

^some time a feeling has existed among some
ncrictc ♦!,,* "^provision of the A. O. U. law

"i^dship to scientific men, and
"jgptember-October number
" "r. Walter K. Fisher,
[en from the law.
jjch hedge about
Impossible in
^ example,
{Sue any
le. In
be
ion

THE BLOOMING GROFE PARK CHARTER
When the topic of game preserves was under discus-
sion in our columns recently, Mr. Charies Hallock con-
t buted a note saying that the Blooming Grove Park
.Nssocation had established pleasant reladons with the
ewellers of the vicinity of its preserve in Pike county
ta. by giving them employment in various capacities
en the preserve. It is well known that while this policy
ot peace and conciliation worked to the satisfaction of aH

muc'h'";: ;•" *k ''^'""•"^' ^'^^^^ -^sequently developed
much friction between the club and the people of the

r^gon; and the club sought to protect its privileges less
by the promotion of good feeling and more by thfappl
ction of the powers vested in it by the chaLr

The charter was granted in 1871 to an association of
srortsmen who set forth in their preamble that they de-
sired to establish in Pike county. Pa., certain tra^^ of
land as a park for preserving and propagating the difTer-
ent varieties of game animals, birds, and fish, both of
Europe and America, and preventing their extinction, and
to supply the same for propagation to different sec ions

nat for the full success of the enterprise the association
should make and enforce its own game laws as to th^

.me and manner of taking game and fish. One provision
t^^^T :: ^^^^'■"?'"^'y --ead: "It may make its own

to r.iT T^ "' ''°''^ "^ '^■'•^^tors, and may add
to. repeal, or change the same from time to time " It
vas further empowered to select from among its game
keepers special ones who should have the right and
authority of deputy sheriff or constables, and it was made
the duty of the sheriffs of Pike and Monroe countiS to
ceputize these game keepers.

An elaborate system of penalties was provided for
scooting or fishing or for simple trespass on the property

So to '4^°'"T ?' "'"''*'" ^°^ *^^^P^^^ ™""i"^ from

So to £ " '''''°" °^ ''' ^^S\s^r:.t., and from

S30 to $60 for possession of fishing tackle or guns upon

he property. For killing game and taking fish the penal

"ivTinTf ^: V"^' "'^'' -P"--"-nt as anX -
naive m default of payment. And there were other
provisions boking to the severe punishment of tre!passers
by increasing the sums forfeited for the possesS ol

^Z^^- ^'''' '''''' -- '--^'^^y ^ -tio^n

_ The laws of the State relating to fish or wild animals shall not
be apphcable to any of the territory owned or hired by sa.d "or
pora.,on or over which it shall acquire the right to Wl or take
game or fish; except that any person not licensed or author^ed^^

anes. wt^o shall take, shoot or hunt game, or catch fish within

ab'e^'lo fh""' "T''' '° "'' «=""' '-^ °f this State shlu be
liable to the penalties provided by said laws in addition to th!
penalties herein provided. aaa.tion to the

The opinion has more than once been expressed by
lawyers that if the Blooming Grove Park charter shouW

slitJLltru^'l '°"'' '* ^""'^ ^' ^'^'^ '^ be uncon-
stitutional. This has now been done

byln\^i f,''"^^^"^""' °^ Pike county, was arrested

k .I.H t I ^"l^ T'''^^'' '""^ ''^''^"^ with having
killed a deer on the Blooming Grove Park territory He

was summarily convicted by a magistrate under the pro-

v'SIPft? 9f thg gfartcr and was fined. In default of pay-

THE REAL DOG DAYS.
The real dog days of the year are the days of the opcnl
season, when the beautiful game birds and animals, sj
strong, so swift of flight, and so resourceful in strategy
tnay be taken into possession legally if the sportsman havd

the requisite skill to take them in a sportsmanlike manner^
at all. I

This is the season when the hound, the setter or the
pointer, is annually in the ascendant. Those dogs are
now the stars of the hunting world.

In the minds of all true sportsmen, setters and pointers
ccnd hounds now hold exalted associations with the game
birds and animals. From the shadouy nooks in man's
memory they spring forth to the foremost places

In this sportsnien's annual season every dog may have
Jus day. and if he be a good dog. faithful, skillful and
eiiduring. he may have a day or several days additional,
i-'og days, as a whole, are good days.

These are the days in which the hunting dog is pam-
Ptred with the best of foods, the gentlest of caresses, the
most affectionate of glances, the coziest of sleeping quar-
ters. He holds now a constant exalted place in his mas-
ter s conversations at home and abroad. So enthralling
.3 the subject that it is almost as great a pleasure to

n-jfn" ^^i!* " *° *^'^ ^"'^ "°'^ ^''^ capabilities to ex-
pand! The merits of the dog which at first required but

one hour to recount, are elegantly elaborated by repeti-
tion till a half day or even a whole day is none too much
t:me in which to present the favorite's past performances,
wonderful intelligence, present abilities and princely an-
cestry. Hours are all too short when such useful infor-
mation ,s so disinterestedly presented to the hearers The
dog, then, by virtue of his master's affection and atten-
tion IS brought out of the unmerited obscurity of months
tvlT" T,!*' J""' •""''!"■ ^"*^ * ""^''"S to his master's'

r 1,' i"" °^ T^"" ^''^'^' " '^^*^i"« P'^<=<= then in his
masters affairs and the master in turn takes a leading

?ir.-c\ ^"^"*^^' ^ff^ir«. with the dog as a theme
Nnr f^^?"^^°" when the dog enjoys truly great days.
Nor IS the sudden spasm of appreciation confine,
wholly ,n application to the dog. The owners, too. who
Lave spare dogs or spare guns, present or prospective,
find themselves better remembered by sportsmen friend/
m the open season than in the close season, and thu.
benignantly participate in the revival. Such owners will
frequently find themselves pleasantly removed from th.
obscure nooks of memory to the most forward an.
esteemed places of friendly attention, as is proper whei
one ,s the subject of purposes concerning guns and dog
loanable, or shooting invitations obtainable. Thus th.
opening of the shooting season restores many neglectec
oormant friendships which otherwise might be lost fod
ever. I

It is not entirely an untenable hypothesis that, on th,
cne hand, as between the man who is unconsciously at
te,:tive with an ulterior friendly purpose to borrow
dog or gun. and, on the other, the man who is eageriy in
en on decoying a friend into some verbal ambush i
which he IS forced to listen to a three-hour eulogy abou

If^m'^rit .r ''""' ""''' °' ^"'''' "'^^ i« - equalid
of merit, all unappreciated by the unfortunate few wh

hfve not the enthusiasm of the true sportsman. In th

^um total there is a certain equity established betwee

me„?rT"°^ '"'•'"''"''''= ^""^'■""•"' ^"d the sport,
men of enthusiastic materialism.

And yet. when freed from the ego, which makes a doi
better than all other dogs on earth because he is owne
by the owner, a three-hour story may be of real interej

different in the matter of friendly or public interest

And yet the real dog days for the dog are the da,
when the fnends of his master ar^ entertained with tali
of \\m which never 9e^«^

STREAM.

[Nov. 14, 1903.

^otkni^n ^onmU

The Lodges of the Blackfeet*

Man seems to be the only animal that is subject to the
decrees of fashion. His clothing, his food, his furniture,
and his dwelling change in appearance— if not from year
to vear, at least from decade to decade, or from century
to century. Nor is this— as at first might be thought—
a mere refinement of civilization. It is not only the
fashionable man or woman, dwelling in cities, anxious M
be up with the times and sensitive to criticism by fellow
beings, that changes; primitive man also, though his
fashions change more slowly, nevertheless alters the way
in which he wears his hair, the appearance of his clothing,
the shelters which protect him from the weather.

Among primitive man in America a form of dwelling
long used is swiftly pissing out of existence. The Indian
lodge or teepee— the highest development of tent known
to our aborigines— is disappearing, and for a very go<jd
reason. The lodge cannot be set up without a consider-
able number of lodge poles, and in these days lodge poles
are hard to get. The lodge of ancient times, made from
buffalo skins, and when the people were free to travel
where they pleased over the prairie, was most useful, but
now the buffalo skin is no longer to be had, canvas can
cmly be bought for money, and in place of using the great
amount of canvas needed for a lodge and sixteen or
eighteen poles, the Indian is coming to live in a wall tenr,
which takes less canvas and far less weight of wood.
Even among the least advanced tribes, therefore, the
lodge is disappearing, and the wall tent is taking its place.
The old time skin lodges of the various prairie tribes
have often been described, but the detail of the manufac-
ture and much of the meaning of their ornamentation has
never been printed, so far as 1 know. With the purpose
of setting down some of these matters not generahy
known, 1 some time ago contributed to the American
Anthropologist an article on the lodges of the Blackfeel.
It is to the courtesy of Mr. F. W. Hodge, the Editor (»f
that Journal, that I owe the permission to print here the
same matter with some additions and with the illustra-
tions used in the Anthropologist.

The old-time lodges of the Hlackfeet were made always
of an even number of skins — eight, twelve, fourteen, six-
teen, twenty, and sometimes even thirty, thirty-two, thirty-
fcur, or thirty-eight skins. The very large lodges were
unusual. They commonly contained two or more fiiv>.
as described in my "Blackfoot Lodge Tales" (p. 1^7)-
Such a lodge was a load too heavy for one horse 10
carry; it was therefore in two pieces, pinned in the front
in the usual way by skewers running from the top of the
door up to the smoke-hole, and, in later times, buttoned
up the back with the old Hudson Bay brass buttons.
Probably at an earlier date the lodge was pinned together
at the back as at the front.

Lodges were made in the spring or early summer, and
for this purpose the hides of the buffalo cow only were
used. A lodge in constant use did not commonly last
more than a year. Holes were worn in it in packing:
an ill-trimmed lodge-pole might wear other holes. The
frequent wetting and drying of the sinew caused the
seams to open, and while the woman resewed them and
put patches over each hole that appeared in the covering,
it was likely, when the heavy spring rains came on, to
leak badly and so to be uncomfortable. When this point
was reached, the woman began to think of making a new-
lodge, and notified her husband that skins were required
for a new lodge-covering.

From the hides brought in by her husband, the woman
carefully selected and hid aside those best adapted for
a lodge-covering,^ and tanned them with special reference
tc the use to which they were to be put. She took pains
also to save all the best sinews from the backs of the
buffalo, taking off the straps in ribbons as long as pos-
sible— sometimes three or four feet in length.

When she had tanned the required number of skins,
collected all the sinews needed, and prepared the neces-
sary awls, the woman talked over the matter with her
husband, and, having shown him that all was ready for
the making of the lodge, he advised her to proceed.
Meantime it was generally known through the camp that
such and such a woman w^as preparing to make a new
lodge. She now^ prepared a considerable supply of food,
chief among which were kettles of boiled sarvis berries,
and requested some old man to invite certain women to
eat with her. The invitation was conveyed to the women
early in the morning, and they wxre expected to come at

once.

After the guests had come to the lodge and had eaten,
the woman spoke to them, saying: ''Friends, I am going
to make a lodge. My skins and sinews and awls are
ready, and now I wish for help to make the lodge."
When they accepted the invitation, the women understood
what it meant, and by accepting it they agreed to assist
the lodge-maker. No direct reply to her speech, there-
fore, was needed or expected. After she had told them
her \vishes, she opened her bundles of sinews and dis-
tributed them aminig the women, each of whom carried a
package away with her. It was the business of each to
split the sinews she had taken to make thread for sewing
the lodge-skins. The thread was made by splitting the
sinew with the fingernail, wetting half the length of the
.strand in the month, twisting the end with the fingers so
as to point it, and then, holding that end in the mouth,
rolling the wet sinew between the palms of the haiuls
for about half the length of the strand— sometimes two
feet. The untwisted part was merely knotted at the end.
The next morning another group of women were in-
vited to eat, as before. These were the sewers, and with
I hem was called one known to be a good fashioner of
lodges, who should be the cutter and (lesigner. She car-
ried the pattern of the lodge in her mind, and was guided
only by her judgment. Like the thread-makers, these
women came to tin- lodge in the early morning. After
thev had eaten, and the h(»stess had told them what she
wished, the women began to rise and to leave the lodge.
All around the Intrder of the lodge, close up against the
lining (and so immediately behind the people, who were
sitting on the beds), were bundles of tanned skins— two
or three lied up in a roll together. As the women went

out, one by one, each picked up one of these bundles and
carried it out with her. At a short distance from the
•lodge they stopped, untied their rolls of skins and spread
them on the ground together, edge to edge, so as to cover
an irregular square, and then sat down about them in a
circle. Then the old crier called out for the thread-
n^akers to bring the thread, and soon the women to who:n
the sinews had been given w^ere seen coming, each bring-
ir.g her bundle of thread which she placed on the hides
just within the circle of the women, so that a bundle lay
before each one.

Now, the old woman to whom the designing was en-
trusted arranged the skins on the ground to the best ad-
vjjitage, cut off a piece here, another there, indicated
where a gap should be filled up by a patch, and then ^e*
the sewers to work. Each had been provided with her
awl and thread, and they worked fast. The designer
superintended the making, seeing that the half-circle was
true and of the right length, that the various tapers were
properly drawn and were the same on each side, and that
the ears and the front-pieces were properly put on. All
the other women sewed under her direction, and obeyed
whatever orders she gave. From time to time food was
c Arried out to the sewers, who stopped to eat as they felt
inclined. The sewing was usually finished in a day.

The string or strap at the top and back of the lodge,
bv which the lodge-covering was tied to the back pole,
required special treatment. It is by means of this back
pole that the covering is raised so as to go about the
framework. It was important that this piece of leather

I.— THUNDER-BIRD LODGE.

should be sewed to the lodge-covering by a woman par-
ticularly chosen, for, if it were sewed by a woman of
jealous or quarrelsome disposition, the lodge would
alw^avs be s;noky, whether or not there was wind, bo a
good'-natured woman, one of cheerful disposition, was
always chosen for the task of sewing on this piece.

When the women had finished sewing the lodge, they
ai once set it up and pinned down the sides close to the
i>round, put on a door, and closed the smoke-hole as
nearlv as possible. A fire was then started in it, and
sagebVush thrown on the fire to make a thick smoke. Ihis
was done in order that the lodge-skins might be thor-
oughly smoked, so that they w^ould never get hard when

' In putting up the lodge, the Blackfeet tie four poles to-
gether, and the remaining poles rest on the crotches of
these four. The butts of the four tied poles are not set
on the ground in a square with equal sides, but in a
rectangule whose sides are longer than the front and
back. The front of this rectangle faces east, while the
back is to the west and the two long sides are on the
north and the south. The remaining poles lean against
the crotches of these four in a rough circle, much smaller
than the circumference of the lodge is finally to be, and
the lodge-covering is tied to the back pole, which is the
List one put up. When the lodge-covering is put on, it is
drawn about the frame until the borders meet in front ol
the lodge, and then a woman, mounting on a travois as a
ladder, pins these borders together, using from fifteen
to twenty-five slender skewers about the size and shape
of the wooden skewers used by butchers. Other women
now go inside and move the butts of the poles outward,
so that the lodge shdl be properly stretched. But the
lodge may have to be used for some little time before it
is thoroughly stretched and so tight that there is no
dinger of its leaking anywhere.

Often a new lodge-covering is put over poles that have
been in use for years, but if new poles are to be made,
these are chopped by the man and his wife on the edge of
the mountains and brought into camp. A good-sized
lodge re(|uires tweiitv i)oles ; a very large one, thirty.
(Obviously, the greater the number of the poles, the better
a well-made lodge will be stretched, the tighter it will
be. and the longer it will list. Some tribes use a greater
niMuber of poles thar. others, and those who use the mo.-.t,
ct^mmonlv have the best lodges. When the new pole^j
h;.ve been brought to cam]), nuigh and with the bark and
the stubs of the branches still on them, women arc in-
vited to cat stewed berries, and, after they have eaten, the
h( stess asks her guests to help her peel and trim the
poles, ind this work is commonly finished in one day.

If, for aiiv reason, a lodge is persistently smoky, tlv-
riigans are likely to shoot a blunt-headed arrow up into
the smoke-hole trying to hit the poles where they come
togctlur. This is supposed to remedy the trouble.

In old times the Piegans, when camp was made, used
(hen to spread a buffalo-robe over the diverging lodge-
poles above the smoke-hole; it was tied to one, two, or
three of the poles. This brought them good hick, so that

if enemies attacked the camp nobody would be hurt L
also made them light and active in their bodies, able tL»
get about quickly, and to escape danger. It was an old
custom, for which no reason can now be given.

The Piegans know the lodges of the Crows at a dis-
tance, because of the shortness of the lodge-poles. J his
gives the lodge a "cut-off" appearance, quite different
from the lodges of the Blackfeet, of which the poles ex-
tend from four to six feet above the top of the lodge.

Besides this, the wuigs of the Crow lodges have pockets
into which the poles fit, whereas the Blackfeet wmgs have
evelets in the tips through which the poles pass, and
o'ften, if the poles which support the wings are slendei,
little twigs are lashed across them near the ends to pro-
vent them from passing too far through the eyelet.

No lodge— at. least no properly made lodge— is actually
conical in shape. All are more nearly vertical at the
biick than at the front. The backs of the lodges of many
mountain tribes seem very straight— almost at right
angles to the ground— while the slope at the front is long
and uentle. The difference has relation to the stability
01 the l(Klge. 'i'he lodge is always pitched back to wind-
ward. :ind the inclined poles in front resist the force of
ih.e v.ir.d, so that the lodge cannot be blown over.

At the last Medicine lodge of the Piegan Blackfeet, I
learned the history of a few of the painted lodges. It is
to be understood that the painting on each lodge is the
special propertv of the lodge owner, and cm be used only
bv him unless he sells his right to it to another individual,
in which case the buyer has the sole right to the design
ar.d to any "medicine" or mysterious power which may
aecompany it. In a majority of cases the designs or
the medicine which belongs to them, or both, have co ji"
to the original painter of the lodge through a dreim, a. id
v.here this is the case, it is commonly indicated by the
butterfiy (a-f^un-ui) cross it the back of the lodge, im-
mediately below the smoke-hole. I have already called al-
tei.tion to this sign and to its meaning.

Among the lodges seen that summer was one known is
the Thunder-bird lodge, in the erection of which a speci il
ceremony must be observed. The reason for setting il
up on this occasion v/as that a certain young man be-
lieved that he detected in the sky the signs of a storm,
and, fillmg the pipe, took it to Iron Pipe, the owner of the
Thunder-bird lodge. The young man told Iron Pipe tint
he wished to have fine weather during the Medicine hKlge-
and offered him the pipe. Inn Pipe accepted it. smoked,
and began to pray. The piitting up of the Thunder-bir I
l<;dge, and the cerennMiies which attend it, ahvays cans*.'
a storm to cease if one has begun, and insure fair weather.
Before it is put up a sweit-house must be built— the
IcKlge-covering of the Thunder-bird lodge being used to
cover the sweat-house — into which the lodge-owner goes,
takes a sweat, and prays. After this he paints his fore-
head and the backs of his hands yellow, and a small l)lue
spot on each temple. His women who erect the lodge can
do the work only if painted with yellow paiiU on the
forehead.

While the women were bringing the lodge-covering from
the sweat-house, where it had just been used. Iron Pipe
himself was engaged in painting the back pole bright blue,
and in tying a bunch of bells on the end of it. The lodge-
covering doubled once was now placed on the ground just
behind where the lodge was to stand; a lodge-pole was
laid on it, and the distance measured from the base of the
lodge-covering to the top of the smoke-hole. An )lher
pole was measured along the other border of the lodge.
After it had received its painting, the blue-painted back
pole was not placed on the ground, but was rested on a
tripod, the butt pointing toward the south and the raised
point toward the north. The four poles, tied together
at the points measured on two of them were set up as
already described. But in this case, the tying not being
altogether satisfactory, one of the younger women pro-
posed that they should be taken down and a guy-rope
attached to them.

"No," said another older woman, ''now it is up, it can-
not come down."

When the lodge had been erected, it was seen that it
was blue in color — it being of canvas — darkest above and
pale near the ground. It was supposed to have been all
one shade of blue, which represents the sky. At the back
cf the lodge, low down toward the ground, was painted
a yellow disk nearly two feet in diameter. The northern
half of this disk was dotted with small blue spots which
represent hail ; the southern side was plain yellow, mean-
ing rain. The idea is, that before the rain reaches the
ground it has turned— on the northern half of the circle —
into hail. Above the middle of the yellow disk w\as the
Thunder-bird sketched in blue, with outspread wings
and with a zigzag line— a lightning flash— running up-
ward from its head (Fig. i). A drum painted in a sim-
ilar manner went with the lodge, and was hung on a tri-
pod immediately behind it. No man on foot or on horse-
back, and no wagon may pass between the back of the.
lodge and the tripod on which the drum hangs. No noise
must be made near the lodge, and the lodge owner would
not consent to have his lodge photographed.

On this occasion, when the lodge had been erected, the
threatening storm passed away and the weal her became
clear again. Gkok(;i-: P.iud Grinnell.

[to he rONTINl'El). I

Death of Theoj

TiiKonoKK M. Stui H.
of coneern to his iij
.\t his home on L
ten o'clock, ay^
trude a ]>rii]J
1 'at lire he
'i he wool
(/pen b(
hii; gj
Irm,

W.J

426

fOREST AND STREAM.

[Nov. 25. 1905,

In tbe Lodges of the Blackfeet.

L— Fort Bentoa«

Wide brown plains, distant, slender, flat-topped buttes;
still more distant giant mountains, blue-sided, sharp-
peaked, snow-capped; odor of sage and smoke of camp
fire; thunder of ten thousand buffalo hoofs over the hard
dry ground; long-drawn, melancholy howl of wolves
breaking the silence of night, how I loved you all.

I am in the sere and yellow leaf, dried and shrivelled,
about to fall and become one with my millions of pre-
decessors. Here I sit, by the fireplace in winter, and out
on the veranda when the days are warm, unable to do
anything except live over in memory those stirring years
I passed upon the frontier. My thoughts are always of
those days ; days before the accursed railroads and the
hordes of settlers they brought swept us all, Indians and
frontiersmen and buffalo, from the face of the earth, so
to speak.

The love of wild life and adventure was born in me,
yet I must have inherited it from some remote ancestor,
for all my near ones were staid, devout people. How I
hated the amenities and conventions of society; from my
earliest youth I was happy only when out in the great
forest which lay to the north of my home, far beyond
the sound of church and school bell, and the whistling
locomotives. My visits to those grand old woods were
necessarily brief, only during summer and winter vaca-
tions. But the day came when I could go where and
when I chose, and one warm April morning in the long
ago I left St. Louis on a Missouri River steamboat,
bound for the Far West.

The Far West! Land of my dreams and aspirations!
I had read and reread Lewis and Clark's "Journal," Cat-
lin's "Eight Years," "The Oregon Trail," Fremont's ex-
peditions; at last I was to" see some of the land and the
tribes of which they told. The sturdy flat-bottom, shal-
low-draft, stern-wheel boat was tied to the shore every
evening at dusk, resuming her way at daylight in the
morning, so I saw every foot of the Missouri's shores,
2,600 miles, which lay between the Mississippi and our
destination. Fort Benton, at the head of navigation. I
saw the beautiful groves and rolling green slopes of the
lower river, the weird bad lands above them, and the
picturesque cliffs and walls of sand stone, carved into all
sorts of fantastic shapes and form by wind and storm,
which are the feature of the upper portion of the navi-
gable part of the river. Also I saw various tribes of
Indians encamped upon the banks of the stream, and I
saw more game than I had thought ever existed. Great
herds of buffalo swimming the river often impeded the
progress of the beat. Numberless elk and deer inhabited
the groves and slopes of the valley. On the open bot-
toms grazed bands of antelope, and there were bighorn
on nearly every butte and cliff of the upper river. We
also saw a great many grizzly bears, and wolves, and
coyotes; and evenings, when all was still aboard, the
beavers played and splashed alongside the boat. What
seemed to me most remarkable of all, was the vast num-
bers of buffalo we passed. All tjirough Dacotah, and
through Montana clear to Fort Benton, they were daily
in evidence on the hills, in the bottoms, swimming the
river. Hundreds and hundreds of them, drowned,
swollen, in all stages of decomposition, lay on the shallow
bars where the current had cast them, or drifted by us
down the stream. I am inclined to believe that the treach-
erous river and its quicksands, its unevenly frozen sur-
face in winter, played as great havoc with the herds as
did the Indian tribes living along its course. Many and
many a luckless animal, sometimes a dozen or more in
a place, we passed, standing under some cut bluff which
they had vainly endeavored to climb, and there they were,
slowly but surely sinking down, down into the tenacious
black mud or sands, until finally the turbid water would
flow smortilily on over their lifeless forms. One would
naturally think that rSiimals crossing a .stream, and find-
ing themselves under a high cut bank would turn out
again into the stream and swim down until they foiuid
a good landing place; but this is just what the buffalu.
in many «ises, did not do. Having once determined in
go to a certain place, they made a bee-line for it; and.
as in tlie case of those we saw dead and dying under
the cut banks, it seemed as if they chose to die rather
tfidp to make a detour in order to reach their destination.

There were many places after we entered the buffalo
country which I passed with regret ; I wanted to stop
off and explore them. But the captain of the boat would
say: "Don't get impatient; you must keep on to Fort
Benton ; that's the place for yoit, for there you'll meet
traders and trappers from all over the northwest, men
you can rely upon and travel with, and be reasonably
safe. Good God, boy, suppose I should set you ashore
here? Why, you wouldn't in all likelihood keep your
scalp two days. These here breaks and groves shelter ,
many a prowlin' war party. Oh, of course, you don't
see 'em, but they're here all the same."

Foolish "tenderfoot," innocent "pilgrim" that I was.
I could not bring myself to believe that I, I who thought
so much of the Indians, would live with them, would
learn their ways, would be ? friend to them, could pos-
sibly receive any harm at their hands. But one day,
somewhere between the Round Butte and the mouth of
the Musselshell River, we came upon a ghastly sight.
On a shelving, sandy slope of shore, by a still smoldering
fire of which their half-burned skiff formed a part, lay
the remains of three white men. I say remains ad-
visedly, for they had been scalped and literally cut to
pieces, their heads crushed and frightfully battered,
hands and feet severed and thrown promiscuously about.
We stopped and buried them, and it is needless to say
that I did not again ask to be set ashore.

Ours was the first boat to arrive at Fort Benton that
spring. Long before we came in sight of the place the
inhabitants had seen the smoke of our craft and made
preparations to receive us. When we turned the bend
and neared the levee, cannon boomed, flags waved, and
the entire population assembled on the shore to greet us.
Foremost in the throng were the two traders who had
some time before bought out the American Fur Com-
pany, fort and all. They wore suits of blue broadcloth,
their long-tailed, high-collared coats bright with brass
buttons; they wore white shirts and stocks, and black
cravats; their long hair, neatly combed, hung down to
their shoulders. Beside them were their skilled em-
ployes— clerk.s, tailor, carpenter — and they wore suits of
black fustian, also brass buttoned, and likewise their hair
was long, and these latter, almost without exception,
wore parfleche-soled moccasins, gay with intricate and
flowery designs of cut beads. Behind these prominent
personages the group was most picturesque; here were
the French employes, mostly Creoles from St. Louis and
the lower Mississippi, men who had passed their lives in
the employ of the American Fur Company, and had
cordelled many a boat up the vast distances of the wind-
ing Missouri. Without exception these men wore the
black fustian capotes, or hooded coats, fustian or buck-
skin trousers held in place by a bright -hued sash. Then
there were bullwhackers, and mule-skinners, and inde-
pendent traders and trappers, most of them attired in
suits of plain or fringed and beaded buckskin, and nearly
all of them had knives and Colt's powder and ball six-
shooters stuck in their belts; and their headgear, espe-
cially that of the traders and trappers, was home-made,
being generally the skin of a kit fox roughly sewn in
circular form, head in front and tail hanj^ing down be-
hind. Back of the whites were a number of Indians, men
and youths from a nearby camp, and women married
to the resident and visiting whites. 1 had already learned
from what I had seen of the various tribes on our way
up the river, that the everyday Indian of the plains is
not the gorgeously attired, eagle plume bedecked crea-
ture various prints and written descriptions had led me
to believe .he was. Of course, they had, all of them, such
fancy attire, but it was worn only on state occasions.
Those I now saw wore blanket or cow (buffalo) leather
leggins, plain or beaded moccasins, calico shirts, and
either blanket or cow leather toga. Most of them were
bareheaded, their hair neatly braided, and their faces
were painted with reddish brown ochre or Chinese ver-
milion. Some of them carried a bow and qtiiver of
arrows; some had flint-lock fuke.s, a few the more mod-
ern cap-lock rifle. The women wore dresses of calico; a
few "wives" of the traders and clerks and skilK-d labor-
ers even wore silk, and gold chains and watches, and all
had the inevitable gorgeously hut-d and fringed shawl
lliri>wn uvfr their shoulders.

With one glance the eye could lake in the whole town,
as it was at that time. There was the great rectangular
adobe fort, with bastions mounting cannon at each cor-

ner. A short distance above it were a few cabins, built
of logs or adobe. Back of these, scattered out in the
long, wide flat bottom, was camp after camp of trader
and trapper, string after string of canvas covered freight-
ers' wagons, and down at the lower end of the flat were
several hundred lodges of Piegans. All this motley crowd
had been assembling for days and weeks, impatiently
awaiting the arrival of the steamboats. _The supply of
provisions and things brought up by the boats the pre-
vious year had fallen far short of the demand. There
was no tobacco to be had at any price. Keno Bill, who
ran a saloon and gambling house, was the only one who
had any liquor, and that was alcohol diluted with water,
four to one. He sold it for a dollar a drink. There
was no flour, no sugar, no bacon in the town, but that
didn't matter, for there was plenty of buffalo and an-
telope meat. What all craved, Indians and whites, was
the fragrant weed and the flowing bowl. And here it
was, a whole steamboat load, together with a certain
amount of groceries; no wonder cannon boomed and
flags waved, and the population cheered when the boat
hove in sight.

I went ashore and put up at the Overland Hotel, which
was a fair-sized log cabin with a number of log walled
additions. For dinner we had boiled buffalo boss ribs,
bacon and beans, "yeast powder" biscuit, coffee with
sugar, molasses and stewed dried api)les. The regular
guests scarcely touched the meat, but the quantities of
bread, syrup and dried apples they stowed away was
something surprising.

That was a day to me, a pilgrim fresh from the effete
East, from the "States," as these frontiersmen called it,
full of interest. After dinner I went back to the boat to
see about my luggage. There was a gray-bearded, long-
haired old trapper standing on the shore looking absently
out over the water. His buckskin trousers were so
bagged at the knees that he seemed to be in the attitude
of one about to jump out into the stream. To him ap
proached a fellow passenger, a hair-brained, windy, con-
ceited young fellow bound for the mining country, and
said, looking intently at the aforesaid baggy knees:
"Well, old man, if you're going to jump, why don't you
jump, instead of meditating over it so long?"

He of the buckskins did not at first comprehend, but
following the questioner's intent titare he quickly saw
what was meant. "Why, you pilgrim," he replied, "jimip
yourself." And instantly grasping the youth by the legs
below the knees he heaved him out intcj about three feet
of water. What a shout of laughter and derision arose
from the bystanders when the ducked one reapi)eared
and came gasping, spluttering, dripping, ashore. He
looked neither to the right nor the left, but hurried on
board to the seclusion of his cabin, and we saw him no
more until he pulled out on the stage the next morning.

I hid letters of introduction to the firm which had
bought out the American Fur Company. They received
me kindly and one of them took me around introducing
me to the various employes, residents of the town and to
several visiting traders and trappers. Of the latter I
met one, a man only a few years older than myself,
whom I was told was the most successful and daring
of all the traders of the plains. He spoke a number of
Indian languages perfectly, and was at home in the camp
of any of the surrounding tribes. Wc somehow took to
each other at once, and I passed the balance of the after-
noon in his company; we eventually became great
friends. He still lives; therefore, as I may in the course
of this story tell some of the things we did together, for
which we are now both truly sorry, I will not give his
right name. The Indians called him the Berry; and as
Berry he shall be known in these chronicles of the old
plains life. Tall, lean, long-armed and slightly stoop-
shouldered, he was not a fine looking man, but what
splendidly clear, fearless dark brown eyes he had; eyes
that could beam with the kindly good nattire of those
of a child, or fairly flash fire when he was aroused to
anger.

It was not half an hour after the arrival of the steam-
boat, before whisky dropped to the normal price of *'(wo
bits" per drink, and l«»l)aeco to $j per pound. The white
men. with few exceptions, hied to the saloons to drink,
and smoke, and gainble. A few hurrietl to load their
wagons with sundry kegs and make for the In<lian camp
at the lower end of the bottom, and another, still larger,
ran out on the Teton as fast as their horses could run.

Forest

< > X

Stream.

•

A Weekly Journal of the Rod and Gun. f

COPYKIGHT, 1904, BY FoREST AND STREAM PuBUSHINO C0«

Terms, $i a Year. 10 Cts. a Copy. »
Six Months, $2. )

NEW YORK, SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 2 5, 190B.

iNo.

VOL. LXV.— No. $2.
346 Broadway, New York.

The object of this Journal will be to studiously
promote a healthful interest in outdoor recre-
atlon, and to cultivate a refined taste for natural

objects* Announcement in first number of

Forest and Stream, Aug. 14, 1873.

IN THE LODGES OF THE BLACKFEET.

We begin to-day the publication of a series of chapters
descriptive of life with a wild people on the Western
plains. It is a graphic and intimate picture, such as per-
haps has never before been written; and its interest will
prove to be well sustained to the end.

PRIZES FOR GAME HEADS.

The Forest and Stream offers three prizes of $20, $10
and $5 respectively for the best moose heads secured in
the year 1905 in the hunting grounds of the United States
and Canada.

It offers also three prizes of $15, $10 and $5 respectively
for the best white-tail deer heads taken in the hunting
season of 1905 in the United States or Canada.

The heads will be fudged from photographs submitted
lo the Forest and Stream. In estimating their merits
the two qualities of size and symmetry will be taken into
consideration. With the photograph of each head must
be sent a memorandum of the place and the time of its
taking and the name of the person taking it. The compe-
tition will be open to amateur hunters only; and with this
single restriction it will be open to the world. There are
no entrance fees. The photographs submitted will be the
property of Forest and Stream. Entries for the compe-
tition must be made nc^t later than Jan. 15, 1906. The
awards will be determined by a committee of representa-
tive sportsnren to be announced later.

DRUMMING OF THE RUFFED GROUSE.

Few subjects have been so much discussed by sports-
men as the whistle of the woodcock and the drumming
of the ruffed grouse. To the latter sound much mystery
has always attached. The dull roll of thunder comes out
of the air, from a distance, in the depth of the forest, and
excites the wonder of the listener, but its direction and
its distance seem so uncertain that he is not likely to try
to find it. Few persons have seen the bird in the act of
drumming, and of those few, a still smaller number have
been trained to observe the ways of nature or to draw
just conclusions from what they may have seen. Never-
theless, many people — some observers and some mere
theorists — have expounded their views on the subject.
It has been declared that the grouse drums by beating
his wings against the object on which he stands, against
his own body, or against each other above the back; but
none of these have satisfied all the conditions and all are
to be rejected. The best descriptions of the drumming
ever given is that by Mr. William Brewster, printed in
the old American Sportsman, in 1874, and the still earlier
one of Audubon in his "Birds of America."

In this year of 1905, however, Prof. C. F. Hodge, of
Clarke University, carried on a series of observations on
his domesticated ruffed grouse which point to another ex-
planation, and which, illustrated by a multitude of photo-
graphs, appear to show that the sound is made by the
rapidly repeated blows of the stiff wing (luills against the
erected and expanded feathers of the side, which thus
form a feather cushion. Professor Hodge says : "In
fact, the sound, so far as quality goes, can be best imi-
tated by striking with a wing properly stretched or even
a concave fan on an extremely light eiderdown cushion."
Professor Hodge conjectures, too, that the bird while
drumming fills the air sac of the breast and abdomen.
"In this way the contour surfaces of the strong wing sup-
ports along the sides are made to inclose a large cavity
filled with air and this acts like the resonance chamber of
a drum, and yields the booming throb to the air/'

Many ornithologists, judging by analogy from the
habits of other grouse, have .conjectured that the fiir

sac at the sides of the neck had some — as yet entirely
imdetermined — relation to the drumming of the grouse.
This, of course, remains to be proved.

Certainly no one has ever had such ample opportunity
lor studying and recording by photography the drumming
of the ruffed grouse as had Professor Hodge, who, in
two days, took no less than forty photographs of the bird
in action, and his account, illustrated by these pictures in
the Country Calendar, must be regarded as the most im-
portant contribution ever made to the subject.

Professor Hodge believes, as has long been agreed, that
the drimiming of the ruffed grouse is a mating call. The
fact that the bird drums in autumn is no valid objection
to this conclusion, since many birds produce in autumn
sounds which we are accustomed to regard as peculiar to
the breeding season, though such sounds are often or
usually made by young birds.

THE BOTTLE JOKE.

• • •• f * . .

To construct a joke which shall be piquant, pointed,
ptrtinent and merry, is a matter of no small mental activ-
ity and endowment. Such witty brightness is far above
the intellectual compass of the average jokesmith of busi-
ness, who, with calm premeditation to earn his wages and
support his family by the sweat of his brow, valiantly at-
tempts to yank mental glistenings from his foggy sensor-
ium. Thus come many pointless jokes.

The joke-maker has unlimited commercial incentive to
joke to the limit of his capacity, fhe trade demand, even
for fourth-rate wit or humor, far exceeds the supply, or
the capacity to manufacture it.

The raw material, unfortunately, is long since second-
handed, so far as it is available, inasmuch as it has been
worked over and over from time immemorial. Even at
that, it is limited in quantity, hence the trade demand,
even for fourth-rate jokes, far exceeds the supply. This
is an encouragement to him who produces the imitation
or bogus product, and affords opportunity for malice to
disport itself as humor.

Of the malicious jokes, none is more flagrant and false
than the "bottle joke," that moss-grown play of the fat-
witted which portrays the sportsman afield with a bottle
around which man, dog and gun revolve. This has been
served up from time immemorial in all its combinations,
recasts, variants and attenuations, till a certain part of
the non-sporting public would be justified in believing
that a well-filled bottle was the essential part of a sports-
m.an's equipment, and that sport itself was a mere pretext
to betake oneself to the woods where, in seclusion, all
constraint would be abolished.

No baser libel could be perpetuated on sportsmanship
than that which seriously implies that the bottle is an
integral part of the sportsman's outfit. The effervescent,
mirthful joke, full of fun and merriment without malice,
brightens the moments and benefits mankind; but the
malicious joke, which leaves hurt and false opinion, is
deserving of condemnation. A sportsman may be a total
abstainer or he may not, precisely as other men in other
vocations or avocations may be. Indeed, the sportsman
of to-day is one and the same man in business and sports
In other words, the business men of America are all
sportsmen, following sport in some one or all of its dif-
ferent forms of shooting, fishing, yachting, camping, etc.

However, in this matter, one's judgment should be fully
tempered with charity, for the reason that the jokesmiths,
earning their bread by a racking mental anguish, com-
pared to which the sweat of the brow is as naught, are
not unworthy of commiseration, not forgetting a kind
thought for the public also. They are an ancient, vener-
able guild, of whom more was expected than their treas-
ury contained. There are but few elementary jokes, the
most honored of which are the mother-in-law joke and its
attenuations, the doctor and his patients, etc., with the
bottle joke, in all its variants of snakebites, lost key-hole,
swaying lamp-posts, etc. With this dearth of rough joke
material on the one hand, and the antiques of thought
pervading the gray matter of the average jokesmith on
the other, the true spirit is without doubt to feel thankful
that the joking conditions have long since reached bed
rock, and cannot l)ecome worse.

The bottle joko will probably survive, and bounce up
in due season in the spring when the young man's mind
or the old man's mind lightly turps to tUoughfs ot fishing.

and in the fall, when their mind turns to dog. and gun,
and perchance between time, when the days wax hottest,
or the bleak, chilling winds sweep from the noijh, for a
good thirst is not a matter of labor or sport, nor is the
knowledge of what will best assuage it confined to guilds
or classes.

AMERICAN AND ENGLISH FOXHOUNDS.

The recent contest between a pack of American
hounds, the Grafton pack, of Massachusetts, Mr. Harry
W. Smith, master, and the Middlesex pack, English
hounds, of Virginia, resulted in a victory for the Ameri-
can hounds. W^ith this victory there were associated the
honors of which the Townsend trophy was the emblem,
and the $2,000 stake. The official award, after two weeks
of sport and critical observance of the packs' doings by
the expert judges, was rendered as follows:

We award the match and stake, together with the Townsend
cup, to the Grafton pack, which, in our estimation, did the better
work with the object of killing the fox in view.

The decision was signed by Mr. Charles McEachern,
of Montreal, and Mr. James K. Maddux, of Warrenton,
Va. The kill was an essential consideration in the match
as contemplated, but as neither pack had killed within
the official knowledge of the judge"?, that circumstance
was necessarily omitted in consideration of the award.

There was a large gathering of fox hunters, gentlemen
and ladies, who rode pluckily across country regardless
of walls, ditches and rough going. Several hard fall?
occurred, but fortunately no one was seriously injured.

The race between the two packs, one American the
other English, has much more of importance than appears
on the face of it. For many years past, the American
foxhound has been sneered at as a frivolity of the hunt-
ing field, by English fox hunters and by some American
fox hunters who had seen the English hounds hunt in
England, or who formed their opinions and derived their
knowledge from hearsay. Some packs of pure English
hounds were established in this country; but the rivalry
between the respective supporters of the two kinds of
hounds was uncompromisingly distinct. Some informal
races were run in the past to determine which of the
breeds was the better, but apart from establishing a gen-
eral belief in the superiority of the American hounds,
they were indeterminate. This race between the Grafton
pack and the ^Middlesex pack, was run under all the
formal conditions essential to an authoritative decision.

For the English hound, nearly all or quite all the attri-
, butes of excellence were claimed. In particular it was
asserted that he was much faster, much more enduring
and much more of a true foxhound than was his lighter-
built, taller and less robust confrere of the States. On
the other hand, the American fox hunter held that the
heavy-boned, heavy-bodied and comparatively short-
legged English hound was physically incapable of com-
peting with the American foxhound, however much satis-
faction he may give to English sportsmen on English
fields.

This match will accomplish much in officially establish-
ing the long mooted question of stiperiority, although
many more matches may be necessary before the matter
is settled acceptably to all. One match can hardly be
said to be absolute in its scope over all. The more
matches there are the better for the sport. Nevertheless,
up to the present the American foxhound has proved
himself to be other than the frivolity of sport at which
he was estimated by some who now kqow him better.

Commissioner James S. Whipple has appointed Mr.
John B. Burnham, of Essex, a district game protector.
Mr. Burnham has been strongly supported as a candidate
for the office of chief protector, and it is assumed that
Commissioner Whipple has made him a district protector
in order to qualify him for the larger office, the law re-
quiring that the chief protector shall be named from the
list of district protectors. If this assumption shall prove
correct the appointment will be red«^ivcd with unbounded
satisfaction by all the friends of the forest, game and
fish who are crignizant of Mr. Burnham's qualifications
for the office.

Whkn a man *iay> that he prefers dugs to human beings
it will probably hv found that human beings prefer a dog

to him,

Nov. 25, 1905.1

roRESt ANb stkfeAM.

riic Indians had hundreds and hundreds of prime buffalo
robes, an*d they wanted whisky. They got it. By tht-
time night closed in the single street was full of them
charging up and down on their pinto ponies, singing,
yelling, recklessly firing their guns, and vociferously call-
ing, so I was told, fcr more liquor. There was a brisk
trade that night at the rear doors of the saloons. An
Indian would pass in a good head and tail buffalo robe
and receive for it two and even three bottles of liquor.
He might just as well have walked boldly in at the front
door and traded fi)r it over the bar, I thought, but 1
learned that there was a United States marshal some-
x.'here in the Territory and that there was no telling
v>'hen he would turn up.

In the brightly lighted saloons the tables were crowded
)»y the resident and temporary population, playing stud
jind draw poker, and the more popular game of faro. 1
will say for the games as played in those wide open and
lawless days that they were perfectly fair. Many and
1 lany a time I have seen the faro bank broken, cleaned
cut of its last dollar by lucky players. You never hear
c f that being done in the *'clubs," the exclusive gambling
c.ens of to-day. The men who ran games on the frontier
^vere satisfied with their legitimate percentage, and they
did well. The professionals of to-day, be it in any town
or city where gambling is prohibited, with marked cards,
false-bottom faro boxes and various other devices take

the players' all.

I never gambled; not that I was too good to do so,
but somehow I never could see any fun in games of
chance. Fairly as they were conducted there was always
more or less quarreling over them. Men a half or two-
thirds full of liquor are prone to imagine things and do
things they would recoil from when sober; and, if you
take notice, you will find that, as a rule, those who gam-
ble are generally pretty heavy drinkers. Somehow the
two run together. The professional may drink also, but
^seldom when he is playing. That is why he wears broad-
cloth and diamonds and massive gold watch chains; he
keeps cool and rakes in the drunken plunger's coin. In
Keno Bill's place that evening I was looking on at a game
cif faro; one of those bucking it was a tall, rough, be-
whiskered bullwhacker, full of whisky and quarrelsome,
and he was steadily losing. He placed a blue chip, $2.50,
f.n the nine spot, and coppered it; that is, he placed a
small marker upon it to signify that it would lose; but
when the card came it won, and the dealer flicked off
the marker and took in the chip.

"Here, you," cried the bullwhacker. "What you doin'?
Give me back that chip an' another one with it. Don't
you see that the nine won?"

**Of course it won," the dealer replied, "but you had

>our bet coppered."

"You're a liar!" shouted the bullwhacker, reaching
for his revolver and starting to rise from his seat.

I saw the dealer raising his weapon, at the same in-
stant Berry, crying out, 'Down! Down!" dragged me
with him to the floor, everyone else in the room who
could not immediately get out of the door also dropped
prone to the floor. There were some shots, fired so
iquickly that one could not count them; then there was
a short intense silence, broken by a gasping, gurgling
groan. Men shuffled to their feet and hurried over to
the smoke enveloped corner. The bullwhacker, with
three bullet holes in his bosom, lay back in the chair
from which he had attempted to arise, quite dead; the
faro dealer, white, but apparently calm, stood on the op-
posite side of the table staunching with his handkerchief
the blood from the nasty furrow a bullet had plowed in
his right cheek.

"Close call for you, Tom," said some one.

"He sure branded me," the dealer grimly replied.
'Who was he? What outfit was he with?" was asked.
'Don't know what his name was," said Keno Bill, "but
I believe he rolled in with Missouri Jeff's bull train. Let's
pack him into the back room, boys, and I'll get word to
his friends to come an' plant him." /

This was done; the blood-stained chair was also re-
moved, ashes were scattered on some dark spots staining
the floor, and after all hands had taken a drink on the
house, the games were resumed. Berry and I strolled
out of the place. I felt queer; rather shaky in the legs
and sick at the stomach. I had never before seen a man
killed; for that matter, I had never even seen two men
in a fist fight. I could not forget that terrible death
gurgle, nor the sight of the dead man's distorted face
and staring eyes.

"Awful, wasn't it?" I reinarked.

*Oh, I don't know," Berry replied, "the fish got what
he was looking for; these bad men always do, sooner or
later. He started first to pull his gun, but he was a little

too slow."

"And what next?" I asked. "Will not the dealer be
arrested? Will we not be subpoenaed as witnesses in the

ti-

case:

"Who will arrest him?" my friend queried in turn.
"There are no police, nor officers of the law here of any

description."

"Why— why, how, then, with so many .desperate char-
acters as you evidently have here, how do you manage

' to preserve any form of law and order?"

"Seven—eleven— seventy-seven," Berry sententiously

replied.

"Seven— eleven— seventy-seven," I mechanically re-
peated. "What is that?"

"That means the Vigilance Committee. You don't
know exactly who they are, but you may be sure that
they are representative men who stand for law and
order; they are more feared by criminals than are the
courts and prisons of the East, for they always hang a
murderer or robber. Another thing, do not think that
the men you saw sitting at the tables in Keno Bill's
place are, as you termed them, desperate characters.
True, they gamble some, and drink some, but on the
whole they are honest, fearless, kind-hearted fellows,
ready to stay with a friend to the end in a just cause,
and to give their last dollar to one in need. But come.
I see this little shooting affair has sort of unnerved you.
I'll show you something a little more cheerful."

We went on up the 'street" to a fair-sized adobe cabin.
Through the open doors and windows came the strains of
a violin and concertina, and the air was about as lively a
one as I ever had heard. Many and many a time I heard
it in after years, that and its companion dance pieces,
music that had crossed the seas in the ships of Louis XV.,
and, taught by father to son for generations, by ear, had
been played by the voyageurs up the immense length of
the Mississippi and the Missouri, to at last become the
popular music of the American in the Far Northwest.

We arrived at the open doorway and looked in. "Hello,
Berry, come in, old boy," and "Bon soir, Mons. Berri,
bon soir ; entrez 1 entrez 1" some of the dancers shouted ;
we went in and took seats on a bench against the wall.
All of the females in the place were Indians, and for that
ifiattcr they were the only women at that time in all
Montana, barring a few white hurdy-gurdy girls in the
mines of Helena and Virginia City, and of the latter the
less said the better.

These Indian women, as I had remarked in the morn-
ing when I saw some of them on the levee, were very
comely, of good figure and height, and neatly dressed,
even if thev were corset less and wore mocassins, far dif-
ferent indeed from the squat, broad, dark natives of the
eastern forests I had seen. And they were of much pride
and dignity; that one could see at a glance. And yet
they were what might be termed jolly, chattering and
laughing like so many white women. That surprised me.
T had xead that Indians were a taciturn, a gloomy, silent
people, seldom smiling, to say nothing of laughing and
joking with the freedom and abandon of so many children.

"This," Berry told me, "is a traders' and trappers'
dance. The owner of the house is not at home, or I
would introduce you to him. As to the others"— with a
sweep of his hand— "they're too busy just now for any
introduction ceremony. I can't,, introduce you to the
women, for they do not speak English. However, you
must dance with some of them."

"But, if they do not speak our language how am I to
ask them to dance with me?"

"You will walk up to one of them, the one you choose,
and say: 'Ki-tak-stai pes-ka'— will you dance?'*

I never was what you may call bashful or diffident. A
quadrille had just ended. I boldly walked up to the near-
est woman, repeating the words over and over that I
might not forget them, bowed politely, and said "Ki-tak-
stai peska?"

The woman laughed, nodded her head, replied "Ah,"
which I later learned was yes, and extended her hand;
I took it and led her to a place for another quadrille just
forming. While we were waiting she spoke to me sev-
eral times, but I could only shake my head and say: *T
do not understand." Whereupon she would laugh mer-
rily and say a lot more in her language to her neighbor,
another comely young woman, who would also laugh and
look at me with amusement in her eyes. I began to feel
embarrassed; I'm not sure that I did not blush.

The music struck up and I found that my partner was
a light and graceful dancer. I forgot my embarrass-
ment and enjoyed the quadrille, my strange partner, the
strange music and strange surroundings immensely.
And how those long-haired, buckskin-clad, moccasined
plainsmen did caper and cut pigeon wings, and double
shuffle, and leap and swing in the air! I wondered if I
could ever, since that seemed to be the style, learn to do
likewise. I determined to try it anyhow, but privately

at first.

The quadrille ended I started to lead my partner to a
seat, but instead she led me over to Berry, who had also
been dancing, and spoke rapidly to him for a moment.

"This," said he to me, "is Mrs. Sorrel Horse. (Her
husband's Indian name.) She invites us to accompany
her and her husband home and have a little feast."

Of course we gladly accepted and after a few more
dances departed. I had been introduced to Sorrel Horse.
He was a very tall, slender man, sorrel haired, sorrel
whiskered, blue eyed, a man as I afterward learned of
extremely happy temperament under the most adverse
conditions, a sincere and self-sacrificing friend to those
be liked, but a terror to those who attempted to wrong him.

Sorrel Horse's home was a fine large Indian lodge of

eighteen skins, set up beside his two canvas covered
\>aguiis near the river's bank. His wife built a little fire,
made some tea, and presently set before us the steaming
beverage with some Dutch oven baked biscuits, broiled
buffalo tongue, and stewed bull berries. We heartily
enjoyed the meal, and I was especially taken with the
luxurious comfort of the lodge; the soft buffalo robe
couch upon which we sat, the sloping willow back rests
at each end of it, the cheerful littk.^e in the center, the
oddly shaped, fringed and painted" parfleches* in which
Madam Sorrel kept her provisions and her various be-
longings. It was all very new and very delightful to me,
and when after a smoke and a chat, Sorrel Horse said:
"You had better camp here for the night, boys," my
happiness was complete. We went to sleep on the soft
couch covered with soft blankets and listening to the
soft murmur of the river's current. This, my first day
on the plains had been, I thought, truly eventful.

Walter B. Anderson.

The Free Trappers*

Mr. John Healey, of early Montana and early Alaska
days, writes to Mr. Tappan Adney, who had sent him a
copy of Hamilton's "My Sixty Years on the Plams :
"I thank you for *Wild Cat's' book. I received it last
night at 9 o'clock, and finished reading it before going
to sleep. I like Bill, and he is all he claims for himself.
The story of his life is good. I knew him very well,
and have always admired the man. That he is still
living seems wonderful, for Bill was an old man when I
knew him forty years ago. I mean he was an old moun-
f^ineer.

It was give-and-take in those days, and life was
cheap. A man had to take care of himself. The free
trappers were all independent men, who would not
work for any company. They got credit for their hunt-
ing, paid their bills and dissipated their money racing
horses and outfitting their women. I have outfitted
many of these men, and a better lot never lived. In the
Whoop country they were known as wolfers— Belly
River wolfers. They were without any doubt the
bravest and best men' I ever knew. I can't say enough
for them. All rivalry ceased when one or more was
missing, and whenever volunteers were called for to go
in search of the missing ones, the trouble was to keep
too many from going. Many of these men have seen
the passing of the buffalo, the wolf and the Indian;
and now they are riding the plains with buggies and
;iutos just the same as you are doing in the East. 1
can't help taking off my hat to some of my comrades;
they have developed into some of the finest specimens
of the Western citizen."

Capt. Luther S. Kelly, better' known as Yellowstone
Kelly, and now agent of the San Carlos Apaches, writes
of the author of "My Sixty Years on the Plains":

"Bill Hamilton was the best sign talker in the North-
west. He talked so f., 1 the Indian-; h.id to i)<iy clor.c
attention to him."

The author's observations upon the habits and customs
of the Indians, the ways of wild beasts and their charac-
teristics, and his accounts of the hardships and hazards
of the trapper's life— "ciie day all calmn and peaceful, the
next surrounded by hostile Indians"— are very interesting.
They describe a phase -of our development that has all but
passed away. The very simplicity of the story, the ab-
sence of any endeavor after "style" or effect, make it the
more entertaining.— Detroit Free Press.

Surgery in the Camp.

Notre Dame Bay, Newfoundland, Nov. 7.— Editor
Forest and Stream: I read the letter in your issue of Nov.
4 from R. S. Spears on a '*Bit of Camp Surgery." Some-
thing like Mr. Spears* case happened to me. In the fall
of 1903 I was in camp at Patrick's Marsh, one of the best
caribou haimts in Newfoundland. Before leaving home I
had cut off the top of the second finger of my left hand.
It was so sore that I let no one know of it, fearing that
its state would prevent my going on the trip. The first
day in camp I strtick the sore so badly that the wound
was opened and it bled. During the night it pained so
much that no rest could l>e had. One of the party, a man
from the Bay and used 10 nature's remedies, inquired the
cause of my trouble. When he saw the finger he said he
would fix it up all ri^ht. He procured some turpentine,
or little lumps of the tir tree. This he burnt in an iron
spoon to take off the sp rits rr to reduce its strength. The
cut was then well covered with the salve and bound up
lightly. That night sweet was the sleep, and three days
after the cut was clean and the flesh filling up. Within
a week the finger was round. Beothick.

Brazilian Woods^

According to Handel and Industrie Brazilian forests
are furnishing a good iield for the investment of foreign
capital. Cabinet woods of many kinds abound, are easy
to get at and fairly easy to get out. Only small quantities
have been exported. This is due to a lack of enterprise
on the part of Brazilians. A German consular officer,
writing to his government, points out the enormous pos-
sibilities of Brazil's forests and calls attention to the fact
that an American company, with $5,000,000, is beginning
to exploit some of the best regions. He assigns as a rea-
son for the backward state of the lumber trade the fact
that communication with the w oods was bad, freights and
wages high. The new company* hopes to overcome all
these by the application of modern transportation and
milling methods. For example, an elevated swinging rail-
road will take the logs out of the woods to the mills and
the mills will be near or on good roads.

All communications for Forest and Stream must be
directed to Forest and Stream Pub. Co., New York, to
receive attention. We have no other office.

^ ^ fc>

tNov. 25. 1905.

Papers .at the A^ O- U^ Congress^

The twenty-third annual congress of the American
Ornithologists' Union was held at the American Museum
of Natural History, New York city, with the exception
of the final session, which was at the Brooklyn Institute
of Arts and Sciences. Meetings open to the public were
held forenoon and afternoon, Nov. 14, 15 and 16, the
programmes being made up of the reading, illustration
and discussion of papers by members Luncheon was
served at noon on each of the three days by the Linnaean
Society of New York, and on the evening of the i8th
the members met at the Hotel Endicott at an informal
dinner.

At the opening session ''Some Unpublished Letters of
Wilson and Some Unstudied Works of Audubon," by
Witmer Stone, Philadelphia, Pa., was the first paper. It
was received with the interest always shown by bird
students for the works of these pioneer American orni-
thologists. In "The Evolution of Species through Cli-
matic Conditions," Dr. J. A. Allen, New York city, spoke
of the manner in which our present geographic races
illustrated the differentiation of species whose distribu-
tion covered a wide area, including very diverse climatic
conditions, which in time affected the plumage and ap-
pearance of the birds. In a paper on ''Summer Birds of
the Mt. Marcy Region in the Adirondacks," Elon H.
Eaton, Canandaigua, N. Y., enumerated many birds, and
recounted interesting facts regarding them in their north-
ern forest home. The final paper of the morning was
•'Pelican Island Revisited," by Erank M. Chapman, New
York city. Mr. Chapman illustrated his paper by a beau-
tiful series of views of the home life of these interesting
birds on their own exclusive island in the Indian River
region of Florida. This island is now a Government
reservation, set apart especially for these birds, and is
the only place on our coasts where they breed. The
slides showed old birds and young, or varying sizes, nests,
eggs and method of feeding, in which the young bird
puts its head well into the throat of the parent.

The first paper on the afternoon programme was
"Some Breeding Warblers of Demarest, N. J.," by B. S.
Bowdish, Demarest, N. J., illustrated by lantern slides.
Ten species were enumerated as known to breed as fol-
lows : Black and white, blue- winged, yellow, chestnut-
sided, black-throated green, oven bird, northern yellow-
throat, yellow-breasted chat, hooded, redstart and the
l^ouisiana water thrush, and several others were spoken
of as probably breeding, though nests had not been found
by the author. Thirty slides of birds, nests, eggs, young
and nesting sites illustrated the paper. The second paper
was "Notes on Wing Movements in Bird Flight," illus-
trated by lantern slides, by William L. Finlay, Portland,
Oregon. Mr. Einlay has accomplished the most remark-
able results in certain branches of bird photography, not-
ably birds on the wing, probably, of any living photo-
grapher and nature student, and the series of slides
shown on this occasion were a wonderful revelation of
his success along this line. The possibilities of bringing
out the principles of wing movement in flight were
strongly indicated, though Mr. Finlay regards his work
as only a step in this direction. In a paper on "The
Status of Certain Species and Sub-species of North
American Birds," J. Dwight, Jr., New York city, follow-
ing a line of reasoning which he adopted several years
ago, regarding the procedure of the American Ornitholo-
gists' Union in the matter of nomenclature, argued
against the hair-splitting methods of differentiation that
has led to such confusion in the case of certain geograph-
ical forms. The case was discussed from the opposite
side by Mr. Oberholser, impartially by Dr. Allen, and
very strongly in favor of a more simple and less com-
plicated method by Mr. D. G. Elliot. The last paper of
this session was "Wildfowl Nurseries of Northwest Can-
ada," by Herbert K. Job, Kent, Conn. Mr. Job is one of
the pioneer bird photographers, and his work is among
the best. His slides illustrated the home life of the
waterfowl, which are still to be found in great colonies
in this wild northern country. ;

After the dinner of that evening the members returned
to the Museum for an informal reception, at which there
was a demonstration of a new projection apparatus. This
apparatus not only projects slides, but a magnified and
beautifully clear colored reflection of any small object,
introduced into the objective, is thrown in color on the
screen.

The first paper of the morning session of the second
day, "Andreae Hesselius, a Pioneer Delaware Ornitholo-
gist," by C. J. Pennock, Kennett Square, Pa., dealt prin-
cipally with extracts from the note books of this Swedish
missionary, whose observations were made some 200
years ago. At that time ornithological observations were
few, and those included in these notes were extremely
interesting, and couched as they were, in the quaint style
of the time, often very amusing. Witmer Stone, of Phila-
delphia, Pa., discussed "The Probability of Error in Bird
Migration Records." Mr. Stone spoke of the conditions
that tend to admit error in the records as gathered by
single isolated observers and recorded the methods he
has adopted, of grouping observers in parties of three or
four, who practically cover the same ground, thus afford-
ing the opportunity of checking and averaging the ob-
servations" c^ each by those of the others. Mr. Stone
followed this paper by one on "Some Observations on the
Applicability of the Mfitation Theory to Birds." The
discussion which followed by Dr. Allen and others
showed a disinclination to admit the applicability of this
theory to birds. Henry Oldys, of Washington, D. C,
followed with a discussion of "The Song of the Hermit
Thrush." Mk» Oldys has for some time devoted himself
to the study of bird song, and gave an interesting ac-
count of his experience in securing an opportunity to
study the hermit's song, of his impressions regarding it,
and its comparison to the song of the wood thrush. He

gave some pleasing imitations of a variety of songs of
each of these two species, and concluded by rendering a
little song, the words of which he had composed, to the
air he had recorded from the most accomplished of the
hermit songsters to whom he had listened.
^_Mr. Chapman concluded the forenoon session with
Impressions of English Bird-Life," illustrated by lantern
slides. Besides giving a number of views of English
birds, the author gave views of the home and town sur-
rounding of Gilbert White, as well as other characteristic
English country scenes, and contrasted the conditions of
bird-iife in England and this country. England being
described as possessed of fewer species but many more
mdividuals.

The afternoon meeting opened with an exhibition of
lantern slides and "Similarity of the Birds of the Maine
Woods, and the Pocono Mountains of Pennsylvania," by
William L. Bailey, Ardmore, Pa. The Pocono Mountain
region has been but little worked as ornithological terri-
tory, and the author enumerated many species included
as normally more northern breeding birds, some of them
not having been previously recorded as breeding in Penn-
sylvania. Prof. Wells W. Cook, of the United States De-
partment of Agriculture, Washington, D. C, followed
with a paper on '^Discontinuous Breeding Ranges." The
author cited instances of birds found breeding in the
southern extremity of the southern hemisphere, and the
northern extremity of the northern hemisphere, while be-
tween the two extended a vast area over which they were
not found during the breeding season. He also men-
tioned other instances, of species having restricted breed-
ing ranges, separated by extensive longitudinal gaps. The
final speaker of the session was Abbott H. Thayer, Dub-
lin, N. H., who demonstrated his claims regarding pro-
tective coloration in animals, which, as he explained and
abundantly convinced his audience, are not theories but
facts. First regarding the views hitherto held of the
eflicacy of coloration harmonizing with surroundings,
Mr. Thayer explained that this was dependent on the na-
ture and effect of the light that the creature was seen in.
His contention was that as the prevailing light conditions
have the tendency to bring the upper parts into strongest
rehef, blending into least conspicuousness on the under
parts. To counteract this tendency nature has colored
her creatures darkest above, shading to lightest beneath.
The speaker gave a demonstration of his contention by
exhibiting an imitation of a leopard, ground color shaded
as -in nature, from darkest above to lightest beneath, also
with the spots shown, and with a background painted in
the same color as the animal. By alternately lighting
frorh above and below the creature was made to disappear
when seen in the normal, top light, and to stand out
sharply, despite the exact similarity of color to back-
ground, when seen in a bottom light. Secondly, the
speaker contended that the white upper markings on
many creatures cannot be guiding signals for others of the
same species,' because from the pursuing creature's range
of vision these markings would usually come against the
skyljne and therefore disappear against the sky. They
are, therefore, of importance in reducing the creature's
silhouette against the sky by subtracting the area of the
part that thus blends into the sky. Mr. Thayer also gave
a number of other demonstrations. The title of his paper
was "The Principles of the Disguising Coloration of
Animals."

The opening paper for the forenoon session of the final
day was "The Collection of Birds in the New York Zoo-
logical Park," C. W. Beebe, New York city. Mr. Beebe
gave many interesting experiences in connection with the
various experiments that he has such an excellent oppor-
tunity of conducting at the Zoological Park, among others
mentioning an experiment with two young white-throated
sparrows hatched in the Park. These birds were fed in
the same manner on the same kind of food, but one was
kept in a cage out in the light and air under fairly nor-
mal conditions, while the other was kept indoors, in a
rather dark place, and subjected to a moisture-laden at-
mosphere. At the first molt the two birds showed no
perceptible change, but soon after the second molt Mr.
Beebe found that the bird kept indoors had become an
almost uniform dusky color, and with no trace to indi-
cate the identity of the specimen. The skins of the two
birds were exhibited. The second paper was "A Contri-
bution to the Natural History of the English Cuckoo,
with a Review of the Literature on the Subject," by Dr.
Montague R. Leverson, New York city. Dr. Leverson
corrected the erroneous statements that the young of the
English cuckoi) ejected the eggs and young of the bird
in whose nest they were hatched, before the young cuckoo
was twenty-four hours old, and that they had, at this
period, a depression in the anterior portion of the back
to enable them the more easily to effect this ejection. He
illustrated his paper by drawings and photos, and appar-
ently abundantly proved his contention. Dr. Dwight
gave a paper on "Plumages and Status of the White-
wmged Gulls of the Genus Larus," illustrating his re-
marks with a considerable series of skins. He contended
for the elimination of one recognized form, and for the
recognition of another new form. A paper by Arthur T.
Wayne, Mount Pleasant, S. C, on "A Contribution to
the Ornithology of South Carolina, pertaining chiefly to
the Coast Region," in the absence of the author, was read
by Mr. Brewster. The list of species covered was a quite
lengthy one, and was fully annotated. Mr. T. S. Palmer,
in the absence of the author, read a paper by O. Widman'
St. Louis, Mo., on "Should Bird Protection Laws be iii
the hands of the National Government?" The author
contended that inasmuch as the birds were the guests of
the nation, rather than of any one State, the National
Government should have the supervision of their protec-
tion, thereby securing a uniform law, which otherwise
could not be secured. Mr. Thomas S. Roberts, Minne-
apolis, Minn., related "A Lapland Longspur Tragedy"
illustrated by lantern slides. On the night of March 13

1904, during a heavy migration flight of these birds in
southern Minnesota, and northern Idaho, a severe snow
siorm occurred in this region during which thousands of
these birds struck the buildings, telegraph poles, wires
and the ice on lakes, many being instantly killed and
others injured, some of the latter being revived in the
houses and afterward liberated. JNIr. Thomas stated that
:i conservative computation of the number which were
killed was 750,000, but that he fully believed that 1,000,000
would be a more nearly correct estimate.

The afternoon session was held at the Brooklyn Insti-
tute of Arts and Sciences. Mr. F. A. Lucas, in behalf of
the Institute, welcomed the Union to the Institute. Mr.
Lucas was elected chairman of the meeting. Mr. George
K. Cherrie, New York citv, spoke on "The Hoatzin and
other South American Birds." The exhibition of speci-
mens to illustrate this paper were viewed later. Mr.
Cherrie spoke of the habits of this interesting bird, which,
while young, has claws on the wings, used like the hooks
on the wmgs of bats, to assist in climbing. Thev are lost
before the bird reaches maturity. The species nests
where the structure will be over water when the eggs are
laid, and the eggs are not laid until the river rises suffi-
civ'ntly to inundate the lower part of the tree in which
the nest is built. The last paper of the Congress was
"Among the Water Birds of Southern Oregon," by Will-
iam L. Finley, of Portland, Oregon. This paper was
illustrated by a very large series of beautiful slides, show-
mg the bird life in the great rookeries of this still wild
region. The congress was then adjourned. The mem-
bers were served with refreshments by Mr. and Mrs.
Lucas and the exhibitions of specimens in the museum
were afterward viewed.

On the morning of the 17th the members visited the
New York Aquarium and then went to the New York
Zoological Park, where they were entertained by Mr.
Beebe, who served refreshments. B. S. Bowdish.

ri.

Daring Deeds of Dogs.

Malty in the Moccasin^s Deo* '**

Black, heavy, boiling clouds were massing in the
southwest. The soft, sweet, voluptuous breeze had been
succeeded by an ominous calm. The gay music of most
of the birds had died away; even the noisy, irrepressible
yellow chat which here renders day and night hideous
with his incessant screechings (which may seem most
entrancing music to his kin) was awed into comparative
silence. It was evident that "a clash of the elements"
was impending; and that, in the Ozarks, means some-
thing dreadful; for though we seldom get a visit from
a dangerous wind, the lightning and thunder are as ter-
rible as any region of the earth can produce. Sometimes
the thunder is so loud that a timid being wonders the
very globe is not split open— and the concussion causes
even the firmest substances to shake and rattle; while
the power of the lightning does not need to be merely
guessed at, but leaves evidences ^'susceptible to ocular
demonstration."

I have seen a round ball of red, white or blue light-
ning apparently twenty inches in diameter, crush an oak
of at least equal thickness into cord wood and kindling
wood, and scatter the fragments in every direction more
than 100 feet— that is, they were distributed about the
site of the tree in a circle over 200 feet wide. I have
known it to break off the upper half of a tall pine— about
eighteen inches thick at that part— and hurl the great,
heavy top sixty feet from the stump. Last summer five
or six trees from fifty feet to 200 yards apart, and most
of the poles of a rural telephone line parallel with them
for a distance of about a furlong, between Hot Springs
and the Ouachita, were struck simultaneously, it is
thought, by one and the same discharge. The awful
crash was heard at my home on the west side of the
Ouachita, about three miles distant— indeed, it sounded
as if it had bursted a mountain at our very ears.

This much I have said about the lightning terrors of
the region to impress more fully upon the reader the
desperate nature of the canine adventure I desire to try

to narrate; which, though it may read like a chapter
from a ^^^^^^^^ n^^ 4-u..^^^>)> 1 _ rn .« « .

'blood and thunder" novel, will, nevertheless, be
as literally true as my mem^ory and judgment can make it.
Malty, my faithful friend and well-nigh inseparable
companion, had called me forth— perhaps the "red gods"
had something to do with it, too— and I was following
her anxiously, for her excited manner— bristling and
growling— indicated the proximity of * something more
formidable than a rabbit. What it was I never found
out, for soon we came to the brook, and on the shore
we were distracted by a new enemy, a good-sized water
moccasin.

Now, Malty was not an invincible snake dog as Coallie
now IS. On the contrary she had been, up to this time
always so rattled at the sight of a snake that I did not
consider it safe to allow her to attack one, even of the
less venomous sort. Once she had poked her nose right
into the jaws of a moccasin while I was pulling at her
tail trying to prevent her, and the foe fastened his
rough teeth into her so firmly that she drew him back-
ward about a yard before tearing loose from him. Her-
body soon swelled to nearly twice its proper size, in spite
of all I could do, and she was sick with the poison for
about two weeks, during which time she refused all food
and drink, and kept her head covered up in a dark cor-
ner of her room. When anyone uncovered her for ex-
amination of her wound she looked and behaved like
one ashamed, and immediately hid her head if permitted
to do so.

So I now reminded her of her former indiscretion and
checked her rashness, while I cast my eyes about for a
club, clod or any sort of weapon. Although the snake
was surrounded with driftwood, I could not pick up

FOREST AND STREAM.

[Dec 2, 1905.

In the Lodges of the Blackfeet.

n. — The Ruse of a Savage Lover*

It was agreed that I should join Berry in the autumn,
when he would begin the season's trade with the Indians.
He owned a large bull train, with which he hauled
freight from Fort Benton to the mining camps in sum-
mer, finding in that much more profit than in trading for
the deer, elk and antelope skins, which were about the
only things of value that the Indians had to barter at
that season. Buffalo robes were valuable only from ani-
mals killed from November to February inclusive. I did
not wish to remain in Fort Benton ; I wanted to hunt and
travel about in this land of glorious sunshine and dry,
clear air; so I bought a roll of bedding, large quantities
of tobacco, and .44 rim-fire cartridges for my Henry
rifle, a trained buffalo horse and saddle, and pulled out
of the town with Sorrel Horse and his outfit. Perhaps
if I had gone to the mines instead I would have done
better in a financial way. More steamboats had arrived,
the place was full of people bound for the gold fields,
and there were many just from there with heavy sacks
of gold dust in their battered grips and greasy bags.
They had made their stake, they were bound for the
States ; for "God's country," they said. God's country !
If there was a more beautiful land than that of the great
sunlit plains and mountains, grand and soul-inspiring
in their immensity, I never saw it. And I'm glad I did
not get the mining fever, for then I would probably
never have learned to know them intimately. There are
some things of far more value than gold. For instance,
a life free from cares or duties of any kind; a life in
which every day and every hour brings its share of
pleasure and satisfaction, of excitement, of happily
earned and well enjoyed fatigue. Had I, too, gone to
the placer fields I might have made a fortune, and re-
turned to the States, and settled down in some deadly
monotonous village, where the most exciting things that
ever happened was church festivals and funerals !

Sorrel Horse's wagons, a lead and a trail, drawn by an
eight-horse team, were heavily loaded with provisions
and trade goods, for he was going with a band of the
Piegans, the Small Robes, on their summer hunt. And
this was what had made me at once accept his invitation
to accompajiy him ; I would have an opportunity to study
the people. Much has been written in these columns
about the Piegan Blackfeet, and those who have not read
the various articles and are interested in the subject
should read Mr. Grinnell's books, "Blackfoot Lodge
Tales" and "The Story of the Indian." I must neces-
sarily confine myself in these articles to a few incidents
in my long life on the plains which seem to me worth
relating.

Sorrel Horse's brother-in-law, L-is'-sis-tsi, Wolverine,
and I became great friends. I soon learned to use the sign
language,- and he helped me in my studies of the Black-
foot language, so difficult that few white men ever did
become proficient in it. I may say that by diligently
committing my studies of it to writing and by paying
especial attention to pronunciation and accent, I learned
to speak it as well as any white man ever did, with per-
haps one or two exceptions.

How I enjoyed that summer, part of which we passed
at the foot of the Belt Mountains and part on Warm
Spring Creek and the Judith River. I joined in the fre-
quent buffalo runs, and on my swift and well trained
horse managed to kill my share of the great animals. I
hunted antelope, elk, deer, bighorn and bear with Wol-
verine. I would sit for hours on a mountain slope or
the summit of some lone butte, and watch the herds and
bands of game about me, gaze at the grand mountains
and the vast and silent plain, and pinch myself to realize
that I was really I, and that it was all real and not a
dream. Wolverine apparently never tired of all this any
more than I ; he would sit by my side, a dreamy look in
his eyes as he gazed about him, and frequently exclaim
**i-tam'ap-i," which is the word for happiness or perfect
content.

Yet, Wolverine was not always happy; there were
days when he went about with a long face and a preoc-
cupied air, never speaking except to answer some ques-
tion. One day in August when he was in this mood I
asked what was troubling him.

"There is nothing troubling me," be replied. Then.

after a long silence : "I lied, I am in great trouble. I
love Piks-ah'-ki and she loves me, but I cannot have her;
her father will not give her to me.**

Another long silence : "Yes, well ?** I urged, since he
had forgotten or did not feel inclined to enlighten me
further.

"Yes,'* he went on, "her father Is a Gros Ventre, but
her mother is Piegan. Long ago my people protected
the Gros Ventres, fought their battles, helped them to
hold their country against all enemies. And then the
two tribes quarreled, and for' many years were at war
with each other. This last winter they made peace. It
was then I first saw Piks-ah'-ki. She is very beautiful ;
tall, long hair, eyes like an antelope, small hands and
feet. I went much to her father's lodge, and we would
look at each other when the others there were not notic-
ing. One night I was standing by the doorway of the
lodge when she came out for an armful of wood from
the big pile lying there. I took hold of her and kissed
her, and she put her arms around my neck and kissed
me back. That is how I know she loves me. Do you
think" — anxiously — "that she would have done that if
she did not love me?"

"No, I do not think she would."

His face brightened and he continued: "At that time
I had only twelve horses, but I sent them to her father
with a message that I would marry his daughter. He
sent the horses back and these words : 'My daughter
shall not marry a poor man !*

"I went with a war party against the Crows and drove
home myself eight head of their best horses. I traded
for others until I had thirty-two in all. Not long ago I
sent a friend with them to the Gros Ventre camp to ask
once more for this girl I love; he soon returned, driving
back the horses and this is what her father said : *My
daughter shall never marry Wolverine, for the Piegans
killed my son and my brother.* "

I had no comment to make. He looked at me hesitat-
ingly two or three times and finally said : "The Gros
Ventres are encamped on the Missouri, at the mouth of
this little (Judith) river. I am going to steal the girl
from her people; will you go with me?"

"Yes,** I quickly replied. "I'll go with you, but why
me? Why don't you ask some of the Raven Carriers to
go with you, as you belong to that society?"

"Because," he replied, laughing a little constrainedly,
"because I might fail to get the girl; she might even re-
fuse to go with me, and then my good friends would tell
about it, and people would always be joking me. But
you, if I fail, I know you will never tell about it."

One evening about dusk we quietly left the camp. No
one except Sorrel Horse — not even his wife — knew of
our departure. Naturally, she would be alarmed about
her brother's absence, and he was to tell her that the
youth had gone in to Fort Benton with me for a day or
two. But how genial old Sorrel Horse did laugh when
I told him where we were going and for what purpose.

"Haw, haw, haw ! That's pretty good ! A pilgrim,
only three months in the country and going to help an
Indian steal a girl!"

"When does one cease to be a pilgrim?" I asked.

"When he has learned all about things and ceases to
ask fool questions. I should say. in your case, that peo-
ple will quit calling you 'pilgrim' in about five years. It
takes most of *em about fifteen to become acclimated, as
you may say. But joking aside, young man, this is a
pretty serious thing you are going in for; don't get into
any trouble; always keep close to your horse and re-
member that it is better to run than to fight; you can
live longer by doing so as a general rule."

We left the camp at dusk, for in those days it was not
safe for a couple of men to ride over the great plains in
the daytime, too many war parties of various tribes were
abroad, seeking glory and wealth in the scalps and chat-
tels of unwary travelers. We rode out of the Judith
valley eastward on to the plain, and when we were far
enough out to avoid the deep coulies running into it,
turned and paralleled the course of the river. Wolverine
led a lively but gentle pinto pony on which we had
packed in a manner some bedding, and a large bundle of
his done up in a fine buffalo robe and bound with many
a thong. These things he had taken out of camp the
night before and hidden in the brush. There was a
glorious full moon, and we were able to trot and lope
along at a good pace. We had not traveled many raile^

from camp before we began to hear the bellowing of the
buffalo; it was their mating season and the bulls kept
up a continuous deep, monotoned bellow or roar as they
charged and fought about from band to band of the
great herds. Several times during the night we rode
close to a band and startled them, and they ran off thun-
dering over the hard ground and rattling their hoofs,
away, away in the soft moonlight ; we could hear them
still running long after they had disappeared from view.
It seemed as if all the wolves in the country were abroad
that night, for they could be heard in all directions,
near and far, mournfully howling. What a sad, solemn
cry theirs was; so different from the falsetto, impish
yelping of the coyotes.

On, on Wolverine went, urging his horse and never
looking back, and I kept close up and said nothing, al-
though I thought the pace too fast on a plain honey-
combed with badger and prairie dog holes. When at
last day began to break we found ourselves in the coun-
try of high pine clad buttes and ridges, and two or three
miles from the Judith valley. Wolverine stopped and
looked all around, trying to pierce the distance still
shrouded in the dusk of early morning.

"So far as I can see," he said, "everything looks well.
The buffalo and the prairie runners (antelope) feed
quietly. But that is not a sure sign that an enemy is not
near; even now some of them may be sitting in the pines
of those buttes looking down upon us. Let us hurry to
the river — we must have water — and hide in the timber
in the valley."

We unsaddled in a grove of cottonwoods and willows
and led our horses to water. On a wet sand bar where
we came to the stream there were a number of human
footprints so recently made that they seemed to be as
fresh as our own tracks. The sight startled us and we
looked about anxiously, holding our rifles in readiness
for a quick aim. There was no timber on the opposite
side of the stream at that point, and we had just come
through the grove above us, so we realized that the
makers of the tracks were not in our immediate vicinity.

"Crees or men from across the mountains," said Wol-
verine, again examining the tracks. "No matter which;
they are all our enemies. We must be careful and keep
a good watch, as they may be nearby."

We drank our fill and went back into the grove, tying
our horses so that they could eat a little of the grass
and wild pea growing luxiantly between the trees.

"How could you know," I asked, "that those whose
tracks we saw are not Crows, or Sioux, or other people
of the plains?"

"You noticed," Wolverine replied, "that the footprints
were wide, rounding, that even the prints of their toes
could be seen; that was because they wore soft bottom
moccasins, the sole, as well as the upper part, of tanned
deer or buffalo skin. Only those people use sHch foot-
wear; all those of the plains here wearing moccasins
with hard parfleche soles."

I had been very hungry until 1 saw the footprints in
the sand, after that I was too busy watching, listening
for a possible enemy to think of anything else; and 1
fervently wished that I had remained in camp and left
the young Indian to do his own girl stealing.

"I will go around the inner edge of the grove and
have a look at the country and then we will eat," said
Wolverine.

I wondered what we would eat, well knowing that we
dared not kill anything, nor build a fire, even if we had
meat. But I said nothing, and while he was gone I re-
saddled my horse, remembering my friend's advice to
stay close to it. Presently Wolverine returned.

"The war party passed through the grove," he said,
"and went on down the valley. About two nights from
now they will be trying to steal the Gros Ventre horses.
Well, we will eat."

He undid the buffalo robe bundle and spread out a
number of articles; heavy red and blue cloth, enough for
two dresses. The stuff was made in England and the
traders sold it for about $10 a yard. Then there were
strings of beads, brass rings, silk handkerchiefs, Chinese
Vermillion, needles, thread, earrings — an assortment of
things dear to the Indian women.

"For her," he said, laying them carefully aside and
producing some eatables ; dry stale bread, sugar, dried
meat and a string of dried apples.
^ *M stole them from my sister," he said. "I thought

Dec. 2, 1905.]

FOREST AND STREAM.

447

that we miglii not l)e able to shoot any game or build a

fire."

That was a k;ng day. Ry turns we slept a little, thit
is. Wolverine slept. I'm sure I scarcely dozed, for I was
always expecting the war party to jump us. Yes, I was
pretty young at the business then, and so was the Indian.
What we ought to have done, after getting water, was
to have ridden to the top of some butte and remained
there during the day. From such a point we could have
seen the opprcach of an enemy a long way off, and our
swift horses could have easily taken us beyond their
reach. It was m*ere luck that we were not seen to enter
the valley and the cottonwood grove, for there a war
party could have surrotuided us and rendered our es-
cape difficult, if not impossible.

Up to this time Wolverine had made no definite glan
to get the girl away. Sometimes he would say that he
would steal into the camp and to her lodge at night, but
that was certainly risky, for if he did succeed in getting
to the lodge without being taken for an enegiy come to
steal horses he might awaken the wrong woman and
then there would be a terrible outcry. On the other
hand, if he boldly went into the camp on a friendly visit,
no doubt old Bull's Head, the girl's father, would suspect
his purpose and closely watch her. But this discovery of
a war party moving down the river toward the Gros
Ventre camp gave him a plain opening.

'T knew that my medicine would not desert me," he
said suddenly that afternoon, laughing happily; "and see,
the way is clear before us. We will ride boldly into
camp, to the lodge of the great chief Three Bears. I
will say that our chief sent me to warn him of a war
party working this way. I will say that we ourselves
have seen their tracks along the bars of the river. Then
the Gros Ventres will guard their horses; they will am-
bush the enemy ; there will be a big fight, big excitement.
All the men will rush to the fight, and that will be my
time. I will call Piks-ah'-ki, we will mount our horses
and fly."

Again we rode hard all night, and at daylight came in
sight of the wide dark gash in the great plain which
marked the course of the Missouri. We had crossed the
Judith the evening before, and were now on a broad trail
worn in deep furrows by the travois and lodge poles of
many a camp of Piegans and Gros Ventres, traveling
between the great river and the mountains to the south.
The sun was not high when we at last came to the pine-
clad rim of the valley and looked down into the wide,
iong bottom at the mouth of the Judith; there, whitely
gleaming against the dark foliage of a cottonwood grove,
were the lodges of the Gros Ventres, some 300 and more.
Hundreds and hundreds of horses were feeding on the
sage brush flat; riders were galloping here and there,
driving their several bands to water, or catching up fresh
animals for the daily hunt. Although still a couple of
miles away we could hear the confused noise of the
camp, shouts, childish laughter, singing, the beating of

drums.

''Ah!" Wolverine exclaimed. "There is the camp.
Now for the big lie." Then, more seriously, "Pity me,
great sun! pity me,' you under-water creature of my
dream! Help me to obtain that which I seek here.**

Oh, yes, the youth was in love. Cupid plays havoc
with the hearts of red as well as white people. And—
dare I say it?— the love of the red, as a rule, is more
lasting, more faithful than the love of the superior race.

We rode into the camp stared at by all as we passed
along. The chiefs lodge was pointed out to us. We
dismounted at the doorway, a youth took charge of our
horses and we entered. There were three or four guests
present enjoying an early feast and smoke. The chief
motioned us to the seat of honor on his own couch at the
back of the lodge. He was a heavy, corpulent man, a
typical Gros Ventre, Big Belly.

The pipe was being passed and we smoked a few
whiffs from it in our turn. A guest was telling a story,
when he finished it the chief turned to us, and asked, in
good Blackfoot, whence we had come. Nearly all the
older Gos Ventres at that time spoke Blackfoot fluently,
J)ut the Blackfoot never could speak Gros Ventre; it was
too difficult for anyone not born and reared with them

10 learn.

''We come," Wolverine replied, "from up the yellow
(Judith) river, above the mouth of the Warm Spring.
My chief, the Big Lake, gives you this— producing and
handing him a long coil of rope tobacco— and asks you
to smoke with him in friendship."

''Ah!" said Three Bears, smiling, and laying the to-
bacco at one side. "Big Lake is my good friend. We
will smoke with him."

"My chief also sends word with me that you are to
keep close watch of your horses, for some of our hunters
have found signs of a war party traveling this way. We
ourselves, this white man here, who is my friend, and I,
we also have come across their trail. We saw it yester-
day morning up the river. There are twenty, maybe
thirty of them, and they are on foot. Perhaps to-night,
surely by to-morrow night, they will raid your herd."

The old chief asked many questions as to what tribe

the war party might be, just where we had seen their
tracks, and so on, which Wolverine answered as best he
could. Then some boiled meat, some dried buffalo back
fat and some pemmican were set before us, and we had
our breakfast. While we were eating the chief con-
ferred wnth his other guests, and they soon went away,
as I presumed, to tell the news and prepare to surprise
the expected raiders. Three Bears informed us that his
lodge was ours ; that our horses would be cared for ; our
saddles and bridles were brought in and piled near the
doorway. I forgot to mention that Wolverine had
cached his precious bundle away back on the trail soon
after daylight.

After our breakfast and another smoke, during which
the chief asked all manner of questions about the Pie-
gans, Wolverine and I strolled through the camp and
down to the banks of the river. On the way he pointed
out the lodge of his prospective father-in-law. Old
Bull's Head was a medicine man, and the outside of his
abode was painted with the symbols of his particular
dream-given power, two huge grizzly bears in black,
below which were circles of moons in red. We sat by
the river a while, watching a lot of boys and young men
swim; I noticed, however, that my companion kept an
eye on the women continually coming for water. Evi-
dently the particular one he longed to see did not appear,
and we turned back toward the chiefs lodge, after a
time. A couple of women were killing a fat pup of three
or four months just back of it by strangulation.

"Why are they killing that dog?" I asked.

"Ugh," Wolverine replied, making a wry face, "it is
for a feast for us."

"A feast for us!" I repeated in astonishment. "Do
you mean that they will cook the dog, will expect us to
eat it?"

"Yes, these Gros Ventres eat dog; they think it better
than buffalo meat, or, other meat of any kind. Yes, they
will stew it and set it before us, great bowls of it, and
we must eat of it or they will be displeased."

"I will not touch it," I cried. "No, I will never touch

it.

"But you will, you must, else you wish to make ene-
mies of our friends; and" — despondently — "perhaps spoil
my chance of getting that which I have come for."

Well, in due time the meat of the dog was set before
us; very white it looked, and certainly the odor of it
was far from disagreeable. But — it was dog. Never in
all my life had I dreaded to do anything more than to
taste of it. yet I felt that I must. I grasped a rib, set
my muscles determinedly, and bolted the meat upon it,
blinking and swallowing and swallowing to keep it down.
And it stayed down; I made it stay, although for a mo-
ment it was a toss-up which would win — the nausea or
my will. In this manner I managed to eat a small part
of that set before me, partaking liberally of some berry
pemmican, which was a sort of side dish. I was glad
when the meal was over. Oh, yes, I was very glad ; and
it was many an hour after before my stomach became
normal. J

It was thought that the expected enemy would pos-
sibly arrive that night; so as soon as it was <^ark nearly
all the men of the camp picked up their weapons and
crept out through the sage brush to the foot of the hills,
stringing out far above and below and back of their
feeding herds. Wolverine and I had our horses iip and
saddled, he telling the chief that in case a fight began
we would ride out and join his men. My comrade went
out early in the evening, I sat up for an hour or more,
and as he did not return, I lay down on ,the couch, cov-
ered myself with a blanket and was soon sound asleep,
not waking until morning. Wolverine was just getting
up. After breakfast we went out and walked around
and he told me that he had found a chance to whisper
to Piks-ah'-ki the night before, when she had come out-
side for wood, and that she had agreed to go with him
whenever the time came. He was in great spirits, and
as we strolled along the shore of the river could not
help breaking out in the war songs which the Blackfeet
always sing when they are happy.

Along near noon, after we had returned to the lodge,
among other visitors at tall, heavy, evil-featured man
came in; by the nudge Wolverine gave me as he sat
down opposite and scowled at us I knew that he was
Bull's Head. He had a heavy growth of hair which he
wore coiled on his head like a pyramid. He talked for
some time with Three Bears and the other guests, and
then, to my surprise, began to address them in Black-
foot, talking at us, and there was real and undisguised
hatred in his tone.

"This story of an approaching war party," he said,
"is all a lie. Look at it; the Big Lake sends word that
his people have seen their trail; now, I know that the
Piegans are cowards; still, where there are so many of
them they woulud be sure to follo>v such a trail and at-
tack the enemy. No, they never saw any such trail,
never sent any such word; but I believe an enemy has
come, and is in our camp now not after our herds but
our women. Last night I was a fool. I went out and
watched for horse-stealers ; I watched all night, but none

came. To-night T shall stay in my lodge and watch for
vvomcn-stealers, and my gun will be loaded. I advise
you all to do the same."

And hiving had his say he got up and flounced out of
the lodge, muttering to himself, undoubtedly cursmg all
the Piegans. and one in particular. Old Three Bears
watched him depart with a grim smile, and said to Wol-
verine :

*'Do not remember his words; he is old, and cannot
forget that your people killed his son and his brother.
Others of us" — with a deep sigh — "others of us also lost
brothers and sons in the war with your people, yet, we
made the great peace. What is past is past; the dead
cannot be brought to life, but the living will live longer
and be happier now that we have ceased to fight and
rob one another."

"You speak the truth," said Wolverine. "Peace be-
tween we two people is good. I forget the old man's
words. Do you also forget them and guard your horses,
for this night surely the enemy will come."

Again at dusk we saddled our horses and picketed
them close to the lodge. Wolverine putting his saddle
on the pinto pony and shortening the stirrups. He in-
tended to ride his own animal bareback. He told me
that Piks-ah'-ki had been under guard of her father's
Gros Ventre wives all day. The old man not trusting
her Pigan mother to accompany her after wood and
water for the lodge. I again went to sleep early, my
companion going out as usual. But this time I did not
rest until morning, for I was awakened by the firing of
guns out on the flat, and a great commotion in camp,
men shouting and running toward the scene of the fight,
women calling and talking excitedly, children crying and
shrieking. I hurried out to where our horses were
picketed, carrying my own rifle and Wolverine's. He
owned a fine Hawkins, 32 balls to the pound, which
Sorrel Horse had given him. I learned afterward that
old Bull's Head was one of the first to rush to the rescue
of his horses when the firing began. As soon as he had
left the lodge W9lverine, who was lying nearby in the
sage brush, ran to it and called his sweetheart's name.
Out she came, followed by her mother, carrying several
little bags. A minute later they came to where I stood,
both women crying. Wolverine and I unfastened the
horses.

"Hurry," he cried, "hurry.*'

He gently took the girl from where she was crying
in the embrace of her mother and lifted her into the
saddle, handinj? her liie bridle reins.

"Listen,'' cried the mother, "you will be good to her.
I call the sun^tio treat you as you do her."

"I love her, and I will bp ^ood to her," Wolverine
answered, and^then to ust "Follow me, hurry."

Away we went over the fl^iyptraight for the trail upon
which we had entered the valley,' and straight toward
the fight raging at the foot of the hill. We could hear
the shots and shouts, see the flash of the guns. This
was more than I had bargained for; again I was sorry
I had started out on this girl-stealing trip; I didn't want
to charge in where the bullets of a fight that didn't in-
terest me were flying. But Wolverine was leading, his
sweetheart riding close behind him, and there was noth-
ing for me to do but follow them. As we neared the
scene my comrade began to shout:

"Where is the en^my ? Let us kill all of them. Where
are they? Where do they hide?"

I saw his point. He didift intend that the Gros Ven-
tres should mistake us for some of the raiders. But the
latter, suppose we ran on to any of them?

The firing had ceased and the shouting; all was quiet
ahead of us, but we knew that there in the moonlit sage
brush both parties were lying, the one trying to sneak
away, the other trying, without too much risk, to get
sight of them. We had but a hundred yards or more
now between us and the foot of the hill, and I was
thinking that we were past the danger points when, with
a sputter of fire from the pan and a burst of flame from
the muzzle, a flint-lock gun was discharged right in front
of Wolverine, and down went his horse and he with it.
Our own animals suddenly stopped. The girl shrieked
and cried out:

"They have killed him! Help, white man, they have
killed him!"

But before we could dismount we saw Wolverine ex-
tricate himself from the fallen animal, spring to his feet
and shoot at something concealed from us by the sage
brush. We heard a deep groan, a rustling of the brush
and then Wolverine bounded to the place and struck
something three or four hard blows with the barrel of
his rifle. Stooping over he picked up the gun which had
been fired at him.

"I count a coup," he laughed, and running over to me
and fastening the old fuke in the gun sling on the horn
of my saddle, "carry it a ways until we get out of the
valley."

I was about to tell him that I thought he was foolish
to delay us for an old fuke, when right beside of us, old
Bull's Head appeared, seeniinjar to have sprung all at
once out of the brush, and with a torrent of angry

448

FOkESt AND STREAM.

[Die. 2, 1905.

lan
lim

ords he grasped the girl's horse by the bridle and at-
pted to drag her from the saddle. She shrieked and
eld on firmly, and then Wolverine sprang upon the old
hurled him to the ground, wrenched his gun from
...'and flung it far; then he sprang lightly up behind
iks-ah'-ki dug his heels into the pony's flanks and we
ere off once more, the irate father running after us and
houting, no doubt for assistance to stop the runaways
Ne saw other Gros Ventres approaching, but they did
not seem to be hurrying, nor did they attempt in any way
to stop us. No doubt the angry old man's words had
[given them the key to the situation, and, of course, .t
Iwas beneath their dignity to mix up in a quarrel about
a woman. We went on as fast as we could up the steep,
long hill, and soon ceased to hear the old man s com-
plainings. . _.

We were four nights getting back to the Piegan camp.
Wolverine riding part of the time behind me and part of
,hc time behind the girl, when we were on Je Jra. • We
picked up. en route, the precious bundle which Wolver-
. had cached, and it was good, the next morning, to
the girl's delight when she opened it and saw what
it contained. That very day while we rested she made
herself a dress from the red cloth, and I can truthfully
say that when she had arrayed herself in it, and put on
her beads, and rings, and earrings, and a lot of other
pretty things, she certainly looked fine. She was a very
comely young woman anyway, and as I afterward
learned, as good as she was handsome. She made Wol-

Thc Sang Digger.

The Parson, the Professor and the Superintendent
waited until the Sang Digger's wife and the older chil-
dren had gone off in the dark to the little village church
when they slipped across the street to sit by his warm,
bright kitchen stove. His youngest girl had remained at
home and she was sitting at the table near the lamp
working out her problems in multiplication for the next
day of school. The Sang Digger, a small wiry man,
browned by the weather to the color of a late autumn
leaf, was pottering around the stove and the table looking
over some fishing tackle preparatory to a trip for bass
the next day. He seemed very glad to have the visitors
call on him and did his best to make them feel at home.
The Parson was tired. He is a heavy man. and the
day's pheasant hunting over the mountains had pretty
nearly played him out, and after he had lighted his Pitts-
burg stogie, he sagged <lown into his chair like a lump ot
dough. The Professor had not slept well the previous
night He is a small man, and as his bed fellow weighed
nearly three hundred pounds, and in addition to occupy-
ing the middle of the -bed had snored terrifically when-
ever he ,lay on his back, the Professor had Put >n the

ine
see

venne a faithful and loving wife.

Fearing that we would be followed we had taken a
circuitous route homeward, and made as blind a trail as
possible, and upon our arrival at camp learned that dd
Bull's Head had got in there two days ahead of us. He
was very different now from the haughty and malevolent
man he had been at home. He fairly cringed before
Wolverine, descanted upon his daughter's beauty and
virtues, and said that he was very poor. Wolverine gave
him ten horses and the fuke he had taken from the
Indian he killed the night of our flight from the Gros
Ventre camp. Old Bull's Head informed us that the war
party were Crees, and that his people had killed seven of
them, and that they had not succeeded in stealing a single
horse, so completely were they surprised and attacked.
Well I went on no more girl-stealing raids, but 1 be-
lieve I 'did other things just as foolish on the plams in
my youthful days.

Love of Nature and Character,

As Illottrated in .JHoo. J. SterUog Hortoo.

• t • ■

Editor Forest and StrcatrC: . t. »t7 ^u^-

The recent article about a monument to the leather
ot Arbor Day" brings freshly to mind some mcidents ot
travel with Mr. Morton, which may mterest your read-
ers. In the '8o*s we were both abroad, and meeting near
London, agreed to travel together for a while Matters
of social and political economy interested both, and he
was a most congenial and profitable, companion, tlis
intelligent alertness was ren>arka.We— his purity and sim-
plicity of character not less so. '

On a bank holiday in London he arose early and went
to Haymarket to study conditions of life as there mani-
fested. He said he saw more drunken women that
morning than in all his previous hfe; also, that the
••billingsgate" was the worst he ever heard, ine shock
to his moral nature was evident. , , ,. , ^^ ^„.
At Antwerp the guide employed asked that we go out
with him at night and "see the sights/' at the same
time intimating quite plainly their nature. He seemed
surprised at our refusal. In referring to the incident
afterward. Senator Morton said: "What a commentary
it affords on the average American traveler! It makes
me ashamed that because he found we were Americans
he should have felt at liberty to make such proposals.
Mr. Morton's interest in the art galleries at Antwerp was
keen, and his criticisms intelligent and appreciative.

The one hour's ride from Antwerp gave some charm-
ing scenes of country life— all the ground was cultivated
and the whole appearance was fine. Mr. Morton was en-
thusiastic. At Brussels another side of his character was
manifested. Visiting the Palais de Justice we admired
its exterior appearance very much. It was lofty, JXjassive
and impressive— a combination of Corinthian, Doric and
Ionic styles in Belgian limestone. But the interior was
disappointing, saddening. Massive columns, well-propor-
tioned to the building, were of crude material covered
with mortar in imitation of the exterior limestone. Ihe
sham was apparent to a little scrutiny, and Mr. Morton s
remarks about all shams showed the through and through
fineness of. his grain. , , , . •

After a hurried lunch we rushed for the 5 o clock train,
and missed it. But we soon learned that it was better so,
as the Cologne train did not leave till 5:5o. Senator
Morton then said, "This illustrates that many of the ills
of life are but imaginary." ,, ^ .•

Regretfully we bade him good-by at Mayence, once the
home of John Guttenberg, of printing fame. The im-
pression made by Mr. Morton during those self-revealing
days of travel was indelible and treasured. And that there
was an intimate relation between his love of nature and
his sterling worth of character is the firm belief of

JUVENAU

All commumcaHons for Forest and Stream must be
directed to Forest and Stream Pub. Co., New York, to
receive ottenHotk We have no other otHc^.

night between cat naps and spells of kicking the big man
awake and over into his' own side of the bed. So the
task of interviewing the Sang Digger and making him
talk about hifi experiences in the woods and along tlie
streams fell to the Superintendent. , .• „

The Sang Digger was given to much circumlocution
in his conversation. He would back an^ fill, start oyer
again, get ahead of his story, and tell the same thing
again with slight variations, so that it was somewhat
difficult to get him to make progress in his story. Une
favorite theory of his— that if you found that the bass
would not bite in one pool, and you would go down to
the next pool where they would bite, and then return to
the first pool you would find them ready to bite there-
he told over so many times and with such slight changes
that the Superintendent was compelled finally to switch
him off to keep the Parson from falling out of his chair

with inward laughter. . , ,. . r u- ^^

But finally he was headed in the direction of his ex-
periences in the digging of ginseng, which he followed
from the middle of August until the heavy frosts so
broke down to the tops of the plants that he could not
find them in the woods, and when well started he proved
an entertaining talker. , . ^^ ♦

He had a theory that ginseng plants and biitternut
trees are always associated in the woods and that the
presence pf red oaks always indicated the absence of gin-
seng. But his one example seemed to prove only the one
section of his rule. He and his partner had climbed to
the top of a high knob and were debating which direction
to take next. Just below them was a small flat covered
with little red oak saplings, and the Sang Digger said
that there was no use to hunt down there. But atter
some further argument his partner plunged down over
the bank into the red oaks and the Sang Digger fol-
lowed. Near the edge of the red oak tract the Sang
Digger discovered a few scattering plants which he
stopped to dig. In the meantime the partner wandered
away some little distance and soon found a large patch
of plants from which he finally dug several dollars
. worth of roots. And, to cJap the climax, the Sang Digger
found! in the same locality a still larger patch. From the
two patches they dug in all some seven or eight dollars
worth. All of these plants were among the red oaks, but
when he came to examine more closely he found that
near each patch was a small butternut tree.

His adventures had been mostly with rattlesnakes. In
his hunt for ginseng he was compelled to travel the
mountains for fifty and sixty miles around, and his trips
sometimes lasted for weeks, at which times he would live
in the woods like an Indian. One evening he had come
down a small mountain stream until he reached a fall,
and near this fall he found a little lean-to camp made by
a fisherman. It was nearly dark and a light rain was
falling. He threw his coat and bag of ginseng in on the
dead boughs that had made the bed of the former occu-
pant of the shelter and hurriedly prepared and ate his
supper. He then built up a good fire for the night and
went to get his coat to dry it. As he picked up his coat
he heard a rattleshake "sing out," as he expressed it, and
on maliing light enough to see inside, he found that a
large yellow rattlesnake had rounded out among the
boughs a depression that looked not unlike the nest of a
hen and I was lying coiled up in this nest, with head and
tail both tip. But a snake that, he could see he had no
fear of, and he soon killed it, and after determining that
there wAe no others in the neighborhood, he calmly lay
down and slept until morning.

At another time he and a companion had made camp
at the foot of a mountain after a long and hard days
trami). After eating supper and getting ready for the
night both 'had pulled off their boots to rest their feet.
Just before lying down to sleep the companion stepped
outside the light of the fire in order that he might see
if he could tell what the weather would be on the mor-
row. In a minute the Sang Digger heard him call in an
alarmed Vay for a light. The Sang Digger snatched a
burning stkk from the fire and hurried out when he
found his companion standing with his feet wide apart
and a coiled and rattling snake exactly between them.
He had known from the sound that it was very near and
had not darted to move for fear of stepping on it. And
from between his legs the Sang Digger had killed it with
neatness and dispatch before the man had dared move

an inch. • -j

Once in daylight he was coming down a mountain side
that was bare of anything but scattered vegetation and
covered with thin, flat rocks. He had cut a long, stout
pole to assist him in the descent, and when near the
middle of a patch of stones he heard a snake rattle.
Standing still he managed to turn over with his pole
many of the flat stones nearest to him, and under nearly
every one he found a snake. After killing ten or twelve
he made a more violent movement than usual and heard
a snake rattle under the large stone on which he was
standing. Moving back a little he pried up this stone
and found under it three rattlers, all of which he killed.
The odor given off by these snakes nearly made him

sick*
(ie was once bitten by a rattlesnake, and his behavior

on this occasion shows how little he could be stampeded
in an emergency. He was hunting ginseng on the side
of a mountain thickly covered with big timber and the
moss-covered trunks of fallen trees. In getting over one
of these trunks his foot broke through, and, to catch
himself, he put a hand behind him, when a rattlesnake
bit him between the thumb and forefinger. After killing
the snake and cutting open and sucking the wound in
his hand, he went down to the road at the foot of the
mountain for mud to plaster over the cut. At this point
he missed the little pick he used in his work and went
back up the mountain and got it. At the first house he
came to he procured indigo and whisky, and his descrip-
tion of the pain when the indigo was applied was very
graphic. A physician did not see him untrl the next day,
but the effects of the bite were gone in a few days. He
only remembered that there was a peculiar constriction
of the chest that was very painful while it lasted. He is
a very vigorous man whose heart and circulation are
probably perfect, and this may account for the slight
effects of the poison. Or is it possible that he was bit-
ten in \i spot where there are few blood vessels, or that
the snake did not get a fair whack at his hand?

He was lying one night beside and partly under a large
fallen tree, near, which he had built his fire, when he was
aroused by something touching his check. He brushed it
away with his hand and dozed off again only to be partly
aroused by the same thing again. After this had oc-
cured several times he was so wide awake that he got up
and proceeded to investigate, when he found that a big
porcupine had been rubbing its nose across his cheek. He
seemed to think that it would have been very funny if
the porcupine had used its tail instead of its nose, or if,
when he was brushing it away, he had struck its quills

with his hand.

But the Parson's stogie was smoked to the smallest
point, the Professor, who is a great botanist, had ex-
tracted all the information, scientific and otherwise, that
he could get from the Sang Digger, the Superintendent
had learned as much as possible about the mountains
and streams that he hunts and fishes, the little gid, with
her head pillowed on her cuds on the table, was sound
asleep, and the lanterns were coming down the road
showing that church was over; so the three tired and
sleepy hunters stumbled back through the dark to their
own lodgings to sleep and perhaps to dream of a better
day with the pheasants to-morrow. Chas. Lose.

Pennsylvania.

The Biography of a Bear* — XI.

When we awoke next morning I felt that our first
night's sleep in the tent had not been as refreshing to me
as it might have been. For some reason the fishing I had
dreamed about, while it had seemed full of excitement,
had made me tired. I have only given a synopsis of it in
the foregoing chapter, to establish beyond question my
veracity as a historian. I stibmit to my readers that there
are many temptations attached to any account in which
fish cut a figure, and I point with emotion to the
evidences of intcK^rity viih which I have chronicled this
nocturnal attack of delirium with which 1 contended.
Had I not been scrupulously conscientious in regard to
details, I would scarcely have refrained from some little
license with which to make the account thrilling. I would
not have been content with landing plain salmon, mack-
erel and a few codfish, where I had an inland ocean of
unknown resource from which to produce sea serpents,
crocodiles or whales. It is true we hooked fast to some-
thing that threatened to be extraordinary, but plain print
bears me out in the assertion that I refrained at a criti-
cal moment.

Nevertheless, as I saw the sun peep fiery red above the
blue summits to the eastward, and as I scanned the wav-
ing grass and rushes of the dry la1<e, I felt regret that it
could offer no such possibilities as 1 had vividly experi-
enced in my dream. The very notion of fishing for smaller
fry now palled upon my — my — "piscatorial propensities."
Neither of those words were premeditated. I use them
only in emergencies. What I am getting at is the fact
that I had lost interest in fishing for a while. I coaxed
Dick and Enochs to try the little stream, which they
finally did, and reported that there were only a few
fingerling trout dodging about among alders, willows
and other impediments to any efforts to catch fish there.
The swamp, as far as we explored it, offered no .suffi-
cient inducements to cause us to attempt excavating a
lake big enough to make it attractive as a fishing place.
It was attractive enough in other ways, and we gave our
time to other pursuits.

The first day we did little more than pike around
camp, or collected a little wood, added to the comfort
of our tent furniture, and the cooking equipment. We
overhauled our supply of provisions, which embraced
considerable stuff in cans, that we had learned to look
upon with suspicion and sorrt)w. Oiir coffee, teas,
spices, sardines ; in fact, about everything we had in
tins or pcckages put up by American firms, were either
adulterated or they were so inferior as to have made
adulteration too expensive. It may be we had gotten a
bad lot, but as most of them were put up in San Fran-
cisco and marked absolutely pure, "So and So's best,"
"positively warranted," with many other trite maxims,
we wondered what something different could possibly

be like.

American ingenuity and inventive talent has not
wholly exhausted itself upon mechanical devices. It is
true, however, that the Patent Office has a bewildering
collection of hardware on hand, fashioned after the
fancies of a very versatile population. I believe that,
properly speaking, it is the world's museum for misfit
machinery, both mechanical and administerial, and I had
a little to do with that confederation of the sciences a
few years ago. I had invented, or I had become en-
tangled with the fancy that I had evolved, a new thing
in clocks. I wanted to run them all by electricity, upon
a similar system to the telegraph. My plan and its
mechanical method was to have all the clocks of San
Francisco, New York and the less important centers of
the world strung upon a wire. I wanted a central clock,
which would open and close the electric circuit as its
pendulum swung to and fro, thus furnishing motive
power for the thousands of secondary dials. By this
system all the clocks would just have to be correct to

- 443

mmm^^i^miS^

• '^-^

words he grasped the girl's- horse by the bridle and at-
tempted to drag her from the saddle. She shrieked and
held on firmly, and then Wolverine sprang upon the old
man, hurled him to the ground, wrenched his gun from
him and flung it far; then he sprang lightly up behind
Piks-ah'-ki, dug his heels into the pony's flanks and we
were off once more, the irate father running after us and
shouting, no doubt for assistance to stop the runaways.
We saw other Gros Ventres approaching, but. they did
not seem to be hurrying, nor did they attempt in any way
to stop us. No doubt the angry old man's words had
given them the key to the situation, and, of course, it
was beneath their dignity to mix up in a quarrel about
a woman. We went on as fast as we could up the steep,
long hill, and soon ceased to hear the old man's com-
plainings.

We were four nights getting back to the Piegan camp.
Wolverine riding part of the time behind me and part of
the time behind the girl, when we were on the trail. We
picked up, en route, tlhe precious bundle which Wolver-
ine had cached, and it was good, the next morning, to
see the girl's delight when she opened it and saw what
it contained. That very day while we rested she made
herself a dress from the red cloth, and I can truthfully
say that when she had arrayed herself in it, and put on
her beads, and rings, and earrings, and a lot of other
pretty things, she certainly looked fine. She was a very
comely young woman anyway, and as I afterward
learned, as good as she was handsome. She made Wol-
verine a faithful and loving wife.

Fearing that we would be followed we had taken a
circuitous route homeward, and made as blind a trail as
possible, and upon our arrival at camp learned that old
Bull's Head had got in there two days ahead of us. He
was very different now from the haughty and malevolent
man he had been at home. He fairly cringed before
Wolverine, descanted upon his daughter's beauty and
virtues, and said that he was very poor. Wolverine gave
him ten horses and the fuke he had taken from the
Indian he killed the night of our flight from the Gros
Ventre camp. Old Bull's Head informed us that the war
party were Crees, and that his people had killed seven of
them, and that they had not succeeded in stealing a single
horse, so completely were they surprised and attacked.
Well, I went on no more girl-stealing raids, but I be-
lieve I did other things just as foolish on the plains in
my youthful days.

FOREST AND STREAM.

[D^jc, a too5.

In ihe lodges of the Blackfeet.

The Tragi dy of the Mariat.

According to arrangement, I joined Berry at the end
of August, and prepared to accompany him on his
winter's trading expedition. He offered me a share
in the venture, but I was not yet ready to accept it;
I wanted to be absolutely free and independent for a
few months more, to go and come as I chose, to hunt,
to roam about with the Indians and study their ways.
We left Fort Benton early in September with the bull
train, creeping slowly up the hill out of the bottom, and
scarcely any faster over the level of the now brown and
dry plains. Bulls are slow travelers, and these had a
heavy load to haul. The quantity and weight of
merchandise that could be stowed away in those old-
time ''prairie schooners" was astonishing. Berry's
train now consisted of four eight-yoke teams, drawing
twelve wagons in all, loaded with fifty thousand pounds
of provisions, alcohol, whiskey, and trade goods. There
were four bullwhackers, a night herder who drove the
"cavayand"— extra bulls and some saddle horses— a cook,
three men who were to build the cabins and help with
the trade, with Berry and his wife, and I. Not a very
strong party to venture out on the plains in those times,
but we were well armed, and, hitched to one of the
trail wagons, was a six-pounder cannon, the mere sight
or sound of which was calculated to strike terror to

any hostiles. ^

Our destination was a point on the Marias River,
some forty-five miles north of Fort Benton. Between
that stream and the Missouri, and north of the Marias
to the Sweetgrass Hills and beyond, the country was
simply dark with buffalo, and moreover, the Marias
was a favorite stream with the Blackfeet for their
winter encampments, for its wide and by no means deep
valley was well timbered. In the shelter of the cotton-
wood groves their lodges were protected from the oc-
casional north blizzards, there was an ample supply of
fuel, and fine grass for the horses. There were also
great numbers of deer, elk and mountain sheep in the
valley and its breaks, and the skins of these animals
were in constant demand; buckskin was largely used
for the summer clothing and the footwear of the

people.

September on the plains! It was the most perfect
month of all the year in that region. The nights were
cool, often frosty; but the days were warm, and the
clear air was so sweet and bracing that one seemed
never to get enough of it. Nor could one tire of the
grand, the wondrous extent of plain and mountains,
stretching out, looming up in every direction. To the
west were the dark Rockies, their sharp peaks stand-
ing out sharply against the pale blue sky; northward
were the three buttes of the Sweetgrass Hills; east-
ward dimly loomed the Bear Paws; south, away across
the Missouri, the pine-clad Highwood Mountains were
in plain sight; and between all these, around, beyond
them, was the brown and silent plain, dotted with
peculiar flat-topped buttes, deeply seamed with stream
valleys and their numerous coulees. Some men love
the forest; the deep woods where lone lakes sparkle
and dark streams flow slow and silent; and it is true
that they have a charm of their own. But not for
me, not for me. My choice is the illimitable plain with
its distant mountains, its lone buttes, its caiions fan-
tastically rock-walled, its lovely valleys beckoning one
to the shelter of shady groves by the side of limpid
streams. In the forest one is ever confined to a view
of a few yards or rods round about; but on the plains
—often I used to climb to the top of a butte, or ridge,
and sit by the hour gazing at the immense scope of
country extending far, far to the level horizon in all
directions except the west, where the Rockies rise so
abruptly from the general level of the prairie. And
how good one felt to see the buffalo, and the antelope,
and the wolves, scattered everywhere about, feeding,
resting, playing, roaming about, apparently in as great
numbers as they had been centuries before. Little did
any of us dream that they were all so soun to dis-
appear.

We were nearly three days traveling the forty live

miJcs to our destination. We saw no Indians en

•nte. nur any iiigns of tlivm. On all sides the buffaUi

? • >i

and antelope grazed quietly, and those in our path did
not run far to one side before they stopped, and began
to crop the short but nutritious grasses. We en-
camped the second night by a spring at the foot of the
Goose Bill, a peculiarly shaped butte not far from the
Marias. The wagons were drawn up in the form of a
corral, as usual, and in the center of it our lodge was
put up, a fine new one of sixteen skins. Berry and
his wife, a couple of the men and I slept in it, the
others making their beds in the wagons, on the mer-
chandise. We had a good supper, cooked over a fire
of buffalo chips, and retired early. The night was
very dark. Sometime after midnight we were awakened
by a heavy tramping in the corral; something crashed
against a wagon on one side of us, and then against
another one on the other side. The men in the wagons
began to call out, asking one another what was up;
Berry told us in the lodge to take our rifles and pile
out. But before we could get out of bed something
struck our lodge and over it went, the poles snapping
and breaking, the lodge skin going on and undulatingly
careening about the corral as if it were endowed with
life; in the intense darkness we could just see it, danc-
ing round and round, a fiendish dance to a step of its
own. At once all was excitement. Mrs. Berry
shrieked; we men shouted to one another, and with
one accord we all fled to the shelter of the wagons and
hurriedly crept under them. Some one fired a shot at
the gyrating lodge skin; Berry, who was beside me,
followed suit, and then we all began to shoot, rifles
cracking on all sides of the corral. For a minute, per-
haps, the lodge skin whirled about, and dashed from
one end of the corral to the other more madly than
ever; and then it stopped and settled down upon the
ground in a shapeless heap; from under it we heard
several deep, rasping gasps, and then all was still.
Berry and I crawled out, walked cautionsly over to
the dim, white heap and struck a match; and what
did we see but the body of a huge buffalo bull, still
almost completely enveloped in the now tattered and
torn lodge covering. We could never understand how
and why the old fellow wandered into the corral, nor
why, when he charged the lodge, some of us were not
trampled upon. Berry and his wife occupied the back
side of the lodge, and he went right over them in his
mad career, apparently without even putting a hoof
on their bed.

We arrived at the Marias about noon the next day,
and went into camp on a fine timbered point. After
dinner the men began to cut logs for the cabins, and
Berry and I, mounting our horses, rode up the river
in quest of meat. We had plenty of fat buffalo cow
ribs on hand, but thought that a deer or elk would be
good for a change. On our hunt that day we rode up
to a point where the "Baker battle" afterward oc-
curred. That is what it is called, ''Baker's battle," and
the place. Baker's battlefield." But that was no battle;
'twas a dreadful massacre. The way of it was this:
The Piegan Blackfeet had been waylaying miners on
the trail between Fort Benton and the mines, and they
had also killed a man named Malcolm Clark, an old
employe of the American Fur Co., who was living
with his Indian family near the Bird Tail divide. This
man Clark, by the way, was a man of fierce and un-
governable temper, and in a fit of anger had severely
beaten a young Piegan who was living with him and
herding his horses. Now if you have anything against
an Indian, never try to obtain satisfaction by beating
him; either get your gun and kill him, or leave him
alone, for if you strike him, blood alone will wipe out
the disgrace, and sometime or other, when you are
least expecting it, he will surely kill you. This is
what happened to Clark. The young man got a passing
war party to back him, and he murdered Clark. The
War Department then concluded that it was time to
put a stop to the Piegan depredations, and Col. Baker,
stationed at Fort Shaw, was ordered to seek Black
Weasel's band and give them a lesson. It was January
23, 1870, at daylight that the command arrived at the
bluff overlooking a wooded bottom of the Marias, and
there among the trees were pitched eighty lodges of
the Piegans, not, however. Black Weasel's band; these
were under Chief Bear's Head; but Col. Baker did not
know that. Bear's Head's people were, in the main,
(riendlv to the whites.

In a low tone Col. Baker spoke a few words to his
men, telling them to keep cool, aim to kill, to spare
none of the enemy, and then he gave the command to
fire. A terrible scene ensued. On the day previous
many of the men of the camp had gone out toward the
Sweet Grass Hills on a grand buffalo hunt, so, save
for Chief Bear's Head and a few old men, none were
there to return the soldiers' fire. Their first volley
was aimed low down into the lodges, and many of
the sleeping people were killed or wounded in their
beds. The rest rushed out, men, children, women, many
of the latter with babes in their arms, only to be shot
down at the doorways of their lodges. Bear's Head,
frantically waving a paper which bore testimony to
his good character and friendliness to the white men,
ran toward the command on the bluff, shouting to them
to cease firing, entreating them to save the women and
children; down he also went, with several bullet holes
in his body. Of the more than four hundred souls in
camp at the time, very few escaped. And when it
was all over, when the last wounded woman and child
had been put out of misery, the soldiers piled the
corpses on overturned lodges, firewood and house-
hold property, and set fire to it all.

Several years afterward I was on the ground. Every-
where scattered about in the long grass and brush,
just where the wolves and foxes had left them, gleamed
the skulls and bones of those who had been so ruth-
lessly slaughtered. "How could they have done it?"
I asked myself, time and time again. *'What manner of
men were those soldiers who deliberately shot down
defenseless women and innocent children?" They had
not even the excuse of being drunk; nor was their
commanding officer intoxicated; nor were they excited,
or in any danger whatever. Deliberately, coolly, with
steady and deadly aim, they shot them down, bayonetted
the wounded, and then tried to burn the bodies of their
victims. But I will say no more about it; think it over
yourself and try to find a fit name for men who did

this.*

On our way up the river we saw many doe and fawn
deer, a bunch of cow and calf elk, but not a buck nor
bull of either species. On our way homeward, how-
ever, along toward sunset, the male deer were coming
in from the breaks and coulees to water, and we got a
large, fat buck mule deer. Madame Berry hung a
whole forequarter of it over the lodge fire, and there
it turned and slowly roasted for hours; about 11 o'clock
she pronounced it done, and although we had eaten
heartily at dusk, we could not resist cutting into it, and
it was so good that in a short time nothing was left
of the feast but the bones. I know of no way of roast-
ing meat equal to this. You must have a lodge, to
prevent draughts, a small fire; suspend the roast from
a tripod above the blaze, and as it cooks give it an oc-
casional whirl; hours are required to thoroughly roast
it, but the result more than repays the labor involved.

The men soon cut and dragged out the required logs,
put up the walls of our "fort." and laid on the roof
of poles, which was covered with a thick layer of earth.
When finished, it formed three sides of a square and
contained eight rooms, each about sixteen feet square.
There was a trade room, two living rooms, each of
which had a rude but servicable fire-place and chimney,
built of mud-mortared stones. The other rooms were
for storing merchandise and furs and robes. In the
partitions of the trade room were numerous small
holes, through which rifles could be thrust; at the back
end of the square stood the six-pounder. With all
these precautions for defense and offense, it was
thought that even the most reckless party of braves
would think twice before making an attack upon the
traders. But, of course, liquor was to be the staple

♦The Baker massacre, which took place Jan. 23, 1870, on the
Marias River, was in its day a well-known event. The official reports
declare that 173 Indians were killed and 100 women and children
captured. Later and more accurate reports led to the belief that
176 people were killed. Of the killed fifteen men were reported
as fighting men between the ages of fifteen and thirty-seven,
eighteen were middle-aged apd old men between thirty-seven
and seventy. The women killed numbered ninety, and the children
under twelve years of age— many of them infants in arms— fifty-five.
When the news of ;he massacre reached the East, the newspapers
took it up, and there was much excitement about it. Gen.
Sheridan was bitterly assailed for his action. There never wa.s
any question but that the camp which Major Baker att.icked was
one of friendly Indians; people who had committed no depred;.
tions The village to which the murderers belonged w.is that ot
Mountain Chief, which at the time was camped on Belly Kivcr iii
British America. Details of this destruction of life will be found
in Manj-pcnny's "Our Indian Wards."

I>c. 9, 1905.1

FOREST AND STREAM.

% ->

.'irtiolc of trnrlc, and i-vni the most rxpcrionccd mnii
coitld never foietell what a crowd ui drink cra/ed
Indians would do.

The fort was barely cuniplctcd when the Picgan
Blackfeet arrived, and pitched their lodges in a long,
wide bottom about a mile below us. I passed the
greater part of my time down in their camp with a
young married man named Weasel Tail, and another
who bore a singular m^me: Talks-with-the-buf!alo.
These two were inseparable companions, and somehow
they took a great liking to me, and I to them. Each
one had a fine new lodge, and a pretty young wife.
I said to them once: ''Since you think so much of
each other, I do not understand why you do not live
together in one lodge. It would save much packing,
much wear of horses when traveling, much labor of
gathering fire-wood, of setting up and breaking camp."

Talk-with-the-buffalo laughed heartily. "It is easy to
see," he replied, "that you have never been married.
Know this, my good friend: Two men will live to-
gether in quiet and lasting friendship, but two women
1 ever; they will be quarreling about nothing in less
than three nights, and will even try to drag their hus-
1 aiids into the row. That Is the reason we live separ-
: tely; to be at peace with our wives. As it is, they love
each other even as my friend here and I love each
< ther, and thus, for the good of us all we have two
lodges, two fires, two pack outfits, and enduring peace."

Thinking the matter over, I realized that they were
right. I knew two sisters once, white women — but
that is another story. And after I married, and my wife
and I took up our home with a friend and his wife for
a time — but that is still another story. Oh, yes, the
Indian knew whereof he spoke; neither white nor
Indian married women can manage a common house-
hold in peace and friends'hip.

I enjoyed myself hugely in that great camp of seven
hundred lodges — some thirty-five hundred people. I
learned to gamble with the wheel and arrows, and with
the bit of bone concealed in one or the other of the
player's hands, ^nd I even mastered the gambling song,
which is sung when the latter game is being played
around the evening lodge fire. Also, I attended the
dances, and even participated in the one that was
called ''As-sin-ah' pcs-ka" — Assinaboine dance. Re-
member that I was less than twenty years of age, just
a boy, but perhaps more foolish — more reckless than
jnost youths. ♦

In this Assinaboine dance, only young unmarried
men and women participate. Their elders, their par-

*:tit» and relatives, beat the drums and sing the dance

song, which is certainly a lively one, and of rather an
abandoned nature. The women sit on one side of the
lodge, the men on the other. The song begins, every
one joining in. The dancers arise, facing each other,
on their tip toes, and then sinking so as to bend the
knees. Thus they advance and meet, then retreat, again
advance and retreat a number of times, all singing, all
smiling and looking coquettishly into each others' eyes.
Thus the dance continues, perhaps for several hours,
with frequent pauses for rest, or maybe to feast and
smoke. But all the fun comes in toward the close of
the festivities; the lines of men and women have ad-
vanced; suddenly a girl raises her robe or toga, casts
it over her own and the head of the youth of her choice,
and gives him a hearty kiss. The spectators shout with
Jaughter, the drums are beaten louder than ever, the
:song increases in intensity. The lines retreat, the
ifavored youth looking very much embarrassed, and all
take their seats. For this kiss payment -must be made
on the morrow. If the young man thinks a great deal
of the girl, he may present her with one or two horses;
he must give her something, if only a copper bracelet
or string of beads. I believe that I was an '*easy
mark" for those lively and, I fear, mercenary maidens,
for I was captured with the toga, and kissed more often
than any one else. And the next morning there would
be three or four of them at the trading post with their
mothers; and one must have numerous yards of bright
prints; another some red trade cloth and beads; still
another a blanket. They nearly broke me, but still I
would join in when another dance was given.

But if I danced, and gambled, and raced horses, my
life in the camp was by no means a continual round of
foolishness. I spent hours and hours with the medicine
men and old warriors, learning their beliefs and tra-
ditions, listening to their stories of the gods, their tales
of war and the hunt. Also I attended the various re-
ligious ceremonies; listened to the pathetic appeals of
the medicine men to the Sun as they prayed for health.
Jong life and happiness for the people. It was all ex-
ceedingly interesting.

Alas! Alas! why could not this simple life have con-
tinued? Why must the railroads, and the swarms of
settlers have invaded that wonderful land, and robbed
its lords of all that made life worth living. They knew
not care, nor hunger, nor want of any kind. From
my window here I hear the roar of the great city, and
$ce the crowds hurrying by. The day is bitterly cold,

yet tin- niajr»rity of the passersby, wohuii as wrll ;is
tnrn. nrc thinly rind, and th^ir face'^ .nv thin, and thrn
eyes express sad thoughts. Many '»f them have n«»
warm shelter from the storm, know not when they c;mi
get a little food, although they would gladly work tor
it with all their strength. They are "bound to the
wheel," and there is no escape from it except by death.
And this is civilization! 1, for one, maintain that there
is no satisfaction, no happiness in it. The Indians of
the plains back in those days of which I write, alone
knew what was perfect content and happiness, and that,
we are told, is the chief end and aim of men, to be free
from want, and worry, and care. Civilization will never
furnish it, except to the very, very few.

Walter B. Anderson,
[to he continued.]

In the Lodges of the Blackfcet.

for Horiet,
iContinuid from pagt 467.)

The young and middle-aged men of the tribe were
constantly setting out for, or returning from war, in
I)arties of from a dozen to fifty or more. That was
their recreation, to raid the surrounding tribes who
preyed upon their vast hunting ground, drive off their
horses, and take scalps if they could. It was an in-
spiring sight to witness the return of a party which
had been successful. A few miles back from camp they
would don their picturesque war clothes, paint their
faces, decorate their horses with eagle plumes and paint,
and then ride quietly to the brow of the valley over-
looking the village. There they would begin the war
song, whip their horses into a mad run, and, firing
guns and driving the animals they had taken before
them, charge swiftly down the hill into the bottom.
Long before they arrived, the camp would be in an
uproar of excitement, and the women, dropping what-
ever work they had in hand, would rush to meet them,
followed more slowly and sedately by the men. How
the women would embrace and hang on to their loved
ones safely returned; and presently they could be heard
chanting the praises of husband, or son, or brother.
"Fox Head has returned!" one would cry. "Oh, Ai!
Fox Head, the brave one, has returned, driving before
him ten of the enemies' herd. Also, he brings the
scalp of an enemy whom he killed in battle. Oh, the
brave one! He brings the weapons of this enemy he
killed; brave Fox Head!"

And so it would go on, each woman praising the
valor of Ikt particular relative: and then the returned
warriors, tired, hungry, thirsty, but proud of their suc-
cess and glad to be once more at home, would retire
to their lodges, and their faithful, women folk, mother
and wife, and sister, would hasten to prepare for them a
soft couch, and bring cool water, and set out a feast of
the choicest meat and pemmican and dried berries.
They were so happy and so proud, that they could not
sit still; and every now and then one of them would go
out and walk about among the lodges, again chanting
praise of the loved one.

No sooner did one of these parties return than others,
incited by their success and anxious to emulate it,
would form a party and start out against the Crows, or
the Assinaboines, or perhaps the Crees, or some of the
tribes on the far side of the Back-bone-of-the-world,
as the Rockies were called. 1 herefore, I was not sur-
prised one morning to be told that they were about to
start on a raid against the Assinaboines. "And you
can go with us if you wish to," Talks-with-the-buffalo
concluded. "You helped your friend to steal a girl, and
I you might as well try your hand at stealing horses."

"I will," I replied. "I'll go with you; it is just what I
have been longing to do."

When I told Berry of my intention, both he and his
wife protested strongly against it. "You have no right
t(» risk your life," he said, "for a few cayuses." "Think
how your pei^ple would mourn," said his wife, "if any-
thing should happen to you."

Hut my mind was made up; I was determined to go,
;«nd 1 did; but not for the intrinsic value of any horses
or other plunder that I might obtain; it was the excite-
ment and the novelty of the thing which attracted me.
ihere were to be thirty of us, and Heavy Breast, a
grim and experienced warrior of some forty years, was
to be our partisan or leader. He himself was the owner
of a medicine pipe, which was considered to have great
l»ower. He had carried it on many an expedition, and
it had always brought him and his parties good luck,
taken them through various conflicts unharmed. But
for all this, we had to get an old medicine man to pray
with us in the sacred sweat lodge before we started, and
to pray for us daily during our absence. Old Lone Elk
was chosen for this responsible position; his medicine
was of great power and had found favor with the Sun
these many years. The sweat lodge was not large
enough to accommodate us all, so half of the party went
in at a time, T remaining with my two friends and going
g^j^nith the last division. At the entrance of the jiweat
^ge we dropp^c! n\n robes or blankets, our onl^ cov-

ering, and creeping in at the low doorway, sat around
the interior in silence while the red hot stones were
passed in and dropped in a hole in the center. Lone
Elk began to sprinkle them with a buffalo tail dipped in
water, and as the stifling hot steam enveloped us, he
started a song of supplication to the Sun, in which all
joined. After that the old man prayed long and earn-
estly, beseeching the Sun to pity us; to carry us safely
through the dangers which would beset our way, and
to give us success in our undertaking. Then the medi-
cine pipe was filled, lighted with a coal which was
passed in, and as it was pas.sed around, each one, after
blowing a whifT of smoke toward the heavens and the
earth, made a short prayer to the Sun, to Old Man
and mother earth. And when my turn came, I also
made the prayer, audibly like the rest, and to the best
ol my ability. No one smiled; my companions believed
that T was sincere in my avowal to be one of them in
word, thought and deed. I wanted to know these
people; to know them thoroughly; and I considered
that the only way to do so was for a time to live their
life in every particular in order to win their entire con-
fidence. And so I made an earnest prayer to the Sun,
and I thought of something I had learned in other days
in a far-away country: "Thou shalt have none other
gods before Me," etc. I believed all that once, and
listened to a blue Presbyterian preacher of a Sunday
threatening us with hell's fire and brimstone, and
the terrible anger of a vengeful God. Why, after hear-
ing one of those sermons I was afraid to go to bed,
lest in my sleep I should be snatched into purgatory!
But all that was now past; I had no more faith, nor
fear, ^ nor hope, having concluded that one can only
say, "I do not know." So I prayed to the Sun with
right good will in the furtherance of my plan.

It was getting late in the season, and the Assina-
boines were thought to be a long way from us, some-
where near the mouth of the Little River, as the Black-
feet named the stream we call Milk River. So it was
decided that we should set out on horseback instead of
afoot. The latter was the favorite way of making a raid,
for a party traveling in that manner left no trail, and
could effectually conceal themselves during the day-
time.

So one evening, led by our partisan, we set forth and
traveled southeastward over the dark plain, paralleling
the river. My companions were not the befringed and
beaded and painted and eagle plume decked warriors
one reads about and sees pictured. They wore their
plain, every-day leggings and shirt and moccasins and
either the blanket or the cowskin toga. But tied to
their saddles were their beautiful war clothes, and in a
small parfleche cylinder their eagle plume or horn and
weasel skin head dresses. When going into battle, if
there was time, these would be donned; if not, they
would be carried into the fray, for they were considered
to be great medicine, the shirt especially, upon which
was painted its owner's dream, some animal or star or
bird, which had appeared to him during the long fast
he made ere he changed from careless youth to re-
sponsible warrior.

We rode hard that night, and morning found us
within a short distance of the mouth of Marias River.
In all directions buflfalo and antelope were to be seen
quietly resting or grazing; evidently there were no
other persons than us anywhere in the vicinity. "It
will not be necessary to hide ourselves this day," said
Heavy Breast, and detailing one of the party to remain
on the edge of the bluff for a lookout, he led us down
into the valley, where we unsaddled and turned our
horses out by the stream— all but Weasel Tail and I;
we were told to get some meat. A charge of powder
and a ball meant much to an Indian, and as I had
plenty of cartridges for my Henry rifle, and could get
plenty more, it fell to me to furnish the meat— a pleas-
ant task. We had not far to go to find it. Less than
half a mile away we saw a fine band of antelope coming
into the valley for water, and by keeping behind various
clumps of sarvis and cherry brush, I managed to get
within a hundred yards of them, and shot two, both
bucks, in good order. We took the meat, the tongues,
liver and trjpe and returned to camp, and every one
was soon busily roasting his favorite portion over the
fire, every one except Heavy Breast. To him fell
cilways the b^st meat, or a tongue if he wanted it, and

a youth whq was taking his first lesson oi] the war trai{

cooked it for him, brought him water, cared for his
horse, was, in fact, his servant. A partisan was a man
of dignity, and about as unapproachable as an army
general. While the rest chatted and joked, and told
yarns around the camp-fire, he sat apart by himself,
and by a separate fire if he wished it. He passed much
time in prayer, and in speculating regarding the por-
tent of his dreams. It often happened that when far
from home and almost upon the point of entering an
enemy's village, a partisan's dream would turn the
party back without their making any attempt t<» ac-
ccunplish this object. The Blackfcet were very super-
stitious.

After leaving the Marias, we were careful to conceal
ourselves and our horses as well as possible during the
daytime. We skirted the eastern slope of the Bear's
Paw Mountains, the eastern edge of the Little Rockies
—in Blackfoot, Mah-kwi' is-stuk-iz: Wolf Mountains.
We expected to find the Gros Ventres encamped some-
where along here— it will be remembered that they
were at this time at peace with the Blackfcet— but we
saw no signs of them less than four or {\ye months old,
and we concluded that they were still down on the
Missouri River. Wherever we camped, one or more
sentinels were kept posted in a position overlooking
the plains and mountains roundabout, and every even-
ing they would report that the game was quiet, and that
there was no sign of any persons except ourselves in
all that vast region.

One morning at daylight we found ourselves at the
foot of a very high butte just east of the Little Rockies,
which I was told was the Hairy Cap, and well was it
named, for its entire upper portion was covered with a
dense growth of pine. We went into camp at the foot
of it, close to a spring and in a fine grassy glade en-
tirely surrounded by brnsli. T:dks- with-thc--hiiff.iU> aixl
1 were toid to ascend to tlie summit of the butte and
remain there until the middle of liie day, when oihers
would take our place. We had both saved a large
piece of roast buffalo ribs from the meal of the previous
evening, so, drinking all the water we could hold and
lugging our roast, we climbed upward on a broad game
trail running through the pines, and finally reached the
summit. We found several war houses here, lodges
made of poles, brush, pieces of rotten logs so closely
laid that not a glimmer of a fire could shine through
them. It was the way war parties of all tribes had of
building a fire for cooking or to warm themselveii with-
out betraying their presence to any passing enemy.
W^e saw six of these shelters, some of them quite re-
cently built, and there were probably more in the vicin-
ity. My companion pointed out one which he had
helped build two summers before, and he said that the
butte was frequented by war parties from all the tribes
of the plains, because it commanded such an extended
view of the country. Indeed it did. Northward we
could see the course of Milk River and the plains be-
yond it. To the south was visible all the plain lying
between us and the Missouri, and beyond the river
there was still more plain, the distant Snowy and
Moccasin mountains and the dark breaks of the Mussel-
shell. Eastward was a succession of rolling hills and
ridges clear to the horizon.

We sat down and ate our roast meat, and then Talks-
with-the-buffalo filled and lighted his black stone pipe
and we smoked. After a little I became very drow.sy.
"You sleep," said Talks-with-the-butfalo," and I will
keep watch." So I lay down under a tree and was soon
in dreamland.

It was about lo o'clock when he awoke me. "Look!
Look!" he cried excitedly, pointing toward the Mis-
souri. "A war party coming this way." •

Rubbing my eyes, I gazed in the direction indicated,
and saw bands of buffalo skurrying to the ea.st, the
west and northward toward us, and then I saw a com-
pact herd of horses coming swiftly toward the butte,
driven by a number of riders. "They are either Crees
or Assinaboines," said my companion; "they have
raided the Crows or the Gros Ventres, and fearing pur-
suit, are hurrying homeward as fast as they can ride."
Running, leaping, how we did speed down the side of
that butte. It seemed but a moment ere we were
among our companions, giving our news. Then what a
rush there was to saddle horses, don war clothes and
head dresses and strip otY shield coverings. And now
llcavy Breast himself ascended the side of the butt^

pEC. i6, 1905.1

FOREST AND STREAM

i.ntil he conkl get a view of the oncoming party, wliile
V e wanted for him at its base. He stood there, per-
haps a hundred yards from us, looking, looking out over
:he plain, and we began to get nervous; at least I did.
] thought that he never would come down and give
us his plan. I must confess that, now the time was at
hand when I was to engage in an assault, I dreaded it,
and would hft\t' been mightily glad at that moment to
be safely with Berry away up on the Marias. But there
could be no retreat; I must go with the rest and do
my share, and I longed to have it all over with.

After a wait of five or ten minutes, Heavy Breast
joined us. 'They will pass some distance east of here."
he said. "We will ride down this coulee and meet
ihem." It wasn't much of a coulee, just a low, widi
depression in the plain, but deep enough to conceal us.
Every little way our leader would cautiously ride up to
the edge of it and look out southward, and finally he
called a halt. '*We are now right in their path," ho
said. **As soon as we can hear the beat of their horses'
hoofs we will dash up out of here at them."

How my heart did thump, my throat felt dry; I was
certainly scared. Like one in a daze, I heard Heavy
r>reast give the command, and up we went out of the
coulee, our leader shouting, "Take courage; take cour-
age! Let us wipe them out!"

The enemy and the herd they were driving were not
more than a hundred yards distant when we got up on a
level with them, and our appearance was so sudden that
their horses were stampeded, some running off to the
east and some to the west. For a moment they tried
to round them in again, and then we were among them,
and they did their best to check our advance, firing
their guns and arrows. Some were armed only with
the bow. One after another I saw four of them tumble
from their horses to the ground, and the rest turned and
fied in all directions, our party close after them. They
outnumbered us, but they seemed to have little courage.
Perhaps our sudden and unexpected onslaught had de-
moralized them at the start. Somehow, the moment
I rode out of the coulee and saw them, I felt no more
fear, but instead became excited and anxious to be right
at the front. I fired at several of them, but of course
could not tell if they fell to my shots or those of our
party. When they turned and fled I singled out one
of them, a fellow riding a big strawberry pinto, and
took after him. He made straight for Hairy Cap and
its sheltering pines, and I saw at once that he had the
better horse and would get away unless I could stop

him with a bullet; and how I did try to do so, firing

shot after shot, each time thinking **This time I must
certainly hit him." But I didn't. Three times he loaded
his flint lock and shot back at me. His aim must
have been as bad as mine, for I never even heard the
whiz of the bullets, nor saw them strike. On, on he
went, putting more distance between us all the time.
He had now reached the foot of the butte, and urged the
horse up its steep side, soon reaching a point where it
was so nearly perpendicular that the animal could carry
him no further. He jumped off and scrambled on up,
leaving the horse. I also dismounted, kneeled down,
and taking deliberate aim, fired three shots before he
reached the pines. I saw the bullets strike, and not one
of them was within ten feet of the fleeing mark. It was
about the worst shooting I ever did.

Of course, I was not foolish enough to try to hunt
the Indian in those thick pines, where he would have
every advantage of me. His horse had run down the
hill and out on the plain. I took after it, and soon cap-
tured it. Riding back to the place where we had
charged out of the coulee, I could see members of our
party coming in from all directions, driving more or less
horses before them, and soon we were all together
again. We had not lost a man, and only one was
wounded, a youth named Tail-feathers; an arrow had
fearfully lacerated his right cheek, and he was puffed
up with pride. Nine of the enemy had fallen, and
sixty-three of their horses had been taken. Every one
was jubilant over the result. Every one was talking
at once, telling in detail what he had done. I managed
to attract Heavy Breast's attention. **Who were they?"
I asked.

"They were Crees."

**How could you tell that they were?"

"Why, I understood some of the words they shouted,"
lie replied. "But even if they had not uttered a. sound,
1 would still have recognized them by their mean faces
any by their dress."

I rode over to one of them lying on the ground
nearby. He had been scalped, but I could see that his
countenance was quite different from a Blackfoot's
face. Besides, there were three blue tattoed marks on
his chin, and his moccasins and garments were unlike
anything I had seen before.

We changed horses and turned homeward, plodding
along steadily all that afternoon. The excitement was
over, and the more I thought of it, the more pleased I
was that I had not killed the Cree I chased into the
pines. But the others; those I had fired at and seen

drop; I succeeded in convincing myself that they were
nut my bullets that had caused them to fall. Had 1
not fired as many as twenty shots at the man I chased
and each one had sped wide of the mark? Of course, it
was not I who laid them low. I had captured a fine
horse, one stronger and more swift than my own
good mount, and I was satisfied.

We got home in the course of four or five days, and
you may well believe that there was great excitement
over our arrival, and many a dance with the scalps by
those who had at one time or another lost dear ones at
the hands of the Crees. Hands and faces and mocca-
sins painted black, bearing the scalps on a willow stick,
little parties would go from one part of the village to
another, sing the sad song of the dead, and dance in
step to its slow time. I thought it a very impressive
ceremony, and wish I could remember the song, just for
the sake of old times.

Dear old Berry and his wife killed the fatted calf over
my safe return; at least we had, besides choice meats
and bread and beans, three dried apple pies and a
plum (raisin)) duff for dinner. And I will remark that
the two latter courses were a rare treat in those days
in that country. I wns glad, glad to get back to the
fort. How cheerful was the blaze in the wide fireplace
of my sleeping room; how soft my couch of buffalo
robes and blankets! I stayed pretty close to them for
a time, and did nothing but sleep and eat and smoke;
it seemed as if I would never get enough sleep.

Walter B. Anderson,
[to be continued.]

On Getting Lost*

Editor Forest and Stream:

In his article, "On Not Getting Lost in the Woods,*'
Mr. Manly Hardy is rather severe on those "would-bej
instructors" who assume to teach how to keep froi
getting lost in the woods. He lumps all such togeth<
as novices who could not themselves practice the c;
pedients that they recommend. A sorry bunch of huj
bugs, truly!

I think that the trouble with some of those wrij
is in making sweeping generalizations from facts
served in limited areas. For example, in a c(
region, perhaps not five miles square, the moss
thickest on the north or northwest side of the
of straight trees, in a majority of instances. Fro]
a hasty observer deduces the rule: "Moss alwayj
thickest on the north side of a tree." Of course
not true. Moss favors that side of a tree whicj
and holds the most moisture and at the samei
ceives plenty of air. Consequently it is thick<

top of a prostrnte log-, on the upper side of,

trunk, »«4, usuatly, tMU noL.Jsdwsiys, on the m^
side of a straight trunk, where the w6o<
enough to admit light freely. Where therei
stand of timber the moss grows pretty/
around, or its growth may be erratic. If
believes unreservedly in the moss theon
upon it in the big woods of the Missisj
he would find the south looking down u]
the mid-day sun, for the moss grows evj
level of last spring's overflow.

However, there is such a thing as ma|
ing generalizations in a negative way,
Mr. Hardy himself has fallen into thisj
derstand him correctly — and his w(
enough — he contends that there is no
ing for natural signs of direction ii
experienced men never place any
that "a good woodsman finds his
mal does, by a certain kind of instin^
to offer novices any counsel as to^
way out of the woods, because a Ij
man anyway; and that the only aj
that "you had better never get h
all of these conclusions I respectfj
hold good in some cases; but
majority of cases.

Mr. Hardy's article seems to^
Mr. E. A. Spears' note on tl
clination of the feathery tip ofj
in the Adirondacks, and by
this habit among the hemh
palachian forest. Now, Mr.
reporting facts observed iii
of us assumed to base upo/
hemlocks of Maine may p<
nadir without impugning t]
observations.

To make my own positi
me to quote from an artj
"No general rule can
as the growth of mossj
branches on the southj
direction in which thi
though in a given h

constant

I then

signs of direction tl
such as the thicknej
of wood growth ii
north and northea^
tain animals, and
plant and the pi
cases present the^
My recent note
ward the rising
that, in one lo(
true sign of

•This matter
York State Foj
one of their ai
my library hc]
extensive.

In the Lodges of the Blackfeet.

The Story of a Crow Woman*

Ts-sap-ah'-ki — Crow Woman — as the Blackfeet named
her, was an Arickaree, of a tribe which, in the days of
Catlin, who visited the tribes in 1832, lived some distance
below the Mandans, on the banks of the Missouri. Like
the Mandans, they lived in a village of mound-like earth-
covered lodges, surrounded by a strong and high palisade
of Cottonwood logs stuck endwise into the ground. They
were members of the widely scattered Pawnee, or Cad-
(loan family, but they had been long separated from the
pirent stock. They could converse with the Crows, who
are related to the Gros Ventres of the village. Their own
language— like the Mandan— was an extremely difficult
one for an outlander to learn. The Crows and Arickarees
were at times on terms of friendship, and again there
were long periods when they were at war with each other.

The Crow Woman married early. She must have been
a very handsome girl, for even in her old age, when I
knew her, although wrinkled and gray-haired, she was
still good looking. She had lovely eyes, sparkling and
mischievous, and her temperament was a most happy one.
After many and bitter experiences she had at last found,
with her good friend Mrs. Berry, a haven of peace and
plenty which was assured to her so long as she lived. This
is the story she told me as we sat before the fire-place,
that winter night so many years ago :

*'We were very happy, my young husband and I, for we
truly loved each other. He was a good hunter, always
keeping our lodge well supplied with meat and skins, and
I, too, worked hard in the summer planting, and watering
as they grew, a nice patch of beans, and corn, and pump-
kins ; in the winter I tanned many robes and many buck-
clrtr.< for our use. We had been married two winters.

summer came, and for some reason the buffalo left the
river, all except a few old bulls, and remained away out
on the plains. My people did not like to hunt out there,
for we were only a small tribe ; our men were brave, but
what could a few of them do against a great band of our
many enemies? So some were content to remain safely
at home and eat the tough meat of the straggling bulls ;
but others, more brave, made up a party to go out where
the great herds were. My husband and I went with
them; he did not want me to go, but I insisted upon it.
Since we had been married we had not been separated
even for one night; where he went I had sworn to go
also. Our party traveled southward all day over the
green grassed plain; along toward evening we saw many
bands of buffalo, so many that the country was dark with
them; we rode down into a little valley, and made camp
by a stream bordered by cottonwoods and willows.

"Our horses were not very strong, for always at night
they were driven inside the stockade of our village, and,
feeding daily over the same ground outside, they soon
tramped and ate off the grass; they had no chance to be-
come fat. Some enemy or other was always prowling
around our village at night, and we could not let them
remain outside and wander to where the feed was good.
From our camp by the creek we started out every morn-
ing, the women following the men, who carefull)^ looked
over the country and then went after that band of buffalo
which could be most surely approached. Then, when
•they had made the run, we rode out to where the great
animals lay and helped skin and cut up the meat. When
we got back to camp we were busy until evening cutting
the meat into thin sheets and hanging it up to dry in the
wind and the sun. Thus for three mornings we went out,
and our camp began to look red; you could see the red
from afar, the red meat drying. We were very happy.

•*! was proud of my husband. He was always in the
lead, the first to reach the buffalo, the last one to quit the
chase and he killed more of them — always fine fat animals
— than any other one of the party. And he was so gener-
ous; did anyone fail to make a kill he would call to him
and give him one, sometimes two, of his own kill.

**On the fourth morning we went out soon after sun-
rise, and only a little way from camp the men made a
run and killed many buffalo. My husband shot down
nine. We were all hard at work skinning them and get-
ting the meat in shape to pack home, when we saw those
who were at the far end of the running ground hurriedly
.mount their horses and ride swiftly toward us with cries
of *Thc enemy ! the enemy !' Then we also saw them,
;nan men on swift horses riding down upon us, their long

war bonnets fluttering in the wind ; and they were singing
the war song ; it sounded terrible in our ears. They were
so many, our men so few, there was no use in trying to
make a stand against them. We all mounted our horses,
our leader shouting: *Ride for the timber at the camp;
it is our only chance. Take courage; ride, ride fast.*

"I whipped my horse as hard as I could and pounded
his sides with my heels; my husband rode close beside
me also whipping him, but the poor thing could go only
so fast, the enemy were getting nearer and nearer all the
time. And then, suddenly, my husband gave a little cry of
pain, threw up his hands, and tumbled off T)n to the
ground. When I saw that I stopped my horse, got down
and ran to him and lifted his head and shoulders into my
lap. He was dying; blood was running from his mouth
in a stream; yet, he made out to say: Take my horse;
go quick ; you can outride them.*

"I would not do that. H he died I wanted to die also;
the enemy could kill me there beside him. I heard the
thunder of their horses' feet as they came on, and cover-
ing my head with my robe I bent over my husband, who
was now^ dead. T expected to be shot or struck with a
war club, and I was glad for whither my dear one's
shadow went there I would follow. But no; they passed
swiftly by us and I could hear shots and cries and the
singing of the war song as they rode on into the distance.
Then in a little while I heard again the trampling of a
horse, and looking up I saw a tall man, a man full of
years, looking down at me. 'Ah,* he said, T made a good
shot ; it was a long ways, but my gun held straight.*

"He was a Crow, and I could talk with him. 'Yes, you
have killed my poor husband ; now have pity and kill me,

too.'

**He laughed. 'What ?' he said, 'kill such a pretty young
woman as you? Oh, no. I will take you home with me
and you shall be my wife.*

" 'I will not be your wife. I will kill myself,* I began,
but he stopped me. 'You will go with me and do as I
say,* he continued, 'but first I must take the scalp of this,
my enemy.*

" 'Oh, no,* I cried, springing up as he dismounted. 'Oh
do not scalp him. Let me bury him. and I will do any-
thing you say. I will work for you, I will be your slave,
only let me bury this poor body where the wolves and
the birds cannot touch it.*

"He laughed again, and got up into the saddle. *I take
your word,' he said. 1 go to catch a horse for you, and
then you can take the body down to the timber by your
camp.*

"And so it was done. I wrapped my dear one in robes
and lashed the body on a platform which I built in a tree
by the little stream, and I was very sad. It was a long,
long time, many winters, before I took courage and found
life worth living.

"The man who had captured me was a chief, owning a
great herd of horses, a fine lodge, many rich things; and
he had six wives. These women stared very hard at me
when we came to the camp, and the head wife pointed to
a place beside the doorway and said : *Put your robe and
things there.' She did not smile, nor did any of the oth-
ers; they all looked very cross, and they never became
friendly to me. I was given all of the hardest work;
worst of all, they made me chip hides for them, and they
w ould tan them into robes ; every day thic was my work
when I was not gathering wood or bringing water to the
lodge. One day the chief asked me whose robe it was I
was chipping, and I told him. The next day, and the
next, he asked me the same question, and I told him
that this hide belonged to one of his wives that to an-
other, and so on. Then he became very angry, and
scolded his wives. 'You will give her no more of your
work to do,' he said. 'Chip your own hides, gather your
share of wood; mind what I say, for I shall not tell you
this again.*

"This Crow chief was a kind man, and very good to
me ; but I could not like him. I turned cold at his touch.
How could I like him when I was always mourning so
for the one who was gone?

"We traveled about a great deal. The Crows owned
so many horses that after camp was all packed and lodge
poles trailed, hundreds and hundreds of fat, strong ani-
mals were left without a burden of any kind. Once there
was talk of making peace with my people, and I was very
glad, for I longed to be with them again. A council was
held, and it was decided to send two young men with
tobacco to the chief of the Arickaree and ask that peace

be declared. The messengers went, but they never re-
turned. After waiting three moons (months) for them,
it was thought that they had been killed by those whom
they went to visit. Then we left the Elk River (Yellow-
stone) and moved to the upper part of Dried Meat River
(Musselshell). This was the fifth summer after my cap-
ture. It was berry time and the bushes were loaded with
ripe fruit, which we women gathered in large quantities
and dried for winter use. We went out one day to some
thickets on the north slope of the valley, some ;distance
from camp, where there were more berries than at any
other place we had found. There had been trouble in
our lodge that morning; while my captor — I never could
call him my husband — was eating, he asked to see the
amount of berries we had gathered ; his wives brought
out their stores, the head woman five sacks of them, the
others two and three each. I had but one sack, and an-
other partly full, to show. 'How is this?' the chief asked.
'Has my little Arickaree wife become lazy?'

" 'I am not lazy,' I answered, angrily. 'I have picked
a great quantity of berries; and every evening I have
spread them out to dry, covering them well after sunset
so that the night dew would not injure them; but in the
morning, when I have removed the covers and exposed
them to the sun's heat, I have found many, very many
less than I had placed there. This has happened every
night since we came to camp here.*

" 'That is strange,* he said. 'Who could have taken
them? Do you women know anything about it?' he asked
his wives.

"They said that they did not.

" 'You lie,* he cried, angrily, rising from his scat and
pushing his head wife back out of his way. 'Here, little
woman, are your berries ; I saw them stealing them* ; and
from the head wife he took two sacks, from the others
one each, and threw them over to me.

"Oh, those women were angry. They did not speak
to me all that morning, but if looks could have killed me,
then I would have died, for they scowled at me all the
time. When the chief drove in the horses each caught
the one she wanted and rode out to the berry patch.

"The five kept close together that day, leaving me to
go by myself; and if I went near them they would move
away to some distant bushes. Some time after middle
day they began to move toward me, and in a little time
they were at work all around close by. Still they did not
speak, nor did I. My little sack was again full ; I stooped
over to empty the berries into a larger sack; something
struck me a terrible blow on the head; I fell over and
knew no more.

"When I came back to life the sun w-as setting. I was
alone, my horse was gone, and my large berry sack was
missing; the small one, empty, lay by my side. I was
very dizzy, very sick. I felt of my head; there was a
great swelling: on it, and much dried blood in My hair.
I sat up to better look around and heard some one calling
me, the tramp of a horse, and then the chief rode up be»
side me and dismounted. He didn't say anything at first,
just felt of my head carefully, and of my arms, and then:
'They said that they could not find you when they were
ready to return to camp ; that you had run away. I knew
better. I knew that I would find you here, but I thought
to find you dead.' ^

" T wish I were,' I said, and then for the first time I
cried. Oh, how lonely I felt. The chief lifted me up
into his saddle and got on the horse behind me, and we
rode home to the lodge. When we went inside the wives
just glanced at me quickly, and then looked away. I was
about to lie down on my couch by the doorway when the
chief said : 'Come here, here by my side is now your
place. And you,' to his head wife, giving her a hard push,
'you will take her couch by the doorway.'

"That was all. He never accused his wives of attempt-
ing to kill me but from that time he treated them coldly,
never jesting nor laughing with them as he had been used
to doing. And whenever he left camp to hunt, or to look
for stray horses from his herd, I had to accompany him.
He would never leave me alone for a day with the
others. Thus it came about that when he prepared to go
with some of his friends on a raid against the northern
tribes I was told to get ready also. It did not take me
long; I packed my awl, needles and sinew thread in a
little pouch, made some pemmican and was ready.

"We were a small party, fifteen men, and one other
woman, newly married to a great war leader. It was not
proposed to make any attack upon our enemy, but tQ

horse';' Ti!l1 ^"5"!,''' ^T '^='"'P ^'"1 provided for the
"una an old flat wreck of a rowboat. After bailin? it

ad then'dTl'*^ ^''"* •" ^°"''' «°^t about half an l^^u
ana then dive unless it was again bailed nut Thnf ,c

o^rp oS;' skillfully handlerwt'nit ^s no't ba^l^^d

haLd^7o7ft^'a^n;:d°1 |° ovfr^^' ;^"h^n tZa\*ed^1?
wanted to do that bottonf up. It was a boat that was
hopelessly discouraged or dissatisfied with hs lot and i
tried to evolve into an umbrella or a balloon When I
nianncd.t personally, and shoved off a little" it did , m

cx^re s .n':"l?H-'"^f-'"'^'- ''^r' "'"^^ I endeavored o
bMri t' .T/ •"•^'S"«tion. with considerable emphasif-
l>iit I could only do so at a disadvantage

A man cannot deliver tinished orations when his
u^ is'likelv To"f- "•'""'.r .v-^cillating angles, and when

arH <ir K 2 d'^;f • .^vith nnpartial celerity, either for-
ward or backward mto icc water. That boat would
sh<.ot rny legs one way. and then when I got then,
hack with commendable agility, it would shoof then ,"
two or three other directions, without any appredab le

otice, constancy or method. When I trLd to say

hmgs, my mouth would slam to and chop my phrases

mto miserable fragmems, signifying nothing I was

fn t1.'f ff*'"''"^^"'} r^^'f '^^'^ '?t length^sat down
the thing, when, fully aware that in place of a se^

and Thir '"^ '" t" ''"' f'^"*; •'"'^h^^ °f ■<=« water a'?d
and toIH h.V. r? I ^°' °i'* ''I ■' ^"'^ ''""ted "P Enochs
n H frl i^ I ^^^ 1°""'^ ? ''^^t. I urged him to go
and try it and see how— how exhilarating it was to

fZ T" u^ ' "IP'^ P'^^'dity «f the bo!om of the

SslaT tfde Buff 'r •'''"■''"" ^""'"*=^ -^'^^^'y in the
not Perh.n. T E"o^>'s was too soggy, and he would
not. i'crhaps I appeared a little to agitated and wet

^ook Vhfs' cU '' '''^' "'^^." ""' "-^ •" t' swim he
tooic ott his clothes, or words to that effect In mv

disappointment I told him that was all right and t^at

?'red AnH^r'^K ^■°''"'l "?.°'; "^'^^P them on, for all I
cared. And I believe I added that nothing he could
do improved h.m any, in appearance or otherwise

oIH r.'!*:"'^ ^^°"', *° S^t up a two-handed riot when
o d Cap. came along, and his formidable pcrsoiuilitv
o th<f V"' attention Cap. looked like the Old ffi
of the Sea, and we found that he really was one o^
them-a genuine old salt cast up by the sea hii?h anr
dry enough. When he hailed us, he did h ' befire he
landed n. haven, and as if he were hailing a shin in

h?teck"of °a"smfn 'r''-* ^''°"* ¥ t'"^"^'' '- w- on
tiie deck of a small ship m a very heavy gale Everv-

hing he said savored of salt water, and he had not
forgotten to wear a loose belt and hitch up his rouse?s
at about the regulation interval. I am not fluent T
nautical terms and I neither comprehended nor can I

ow recall those used by Cap. with precision. He
-aikd us as mates, wanted to know where we were
hound and whether Jack manned the mizzen top galTant
the Jibhootii, the fo'castlc or the spanker His wide
•Id lacc wrinkled all over with benevolent urrows and
10 K-new well the inimitable art of making hSMn
, cresting and welcome against all the disadvanTages ol

' Iff manners'^'^H'/f " /"f *''? ""*=°"th voicf'and
it -A manners. He was deaf, quite so— in one ear he

io"n;anSre -">er"'7^^"^'"«"j^" '^^t one^was^m^oJl
»o tnan the other. Later we found that the Com-

bodore, as he designated Dr. Stockton/ was very de^f

i both ears, and that the old fellows hrdlonT since

^n over conversing with each other freely^ They

fi ^eir energies to devote themselves to others ^

I tned to answer some of old Cap's questions and

tued Tu'esdons't- '^^^^^" "^" ^"^ th'en C^i^^^
isked questions his replies were so irrelevant we

^i \^^*^^^ ^^ heard anything or not In mv

Uni^Tu'r TJ '''''' "^ ^^^'-^^ guessed at" t
tching our hps or our gestures and attitude
k^e asked where he lived, he replied: ^'"^"^^•

he Hor^n ^^'^ J'^^"' ^^' ?"^^^^^ P^^t- Sailed

iJ^Z 13. "^^'^ "^\^^ ^^^"^^ to cast anchor

^ o mounf ins two hunder' miles from deeo

bis pond's deep enuflF for a ship, but it's

It a rocky cove without a chance to git to

[Dec 30, igos

^veral times about the fishing in the lake,
» after we had made a good many gestures
to comprehend, and when he did he
^nd rolled away in the direction of his
^ot understand this until he returned
- with two fine trout, weighing four
ley were magnificent fish and nicely
^ed him a dollar for them and he
"^rmly refused to accept more than

have plenty of fish. Our pond
)is plenty of 'em in the lake, an'
\ a gig. They don't bite any

^at many kinds of bait and

V.half a dozen fish had been

Uved there, with hook and

^me to the use of the boat,

by calling at the cabin.

T, and it proved to be a

" very crude three-tined

[o broken.

some knowledge of
mg of the old flat-
Jn a seat, and got a
Y^ved to propel it
adapted to two
many, and one
one had to lean
I or port. At
^r we got the
^ch, we could
^attention to
[addles was
lid not fit
[ochs and
J rowed
These
{re not

seemeTto'^he .n^ ""= '^'^^ ^'^'•^ '^'^ttcd with what
water ,,h.c^TP' °'' ?"^ 5"^«^- ^"d we judged the
rowed nut nn^""*^ '" *''"^ P'^'^**" ^e found^as we
h,l\u °" ''"'■ ^""^t voyage, that these were stumps
TMnl2 ^^'•^^"'"e of the tallest we had ever found
t h, nH A r"'*^ ^^^ fhe bottom clearly at a depth of
broke the --fl' ""'^ '" S'!f P'""^ where the st imps
down the truit? oT^- *^°"''^- '" '■°*'"S hy them, look
we7e s m rnnt.H% .ri?^"'^ ""^S? ^"'^ «ee that they
r.7fL I ^^u t" the bottom. There were hundreds
ot these trees about the shallower portions of the lake

nitrL T' ''elow ns m the clear water receded
Ptciing deeper and deeper, until the white trunks
blended ,n the blue nnfathomed depths. We saw mTnv
£^r?et 'tV^"" "'^" '^•'"t, and some of them very

ment" o ^is^hl" T'l ^'' '° *^'^^'"' ^"^ ^" O""" move-
ment., so visible, the first we saw were all deen down

and quite shy. It was intensely fascina ng to ea^e
fo""ee'Tot!Sm ^;!'""-g^d forest! and when Ve° faulted
to see bottom there was someth ng sufficientlv an-
pall.ng about the prospect. At one time we ound that

rea''li?e"tfirfnr"'' 7^ "°* progressing. We did no
l^AAi th s for some time, and we pulled awav at the
paddles with a funny, crawlinc- -ien-i^tir,^ \uu^ ■.• j
realise it »r» (r.,-^^1 „ ^ =^ sensation. When we did

now ascerTained^t^L i^^"' ^^ ^"""^ P^*"* °f ". We
iiow ascertained that we were hung up on a submercreH

rbo,^^n.-T''' ^' .'°",'1 ''^ n° bottom and wTwfre
about midway m the lake. In our eflforts we werTat

rotten boit fn"^- ?^ ^*"^'"« '^' bottom out of ou
rotten boat, m which case we could imaeine nothinci
to prevent our going to the bottom of The ake frozen
first, and then drowned. The freezing would not take

te^thelot'^hf Tr^ ^T-''^ ^°* matter so mu h-
AhnnV th^ f'^ ' ^u^ combination was disheartening

^chned we Z' off' f^'^'" '° j"^' somewhat religiousfy
inuinea we got otT, for a wonder, and we rowed ashori

with as much judgment and skill as we hadT kft We

te.n ^Th '''v"'''^ ^•'^^f'^^'l i" this adventure that we
really felt relieved to get out upon a big rock and fr^
that we had some notion of clii^bing into a tr^e Waw
as deep as this lake, and as coldT looks weU at and

ch'n^'^el^i^he n^^ 'rr "^ 'P^'^^'^ no personal
A ti^^^t^Lp HI r^"l°' ^'^w in the bottom of it.
T , I . i ^' '^ ^ had been assured, or even told tha
I would float across this laks in about the same n ace

nlh;"/ 't '^'2', ''""'' '" ^''^^'"te darkness! Kt mi"
n ghr. I should have set out for home if I had to walk

rl' S fi'Z'lV""^ *'°"^'^' ' '^'"^^•^ ^^-'^
We wanted some of those fish, and after supper that
A ^l''^^'"^ I prepared to spear some of ther^ We
fixed a basket out of wire to attach to the prow of the
boat while we collected some splintered Ditch-nini fnr
torch material. We took what TtineartH tTu ^ 5

supply of the pitch, and E^?chs "having agreedMTe'*

Tnrwrr^l-^a^-oi S/ttfToK^ ^^^^^^ ^ ^^^'

object and'pebblf t? consi'derableXT'lnd'in 7h^
^\^ Z! a^d-^nSm-D^Hl

between the task of keeping he torch bu-.w''f^' ''"'
io'sittT^' /tifling smoL,.^aS'iS;SainTng"fA %%Z

urwr'a'gt"d"'d arofiXr ^'fi'irf '^^* ?-^

I saw a fin! fish howfng S " the'^lazed'S nicelv'
the water was verv shallow z»t^A f ^u r !^l *^ "iceJy,

v'i^li^a'ceTt^il^rnTr^^^^^^^ '-o IRoll

very gracefully, and even Dick grunted that it was well

As for me I now saw how easy and nice this ft,;^„
of ffiffffine them wac c«„_ '"'s thing

in a i;Si» ^: ^°°" we saw several fine onet

JntereS very^^j^u^h'^Trfirl^heY' ' "^^^^1^^
four-looked Iil« he miSht we"i;h fi ^^"' ?' ^'"'^^ *^'"

fic^r'^ ^'-st'feTht--^HrsVaVin ?h°e""at:

nlr/Sifrs^niiir^^^^^^^^^^

where I expecS tSto £' I^n'fa^crnSl^e'rirr Tol
pole came in contact with anything but I wnfL J u

n'^o > 't.'T^ °"^ '^'^^ «° inRe water like I wS
mto It. The boat tipped at the rieht instanf Iht
way, and then it tioDed had It ivH '""^"t the wrong
righ way and as T f,1u j^* the wrong instant the

c.^lo.. T J- J ? ^Jailed to reach the bottom with the
'P?/' '^a"^'^ ^""^ *'°ttom without it. Cold^ Words
mere words are very insipid! Yet I could stand the

fied paTt ofTThTh'"lT" ^''^ ^^^t, but the undig'n'i!

drowning, was horrible! I shiver as I set down the fac
dVi'ritllll^ren liTl'^'ha^r ^^'-^ it-ifr.ilSV/.'e'
. The only thing that kept Dick from laughimr himself

and Jo^S ro'r Te T :j'"f,\^ «^hSd fh'jrb"!

her Pni^itinT ov'^r. "aVc^^^L l^Tef in'^tlle" Lt
awhile, here came the snear Tf Ur.uu V '^^

serenely than I did. atr fSg to findto t'om" TCI
was no fish on It. and I am satisfied that if ht was nm
scared to death, the fish escaoed I ^..V^ '

and wished I had half a dozen' more' oT hem "'^hr I
rowed the boat in an effort to keep warn w'l,ii» n" t!
wanted to try his hand at the spear Twr„f in '^^
much to see him do it and I was almo.yf f** ""^
enough in a little scheme Thad ^hl, ^rlS tolip^p^^n^

Dec. ^23, iQOSl

FOREST AND STREAM.

807

they ^ with a roar as they flush ahead of the dogs, and,
spreadhW out fan-like, e ich one again seekyindividnal
cover to\irr()W d(nva deeply amid the gra^roots, there
to defy thcy^ose of the dog and remain /fiiiet even with
the hreath oKhe dog upon them. ThevAnow where they
are safe, and\ve for heing actuaU/ kicked out would
no douht defv tl\dog and remaii/in cover. Was there
ever such hunting \that, where/ie dogs are well broken
and the birds lie sn\ and cl^e? And when the birds
Hush, an open space al^^vity unobstructed above the hue
of the prairie grass foX/iiles between you and the
horizon. Under such ctWlitions one marvels that a
prairie chicken can by^iisscV- but missed they are, some-
times more frequency than at others.

How fresh the uf airie brccz^and how exhilarating the
sport. How wel^me is the diiftaer hour when beside the
spring the ham^r is opened up a\d its substantials spread
out. How s^d to light one's pi^ and spread out upon
tl« fragrayft prairie grass and ga\e upon the fleeing
clouds o>^rhead and think of the afternoon yet to come.
The dyfes lie dreaming by our sides afVd under the balmy
infliy^ce of the sun's rays we too droK asleep and walk
the dreamland prairies. Charles Cristadoro.

T «s: & Y^. ^ !&^.i3,wor

In the Lodges of the Blackfeet.

Days With the Game.

Who should roll in one day but Sorrel Horse and his
wife, with whom I had passed the summer, and with
theni came young Bear Head, and his Gros Ventre wife,
whom I had helped him steal from, her people. That is,
I went with him on that expedition to the Gros Ventre
camp, and save him very good will in his undertaking if
nothing more. Berry and his wife were as glad to meet
them all again as I was, and gave them one of the rooms
in the fort until such time as Sorrel Horse should have
a cabin of his own. He had decided to winter with^ us.
trap beaver and poison wolves, and perhaps do a little
trading with the Indians. With Bear Head to help him,
he soon built a comfortable two-room cabin just back of
our place, and put in two good fire-places like ours.^ I
was glad of the f^re-places, for I counted on spending
some little time by them in the long winter evenings to
come. Nothing on earth gives one such a sense of rest
and abiding peace as a cheerful blaze in a wide fire-place
when cold weather comes, and blizzards from the north
sweep down over the land.

\mon<x other ihincrs. I had brought west WMth me a
shotgun, and, now that the geese and ducks were moving
south, I had some very good shooting. Whenever I went
out for a few birds a number of Indians always followed
me to see the sport ; they took as much delight in seeing
a bird fall at the crack of the gun as I did in making the
shot. Once I dropped eleven widgeons from a flock pass-
ing by. and the onlookers went wild with enthusiasm over
it. But I could never induce them to accept any of the
fowl I killed; birds and fish they would not eat, regard-
ji.g the latter especially as unclean. All they cared for
uas ni-tap'-i wak-sin : real food, by which was meant
the meat of buflFalo and the various other ruminants.

In November many of the Blackfeet proper came down
from the north, where they had been summering along
the Saskatchewan and its tributaries, and following them
came the Kai'-na, or Bloods, another tribe of the Black-
feet. The latter went into camp a mile below the Piegans,
and the former pitched their lodges about half a mile
above our fort. We now had, including women and chil-
dren, something like 9,000 or 10,000 Indians about us, and
the traders were kept busy all day long. Buffalo robes
were not yet prime— the fur did not get its full growth
until about the first of November— but a fair trade was
done in beaver, elk, deer and antelope skins. About the
.(Illy groceries the Indians bought were tea, sugar and
coffee, and they cost them, on an average, $1 per pint
cupful. Blankets— three-point— were $20, or four prime
head-and-tail buffalo robes, each; a rifle, costing $15, sold
for $100; whisky— very weak, was $5 per quart, and even
a package of Chinese vermillion sold of $2. There was
certainly profit in the trade. As a matter of fact, there
was not a single thing in the trader's stock that was not
an unnecessary article of luxury to the Indian. The
trader's argument was something like this: The Indians
don't need these things, but if they will have them, they
must pay my price for them. Tm not risking my life in
this business for anything but big profits.

Of course Berry did not expect to get all the trade
of the three great camps. Parties were continually going
into Fort Benton with robes and furs, indeed, the larger
part of the trade went there; nevertheless, the little fort
on the Marias did a fine business.

Winter came early that year, in the fore part of Novem-
ber. The lakes and streams froze over, there were sev-
eral falls of snow, which the northwest winds gathered
up and piled in coulees and on the lee side of the hills.
It was not long before the buffalo began to keep away
from the river, where the big camps were. A few, of
course, were always straggling in, but the great herds
staved out on the plains to the north and south of us.

After the snow fell they went no more to water anyhow,
as they got enough of it in the form of snow, eaten with
the grass. So long as they took water in this way they
remained fat, no matter how long and severe the winter
was; but as soon as the snow began to melt and water
stood everywhere on the plains in little pools, they drank
it and lost flesh and fat rapidly. Since the buffalo came
no more near the stream the Indians were obliged to go
out on a two or three days' camping trip, in order to
get what meat and skins they needed, and several times
during the season I went with them, accompanying my
friends, Weasel Tail and Talks- with-the-buffalo. On
these short hunts few lodges were taken, fifteen or
twenty people arranging to camp together, so we were
somewhat crowded for room. Only enough women to
do the cooking accompanied the outfit. As a rule, the
hunters started out together every morning, and sighting
a large herd of buffalo, approached them as cautiously
as possible, until finally the animals became alarmed and
started to run, and then a grand chase took place, and if
everything was favorable a great many fat cows were
killed. Nearly all the Piegans had guns of one kind or
another; either a flint-lcck or percussion-cap, smooth-bore
or rifle ; but in the chase many of them, especially if rid-
ing swift, trained horses, preferred to use the bow and
arrow, as two or three arrows could be discharged at as
many 'different animals while one was reloading a gun.
And yet those old smooth-bores were quickly loaded. The
hunter carried a number of balls in his mouth; as soon
as his piece was discharged he poured a quantity of pow-
der from the horn or flask into his hand and thence down
the barrel ; then taking a ball from his mouth he dropped
it down on top of the powder, gave the stock a couple of
sharp blows to settle the charge, and primed the pan or
put on the cap, as the case might be. When loaded in
this manner the piece had to be held muzzle up else the
ball would roll out ; and when ready to shoot the hunter
fired the instant he brought the gun down to the level
of the mark. Some of the hunters— fine shots and astride
exceptionally swift and long-winded horses— often killed
twenty, and even more, buffalo on a single rttn, but I
think the average number to the man was not more than
three After one of these hunts the return to the main
camp was a sanguinary sight. There were string after
string of pack horses loaded down with meat and hides,
and some hunters even slung a hide or two or a lot of
meat across their saddles and perched themselves on top
of that. There was blood everywhere; on the horses,
along the trail, on the clothing, and even on the faces

of the hunters.

I went on several of these hunts when the weather was
so cold that a buffalo hide froze stiff as it dropped away
from the cut of the knife; yet, the Indians skinned their
quarry bare-handed. I wore the heaviest of undercloth-
ing, a thick flannel shirt, a buckskin shirt, coat and waist-
coat, a short buffalo robe overcoat, and buffalo robe
"shaps," and even then there were times when I was un-
comfortably cold, and my cheeks and nose became sore
from frequent nippings of frost. The Indians wore only
a couple of shirts, a pair of blanket or cowskin leggins,
fur cap, buffalo robe gloves and moccasins— no socks.
Yet, they never froze, nor even shivered from the cold.
They attributed their indifference to exposure to the
beneficial effect of their daily baths, which were always
taken, even if a hole had to be cut in the ice for the pur-
pose. And they forced their children to accompany
them, little fellows from three years of age up, dragging
the unwilling ones from their beds and carrying them
under their arms to the icy plunge.

When on these short hunts there was no gambling nor
dancing. Some medicine man always accompanied a
party, and the evenings were passed in praying to the
sun for success in the hunt, and in singing what I may
term songs of the hunt, especially the song of the wolf,
the most successful of hunters. Everyone retired early,
for there was little cheer in a fire of buffalo chips.

You have perhaps noticed on the northwestern plains,
circles of stones or small boulders, varying in size from
twelve to twenty and more feet in diameter. They were
used to weight the lower edge of lodge skins, to prevent
the structure being blown over by a hard wind, and when
camp was moved they were simply rolled off of the
leather. Many of these circles are found miles and miles
from any water, and you may have wondered how the
people there encamped managed to assuage their thirst;
they melted snow; their horses ate snow with the grass;
buffalo chips were used for fuel. The stone circles mark
the place of an encampment of winter hunters in the long
ago. Some of them are so ancient that the tops of the
stones are barely visible above the turf, having gradually
sunk into the ground of their own weight during suc-
cessive wet seasons.

By the latter end of November the trade for robes was
in full swing, thousands of buffalo had been killed, and
the women were busily engaged in tanning the hides, a
task of no little labor. I have often heard and read that
Indian women received no consideration from their hus-
bands, and led a life of exceedingly hard and thankless
work. That is very wide of the truth so far as the natives
of the northern plains were concerned. It is true, that the

women gathered fuel for the lodge, bundles of dry wil-
low, or limbs frcni a fallen cottonwood. They also did
the cooking, and besides tanning robes, converted the
skins of deer, elk, antelope and mountain sheep into soft
buckskin for family use. But never a one of them suf-
fered from overwork ; when they felt like it they rested,
they realized that there were other days coming, and
they took their time abi.ut anything they had to do. Their
husbands never interfered with them, any more than they
did with him in his task of providing the hides and skins,
and meat, the staff of life. The majority— nearly all of
tl^em- were naturally industrious and took pride in their
work; they joyed in putting away parfleche after parfleche
of choice dried meats and pemmican, in tanning soft robes
and buckskins for home use or sale, in embroidering
wonderful patterns of beads or colored porcupine quills
upon moccasin tops, dresses, leggins and saddle trap-
pings. When robes were to be traded they got their share
of the proceeds ; if the husband chose to buy liquor, well
and good; they bought blankets and red and blue trade
cloth, vennillion, beads, bright prints and various other
articles of use and adornment.

Berry and some of his men made several flying trips
to Fort Benton during the winter, and on one of them
brought out his mother, who had been living there with
her companion, the Crow Woman. Mrs. Berry, Sr., was
a full-blooded Mandan, but very light colored, and brown-
haired. She was tall and slender, good looking, very
proud and dignified, but of great kindness of heart. She
was very good to me, nursing me when ill and giving me
strange and bitter medicines, always picking up and put-
ting away with care the things I scattered about, wash-
ing and mending my clothes, making for me beautiful
moccasins and warm gloves. She could not have done
more had she been my own mother ; I was under obliga-
tions to her which nothing could ever repay. When I
contracted mountain fever, and one evening became delir-
ious, it was she who tended me, and brought me safely
out of it. Her companion, the Crow Woman, was
equally kind to me. She was a woman with a romance,
and one evening, after I became well acquainted with her,
she told me the story of her life as we sat before the fire.

Walter B. Anderson,
[to be continued.]

FOREST AND STREAM.

[Jan. 6, 1906.

In the Lodges of the Blackfeet.

Hunting the White Buffalo.

One evening in the latter part of January there
was much excitement in the three great camps.
Some Piegan hunters, just returned from a few
days' buffalo chase out on the plains to the north
of the river, had seen a white buffalo. The news
quickly spread, and from all quarters Indians
came in to the post for powder and balls, flints,
percussion caps, tobacco and various other
articles. There was to be an exodus of hunting
parties from the three villages in the morning,
and men were betting with each other as to which
of the tribes would secure the skin of the white
animal, each one, of course, betting on his own
tribe. By nearly all the tribes of the plains an
albino buffalo was considered as a sacred thing,
the especial property of the sun. When one was
killed the hide was always beautifully tanned, and
at the next medicine lodge was given to the sun
with great ceremony, hung above all the other
offerings on the center post of the structure, and
there left to gradually shrivel and fall to pieces.
War parties of other tribes, passing the deserted
place, would not touch it for fear of calling down
upon themselves the wrath of the sun. The man
who killed such an animal was thought to have
received the especial favor of the sun, and not
only he, but the whole tribe of which he was a
member. A white robe was one thing \vhich was
never offered for sale; none who secured one
might keep it any longer than until the time of
the next medicine lodge, the great annual reli-
gious ceremony. Medicine men, however, were
permitted to take the strips of trimming, cut to
even the border of the finished robe, and to use
them for wrapping their sacred pipes, or for a
bandage around the head, only to be worn, how-
ever, on great occasions.

Of course I began to make inquiries about
albino buffalo. My friend Berry said that in all
his life he had seen but four. One very old
Piegan told me that he had seen seven, the last
one, a very large cow robe, having been pur-
chased by his people from the Mandans for one
hundred and twenty horses, and, like all the
others, given to the sun. I further learned from
Berry that these albinos were not snow white, as
is a white blackbird, or a crow, but cream col-
ored. Well, if possible, I wanted to see the much
talked of animal, see it in life skurry away over
the plains with its dusky mates, so I joined one
of the hunting parties the next morning, going,
as usual, with my friends, Talks-with-the-buffalo
and Weasel Tail. We planned the hunt in the
lodge of the latter, and as it was thought that we
might be some time away, it was decided to take
one lodge and all its contents, and to allow no
others to crowd in upon us. 'That is," Weasel

Tail added, "that is, we'll do this, and take our
wives along, too, if you think they will not get
to quarreling about the right way to boil water,
or as to the proper place to set an empty kettle."
His wife threw a moccasin at him, Madame
Talks-\tith-the-buffalo pouted and exclaimed,
'*K'ya !" and we all laughed.

We did not get a very early start, the days
were short, and after covering about twenty miles
made camp in a low, wide coulee. There were
fifteen lodges of our party, all but ours crowded
with hunters. We had many visitors of an even-
ing dropping in to smoke and talk, and feast, but
at bedtime we had ample room to spread our
robes and blankets. We started early the next
morning and never stopped until we arrived at a
willow-bordered stream running out from the
west butte of the Sweetgrass Hills and eventually
disappearing in the dry plain. It was an ideal
camping place, plenty of shelter, plenty of wood
and water. The big herd in which the albino
buffalo had been seen was met with some fif-
teen or more miles southeast of our camp, and
had run westward when pursued. Our party
thought that we had selected the best location
possible in order to scour the country in search
of it. Those who saw it reported that it was a
fair sized animal, and so swift that it had ran up
to the head of the herd at once and remained
there so far from their horses' best speed, that
they never got to determine whether it was bull
or cow. We were the extreme western camp of
hunters. Other parties, Piegans, Blackfeet and
Bloods were encamped east of us along the hills,
and southeast of us out on the plain. We had
agreed to do no running, to frighten the buffalo
as little as possible until the albino had been
found, or it became time to return to the river.
Then, of course, a big run or two would be made
in order to load the pack animals with meat and
hides.

The weather was unfavorable, to say nothing
of the intense cold, a thick haze of glittering frost
flakes filled the air, through which the sun dimly
shone. Objects half a mile or less out on the
plain could not be discerned. We were almost
at the foot of the west butte, but it and its pine
forest had vanished in the shining frost fog.
Nevertheless, we rode out daily on our quest,
south, west or northward by one side or the other
of the butte toward the Little (Milk) River. We
saw many buffalo, thousands of them, in bands
of from twenty or thirty to four or five hundred,
but we did not find the particular one. Other
parties often dropped in at our camp for a bite
and a smoke, or were met out on the plain, and
they had the same report to make : plenty of buf-
falo, but no albino. I must repeat that the
weather was intensely cold. Antelope stood
humped up, heads down, in the coulees; on the
south slope of the butte, as we rode by its foot.

we could see deer, and elk, and even big-horn in
the same position. The latter would get out of
our way, but the others hardly noticed our pass-
ing. Only the buffalo, the wolves, coyotes and
swifts were, as one may say, happy; the former
grazed about as usual, the others trotted around
and feasted on the quarry they had strung and
pulled down, and howled and yelped throughout
the long nights. No cold could find its way
through their thick, warm coats.

I cannot remember how many days that cold
time lasted, during which we vainly hunted for
the albino buffalo. The change came about 10
o'clock one morning as we were riding slowly
around the west side of the butte. We felt sud-
denly an intermittent tremor of warm air in our
faces; the frost haze vanished instantly and we
could see the Rockies, partially enveloped in dense
dark clouds. '*Hah !" exclaimed a medicine pipe
man. **Did I not pray for a black wind last
night? And see, here it is; my sun power is
strong."

Even as he spoke the Chinook came on in
strong, warm gusts and settled into a roaring,
snapping blast. The thin coat of snow on the
grass disappeared. One felt as if summer had
come.

We were several hundred feet above the plain,
on the lower slope of the butte, and in every di-
rection, as far as we could see, there were buf-
falo, buffalo, and still more buffalo. They were
a grand sight. Nature had been good to these
Indians in providing for them such vast herds
for their sustenance. Had it not been for the
white man with his liquor, and trinkets, and his
lust for land, the herds would be there to this
day; and so would the red men, leading their
simple and happy life.

It seemed about as useless as looking for the
proverbial needle, as to attempt to locate a single
white animal among all those dark ones. We all
d.smounted, and, adjusting my long telescope, I
searched herd after herd until my vision becaine
blinded, and then I passed the instrument to some
one beside me. Nearly all of the party tried it,
but the result was the same; no white buffalo
could be found. It was pleasant sitting there in
the warm wind, with the sun shining brightly
upon us once more. Pipes were filled and lighted
and we smoked and talked about the animal we
were after, of course; each one had his opinion
as to where it was at that moment, and they
varied in locality from the Missouri River to the
Saskatchewan, from the Rockies to- the Bear's
Paw Mountains. While we were talking there
appeared a commotion among the buffalo south-
east of us. I got the telescope to bear upon the
place and saw that a number of Indians were
chasing a herd of a hundred or more due west-
ward. They were far behind them, more than a
mile, and the buffalo were widening that distance

Jan. 6, '^/ob.] *•

rapidly, but still the riders kept on, doggedly, per-
sistently, in a long, straggling line. I passed the
glass to Weasel Tail and told what I had seen.
Everyone sprang to his feet.

•'It must be," s^id my friend, ''that they have
found the white C)ne, else they would give up the
chase. They are far behind and their horses are
tired; they 'lope very weakly. Yes, it is the white
one they follow. I see it ! I see it !'*

We were mounted in a mopient and riding out
to intercept the herd; riding at a trot, occasion-
ally broken by a short 'lope, for the horses must
be kept fresh for the final run. In less than half
an hour we arrived at a low, long, mound-like
elevation, near which it seemed the herd must
pass. We could see them coming straight toward
it. So wc got behind it and waited, my compan-
ions, as usual, removing their saddles and piling
them in a heap. It was r^lized, of course, that
the bufifalo might get wind oLus and turn long
l)efore they were near enough for us to make a
dash at them, but we had to take that chance.
After what seemed to me a very long time, our
leader, peering over the top of the mound, told
us to be ready ; we all mounted. Then he called
out for us to come on, and we dashed over the
rise; the herd was still over 500 yards distant,
had winded us, and turned south. How the
whips were plied; short handled quirts of raw-
hide which stung and maddened the horses. At
first we gained rapidly on the herd, then for a
time ke'pt at about their, speed, and finally began
to lose distance. Still we kept on, for we could
all see the coveted prize, the albino, running at
the head of the herd. I felt sure that none of us
were able to overtake it, but because the others
did, I kept my horse going, too, shamefully quirt-
ing him when he was doing his very best.

It is a trite but true saying that '*it is the un-
expected that always happens." Out from a
coulee right in front of the flying herd dashed a
lone horseman, right in among them, scattering
the animals in all directions. In much less time
than it takes to tell it, he rode up right beside
the albino, we could see him lean over and smk
arrow after arrow into its ribs, and presently it
stopped, wobbled, and fell over on its side. When
we rode up to the place the hunter was standing
over it, hands raised, fervently praying, promis-
ing the sun the robe and the tongue of the ani-
mal. It was a three-year-old cow, yellowish-
white in color, but with normal colored eyes. I
had believed that the eyes of all albinos were of
pinkish hue. The successful hunter was a Pie-
gan. Medicine Weasel by name. He was so ex-
cited he trembled so, that he could not use his
knife, and some of our party took off the hide for
him, and cut out the tongue, he standing over
them all the time and begging them to be careful,
to make no gashes, for they were doing the work
for the sun. None of the meat was taken. It
was considered a sacrilege to eat it; the tongue
was to be dried and given to the sun with the
robe. While the animal was being skinned the
party we had seen chasing the herd came up;
they were Blackfeet of the north, and did not
seem to be very well pleased that the Piegans had
captured the prize; they soon rode away to their
camp, and w^e went to ours, accompanied by
2^Iedicine Weasel, who had left his camp to the
eastward in the morning to hunt up some stray
horses, and had wound up the day in a most un-
expected manner. So ended that particular hunt.
Before the buffalo finally disappeared I saw one

FOREST AND STREAM.

,n(^rc— not a pure albino. In fact. Berry and I
purchased the tanned robe, which, for want of a
better term, we named the "spotted robe." Singu-
larly enough, this animal was killed in 1881, when
the last of the great herds were in the country
lying between the Yellowstone and Missouri
rivers, and where in two more years they were
practically exterminated. This animal was also
a cow, a large five-year-old. The hair on its
head, belly, legs and tail was snow white, and
there was a white spot on each flank about eight
inches in diameter. When the hide was taken off,
by ripping it in the usual manner, there was an
eight or ten-inch border all around it of pure
white, contrasting vividly with the beautiful
glossy dark brown of the body of the robe. The
animal was killed by a young north Blackfoot
between Big Crooked Creek and Flat Willow
Creek, both emptying into the lower Musselshell.
We had at the time a large post on the Missouri,
a couple of hundred miles below Fort Benton,
and a branch post over on Flat Willow. Berry
was on his way to visit the latter place when he
came upon a party of Blackfeet just as they had
concluded a run, and saw the spotted animal be-
fore it was skinned. He went no farther that
day, but accompanied the young hunter to his
father's lodge where the old man made him wel-
come. If there was ever a man on earth who
could coax an Indian to do whatever he wished
that man was Berry. He pleaded hard for that
hide all the afternoon and far into the night. It
was against all precedent and tradition to barter
such a skin, belonging as it did to the sun. It
would be a sacrilege to sell it. The young hunter
got out of the deal by giving it to his father, and,
finally, as the old man knocked the ashes out of
the last pipe before retiring, he sighed, and said
wearily to Berry : "Well, my son, you shall have
your way; my wnfe will tan the robe, and some
day I will give it to you."

It was a beautifully tanned robe, and on the
clean, white leather side the old man painted the
record of his life; the enemies he had killed, the"
horses he had taken, the combats he had waged
against the grizzly tribe, and the animals and
stars of his medicine. There were other traders
in the same bottom with us on the Missouri. One
day, with his ancient wife, the old man rode in
and *duly exhibited to them all the wonderful
robe, and, of course, they all wanted it. "I am
not ready to sell it," the crafty old man said to
each one. "After a while— well, we'll see; we'll

see

Then the traders vied with each other in being
good to the old man. During the balance of the
winter they kept him supplied with all the whis-
key, and tobacco, and tea, and sugar and various
other things that he could use. Two or three
times a week he and the old wife would come
down to our place loaded with bottles of whiskey
and sit before the fire-place in our living room
and get comfortably full. I loved to watch and
listen to them, they were so happy, so loving, so
given to recalling the pleasant days of their
youth and vigor. And so it went on for several
months, and finally one spring day, when by
chance our rivals happened to be lounging in our
trade room, the old cotiple sauntered in and
tossed the robe over the counter, the old man
saying to Berry : "There it is, my son. I fulfill
my promise. But put it away clear out of sight,
lest I be tempted to take it back."

Maybe we didn't enjoy the chagrin of our

rivals! Each one of them had been so sure that
he was going to get the odd robe. But then they
were pilgrims: they didn't "savvy" the Indians.
We got oiir 4,000 robes that winter, more than
all the rest of them together. We finally sold
the robe. The fame of it spread up and down the
river, and finally a Montreal. Canada, gentleman,
making a tour of the country, heard of it : and
when the steaniboat he was on stopped at our
place he came in and bought it before we knew
where we were at. We did not wish to sell it.
and named a price that we deemed prohibitive.
To our amazement he laid down two large bills,
threw the robe over his shoulder and hurried
back to the boat. Berry and I looked at each
other and said things. Wai.tkk IV Andkrson.

[to he CONTINl^Kl). I

Environment and Faces.

1 HAVE before me the photograph of a man I
knew in the South who is now dead. There is
nothing so striking about his appearance as this
—its extraordinary resemblance to that of an
Indian. And yet the man I have reason to
believe had no Indian blood in his veins. The
skin is wrinkled and leathery, the nose pro-
nounced, the eyes deep sunken and sombre, the
mouth severe— all being shaded with sadness or
melancholy. Without intending any disrespect
to the departed, I say that he only required the
regulation crown of feathers to make a perfect
Indian of him— in appearance, at least.

I recall a few more interesting cases of this
kind. Years ago I happened to be in southern
Long Island spending a vacation. Strolling one
day I came upon a little shack at the edge of the
woods. I supposed at first it was unoccupied-
some relic of the past— but upon nearer approach
I smelled smoke. Can it be possible, I asked my-
self, that I have come upon a hermit? For a
moment I paused to observe the structure. It
may be briefly described as a crude log cabin,
with here and there patches of tin. It had the
look of being very old. At any rate, it was de-
cidedly neglected. When I had satisfied my
curiosity thus far I approached the door, which
was ajar. I knocked gently, whereupon a cat
jumped out and began to rub up against my leg;
but there was no other response. I then ven-
tured to peep in. In the gloom (for the \m\
seemed to be unlighted save by the doorway) I
saw two eyes staring out at me rather savagely.
A\ this I confess my first impulse was to turn
and flee, but, plucking up my courage, I deter-
mined to see the end of the adventure, for I
realized that it was going to be something out of

the common.

Knocking again I cried out in a somewhat dole-
ful manner: "Does anyone live here? I am
dying of thirst and will give a quarter for a glass
of water." Immediately there was a movement
inside and the door was thrown open.

It was with difficulty I restrained an exclama-
tion at the apparition (I can hardly call it less)
which presented itself before me. Imagine a
gaunt figure, slightly stooped and clad in rags—
the face seamed and weather-beaten, yet with a
certain pride and dignity about it and most de-
cidedly suggestive of an Indian chief.

''Did you say you wanted a drink?" I was
asked in a grave, sepulchral sort of voice.

"If you please," I said, with the utmost defer-
ence.

FOREST AND STREAM.

•*^[Jan^6, 1906.

The queer being regarded me a moment, then
turned on his heel and fetched me a "tinny'' of
water from an old barrel. I drank it all, though
in truth I was not thirsty, and returned the
*'tinny'* with many thanks. As for the other
part of the payment I confess after a sight of
that eagle visage I experienced a sort of trepida-
tion at the idea of oflferine money, but the
*'tinny" beine held at what appeared an expect-
ant angle, I hastily dropped a quarter in it and
remarked: '*It was worth double the money."

To my relief no war-whoop sounded in my
ears and no tomahawk was brandished. Instead
of that I saw the eagle visage don a look of
pleasure, and heard the grave, sepulchral voice
pronounce these words : 'T guess you ain*t one
of them city boarders."

To be brief, I learned that the hermit had
dwelt there over thirty years — that he regarded
the outside world with aversion, or indifference,
and that it was his full determination to end his
days in solitude. I also learned that he was of
pure English descent, a statement which I subse-
quently verified by inquiries of the neighbors.

On another occasion I was at Cape May Point,
N. J. At the end of the little railway which
runs from the town of Cape May the Point ex-
tends for some miles toward Delaware Bay. It is
thickly covered with dwarf pine and scrub and is
utterly lonesome and wild. When I set out to
explore it I confess I had not much desire to
penetrate very deep into it, so I kept along shore
for the most part. The day was hot and the
walkinja: heavy, and after an hour or so I sat
down to rest. The grasshoppers "zizzed" and
"zipt'' in the long spear grass, the ocean merrily
lapped the shore, and the dark pines seemed to
drowse in the sultry air. All was quiet and
primitive as when the red man reigned. The in-
fluence of the scene was stealing upon me and I
believe I was on the point of dropping to sleep
when I started up at hearing a crackling amid
the jungle. Presently, about a hundred yards
away, a man appeared. He was tall and angular
and burned to a coppery tint, while a mass of
shaggy hair hung over his shoulders. For all
clothing he wore an old gray shirt and a pair of
trousers tucked up to his knees. His feet were
bare. Slung across his back was something that
might easily have been mistaken for a bow on
the stretch. Had one of the old tribe of Dela-
wares taken refuge and haply survived in that
desert place, assuredly he could hardly have
looked more to the life than did this singular
individual.

No sooner did he emerge from covering than
he saw me, but he showed no surprise and
leisurely took his way down shore. As he passed
me I remarked it was a hot day. He paused a
moment and answered, **Yes, a little." I shall
never forget the face that looked at me. Striking
as was the face of the Long Island hermit, this
one was even more so. Of perfect aquiline
mould, the eyes were of fire and the mouth of
iron. But a shadow hung over it — the shadow
of the wilderness.

I got up and saying I was returning, kept my
"Delaware" (as I secretly dubbed him) company
as he resumed his measured pace. I offered him
a cigar, which he accepted with great courtesy,
and as he smiled I thought I never saw a hand-
somer face. By judicious questioning I got out
of him that he and his family had always lived
thereabouts — he supposed for 200 years. He told
me his name, which I have now forgotten, but it
was an English one. His manner was very re-
served but perfectly civil. Perhaps — nay, most
probably — it was not so much reserve with him
as habit of silence. His present errant was to set
fish lines for the night, and when he had found
his little skiff (which was fashioned more like a
canoe than a boat) he wished me good-day, and,
pushing off from the shore, paddled away with
all the ease and grace of a true Indian.

Again I was on a visit to the island of Nan-
tucket. Here I was told that the last Indian died
several years ago, but his photograph is still
shown in the pretty little curio shops in which
the place abounds. I noted his lineaments well and
then went about among the modern Nantucketers.
Let me say first of these that a sturdier, an hon-
ester, a politer, or a kindlier people does not

exist in the United States to-day. I shall there-
fore be suspected of no slur or disparagement
when I proceed to say that in many of them I
discovered reflections of that Indian's expression.
Yet, these people in the main are direct descend-
ants of men of British blood. Of a verity one
would never believe it unless history told him so.
The British expression has been absolutely ob-
literated—washed away. Not a trace of it left.
Nor has the British manner fared any better.
The high-pitched, inflectious voice has been
superseded by one of minor and somewhat mon-
otonous keys. And in general there is a decided
disposition to taciturnity.

Now, all this goes to prove the inexorable in-
fluence which environment has on physiognomy.
The sun, the air, the landscape and the thoughts,
the feelings, the emotions which spring from the
exigencies of life — all leave their stamp upon the
features unmistakably. So subtle, indeed, is the
influence of environment that a keen observer
can tell a Philadelphia face from a New York
face. People who dwell in cities, of course, are
not so apt to undergo radical changes as those
who dwell in contact with nature, but even in the
cities we cannot escape the air. The sun we
manage pretty well to avoid, but the air has a
way of following us about willy nilly, and a
marked characteristic of the American air is that
it tends to dry up the skin and give it a certain
bloodless tone. The air of the British isles, on
the other hand, keeps the skin moist and ruddy.

Some writers on ethnology predict that eventu-
ally Americans will conform to the facial type of
the aborigines. But I think this is an extreme
view. For one thing, Americans are of a differ-
ent race, and for another education and refine-
ment will play their part. However, we cannot
escape our environment, and it is certain that in
course of time we shall all more or less resemble
the ''poor Indian.'* Frank Moonan.

An Elk Hunt in Wyoming.

When I wrote to my old guide, Edward Shef-
field, I was somewhat apprehensive about the out-
look for sport because I had heard that the best
part of the "Jackson Hole Country" had been
included in the reserve set apart by the State of
Wyoming, where sport with big game had been
entirely interdicted.

I was advised, however, that this was not the
fact, so, yielding to my faith in the judgment
of the guide and a desire to gratify my love for
sport, I made arrangements for a fall hunt. Be-
fore reaching the terminal of the trip by railroad
I chanced to meet some sportsmen who talked
of sport and commented on the conditions ex-
isting in Jackson's Hole. The criticisms were by
no means favorable, and various instances, were
cited of parties who had been disappointed in
their expectations. My subsequent experience
only served to convince me how dependent a
sportsman has become upon the services of a
good guide.

The trip from St. Anthony to Jackson was
without incident worth relating, except at the
start. The pack horses, which, during their stay
in town, had fared handsomely on oats and hay
and been well sheltered, did not look forward
to a trip back into the bleak and sterile moun-
tains with the same pleasure that I did; their
refractory souls yearned for the comfortable
quarters they were just leaving with the same
tenacity that the children of Israel in the wilder-
ness "longed for the flesh pots of Egypt," but
here the comparison ends, for they had not a
guide who was meek and gentle like Moses.

.About a mile from St. Anthony the whole
bunch turned off on a side road and went back
to their former quarters. After some delay they
were finally got in line again, and with the aid of
a couple of Mormons, who, for a consideration,
agreed to help guide them for several miles, we
got the pack train properly started, and after
that had no further trouble with them.

The journey was a fairly long one, but it be-
carne more interesting as we drew away from
civilization and got closer to the place where we.^
intended to make permanent camp. After the
first day we passed the wide monotonous stretclf

of sage brush flats which lies between St. An-
thony and Victor; after that the landscape grew
more mountainous and wooded. The country
became very picturesque as we proceeded; every
mountain presented a view which was a pano-
rama; every opening in the timber seemed a nat-
ural frame for an entrancing pitture; the atmos-
phere so clear and bracing gave fine definition to
objects in view; the winding river rushed fret-
ting and foaming between the rocks in the valley
below; large clumps of spruces clustered upon
the mountain sides, and the rough' crags were
powdered with snow and sometimes glistening
with rills which coursed down their rugged sur-
faces. After traveling along the Gros Ventre
River for a considerable distance we at last came
in view of Mt. Leidy, superbly situated between
two rows of mountains on either side of a pleas-
ant valley, at the head of which stands Mt. Leidy.
The ground was covered with a few inches of
snow — enough to make good hunting. We made
an early camp and had plenty of time to get
everything arranged before it became dark. The
location was an ideal spot for a camp; plenty of
timber nearby; a fine stream of clear, cold water,
and good grazing for the horses. It was quite
important to have a good range for the stock,
because there were eleven pack horses and three
riding horses — fourteen in all. To take care of
these required the services of a horse wrangler.
I had three men, my regular guide, Edward Shef-
field, Charles Herdick, a Wyoming guide, and
Marcus Imo, who cooked and turned his hand
to help at anything else that had to be at-
tended to.

The day being young when we arrived, I em-
ployed it in making a short hunt from camp.
Charles Herdick went with me, and I soon dis-
covered how much my wind had deteriorated
since I had last been out, for in the meantime
I had lived a life of comparative ease. The
general elevation in this section ranges
from 8,000 to 10,000 feet, and it takes a
few days to accustom your lungs to the rarified
atmosphere. When one is not taking any vigor-
ous exercise the climate feels exhilarating and
ir spires one with the feeling that he is able to
perform any kind of stunt; a few minutes of real
strenuous exercise and this delusion is destroyed.
I soon discovered that Herdick was a good hand
at mountain climbing, being wonderfully supple
and possessed of the best pair of lungs of anyone
I ever knew.

We finally caught sight of a small bunch of elk
2L' a considerable distance. As they were mov-
ii g over a crest of a hill, it became necessary to
travel with speed to get near enough for a shot,
ii by chance there should be a good head in the
bjnch. The elk had not seen us, but were mov-
i'lg and might get out of range. Completely ex-
hausted I finally gained the summit of a hill
^ ^hich overlooked the herd, which had halted.
-/Ltt old bull stood in the quaking aspens, not over
s ixty yards away. A glance at the head, and I saw
tnat I had had my pains for nothing. I watched
the animals for a few moments, and they seemed
to me like old acquaintances, for it had been
hree years since I last hunted this kind of game.
. do not believe they were as pleased to see me
iS I was to see them. They soon startd to run
iirectly from us in the direction of camp, which
ivas quite near. My guide, Edward Sheffield, told
me afterward that they came very near, and he
was afraid they would run through camp. He
gravely warned me against the danger of driving
a large bunch of "Uncle Sam's cattle" in that di-
rection.

It was a. pleasure after this little excitement to
drop into a comfortable camp and find everything
nicely arranged and a good meal provided. My
quarters were supplied with every convenience
that could be expected traveling with a pack out-
fit. It may. perhaps, interest those who have had
no practical experience in western hunting to
know what can be furnished. We had folding
chairS: a folding table, two tents and in each a
portable sheet-iron stove with a couple of lengths
of pipe to take off the smoke; I had a pneumatic
mattress to save my tired flesh from the hard
ground, and whatever else was required which
horses could pack in. When I was tired of hunt-
ing I could rest a day or so and read novels in

to tk Lodges or the Blackfeet.

A Winter on »he Marias.

There was a little town in northern Montana,
where upon certain days things would run along
as smoothly and monotonously as in a village of
this effete East. But at certain other times you
would enter the place to find everyone on a high
old tear. It seemed to be epidemic; if one man
started to get gloriously ful/ everyone promptly
joined in— doctor, lawyer, merchant, cattleman,
sheepman and all. Well do I remember the last
affair of that kind I witnessed there. By about
2 P. M. they got to the champagne stage— 'twas
really sparkling cider 6r something of that kind
— $5 a bottle, and about fifty men were going
from saloon to store and from store to hotel
treating? in turn— $6o a round. I mention this as
a prelude to what I have to say about drinking
among the Indians in the old days. They were
no worse than the whites in that way, and with
them it seemed to be also epidemic.

Quietly and orderly a camp would be for days
and days, and then suddenly all the men would
start in on a drinking bout. Really, I believe
that the Indians at -such times, free as they were
from any restraint, to whom law was an un-
known term, were better behaved than would
be a like number of our workingmen in the same
condition. True, they frequently quarreled with
each other when in liquor, and a quarrel was
something to be settled only by blood. But let
a thousand white men get drunk together, would
there not ensue some fearful scenes? One reads
of the ferocity of Indians when drinking, but
my own experience was that on the whole they
were exceedingly good-natured and jovial at
such times, and often infinitely amusing. One
night that winter on the Marias I was wending
my way homeward from a visit at Sorrel Horse's
place, where a man and woman came out of the
trade room and staggered along the trail toward
me. I slipped behind a cottonwood tree. The
man was very unsteady on his feet and the
woman, trying to help him along, at the same
time was giving him a thorough scolding. I

heard her say : " , and you didn't look out

for me a bit; there you were in that crowd, just
drinking with one and then another, and never
looking to see how I was getting along. You
don't protect me at all; you don't care for me,
or you would not have let me stay in there to be

insulted."

The man stopped short, and swaying this way
and that gave a roar like a wounded grizzly:
"Don't care for you; don't protect you; let you
get insulted," he spluttered and foamed. "Who
insulted you ? Who ? I say. Let me at him 1 Let
me at him ! I'll fix him with this."

Right there by the trail was lying a large.

green, cottonwood log which would have
weighed at least a ton. He bent over it and tried
again and again to lift it, shouting: "Protect
you! Insulted! Who did it? Where is ^^« ;
Wait until I pick up this club and let me at him."
But the club wouldn't be picked up, and he
became perfectly frantic in his efforts to grasp
it up and place it on his shoulder. He danced
from one end to the other of it with increasing
ardor and anger, until he finally fell over it ex-
hausted, and then the patient woman picked him
up— he was a little light fellow— and carried him

home.

I knew a young man who always became very
mischievous when he drank. He had three wives
and at such times he would steal their little
stores of fine pemmican, fancy bead-work, their
needles and awls, and give them to other women.
He was up to his pranks one morning as I hap-
pened along, and the women determined to catch
and thoroughly bind him until he became sober.
But he would not be caught; they chased him
through the camp, out toward the hills, by the
river, back to camp, when, by means of a travoi
leaning against it, he climbed to the top of his
lodge, seated himself in the V-shaped embrasure
of the lodge poles, and jibed the women for their
poor running qualities, enumerated the articles he
had stolen from them, and so on. He was ex-
ceedingly hilarious. The wives held a whispered
consultation, and one of them went inside. Their
tormentor ceased jibing and began a drinking
song :

"Bear Chief, he gave me a drink,
Bear Chief, he gave me a "

That was as far as he got. The wife had
thrown a huge armful of rye grass from her
couch upon the smouldering fire, it blazed up
with a sudden roar and burst of flame which
reached the tenderest part of his anatomy; he
gave a loud yell of surprise and pain and leaped
from his perch. When he struck the ground the
women were upon him and I know not how
many lariats they coiled about him before they
bore him inside, amid the jeers and jests of a
throng of laughing spectators and laid him upon
his couch.

But there was another side, and by no means
a pleasant one to this drinking business. One
night, when there were few Indians about Berry,
one of his traders named T. and I were lingering
by the fire-place in the trade room. There had
been a crowd there earlier in the evening, and
two remained, both sleeping off the effects of
their carouse in a corner opposite us. Suddenly
Berry shouted : "Look out T. !" at the same time
giving him a fierce shove against me which sent
us both to the floor. And he was none too ^oon,
for even as it was, an arrow grazed the skin of
T.'s right side. One of the drunken Indians had
awakened, deliberately fitted an arrow to his bow.

and was just about to let fly at T., when Berry
saw him. Before he could draw another arrow
from his quiver we pounced on him and threw
him outside. Why he did it, if for some fancied
wrong, or if he was still dreaming, we never
knew. He was a Blood, and they were a very
treacherous tribe.

Another evening Berry unbarred the door to
go out when it suddenly flew open and a tall
Indian, frozen stiff, with an arrow sticking in
his bosom, fell inside. Some one with a grim
humor had leaned the frozen body against the
door with a view of giving us a surprise. The
dead man was also a Blood, and it was never
known who killed him.

Out on a hunt one day down on the Missouri,
I killed a buffalo which had what the traders
called a "beaver robe," because the hair was so
exceedingly fine, thick and of a glossy, silky na-
ture. Beaver robes were rare, and I had skinned
this with horns and hoofs intact. I wished to
have it especially well tanned, as I intended it for
a present to an Eastern friend. The Crow
Woman, good old soul, declared that she would
do the work herself, and promptly stretched the
hide on a frame. The next morning it was
frozen stiff as a board, and she was standing on
it busily chipping it, when a half-drunk Cree
came along. I happened in sight just as he was
about to pull her off of the hide, and hurrying
over there I struck him with all my power square
in the forehead with my fist. The blow didn't
even phaze him. It has often been said that it is
nearly impossible to knock an Indian down, and
I believe it. Well, the Cree picked up a broken
lodge pole, the longest and heaviest end of it,
and came for me, and as I was unarmed I had to
turn and ignominiously run; I was not so swift
as my pursuer, either. It is hard to say what
would have happened — ^probably I would have
been killed had Berry not seen the performance
and hurried to my assistance. The Cree was just
on the point of giving me a blow on the head
when Berry fired, and the Indian fell with a bul-
let through his shoulder. Some of his people
came along and packed him home. Then the
Cree chief and his council came over and we had
a fine pow-wow about the matter. It ended by
our paying damages. We did our best always
to get along with as little friction as possible, but
I did hate to pay that Cree for a wound he
richly deserved.

We traded several seasons with the Crees and
North Blackfeet down on the Missouri, they hav-
ing followed the last of the Saskatchewan buffalo
herds south into Montana. There was a certain
young Blackfoot with whom I was especially
friendly, but one day he came in very drunk and
I refused to give him any liquor. He became
very angry and walked out making dire threats.
I had forgotten all about the incident when, sev-

fi^i?s^.

Jan. 13, 1906.]

FOREST AND STREAM.

INDIAN SNOWSHOE MAKING.

eral hours later his wife came running in and
said that Took-a-gun-under-the-water (It-su'-yi-
na-mak-an) was coming to kill me. The woman
was terribly frightened and begged me to pity her
and not kill her husband, whom she dearly loved
and who, when sober, would be terribly ashamed
of himself for attempting to hurt me. I went to
the door and saw my quondam friend coming.
He had on no wearing apparel whatever except
his moccasins, and had painted his face, body
and limbs with fantastic stripes of green, yellow
and red; he was brandishing a .44 Winchester
and calling upon the sun to witness how he
would kill me, his worst enemy. Of course I
didn't want to kill him any more than his wife
wished to see him killed. Terror-stricken, she
ran and hid in a pile of robes, and I took my
stand behind the open door with a Winchester.
On came he of the long name, singing, shouting
the war song, and saying repeatedly, "Where is
that bad white man? Show him to me that I
may give him one bullet, just this one little
bullet?"

With carbine full cocked he strode in, looking
eagerly ahead for a sight of me, and just as he
passed I gave him a smart blow on top of the
head with the barrel of my rifle; down he
dropped senseless to the floor, his carbine going
off and sending the missile intended for me
through a case of tinned tomatoes on a shelf.
The woman ran out from her hiding place at the
sound of the shot, thinking that I had surely
killed him; but her joy was great when she
learned her mistake. Together we bound him
tightly and got him home to^his lodge.

Now, one often reads that an Indian never
forgives a blow nor an injury of any kind, no
matter how much at fault he may have been.
That is all wrong. The next morning Takes-a-
gun-under-the-water sent me a fine buffalo robe.
At dusk he came in and begged me to forgive
him. Ever after we were the best of friends.
Whenever I had time for a short hunt back in
the breaks, or out on the plains, I chose him for
my companion, and a more faithful and consid-
erate one I never had.

I cannot say that all traders got along so well
with the Indians as did Berry and I. There
were some bad men among them, men who de-
lighted in inflicting pain, in seeing blood flow. I
have known such to kill Indians just for fun,
but never in a fair, open fight. They were great
cowards, and utterly unprincipled. These men
sold "whisky" which contained tobacco juice,
cayenne pepper and various other vile things.
Berry and I sold weak liquor, it is true, but the
weakness consisted of nothing but pure water —
which was all the better for the consumer. I
make no excuse for the whisky trade. It was
wrong, all wrong, and none realized it better than
we when we were dispensing the stuff. It caused
untold suffering, many deaths, great demoraliza-
tion among those people of the plains. There
was but one redeeming feature about it : The
trade was at a time when it did not deprive them
of the necessities of life; there was always more
meat, more fur to be had for the killing of it. In
comparison to various Government officials and
rings, who robbed and starved the Indians to
death on their reservations after the buffalo dis-
appeared, we were saints.

All in all, that was a pleasant winter we passed
on the Marias. Hunting with the Indians, loung-
ing around a lodge fire, or before our own or
Sorrel Horse's fire-place of an evening, the days
fairly flew. Sometimes I would go with Sorrel
Horse to visit his "baits," and it was a great
sight to see the huge wolves lying stiff and stark
about, and even on them. To make a good bait
a buffalo was killed and cut open on the back,
and into the meat, blood and entrails three vials
of strychnine — three-eighths of an ounce — were
stirred. It seemed as if the merest bite of this
deadly mixture was enough to kill, a victim sel-
dom getting more than 200 yards away before
the terrible convulsions seized him. Of course,
great numbers of coyotes and kit foxes were also
poisoned, but they didn't count. The large,
heavy-furred woK skins were in great demand in
the East for sleigh and carriage robes, and sold
right at Fort Benton for from $3 to $5 each. I
had a fancy to take some of these stiffly-frozen

animals home, and stand them up around Sorrel
Horse's house. They were an odd and interest-
ing sight, standing there, heads and tails up, as
if guarding the place; but one day there came a
Chinook wind and they soon toppled over and
were skinned.

So the days went, and then came spring. The
river cleared itself of ice in one grand grinding
rush of massive cakes; green grass darkened the
valley slopes; geese and ducks honked and
quacked in every slough. We all, Indians and
whites, wished to do nothing but lie out on the
ground in the warm sunshine, and smoke and
dream in quiet contentment.

Walter B. Anderson,
[to be continued.]

"In the Lodges of the Blackfeet*' was begun in the
issue of November 21. Back numbers can be supplied.

Indian Snowshoe Making.

The illustration shows how snowsj
finished off. Four Iroquois Indianj
completing the net of gut.

One of the best manufacturers
either of Canada or the United^
Noah La France (Teronyadj
Regis Indian Reservation,
seated second from the h
the extreme left and rii
pert assistants. Direct]
his own brother and
is fairly educated.
Noah, who is withj

The uppermost
tration are a pj
ladies' snowshoj
rated with brigj
down are the
who require
the men ari
every-day
are sent
burg, N.

The L
snowshj
handiwi

Thi
snowi
comj
mel
all

REAM.

[Jan. 20, 1906.

ram gMM M^LlMinOT

In the Lodges of the Blackfeet.

I Have a Lodge of My Own.

"Why don't you get a woman?" Weasel Tail
abruptly asked one evening as Talks-with-the-
buffalo and I sat smoking with him in his lodge.
"Yes," my other friend put in. "Why not?
You have the right to do so, for you can count
a coup; yes, two of them. You killed a Cree,
and you took a Cree horse in the fight at the
Hairy Cap."

"I took a horse," I replied, "and a good one
he is; but you are mistaken about the Cree;
you will remember that he escaped by running
into the pines on Hairy Cap.

"Oh!" said Talks-with-the-buflfalo, "I don't
mean that one, we all know he got away, I
mean one of those who first fell when we all
fired into them. That tall one, the man who
wore a badger skin cap; you killed him. I saw
the bullet wound in his body; no ball from any
of our rifles could have made such a small hole."
This was news to me; I remember well hav-
ing shot several times at that particular warrior,
but I never had thought that 'twas my bullet
that ended his career. I didn't know whether
to feel glad or sorry about it, but finally con-
cluded that it was best to feel glad, for he would
have killed me if he could have done so. I was
turning the matter over in my mind, recalling
every little incident of that memorable day,
when my host aroused me from my reverie: "I
said, Whv don't you take a woman? Answer."

"Oh!" I replied. "No one would have me.
isn't that a good reason?"

"Kyai-yo!" exclaimed Madame Weasel Tail,
clapping her hand to her mouth, the Blackfoot
way of expressing surprise or wonder. "Kyai-
yo! What a reason! I well know that there
isn't a girl in this camp but would like to be his
woman. Why, if it wasn't for this lazy one
here" — giving Weasel Tail's hand an afifcction-
ate squeeze — "if he would only go away some-
where and never come back, I'd make you take
me. , I'd follow you around until you would
have to do so."

"Mah'-kah-kan-is-tsi !" I exclaimed, which is
a flippant and slangy term, expressing doubt of
the speaker's truthfulness.

"Mah'-kah-kan-is-tsi yourself," she rejoined.
"Why do you think you are asked to all these
Assinaboine dances, where all the young women
wear their best clothes, and try to catch you
with their robes? Why do you think they put
on their best things and go to the trading post
with their mothers or other relatives every
chance they got? What, you don't know? Well,
I'll tell you: they go, each one, hoping that you
will notice her, and send a friend to her parents
to make a proposal."

"It is the truth," said Weasel Tail.
"Yes, the truth," Talks-with-the-buffalo and
his woman joined in.

Well, I laughed, a little affectedly, per-
haps, and turned the conversation by asking
about the destination of a war party which was
to start out in the morning. Nevertheless, I
thought over the matter a good deal. All the
long winter I had rather envied my good friends
Berry and Sorrel Horse, they seemed to be so
happy with their women. Never a cross word,
always the best of good fellowship and ^ open
affection for each other. Seeing all this, I had
several times said to myself: "It is not good
for man to live alone." That quotation is from
the Bible, is it not, or is it from Shakespeare?
Anyhow, it is true. The Blackfeet have much
the same expression: "Mat'-ah-kwi tam-ap-i
ni-po-ke-mi-o-sin— not found (is) happiness
without woman.

After that evening I looked more closely at
the various young women I met in the camp or
at the trading post, saying to myself: "Now, I
wonder what kind of a woman that would make?
Is she neat, good-tempered, moral? All the
time, however, I knew that I had no right to
take one of them. I did not intend to remain
long in the west; my people would never for-
give me for making an alliance with one. They
were of old, proud, Puritan stock, and I could
imagine them holding up their hands in horror
at the mere hint of such a thing.

You will notice that thus far in this part of
my story I have substituted the word woman
for wife. A plainsman always said "my
woman" when speaking of his Indian better
half; the Bladcfoot said the s^me: "Nit-o-ke-
man," my woman. None of the plainsmen
were legally married, unless the Indian man-
ner in which they took a woman, by giving so
many horses, or so much merchandise for one,
could be considered legal. In the first place,
there was no one in the country to perform the
marriage service except occasionally a wander-
ing Jesuit priest, and again, these men, almost
without exception, didn't care a snap what the
law said in regard to the matter. There was no
law. Neither did they believe in religion; the
commands of the church were nothing to them.
They took unto themselves Indian women; if
the woman proved good and true, well and
good; if otherwise, there was a separation. In
it all there was never a thought of future com-
plications and responsibilities; their creed was:
"Eat, drink and be merry, for to-day we live
and to-morrow we die."

"No," I said to myself time and again; "no,
it w!ll not do; hunt, go to war, do anything
but take a woman, and in the fall go home to
your people." This is the line of conduct I
laid out for myself and meant to follow. But

One morning the Crow Woman and I were
sitting out under a shade she had constructed
of a couple of travois and a robe or two. She
was busy as usual, embroidering a moccasin
top with colored quills, and I was thoroughly
cleaning my rifle, preparatory to an antelope
hunt. A couple of women came by on their
way to the trade room with three or four robes.
One of them was a girl of perhaps sixteen or
seventeen years, not what one might call beauti- .
ful, still she was good-looking, fairly tall, and
well formed, and she had fine large, candid, ex-
pressive eyes, perfect white, even teeth, and
heavy braided hair which hung almost to the
ground. All in all, there was something very
attractive about her. "Who is that?" I asked
the Crow Woman. "That girl, I mean."

"Don't you know? She comes here often;
she is a cousin of Berry's woman."

I went away on my hunt, but it didn't prove
to be very interesting. I was thinking all the
time about the cousin. That evening I spoke
to Berry about her, learned that her father was
dead ; that her mother was a medicine, lodge
woman, and noted for her unswerving upright-
ness and goodness of character. "I'd like to
have the girl," I said. "What do you think
about it?"

"We'll see," Berry replied. "I'll talk with
my old woman."

A couple of days went by and nothing was
said by either of us about the matter, and then
one afternoon Mrs. Berry told me that I was
to have the girl, providing I would promise to
be always good and kind to her. I readily
agreed to that.

"Very well, then," said Mrs. Berry; "go into
the trade room and select a shawl, some dress
goods, some bleached muslin — no, I'll select the
outfit, and make her some white women's dresses
like mine."

"But, hold on!" I exclaimed. "What am I
to pay? How many horses, or whatever is
wanted?"

"Her mother says there is to be no pay, only
that you are to keep your promise to be good
to her daughter."

This was quite unusual to request that noth-
ing be given over for a daughter. Usually a
lot of horses were sent to the parents, some-
times fifty or more. Sometimes the father de-
manded so many head, but if no number was
specified, the suitor gave as many as he could.
Again, it was not unusual for a father to request
some promising youth, good hunter and bold
raider, to become his son-in-law. In that case
he was the one to give horses, and even a lodge
and household goods, with the girl.

Well, I got the girl. It was an embarrassing
time for us both when she came in one evening,
shawl over her face, while we were eating sup-

Jan. 20, 1906.]

FOREST AND STREAM.

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'■ -. •• )' . ?

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*-;.^^.^i^-
«j«»::#^'^

> ">".^^,»^*i

DANCE BY THE SAN JUAN PUEBLO INDIANS AT SAN JUAN, NEW MEXICO.

Photo by A. D. McCandless.

per. Sorrel Horse and his woman were there,
and with Berry and his madame, they made
things interesting for us with their jokes, until
Berry's mother put a stop to it. We were a
pretty shy couple for a long time, she especially.
'*Yes" and "no" were about all that I could
get her to say. But my room underwent a
wonderful transformation; everything was kept
so neat and clean, my clothes were so nicely
washed, and my "medicine" was carefully taken
out every day and hung on a tripod. I had
purchased a war bonnet, shield and various
other things which the Blackfeet regard as
sacred, and I did not say to any one that I
thought they were not so. I had them handled
with due pomp and ceremony.

As time passed this young woman be-
came more and more of a mystery to me.
I wondered what she thought of me, and if she
speculated upon what I might think of her. I
had no fault to find, she was always neat, al-
ways industrious about our little household af-
fairs, quick to supply my wants. But that
wasn't enough. I wanted to know her, her
thoughts and belief. I wanted her to talk and
laugh with me, and tell stories, as I could often
hear her doing in Madame Berry's domicile.
Instead of that, when I came around, the laugh
died on her lips, and she seemed to freeze, to
shrink within herself. The change came when
I least expected it. I was down in the Picgan
camp one afternoon and learned that a war
party was being made up to raid the Crows.
Talks-with-the-buflFalo and Weasel Tail were go-
ing, and asked me to go with them. I readily
agreed, and returned to the post to prepare for
the trip. "Nat-ah'-ki," I said, bursting into our
room, "give me all the moccasins I have, some

clean socks, some pemmican. Where is my
little brown canvas bag? Where have you put
my gun case? Where "

"What are you going to do?"

It was the first question she had ever asked
me.

"Do? I'm going to war; my friends are go-
ing, they asked me to join them " ,

I stopped, for she suddenly arose and faced
me, and her eyes were very bright. "You are
going to war!" she exclaimed. "You, a white
man, are going with a lot of Indians sneaking
over the plains at night to steal horses, and
perhaps kill some poor prairie people. You
have no shame T'

"Why," I said, rather faintly, I presume, "I
thought you would be glad. Are not the Crows
your enemies? I have promised, I must go."

"It is well for the Indians to do this," she
went on, but not for a white man. You, you
are rich; you have everything you want; those
papers, that yellow hard rock (gold) you carry
will buy anything you want; you should be
ashamed to go sneaking over the plains like a
coyote. None of your people ever did that."

"I must go," I reiterated. "I have given my
promise to go."

Then Niit-ah'-ki began to cry, and she came
nearer and grasped my sleeve. "Don't go,"
she pleaded, "for if you do, I know you will be
killed, and I love you so much."

I was never so surprised, so taken back, as
it were. All these weeks of silence, then, had
been nothing but her natural shyness, a veil to
cover her feelings. I was pleased and proud to
know that she did care for me, but underlying
that thought was another one: I had done
wrong in taking this girl, in getting her to care

for me, when in a short time I must return her
to her mother and leave for my own country.

I readily promised not to accompany the war
party, and then, her point gained, Nat-ah'-ki
suddenly felt that she had been over bold and
tried to assume her reserve again. But I would
not have it that way. I grasped her hand and
made her sit down by my side, and pointed out
to her that she was wrong; that to laugh, to
joke, to be good friends and companions was
better than to pass our days in silence, re-
pressing all natural feeling. After that, the sun
always shone.

I don't know that I have done right in putting
all this on paper, yet I think that if Nat-ah'-ki
could know what I have written she would
smile and say: "Oh, yes, tell it all; tell it just
as it was."

For as you shall learn, it all came right in
the end, all except the last, the very end.

You who have read the book "Blackfoot
Lodge Tales" will remember that it was not
allowable for a Blackfoot to meet his mother-
in-law. I fancy that there are many white men
who would rejoice if such a custom prevailed
in civilized society. Among the Blackfeet a
man could never visit the lodge of his mother-
in-law, she could not enter his lodge when he
was at home, both were obliged to go far out
of the way, to endure any discomfort, in order
to avoid meeting at any time and place. As a
natural consequence this queer custom caused
not a few ludicrous scenes. I once saw a tall
and dignified chief fall backward behind a high
counter as his mother-in-law appeared in the
doorway of the store. I have seen a man drop
by the side of a trail and cover himself with his
robe; and once I saw one jump off a high cut

Jan. 20, 1906.]

FOREST AND STREAM

DANCE BY THE SAN JUAN PUEELO INDIANS AT SAN JUAN, NEW MEXICO.

I'hoto by A. D. McCandless.

per. Sorrel Horse and bis woman were there,
and with Berry and his niadame, they made
things interesting for us with their jokes, until
Berry's mother put a stop to it. We were a
pretty shy couple for a long time, she especially.
**Yes'' and "no" were about all that I could
get her to say. But my room underwent a
wonderful transformation; everything was kept
so neat and clean, my clothes were so nicely
washed, and my ''medicine" was carefully taken
out every day and hung on a tripod. I had
purchased a war bonnet, shield and various
other things which the Blackfect regard as
sacred, and I did not say to any one that I
thought they were not so. I had them handled
with due pomp and ceremony.

As time passed this young woman be-
came more and more of a mystery to me.
I wondered what she thought of me, and if she
speculated upon what I might think of her. I
bad no fault to find, she was always neat, al-
ways industrious about our little household af-
fairs, quick to supply my wants. But that
wasn't enough. I wanted to know her, her
thoughts and belief. I wanted her to talk and
laugh with mo, and tell stories, as I could often
bear her doing in Madame Berry's domicile.
Instead of that, when I came around, the laugh
died on her lips, and she seemed to freeze, to
shrink within herself. The change came when
I least expected it. I was down in the Picgan
camp one afternoon and learned that a war
party was being made up to raid the Crows.
Talks-with-the-bufYalo and Weasel Tail were go-
ing, and asked nie to go with them. I readily
agreed, and returned to the post to prepare for
the trip. "Xiit-ah'-ki," I said, bursting into our
room, "give me all the moccasins I have, some

clean socks, some pemmican. Where is my
little brown canvas bag? Where have you put
my gun case? Where "

"What are you going to do?"

It was the first question she had ever asked
me.

"Do? I'm going to war; my friends are go-
ing, they asked me to join them "

"Why," I said, rather faintly, I presume, "I
thought you would be glad. Are not the Crows
your enemies? I have promised, I must go."

"I must go," I reiterated. "I have given my
promise to go."

Then Niit-ah'-ki began to cry, and she came
nearer and grasped my sleeve. "Don't go,"
she pleaded, "for if you do, I know you will be
killed, and 1 love you so much."

for me, when in a short time I must return her
to her mother and leave for my own country.

I readily promised not to accompany the war
party, and then, her point gained, Xiit-ah'-ki
suddenly felt that she had been over bold and
tried to assume her reserve again. But I would
not have it that way. I grasped her hand and
made her sit down by my side, and pointed out
to her that she was wrong; that to laugh, to
joke, to be good friends and companions was
better than to pass our days in silence, re-
pressing all natural feeling. After that, the sun
always shone.

I don't know that I have done right in putting
all this on paper, yet I think that if Niit-ah'-ki
could know what I have written she would
smile and say: "Oh, yes, tell it all; tell it just
as it was."

For as you shall learn, it all came right in
the end, all except the last, the very end.

You who have read the book "Blackfoot
Lodge Tales" will remember that it was not
allowable for a Black foot to meet his mother-
in-law. I fancy that there are many white men
who would rejoice if such a custom prevailed
in civilized society. Among the Blackfeet a
man cf»uld never visit the lodge of his mother-
in-law, she could not enter his lodge when he
was at home, both were obliged to go far out
of the way, to endure any discomfort, in order
to avoid meeting at any time and place. As a
natural consecpience this fjueer cust(^m caused
not a few ludicrous scenes. I once saw a tall
and dignified chief fall backward behind a high
counter as his mother-in-law appeared in the
doorway of the store. I have seen a man drop
by the side of a trail and cover himself with his
robe; and once I saw one jump off a high cut

FOREST AND STREAM.

[Jan. 20, 1906.

bank, clothes, robes and all, into deep water, as
the mother-in-law suddenly appeared nearby.
In the case of a white man, however, this cus-
tom was somewhat modified; knowing that the
latter paid no attention to it, the mother-in-law
would come into a room or lodge where he was,
but would not speak to him. I had taken a
fancy to my mother-in-law, and I was glad to
have her come around. After a time I even
succeeded in getting her to talk to me. She
was a good woman,»a woman of great firmness
of character and rectitude, and she had brought
up her daughter to be like her. The two
thought everything of each other, and Nat-ah'-
ki never tired of telling how much the good
mother had done for her, what advice she had
given, how many sacrifices she had made for
her child's sake. Walter B. Anderson.

[to be continued.]

A Dance at San Juan.

Wymore, Neb. — Editor Forest and Stream:
A member of my family spent last winter in New
Mexico for her health, and my wife and I made
two trips down there to visit her, and we saw a
number of Indian dances, which I have often
thought I would like to describe to readers of
Forest and Stream^ but as I doubt my ability
to do the subject justice, I will send you this
from a letter written to us by our little girl de-
scribing a dance at San Juan. The Miss True
mentioned in the letter is the Government
teacher at the Pueblo de Santa Clara. I copy
that part of it relating to the dance literally, as
follows :

"EsPANOLA, New Mexico, Monday Evening,
Dec. 28, 1904. — Dear Papa and all : Saturday
morning Miss True and I, with an Indian boy
for a driver, went to San Juan, about seven miles
from here. It was such a beautiful day that we
enjoyed every minute of the drive, even if the
dust was six inches deep. We forded the Rio
Grande and I thought what a delightful place for
a cold bath, but we did not take one. Every few
minutes a band of mounted Indians in their
paint and gay blankets would pass us on the dead
run. They made the air ring with Indian songs.
Their voices are very good and it sounded very
musical.

'*At San Juan we went to the dance, which was
the attraction of the day. We sat in the buggy
all the time, and our driver always got in the
very best places for us to see. Miss True and
I were the only Americans in evidence. The
dancers moved from place to place in the plaza-—
the plaza is not really a plaza, as the church is
in the middle of it. There were forty-seven men
dancers in the line. I wish I could make you
see it as I did. They were naked except for loin
cloths and moccasins, and wore bracelets on the
arms above the elbows and tucked evergreen in
them. On one leg, just below the knee, was
fastened a turtle shell to which was attached a
lot of teeth, so that every time the foot came
down the teeth rattled. Some of the more fortu-
nate ones had sleigh-bells tied around the other
leg. In each hand was a big branch ot evergreen
and in one hand a rattle-box, such as I sent you.
Can you imagine the forty-seven bare backs and
the ninety- four bare legs? I forgot their heads.
Each head was adorned with three long feathers,
a twig of evergreen and a large red, yellow or
green rosette. They sang all the time and kept
perfect time ; every right foot came up at the
same moment and went down with a dull thud.
They did not lift the other foot very often. They
would all reach the rattle-box out at once and
give it a shake ; then the;y would commence to
turn, and turn just half way. Each turned just
as the next one was turned. It looked very
pretty to look up the line and see them turning.
Then another shake and they turned back, and
did it all over again. The women brought them
presents of meal and bread. There were two
Indians that seemed to be dancing masters, as
they looked after everything. There was a great
crowd of Indians from the other pueblos as well

MISS "you guess who.''

Photo by A. D. McCandless.

as a lot of Mexicans there; there was hardly
room in the plaza for the dancers. The roofs of
some of the adobes were covered with gaily-
decked Indians. The women all had on their
brightest dresses and shawls. The horsemen
were thick, as were buggies and wagons.

*'I could hardly believe that I was in the
United States; I did not suppose that such things
were to be seen in this country now. There were
eight clowns to keep the crowd jolly, and they
succeeded admirably. The clowns were painted
and only wore what clothes were absolutely
necessary. We could not understand their jokes,
but could guess that they were funny. One old
clown got a lard bucket and a rag and played
that he was a priest; he repeated the prayer,
said the amen, then sprinkled the people, then
he put the rag on a stick and burned it for in-
cense; but I am happy to say that the burning
rag fell on his bare back and he stopped that.
The Mexicans and Indians are all Catholics, but
they thought that fun. They watched us like
hawks to see that we did not take any pictures,
as they put people out of the pueblo that try to
take pictures, but I worked Miss True's camera
and think I have a fine picture of the dance, and
it did not hurt them.

"We got back to Espanola about 4, I got my
mail and packages and went on with Miss True
to Santa Clara to be ready for the dance there
Sunday. Just a few minutes after sundown Sat-
urday evening we heard the church bell ringing,
so we set out for the pueblo to see the dance.
There were twenty-five men dancing. They had
dark blankets pinned around their necks, but
were bare beneath them except a narrow cloth
that hung from the waist to the knees. They
looked very weird dancing in the twilight and
chanting that weird song. Sunday they danced
in just that same way at sunrise; we went to see
it, of course, and then went back to breakfast.
After breakfast we went again; this time they
were dressed, or rather undressed, for the ball,
with great wreathes of pine boughs around their
necks. Just imagine jumping around all day with
pine needles flopping up and down on your bare
back and breast? The Santa Claras wore four
feathers on their heads, two sticking out on each
side. They kept it up nearly all day. Twice they
went in to the Astufi, which is the place of their
secret meetings. There are no doors or windows
to the Astufi, but you climb a ladder to the roof
and then go down one on the inside. It is sure
death to try to get a peep into the Astufi, and
angry looks to question. About three years ago an
Indian woman was caught peeping, and she was
stoned to death right by the school house. There
were two girls in this dance. They knelt in front
of the dancers and drew a stick across another
notched one. It was a fitting accompaniment to

the song. There were a great many spectators
present ; the priest from Santa Cruz was there.
You must bear in mind that it was a religious
ceremony, they did not make a frolic of it. There
was lots of drinking at San Juan, but with all
the crowd there was not the least disorder. A
gang of white people, drinking as they were, with
no restraint, wouuld have had fights aplenty. I
would not want to have been in the thick of it
as I was there. I wish you could be here to at-
tend the inaugural ball Jan. 6; that will be the
last dance of the season. The dances all stop at
sunset. Sunday they all had to go to the Rio
and bathe in the ice water. •,

'Tt will be a new dance (to me) on the 6th.
It is called the 'Montechena.' Montezuma and
the Twelve Apostles, the wife of Montezuma, and
Satan are the participants."

Well, we took the little girl by surprise and
we were there on the 6th and saw the inaugural
ball. A. D. McCandless.

The New ^' Forest and Stream.

f«

New York, Jan. 10. — Forest and Stream looks
very dainty and attractive in its new dress. I
think the change a decided improvement.

Frank Moonan.

Erie, Pa., Jan. 11. — Allow us to congratulate
you on the change you have made on the Forest
and Stream. You are right up to date, and
reducing the size of your paper has been a great
improvement. The illustrations you are using
are certainly fine and make a big addition to your
paper. It is a big improvement over the old.

Tribune Trap & Target Co.,
C. F. Hummel, Sec'y*

New York, Jan. 12. — The changed form of
Forest and Stream is a tremendous improve-
ment. The first issue, which has arrived this
morning, is exceedingly attractive. We predict
for you great prosperity in the future.

Ayres Advertising Agency.

Detroit, Mich., Jan. 9. — I desire to congratu-
late you in the change in form and improved ap-
pearance of the Forest and Stream in its initial
number for 1906. While the old form was al-
ways readable and interesting as to matter, it
was awkward to handle and of an undesirable
size to bind or file. The present size is much
more acceptable. I have been a reader and, for
most of the time since 1876, a subscriber to your
journal, and find it now, as always, the best ex-
ponent of sporting outdoor life that has ever ap-
peared. N. P. Manton.

CABINO AND GRANDMOTHER.

Santa Clara Pueblo,
Photo by A. D. McCandless.

• .♦•■

128

FOREST AND STREAM.

[Jan. 27, 1906.

In the Lodges of the Blackfeet.

X.— The Killing of a Bear.

Toward the end of April we abandoned the
trading post. Berry intended to resume freight-
ing to the mines as soon as the steamboats began
to arrive, and moved his family into Fort Ben-
ton. Thither also went Sorrel Horse and his out-
fit. The Bloods and Blackfeet moved north to
summer on the Belly and Saskatchewan rivers.
Most of the Piegans trailed over to Milk River
and the Sweet-grass Hills country.' The band
with which I was connected, the Small Robes,
pulled out for the foot of the Rockies, and I went
with them. I had purchased a lodge, and half a
dozen pack and train animals to transport our
outfit. We had a Dutch oven, two fry pans, a
couple of small kettles, and some tin and iron
tableware, of which Nat-ah'-ki was very proud.
Our commissary consisted of one sack of flour,
some sugar, salt, beans, coffee, bacon and dried
apples. I had plenty of tobacco and cartridges.
We were rich; the world was before us. When
the time came to move I attempted to help pack
our outfit, but Nat-ah'-ki stopped me at once.

*'Aren*t you ashamed," she said. "This is my
work; go up in front there and ride with the
chiefs, ril attend to this.'*

I did as I was ordered to do. After that I rode
ahead with the big men, or hunted along by the
way, and at evening on arriving at camp there
was our lodge set rp. a pile of fuel beside it, a
bright fire within over which the evening meal
was being prepared. The girl and her mother
had done it all, and when everything was in order
the latter went away to the lodge of her brother,
with whom she lived. We had many visitors,
and I was constantly being asked to go and feast
and smoke with this one and that one. Our store
of provisions did not last long, and we soon were
reduced to a diet of meat straight. Every one
was contented with that but I; how I did long
at times for an apple pie, for some potatoes even.
I often dreamed that I was the happy possessor
of some candy.

Leaving the abandoned fort we followed up the
Marias, then its most northern tributary, the Cut-
bank River, until we came to the pines at the foot
of ihe Rockies. Here was game in vast numbers,
not many buffalo nor antelope just there, but
elk, deer, mountain sheep and moose were even
more plentiful than I had seen them south of the
Missouri. As for bears, the whole country was
torn up by them. None of the women would
venture out after fuel or poles for lodge or tra-
.vois without an escort. Many of the hunters
never molested a grizzly, the bear being regarded
as a sort of medicine or sacred animal many be-
lieving that it was really a human being. It was
commonly called Kyai'-yo, but the medicine pipe

men were obliged when speaking of it to call ,it
Pah'ksi-kwo-yi, sticky mouth. They, too, were
the only ones who could take any of the skin of
a bear, and then merely a strip for a head band
or pipe wrapping. It was allowable, however, for
anyone to use the bear's claws for a necklace or
other ornament. Some of the more adventurous
wore a three or four-row necklace of their own
killing, of which they were very proud.

One morning with Heavy Breast I went up on
the divide between Cutbank and Milk River. He
said that we could easily ride through the pines
there to the foot of a bare mountain where there
were always more or less sheep. We wanted
some meat, and at that season the mountain rams
were even in better order than were the buck an-
telope on the plains. We found broad game
trails running through the timber, and soon came
near the inner edge of it. Dismounting and se-
curing our horses, we went on carefully, and in
a few moments could see, through the interlacing
branches of the pines, a good-sized band of big-
horn, all rams, trailing across the shell rock at
the foot of a cliff. I let Heavy Breast have the
first shot, and he missed altogether. Before he
could reload I managed to get two of the ani-
mals with my Henry. Both were very large ones
with some little fat on their ribs, and having all
the meat we cared to pack we loaded our horses
and started homeward. Passing out of the pines
we saw, some four or five hundred yards dis-
tant, a large grizzly industriously tearing up the
sod on the bare hillside, in search of a gopher,
or ants* nest.

**Let us kill him,'* I exclaimed.
''Ok-yi'," (come on) said Heavy Breast, but
with an inflection which meant, "All right, but
it's your proposition, not mine."

We rode along in the edge of the timber down
under the hill, my companion praying, promising
the Sun an offering, and begging for success. At
the foot of the hill we turned into a deep coulee
and followed it up until we thought we were quite
near to the place where we had seen the bear;
then we rode up out of it, and, sure enough, there
was the old fellow not fifty yards away. He saw
us as quickly as we did him, sat up on his
haunches and wiggled his nose as he sniffed the
air. We both fired and with a hair-lifting roar
the bear rolled over, biting and clawing at his
flank where a bullet had struck him, and then
springing to his feet he charged us open-mouthed
We both urged our horses off to the north, for it
was not a wise thing to turn back down the hill.
I fired a couple of shots at the old fellow as fast
as I could, but without effect. The bear mean-
time had covered the ground with surprisingly
long bounds, and was already quite close to the
heels of my companion's horse. I fired again and
made another miss, and just then Heavy Breast,
his saddle and sheep meat parted company with

the fleeing pony; the cinch, an old wor"* rawhide
band, had broken. ^

'•Hai ya', my friend!" he cried, pleadingly, as
he soared up in the air, still astride the saddle.
Down they came with a loud thud not two steps
in front of the onrushing bear, and that animal,
with a dismayed and frightened "woof," turned
sharply about and fled back toward the timber, I
after him. I kept firing and firing, and finally
by a lucky shot broke his back bone ; it was easy
then to finish him with a deliberately aimed bul-
let in the base of the brain. When it was all over
I suddenly remembered how ridiculously Heavy
Breast had appeared soaring on a horseless sad-
dle, and how his eyes bulged as he called upon
me for aid. I began to laugh and it seemed as if
I never could stop. My companion had come up
beside me and stood, very solemn, looking at me
and the bear.

"Do not laugh, my friend," he said. "Do not
laugh. Rather, pray the good Sun, make sacrifice
to him, that when you are sometimes hard
pressed by the enemy, or such another one as he
lying here, you may as fortunately escape as did
I. Surely, the Sun listened to my prayer. I
promised to sacrifice to him, intending to hang up
that fine white blanket I have just bought. I
will now do better. I will hang up the blanket
and my otter skin cap."

The bear had a fine coat of fur, and I deter-
mined to take it and have it tanned. Heavy
Breast took my horse in order to catch his, which
had run out of sight into the valley, and I set
to work. It was no small task, for the bear was
quite fat, and I wanted to get the hide off as clean
as possible. Long before I accomplished it my
friend returned with his animal, dismounted a
little way off, sat down, filled and lighted his
pipe.

"Help me," I said, after he had smoked. "I'm

getting tired."

*'I cannot do so," said he. "It is against my
medicine ; my dream forbade me to touch a bear."

We arrived in camp betimes, and hearing me
ride up beside the lodge, Nat-ah'-ki hurried out.

"Kyai-yo'!" she exclaimed, seeing the bear
skin. "Kyai-yo' !" she again exclaimed, and hur-
ried back inside.

I thought that rather strange, for when I came
in from a hunt she always insisted upon unpack-
ing and unsaddling my mount, and leading the
animal over to the lodge of a boy who took care
of my little band. After I had done this I went
inside; a dish of boiled boss ribs, a bowl of soup
were ready for me. As I ate I told about the
day's hunt, but when I described how Heavy
Breast had sailed through the air and how he
looked when he cried out to me, Nat-ah'-ki did
not laugh with me. I thought that strange, also,
for she was so quick to see the comical side of
things.

}kS. 2J^ 1906.]

FOREST AND STREAM

129

**It is a fine hide," I concluded; "long, thick,
dark hair. I wish you would tan it for me."

"Ah!" she exclaimed, "I knew you would ask
that as soon as I saw it. Have pity on me, for
I cannot do it. I cannot touch it. Only here and
there is a woman, or even a man, who through
the power of their medicine can handle a bear
skin To others who attempt it some great mis-
fortune befalls; sickness, even death. None of
us here would dare to tan the skin. There is a
woman of the Kut-ai'-im-iks (Do-not-laugh
band) who would do it for you, another in the
BuflFalo-chip band ; yes, there are several, but they

are all far away." , 1 .

1 said no» more about it, and after a while went
out and stretched the skin, by pegging it to the
ground. Nat-ah'-ki was uneasy, repeatedly com-
ing out to watch me for a moment, and then hur-
rying inside again. I kept on at work; there was
slill a lot of fat on the skin; try as I would 1
could not get it all off. I was pretty greasy and
tired of my job when night came.

I awoke soon after daylight. Nat-ah'-ki was
already up and out. I could hear her praying
near the lodge, telling the Sun that she was about
to take the bearskin, flesh and tan it. She begged
her God to have mercy on her ; she did not want
to; she feared to touch the unclean thing, but
her man wished it to be worked into a soft robe.
''Oh, Sunl" she concluded, ''help me, protect
me from the evil power of the shadow (the spirit,
or soul) of this bear. I will sacrifice to you. Let
my good health continue, give us all, my man,
my mother, my relatives, me, give us all long life,
happiness; let us live to be old."

My first thought was to call out and say that
she need not tan the skin, that I really did not
care for a bear robe after all; but I concluded
that it would be well for her to do the work. If
she did not learn that there was nothing in the
malevolent influence of the beards spirit, she would
at least beget confidence in herself and her medi-
cine. So I lay still for a while, listening to the
quick chuck-chuck of her flesher as it stripped
meat and fat from the skin. After a little she
came in, and seeing that I was awake, built a fire
for the morning meal. As soon as it began to
burn she washed herself in half a dozen waters,
and then, placing some dried sweet grass on a
few live coals, she bent over its fragrant smoke,
rubbing her hands in it.

''What are you doing?" I asked. "Why burn-
ing sweet grass this early?"

'T purify myself," she replied. *T am fleshing
the bearskin. I am going to tan it for you."

"Now, that is kind," I told her. "When we go
to Fort Benton I will get you the prettiest shawl
I can find, and is there any sacrifice to be made?
Tell me, that I may furnish it."

The little woman was pleased. She smiled hap-
pily, and then became very serious. Sitting down
by my side she bent over and whispered :

"I have prayed. I have promised a sacrifice for
you and for me. We must give something good.
You have two short guns (revolvers) ; can you
not spare one? and I, I will give my blue cloth
dress."

The blue cloth dress! her most cherished pos-
session, seldom worn but often taken from its
parfleche covering, smoothed out, folded, re-
folded, admired and then put away again. Surely,
if she could part with that I could afford to lose
one of my six-shooters. One of them— they were
the old Colt cap and ball affairs— had a trick of

discharging all the chambers at once. Yes, T
would give that. So, after breakfast we went
out a little way from camp and hung our offer-
ings in a tree, Nat-ah'-ki praying while I climbed
up and securely fastened them to a sturdy
branch. All that day women of the camp came
and stared at the tanner of the bearskin, some
begging her to quit the work at once, all pro-
phesying that she would in some way have bad
luck But she heeded them not, and in the course
of four or five days I had a large, soft bear rug
with which I promptly covered our couch. But
there it seemed it could not remain if I cared to
have any visitors, for none of my friends would
enter the lodge while it was inside. I was obliged
to store it away under a couple of rawhides be-
hind our home.

We remained on the Cutbank River until about
the first of June. The flies were becoming trou-
blesome and we moved out on the plams where
they were not nearly as plentiful. Swingmg over
the ridge we went down the course of Milk
River several days' journey, finally camping for
a time just north of the east butte of the Sweet-
grass Hills, where the rest of the Piegans were
staying. There was much coming and gomg of
visitors between the two camps. We learned that
a great scandal had occurred in the Do-not-laugh
band soon after leaving the Marias. Yellow Bird
woman, the young and pretty wife of old Look-
ing Back, had run away with a youth named Two
Stars. It was thought that they had gone north
to the Bloods or Blackfeet, and the husband had
started in pursuit of them. There was much talk
about the afifair, much conjecture as to what
would be the end of it. We soon learned.

One evening Nat-ah'-ki informed me that
the guilty couple had arrived from the north,
and were in the lodge of a young friend
of theirs. They had eluded the husband when
he arrived in the Blood camp, and doubled back
south. He would probably go on to the Black-
foot camp in search of them, and they, mean-
while, were going on to visit the Gros Ventres.
After a time they hoped he would give up the
chase, and then, by paying him heavy damages,
they would be allowed to live together in peace.
The very next morning, however, soon after sun-
rise our camp was aroused by a woman's pierc-
ing' terror-stricken shrieks. Everyone sprang
from bed and ran out, the men with their
weapons, thinking that perhaps some enemy was
attacking us. But no, 'twas Yellow Bird woman
who shrieked, her husband had found and seized
her as she was going to the stream "for water, he
had her by one wrist and was dragging her to
the lodge of our chief, the woman hanging back,
crying and struggling to get loose. Breakfast
was prepared in the lodges, but that morning the
camp was very quiet. There was no singing, no
laughter, no talking, even the chjldren were still.
I remarked upon it to the little woman.

"Hush," she said, "she is to be pitied ; I think
something dreadful is about to happen."

Presently we heard the camp crier shouting out
that there was to be a council in Big Lake's-our
chief's— lodge, and he called over the names of
those requested to be present ; medicine pipe men.
mature hunters and warriors, wise old men. One
by one they went over to the place; a profound
silence settled over the camp.

We had our breakfast and I had smoked a
couple of pipes when the camp crier was again
heard: "All women! all women!" he shouted.

"Yf.u are to assemble at once at the lodge of our
chief where a punishment is about to take place.
A woman his been guilty of infidelity; you are
to witness what happens to one who so disgraces
her husband, her relatives and herself."

I imagine that few women wanted to go, but
following the camp crier were the Crazy Dog
band of the All Friend Society, camp police, as
it were, who went from lodge to lodge and or-
dered the women out. As one raised the flap of
our doorway Nat-ah'-ki sprang over to me and
grasped me convulsively.

"Come." said the policeman, looking in. ' Come,
hurry! Didn't you hear the call?"

"She is no longer a Piegan," I said quietly, al-
though I felt angry enough. "She is a white
woman now, and she does not go."

I thought there might be some argument about
the matter, but there was none ; the man dropped
the door, flap and went away without a word.

We waited in surprise. "What are they going
to do?" I asked. "Kill her or-the other thing?

Nat-ah'-ki shuddered and did not answer, cling-
ing to me more closely than ever. Suddenly we
heard again those piercing shrieks; then agam
all was silence until a man, our chief, began to

*"Kyi'" he said. "You all here standing, have
witnessed what befalls one who proves untrue
to her husband. It is a great crime, unfaithful-
ness In the long ago our fathers counciled to-
gether as to what should be the punishment of a
woman who brought sorrow and shame to the
lodge of her man and her parents. And as they
decided should be done, so has it been done to
this woman to-day that all you witnessing it may
take warning. She is marked with a mark she
will bear as long as she lives. Wherever she
goes people will look and laugh and say : Ha, a
cut-nosed woman ! There goes a woman of loose
character; isn't she pretty!'"

Then one after another, several men made lit-
tle speeches, each one to the same effect, and
when they had finished the chief told the people
to disperse. The woman in the case went to the
river to wash her bleeding face ; her nose had
been cut off. From the bridge to the hp .t had
been entirely removed with one deep concaved
slash. She was a horrible sight, an animated

human skull.

The youth? He had hurried away to his own
camp and lodge as soon as the woman was
caught. Nothing was said nor done to him. In
that we civilized and uncivilized people are alike.
The woman always suffers but the man goes

free

"You see," Nat-ah'-ki told me, "the woman
was not to blame; she had always loyed Two
Stars, but he is very poor and her bad father
niade her go to bad old Looking Back, who had
already five women, and is very mean and cruel

to them. Oh, I pity her."

Walter B. Anderson.

[to be continued.]

The Mild Winter.

It is oroper that it should be put on record in
Forest ^nd' Stream that this winter^so far. has
Kppn the mildest in the memory of man. 1 was
hfPro^pect Fark last Sunday and the conditions
th^re reminded me of a day m spring. The grass

was springing up fresh and g-^"'. 'l^^.J'"^^^ J^
swelling on the trees and the .f [. ;if ^f/"*'^^
balmv I looked around to see if there were any
?S' in view, and it would not have surprised
me in the least had I heard a song sparrow sing.

wgim^m:

n68

FOREST AND STREAM.

[Feb. 3, 1906.

In the Lodges of the Blackfeet.

XI. — Tke Kotenai's Story.

It was after breakfast. Nat-ah'-ki recombed
and rebraided her hair, binding it with a bright
blue ribbon, donned her best dress, put on her
prettiest pair of moccasins.

"What now?" I asked. "Why all this finery?"

"This morning Lone Elk takes out his sacred
pipe, carrying it about through the camp. We
follow him. Will you not come?"

Of course I would go, and I also put on my
finery, a pair of fringed buckskin trousers, with
bright beaded vine-work running along the outer
seams: a fringed and beaded buckskin shirt, a
pair of gorgeous moccasins. I fancy that I must
have been rather picturesque in that costume,
with my hair so long that it rippled down over
mv shoulders. The Indians hated to see hair
worn cropped short. Many a time, in speaking
of the old days, the various factors and other
prominent men of the American Fur Company,
I have heard them say: "Yes, so and so was a
chief; he wore long hair. There are no more
white chiefs ; all those we now meet are sheared."

We were late. There was such a crowd in and
around the lodge of the medicine man that we
could not get near it, but the lodge skin was
raised all around and we could see what was
going on. With hands purified by the smoke of
burning sweet grass. Lone Elk was removing the
wrappings of the pipe, or, to be exact, the pipe-
stem; singing, he and those seated in the lodge,
the appropriate song for each wrap. There was
the song of the an*elrpe. of the wolf, the bear,
the buffalo, the last very slow, deep, solemn. At
last the long stem, eagle-plumed, fur-wrapped,
gorgeous with tufts of brilliant feathers, lay ex-
posed, and reverently lifting it he held it up to-
ward the sun, down toward the earth, pointed it
to the north, south, east and west as he prayed
for health, happiness, long life for all of us. Then,
rising, and holding the stem extended in front of
him, he danced slowly, deliberately out of the
lodge, the men, I too, falling in one by one be-
hind him. So did the women and the children,
until there were several hundred of us in the
long, snake-like procession, dancing along, weav-
ing in and out around the lodges of the camp,
singing the various songs of the medicine pipe.
A song finished, we rested a little before another
one was started, and in the interval the people
talked and laughed. They were happy; not one
there but believed in the efficacy of their prayers
and devotion; that the Sun was pleased to see
them there, dressed in their very best, dancing
in his honor. Thus we went on and on, and
around and around, until the whole circuit of the
camp had been made and our leader came to the
doorway of his lodge; there he dismissed us and
we wended our several ways homeward to re-

sume our every-day clothing and occupations.

"Kyi!" said Nat-ah'-ki. "Wasn't it a happy
dance? And how fine the people looked dressed
in their good clothes."

"Ai," I replied, "it was a joy dance, and the
people looked fine. There was one girl I noticed,
prettiest and best dressed of all."
"Who was it? Tellme quick!"
"Why, the white woman who lives in this
lodge, of course "

Nat-ah'-ki said nothing, turning away from me
in fact, but I caught the expression of her eyes;
she was pleased but too shy to let me know it.

The June days were long, but to me they
seemed to fly. To hunt, to sit in the shade of the
lodges and idly watch the people at their various
work, to listen to the old men*s stories was all
very interesting. One day there came to our
camp three Kut-te-nai Indians, bringing to Big
Lake some tobacco from their chief and the pro-
posal of a visit of his tribe to the Piegans. They
had come straight to us from their country across
the Rockies, up through the dense forests of the
western slope, over the glacier-capped heights of
the great mountains, down the deep canon of
Cutbank Stream, and then straight to our camp,
a hundred miles out in the vast plain. How knew
they whence to shape their course with such cer-
tainty, to go straight to the only camp in all that
immense stretch of mountain and butte-sentineled
rolling plain? Perhaps it was partly instinct.
They may have struck the trail of some homing
war party, some marauding party of their own
people may have given them the location of those
they sought. Anyhow, straight to us they came
from the headwaters of the Columbia, and our
chiefs took the tobacco they brought, smoked it
in council, and pronounced it good. Some there
were who having lost relatives in war against
the mountain tribe, objected to making peace
with them, and talked earnestly against it. But
the majority were against them, and the messen-
gers departed with word to their chief that the
Piegans would be glad to have a long visit from ^
him and his people.

In due time they came, not many of them, no
more than seven hundred all told, which, I under-
stood, was the larger part of the tribe. They were
very different physically from the Piegans, no
taller, perhaps, but much heavier built, with
larger hands and feet. This was naturally the
result of their mountain life; they were great
big-horn and goat hunters, and constant climb-
ing had developed their leg muscles almost ab-
normally. The Blackfeet disdained that sort of
life ; they would not hunt that which they could
not ride to or near, and the hardest work they
ever did was to butcher the animals they killed
and pack the meat on their horses. No wonder,
then, that their hands and feet were small and
delicately fashioned, the former as soft and
smooth as those of a woman.

Old Sah'-aw-ko-kin-ap-i, Back-in-sight, the
Ku-te-nai chief, came on with a few of his head
men some little time in advance of the main body,
and ere our chief Big Lake was aware that the
expected visitors were anywhere near, the door-
flap of his lodge was raised and the Kutenais
entered. Taken thus by surprise it was custom-
ary for the host to make the visitor a present,
and by the end of the first smoke the Kutenai
chief was five horses richer than when he en-
tered the camp.

The Kutenais pitched their lodges close by our
camp, and ere the women fairly got them up and
fires burning, visiting and feasting and exchang-
ing presents between the two tribes was in full
swing. The Kutenais bnought with them large
quantities of arrowroot and dried camas, the lat-
ter a yellow, sweet, sticky, roasted bulb which
tasted good to one who had not seen a vegetable
of any kind for months. The Piegans were ex-
ceedingly pleased to get these, and in return gave
the Kutenai wives inuch of their stores of
choice pemmican and dried meats, and they bar-
tered buffalo leather and parfleche for the tanned
skins of sheep and moose, and other mountain
animals. Of course the young men of both tribes
went courting. In the Kutenai camp were the
Piegan youths, and vice versa, standing around
in silent stateliness, decked out in all their gor-
geous finery, their faces strikingly painted, their
long hair neatly braided. The more fortunate of
them carried suspended by a thong from their
left wrist a small mirror which kept turning and
flashing in the bright sunlight; sometimes the
mirror was set into a rude wooden frame carved
by the owner and brightly painted. Of course
these gallants of the plains never spoke to any
of the maidens about, nor could one be sure, from
observation, that they even looked at them. They
stood here, there, by the hour, apparently gazing
away off at some far distant object, but on the
sly they were really watching the girls, and knew
intimately every feature of each one's face, every
little trait of action and repose, and the maids,
oh, they were, apparently, wholly unaware that
there were any young men in the camp. You
never caught one looking at them, but they did
all the same, and then they would get together
and discuss the looks of this one and that one,
and his valor, and temper, just as do white girls.
I am sure of this, for Nat-ah'-ki told me all about
it, and how, in secret, they ridiculed and laughed
at some vain-glorious swain who did not please
them, but who himself thought that he was the
only perfect and charming beau of the camp.

There was much racing, much gambling and
dancing by the younger men of the two camps.
Their elders looked on at it all in quiet approval,
and talked of their hunts, and battles, and the
strange places and things they had seen. Most
of this talk was in signs, but there were a few
Kutenais, both men and women, who could speak

Feb. 3, 1906.]

FOREST AND STREA

Blackfoot, having learned it when captives, or
upon the occasion of a long sojourn in the tribe.
Indeed, there was no surrounding tribe which
had not one or two Blackfoot-speaking members.
None of the Blackfeet, however, spoke any lan-
guage other than their own, and the sign lan-
guage; they held all other people as inferiors and
regarded it as beneath their dignity to learn any
other tongue. One Blackfoot-speaking Kutenai,
a very aged but still fairly active man, was a fre-
quent visitor to my lodge. He must have felt that
he was welcome there, that a bowl of food and
plenty to smoke were always ready for him. In
return for my hospitality and frequent gifts of a
cut of tobacco, he told me stories of his travels
and adventures. He had been a great wanderer
in his time, an ethnologist in a way, for he had
been among many tribes in various parts of the
country, from the Blackfoot land to the coast,
and south as far as the Great Salt Lake, and had
made a study of their language and customs. One
evening he told us what he called his "Story of
the Fish-eaters,"' which Nat-ah'-ki and I thought
interesting.

"This happened long ago in my youthful days,"
he said. "We were four, all single, close friends
to one another. We had been on several raids
which were successful, and we were acquiring
each a nice band of horses and things for the time
when we should take women and have lodges of
our own. There were many who wished to join
us on our expeditions, but we did not care to
have them, for we thought four the lucky num-
ber, one for each direction of the world. Indeed,
among ourselves we did not call each other by
our proper names, but by the different directions;
thus one was named North, another South, an-
other East; .1 was West. Twice we had been
out raiding on the plains; once we went south;
this time we started westward, having: heard that
away down on a big river lived a people rich in
horses. It was early in the summer when we
started, and we had made up our minds to travel
on and on until we found these fine herds of
horses, even if they were two or three moons'
journey away. We carried besides our weapons
and lariats and extra moccasins some awls and
sinew thread so that we could make for ourselves
new clothing, new footwear, if that we had should
wear out. We went down by the lake of the
Flatheads, camping and resting two days with
them, and thence we traveled on to the lake of
the Pend d'Oreilles, through a great forest where
often there were no trails except those made by
the game. At the lake, near the north end of it,
we saw the smoke of the Pend d'Oreilles' fires, and
several of their boats away out on the water. But
we did not go near their camp. They had good
herds, from which we might ^have taken our pick
if we had wished to, but we pressed on; we were
bent on discovery ; we wanted to see the far land
and its people. The forest grew denser, darker, as
we went on ; the trees were larger than any we
had seen before. There was little game; the ani-
mals and birds seemed never to have lived in it;
it was too dark and cheerless in there. Animals
and birds, as well as men, love the sun. The deer
and the moose may seek thick cover when they
wish to rest, but they never go far from some
open place where they can stand in the warm sun-
shine and see the blue above them. And it is the
same with men. Those poor and horseless tribes,
whose stingy gods gave them only a forest for
their hunting ground, do not stay in its dark and
silent belly, but pitch their mean lodges on some

opening by the shore of a lake or river, or where
a fire has cleared a small space. We did not like
that great wood we traveled through. Our food
gave out, and were it not for a few fish we shot
with our arrows we must have starved. We grew
poor in flesh and in spirits, sitting about our
evening fires in silence, except to question if
there were any end to the timber, and if it were
not better to turn and take our back trail. Even
East, who was always talking and joking, now
kept silent. We would have turned back, I think,
except that we hated to give up what we had
set out to do, for fear it would bring us bad luck
in the future. Little did we think that worse
than bad luck lay in wait for us ahead. Yet, I
believe we had the warning in a way, for I felt
uneasy, afraid, but of what I could not say. The
others felt as I did, but none of them would give
in any more than I. Afterward I took heed of
that feeling! three times I turned back after
starting on a raid, and on one of the times I
know I did what was wise, for my companions,
who laughed at me and kept on, never again saw
their lodges.

"After many days we came at last to an open
country. There were bunches of timber here and
there, but for the most part the land was prairie,
with many ledges and buttes and boulders of dark
brown bare rock. The river had grown wider,
deeper, and its current was strong. Here there
were elk, plenty of them, and deer, many black
bears, many grouse, and once more we heard the
little birds singing. We killed a young bull elk
and feasted upon it, and felt good. There was
no sign of people anywhere about; no horse
trails, no smoke of camp fires. We thought it
safe to build a fire even then in the middle of
the day, and we lay about it until the next morn-
ing, resting, eating, sleeping. With the sunrise
we were off once more, traveling very cautiously,
climbing every butte and ridge to see what was
ahead. That day there was no sign of men, but
on the next one we saw smoke away down the
river, and keeping within the fringe of timber
which bordered the stream, we went on until we
could see that it was rising: on the opposite side.
Away down there somewhere near the place of
encampment, we could hear a roaring sound as
of a big rapid, and even where we were the cur-
rent was strong. Now here was something to
talk over, and right there we considered it. If
we crossed over and took some horses, was there
a trail on that side by which we could hurry them
in a homeward direction; and if none, how were
we to get them across the wide, swift river and
on to the trail over which we had come. At last
he whom we had named South said:

" *We are wasting time talking about this now,
when we have not yet seen the far side, nor the
horses, nor even the people and their camp. Let
us cross over, see what is to be seen, and then
decide what is best to do.*

"His words were wise, and we took them.
There was plenty of drift wood, and near sun-
down we rolled a piece of it, a short, dry log,
down into the water, lashincr another, a very
small one, to it so that it would not turn over
and over. We decided not to wait until night
to cross, for the river was wide and swift, and
we wanted to see our course. In one way it was
not wise to start then, for some of the people of
the camp might see us and give the alarm. Still,
we had to take some chances; no one had yet
appeared from the camp below, and we hoped to
get across into the brush unobserved. Heaping

our clothes and weapons on top of our raft, we
pushed out into the stream, and all went well
until we were part way across; there we struck
very swift water, a low place into which the
water from the sides of the river seemed to be
running and sinking. Try as we would we could
not get out of it, for it was like going up hill to
push for the far shore, or the one from which we
had started, and all the time we were drifting
faster and faster down toward the roar of the
rapids, down toward the camp of strange people.

" *Let us leave the raft,' said North, *and
swim back to our shore.'

"We tried to do so, but we could no more leave
that swift, sucking, down-pulling middle current
than we had been so many helpless dead leaves
adrift. One by one we turned back and hung on
to our raft.

" This is our only chance,' said South. *We
can hang on to this and perhaps pass the rapid
and the camp without being seen.'

"We now turned a bend in the river, and before
us saw a fearful thing that we were rushing into ;
the stream narr6wed between two high walls of
rock, and the green water leaped foaming along
in great waves and whirls over and around huge
black rocks.

" *Hold hard ; hold on with all your strength/
cried South.

' "I grabbed the smaller log harder than ever,
but my strength was nothing in that place, noth-
ing. Suddenly we went down, raft and all, down
under the crazy, green, bubbling water; our logs
struck a rock and I was pulled away from them
and went whirling and rolling on. I was pushed
up to the surface, went over the top of a big
wave, and then was again drawn under, down,
down, I knew not how far; my left foot caught
in between two rocks, the water pushed me, and
my leg broke just here above the ankle. For a
little I hung there, then the water heaved back
the other way, pulled me loose, pushed me up,
and again I got a few breaths of air. Once more
I went down, this time for so long that I was
sure I would never rise. I had been praying, but
now I stopped; 'it is no use,' I said to myself, 1
now die.' But I did roll up on top again ; I was
in smooth but swift water, a boat was above me,
a short, stout, dark man was leaning over the
side. I noticed that his hair looked as if it had
never been cared for, that his face was very wide,
his mouth very large. I felt him grasp my hair,
and then I died (fainted).

"When I came to life I found that I was in a
small, old and torn elkskin lodge. I was lying
on a couch, a robe of beaver skins thrown over
me. An old gray-haired man was putting sticks
on my broken leg and binding them, all the time
singing a strange song. I knew he was a doctor.
The man I had seen leaning over the side of the
boat sat nearby. There were three women there
also, one quite young and good looking. When I
looked at her she turned her head away, but the
others just sat and stared at me. Other men
came in; they were all short and broad, with big
muscles; they were also very dark colored, very
homely, and, worst of all, there was hair growing
on their lip and chin. They looked much at me
as they talked, and their talk was very strange;
it seemed to come from down in their belly, and
break out of their throat with the sound of bark
being torn from a tree by jerks. I thought that
I could never learn to speak such a language as
that. The old doctor hurt me considerably as he
bandaged my leg, but I kept very still. I was

■^*^-

170

FOREST AND STREAM.

[Feb. 3, 1906.
k^, —

wondering if any of my friends had come through
that terrible rapid alive and had escaped or been
picked up as I was. I learned later that the water
gods had claimed them, at least, none of them
ever returned to the Kutenai country.

''I thought that these strangers were very kind
to drag me from the river and care for me. I
tried to make them understand how I felt, but it
was impossible; they did not understand the sign
language, not a bit of it, which was very strange.
"After the doctor had fixed my leg they gave
me food, some fish, a piece of a large fat kind of
trout. Fish, I found, was what they lived upon,
spearing them in great numbers at the foot of the
rapids, and drying them for winter use. It was
a country of game, elk, deer, black bear, yet these
queer men seldom hunted, being content to live
upon fish and berries. Before I got well I suf-
fered for want of meat. I was obliged to lie
quite still in the lodge for a time, and then I
hobbled out, a little farther each day, until I
could go to the river and watch the fishing. Then
I found work to do. I was given a pile of the
fish, and a knife, and shown how to prepare them
for drying. All at once I knew why I had been
dragged from the river and cared for; I was a
slave. I had heard that there was a people who
made captives of their enemy instead of killing
them, and made them work hard. I had found
them, I, a Kutenai, broken-legged and unable to
escape, w^as the slave of hairy-faced fish-eaters;
I felt very sad. It was the women of these peo-
ple, the women of the man who had captured me,
that gave me work, showed me what to do. Not
the young woman, his daughter, but the others.
The girl never was anything but kind, sorry for
me; when she could she did what had been given
me to do, and when her mother objected, there
was a quarrel, but the girl was never afraid.

" 'When my leg is sound,* I kept saying to my-
self, 'I will escape. I will steal the weapons of
this man and make my way once more to the
Backbone-of-the-world.'

"But the break healed slowly, before I could
again walk well my plan was broken; one day
everything was packed up, the bundles of dried
fish, the lodges, everything placed in the boats,
and we all set out down the river. Down we
went, on and on, oh, very far, the river ever
widening, passing great black forests, until at
last we came almost to a great lake which had
no other side, which was nearly all the time mad
with great waves, and lost in thick fog. It was
a dreadful place. There we made camp with
many more of these same fish-eaters, and besides
fish we now ate the flesh of water devils, which
could swim faster than an otter. It tasted very

bad.

**Now, little by little I became able to speak
some of this hard language, to make myself un-
derstood. After a time I was allowed to take a
bow and arrows and hunt, and I killed many deer,
a few black bears, some elk. But I was not
happy; winter was coming on, there w^s no use
in trying to start for my country until spring.
When I did start, how was I, who could not man-
age a heavy, long boat, to get back up this great
river, to cross others that we had passed? True,
there was this shore we were camped upon. I
could follow it back to the place of the terrible
rapids and cross away above them, but the route
was long, through deep forests, down-timber,
thick brush. It was very bad, but I should have

to try it.
"It was my dream that showed me the way.

One night he said to me : *Ask the girl ; she likes
you, will help you.*

"When I awoke in the morning I looked across
the lodge at her; she was looking at me and her
eyes were kind ; she smiled. It was a good sign.
I said that I would go hunting, and after eating
I picked up the fish-eater*s weapons and went out.
But I did not hunt; I went back in the timber
a little way and hid. She would be after wood
some time in the day, and if alone, I could speak
with her. When I went out I had given her a
strong look, which she seemed to understand, for
she came almost at once, and seeing me, began
picking up a piece of wood here, a piece there,
but all the time coming nearer, often looking back
toward camp. I slipped behind the roots of an
overturned tree, and she soon come around too
and we stood side by side, watching through the
little roots as we talked. I was afraid to begin;
I could talk but little of her language, so little.
I tried for the right words, but they would not
come. She looked up at me, put a hand on my
shoulder, and said: 'You wish to go to your

people?*

" *Yes,' I told her. 'Yes, I want to go, but the
big river — don*t understand boat/

"She laughed a little, looked carefully to see if
anyone was coming, and then said in little words
I could understand : 1 know boat— I take you—
you be good to me — I like you.*

" *Yes,' I said, T will be good to you. I make
you my woman. I give you everything, many
horses, good lodge, pretty things to wear.*

"She laughed low, a happy laugh. To-night,
when all sleep, we go.*

"I stopped her. 'It is far, much snow, we
must wait until leaves come.*

"She gave me a little shake, and went on: T
said to-night; I know where to go, what to do,
you go with me to-night ; I take everything ; when
ready I call you, so.* She pulled my arm a little.
"I sneaked away, but soon walked around to
camp, said I was sick and could not hunt. One
of the old women gave me some medicine. She
was afraid her slave would not be able to work,
and hunt, and bring in skins. I had to drink the
medicine, and it tasted very bad. I should have
told some other lie. I thought night would never
come, but when it was time the sun went down,
we had our supper and lay down. The fire went
out, and it was very dark in the lodge. After a
while the fish-eater and his woman began to
snore, and at last I felt the little pull on my arm,
for which I had been waiting. I arose very
slowly, picked up the bow and arrows and the
knife, which I had laid carelessly by my couch
when I came in from hunting, and stole noise-
lessly out of the lodge. The girl took my hau.i
and led me down to the river, to a small boat
which belonged to another family. Already she
had placed in it some robes, some little food, a
skin of good water, for the water of that dread-
ful lake was salt, and every little while it fought
with the great river and beat back its water from
the snows and springs. We got into the boat,
I in front, the girl behind, pushed of! without
making the least sound, and she paddled us out
into the darkness and stillness of the wide deep
stream. After awhile she gave me a paddle, and
I pawed the water with it, making much noise,
but noise no longer mattered. On we went, and
on, speaking no word, until day began to break;
then we went ashore at a place where there were
many small rocks, with which we loaded the boat
until it sank out of sight. Then we went into

the deep timber and felt that we were safe; any
pursuers could neither see our boat nor us, nor
even suspect that we might be hiding there.

"Thus for three nights we went up that great
river, and then turned into a small one flowing
from the north. It was a beautiful stream, clear
and quite swift, and everywhere its shores were
tracked with game. Half a day we traveled up
it, then cached our boat and walked up a little
narrow stream into high hills. There I killed a
deer, my woman made a little lodge of poles and
brush. We built a small fire and feasted. We
were in a safe place now. Here we were to stay
until spring. I would hunt and get many, skins,
she would build a good lodge. That is what my
woman said. And I, for the first time in many
moons, I was happy. I had some one to care
for, one who cared for me. When summer came
we would travel together to my people and live
happily. Oh, yes, I was happy; I would sing all
day, except when I was hunting. At night we
used to sit by our little fire and feast, and I would
teach her my language, which she quickly learned,
and I would tell her about my people and my
country, the plains, the mountains and the game.
"I was no longer impatient for summer to
come, the days went fast and every one of them
was a happy day. But soon the leaves began to
show on the willows, the grass to grow, and one
evening we got out our boat and floated down
into the big river, traveling up it by night until
we came to the terrible rapids. There we sunk
our boat, that none might know we had passed
that way, and started on the long trail over which
I had come with my lost friends. The wide for-
est did not now seem so gloomy, nor the way so
long. At last we came to the lake of the Pend
d*Oreilles. 'From here on,* I said, 'we will ride;
I am going to take some horses from these peo-
ple.*

"My little woman objected to this, but I would
have my way. She was tired out from our long
walk, more tired I could see every day. I felt
that I must take at least one horse for her. I
could see the camp and plenty of horses near it.
After the people slept, although it was bright
moonlight, I went right in among the lodges,
stole a woman's saddle and cut out two of the
best horses I could find and led them to where I
had left my woman. She was terribly scared, for
she had never ridden a horse. I saddled one, got
on him and rode around a little; he was gentle.
So I fixed the saddle good, put her up in it,
shortened the stirrup straps and showed her how
to hang to the saddle. Then I mounted the other
horse, and leading hers, we started over the trail
I knew so well.

"We had not gone very far when it happened.
The little woman crimed out, her horse broke from
me and began bucking around. By the time I
had run back there she was dead. The saddle
cinch had parted, she had fallen, her horse had
kicked or trampled her.

"At first I could not believe it. I took her in
my arms, called to her, felt her all over, and then
at last I found the place; the top of her head was
crushed. I must have gone crazy for a time. I
jumped up and killed her horse; and then killed
mine. I prayed to her gods and to mine, to bring
her to life, but it was no use, no use. Morning
cpme, I carried her to a place a little way off the
trail and buried her as best I could. I looked
back to the west, toward the country where I
had suffered so, had lost my companions, been
made a slave, had found a loving woman only to

Feb. 3, 1906.]

3 _.«•

lose her, and I cried in anger and sorrow; then,
alone, I tore myself away from where she lay and
started once more on the trail to my people. I
am an old man now, but many winters have not
buried mv sorrow. I still mourn for her, and
I shall do so as long as I live.**

Nat-ah'-ki often reverted to this story of the
old man. "Kyai,-yo!'* she would exclaim. "How
poor, how sad.**

'•Who— what?'* I would ask.

"Why, the Kutenai's young woman, of course.
Only think, to die just as* she had found happi-
ness; never to see again the sunshine, and the
mountains, and these beautiful plains.**

"She never saw these plains," I said once,
when we were talking ^bout the story. Hers
was a country of forests and great rivers, of rains
and fogs.*'

Nat-ah'-ki shivered. "I do not wish to see that
country!** she exclaimed. "I hate the rain; al-
ways I want to live on these sunshine plains.
How good Old Man* was to give us this rich
country.** Walter B. Anderson.

[to be continued.]

♦The Blackfoot world maker.

2l6

FOREST AND STREAM,

IFfji, K »Qo6.

In the Lodges of the Blackfeet.

XII.— The Great Race.

The visit of the Kutenais to our people wound
.up as several previous visits had done, in a fine
row, which for a time threatened to be serious.
It began also as another one had, over a horse
race. The Kutenais owned a large, clean-limbed
and very swift black mare which, with one horse
after another, the Piegans had endeavored to
beat. Race after race had been run and each time
the black had been victorious. The Piegans had
lost heavily— guns, horses, blankets, finery of all
descriptions— and were getting desperate. They
claimed, for one thing, that the winners had man-
aged secretly to rub something on their several
horses which reduced the speed of the animals.
In their extremity it was decided to send over to
the Bloods for a certain horse which was known
to be very fast, and to guard him night and day
until the race was run. After a time the
deputation sent to the Bloods returned with the
horse, which was certainly a fine animal, a well
blooded American bay which had undoubtedly
been taken from some unfortunate traveler on
the Overland trail far away to the south. He
was to have a rest of four days, and then the
great race was to be run in which the Piegans
expected to recoup their losses. During this
time there is no question but what the horse was
guarded. By day there were half a dozen young
men with him out on the plain, where he grazed
upon the richest grass that could be found, and
at night he was fairly surrounded by interested

witcher?.

At last the great day came, and everyone in
both camps, even the women and children, went,
out to the place where the race was to be run—
a level stretch about 500 yards long. The betting
was furious, and such a lot of stuff as was set
out here and there on the plain I never saw be-
fore nor since. Specimens of everything the two
tribes had for use or adornment were to be found
in one or another of the heaps, and the many
horses which had been staked upon the result
were also there, their ropes held by some non-bet-
ting youth or boy. Even the women were bet-
ting; here you would see a brass kettle wagered
against a beaded dress, there a parfleche of dried
buffalo meat against a tanned elkskin, a yard of
red cloth against a couple of copper bracelets. I
stood with a crowd of others at the finishing
point, where a furrow had been scraped across
the dusty course. It was to be a standing start;
we could see the two youthful riders, naked ex-
cept for the inevitable breech clout, guide their
excited and prancing mounts up to the starting
point, some 500 yards distant. They started; the
spectators lining the course began to shout, en-
couraging the riders to do their utmost, an in-
creasing confusion and clamor of Blackfoot and

Kutenai exclamations, in which the shrill cries
of the women played no unimportant part. We at
the post could not tell which of the horses was
ahead, as they came toward us with quick, long
leaps; they seemed to be running side by side.
Now, as they neared the goal, a sudden silence
fell upon the crowd. Everyone held his breath;
we could hear the broad thongs of the riders'
rapidly plied quirts thwack against the straining
sides of the racers. And now here they were; a
few leaps more and they crossed the furrow al-
most neck and neck, the Kutenai horse, I
thought, a few inches in the lead. Immediately
a great clamor of tongues arose and there was a
general rush for the stakes.

*We win'.'Vthe Piegans shouted, "We win!"
and I presume that is what the Kutenais were
saying in their Unintelligible and angry words.
What a scene ensued. Men seized upon the stakes
and pulled and pushed each other for the posses-
sion of them. A Kutenai in the midst of a strug-
gling group pulled an ancient flint-lock pistol and
aimed it at his opponent, but some one knocked it
upward in the nick of time, and the bullet went
wide of its mark. At the sound of the shot the
women fled in terror to their several lodges, drag-
ging their crying children after them. The hot-
headed Piegan youths and men began to call out
to each other: ''Get your weapons! Let's kill
off these Kutenai cheats."

There was no more struggling over the things
which had been staked upon the result of the race.
Each bettor seemed to take that which was his
without protest and hurry away to his lodge. In
a moment or two the race ground was deserted
save by the Kutenai and Piegan chiefs, a few of
their leading men, Nat-ah'-ki and I. The latter
was grasping my arm and there was real terror in
her eyes as she begged me ejo with her at once.

*'There is going to be a big fight,'* she said.
"Come, let us saddle our horses and ride away

from it."
"The fight will not concern me," I told her. "I

am a white man.

"Yes," she cried, "you are a white man, and
you are also a Piegan; the Kutenais will shoot
at you as quickly as at anyone else."

I motioned her to keep silent, for I wanted to
hear what was being decided upon by the chiefs.
Big Lake sent his camp crier home.

"Tell them," he said, "that these are my words ;
I go now to the camp of my good friend Back-in-
sight; whoever would fight the Kutenais must
fight me and these here with me."

The camp crier hurried away and then he
turned to me. "Come," he said, "you also are for
peace ; come with us."

I went with them over to the Kutenai camp.
Nat-ah'-ki, sorely troubled, closely following. We
had barely arrived there when we saw an ever-
increasing throng of shouting and excited riders
bearing down upon us from the other camp.

"Loan me a gun," said Big Lake, peremptorily.
"Some one loan me a gun."

When it was handed him he stepped out in
front of us and there was a look of grim deter-
mination on his fine old face, an angry light in
his eyes. Behind us, with rustle of lodge skin
and rattle of poles the lodges were being hur-
riedly taken down, the baggage packed by anxious
and much scared women, and near us the Kutenai
men were gathering, preparing to defend them-
selves and theirs. They were no match for the
Piegans they well knew; were far outnumbered;
but one had only to look at their attitude of pre-
paredness, their steady eyes and compressed lips,
to be satisfied that they would do their best

A young warrior named Little Deer was at the
head of the Piegans as they came riding fast
toward us. I had taken a strong dislike to him,
for I felt that he hated me. I had some serious
trouble with him later on, as will appear in due
time. He had a mean, cruel face, pitiless and
treacherous, with shifty eyes. The most of this
angry crowd of our people, we learned later, had
not heard the camp crier in the excitement and
confusion or had left before he arrived among
them, and here they were, determined to deal un-
mercifully with those whom they now considered
their enemies. Big Lake hastened out to meet
them, shouting to them, and making the sign for
them to stop. But as they paid no heed to hini he
ran on still farther, and leveling his gun at Little
Deer, exclaimed: "If you don't stop I will

shoot."

The latter unwillingly checked his horse and
said: "Why do you stop me? These Kutenai
dogs have robbed us, cheated us ; we are going to
have revenge."

He started to go on, calling out to his follow-
ers, and again Big Lake raised his gun : "Aim
then at me," he cried, "I am now a Kutenai. Aim.
shoot ; I give you a chance."

Little Deer did not raise his gun; he just sat
there on his horse and glared at the chief, then
turned in his saddle and looking at the crowd
which had ridden up behind him, called upon
them to follow him. But the other Piegan lead-
ers were now among them, by turns threatening.
coaxing them to return to their camp. None of
them came forward; on the other hand, some
started back toward their lodges. Little I>eer
worked himself into a fine rag«, alternately point-
ing at them and at the Kutenais, calling them all
the evil names he could think of. But in spite of
his anger and defiance he made no attempt to
advance; the chief s^ pointed gun, the steady cold,
clear stare of his eyes wholly disconcerted him;
muttering something or other in an unintelligible
tone, he finally turned his horse and moodily rode
back to camp in the wake of those who but a few
moments before he had so eagerly led. The chiefs
gave a long siph of relief; so did L so did Xat-
ah'-ki, again close by my side.

M:^''''-^^'^l^WMB^

'*What hard heads these young men have," Big
Lake remarked. "How difficult it is to manage
them."

"You speak truth," said Back-in-sight. "Were
it not for you, your strong words, many dead
would now be lying on this plain. We go now
back to the mountains, it may be long ere we meet
again."

"Yes," agreed the Piegan, "it is best that we
part. But the anger of our young men will soon
die away. Next summer, somewhere hereabouts,
let us meet again."

This was agreed upon, and with final hand-
shakes all around, we left them. Arrived at our
own camp. Big Lake gave orders that camp be
struck at once, and the lodges began to come
down in a hurry. He also instructed the Ai-in-
as-kik-waks — seizers, holders — a band of the All
Friends' Societv which were, as one may say, po-
lice, to allow none of the young men to leave us
under any pretext whatever. He feared that if
they did go from us they would yet attack the
Kutenais, who were already stringing out in a
long column, westward over the rolling plain. A
little later we too pulled out, heading south; on
the afternoon of the second day we went into
camp on the Marias River at the lower end of
Medicine Rock bottom, right opposite the spot
where, later, Fort Conrad was built, and where
to-day the Great Falls & Canada Railroad crosses
the stream.

At the extreme lower end of this bottom, about
100 yards from the river, and near the foot of the
risiner hill, unless the railroad vandals have taken
them for construction work, lies a circle of large
boulders partially embedded in the soil. The cir-
cle is about sixty-five feet in diameter; some of
the boulders will weigh at least a ton. Who
placed them there, and why, I could never learn.
The Blackfeet have no tradition concerning them,
saying merely that 'twas "done by the ancient
ones," ahk'-kai-tup-pi. This, by the way, is an
interesting word ; as it stands, with the accent
on the first syllable, its exact meaning is long-
ago-people; but if the second instead of the first
syllable is accented it means many people. How-
ever, in the first instance the word for time, sum-
oh', is entirely omitted, most likely for the sake
of euphony.

But if the Blackfeet know nothing of the boul-
der circle, they have much to say regarding the
medicine rock. This lies by the side of the old
travois trail about three miles above, near the
top of the hill at the extreme upper end of the
bottom. In the "Blackfoot Lodge Tales" is given
the story of a rock, which, to avenge an insult,
chased Old Man, and but for the timely interfer-
ence of a bull bat would have crushed him flat.
To a certain extent the Blackfeet are pantheists,
attributing life to, and worshipping many inani-
mate objects. This rock is one of several to
which they sacrifice and pray, another one lying

217
. ^-. < i —

on a hill of the Two Medicine River, near the old
Inn River — Belly River trail. It is a red mottled
quartz — the red itself a "medicine" or sacred
color — a boulder of several tons weight lies on a
very steep sandy slope exposed to the southwest
winds. The wind gradually moving the sand un-
dermines the rock, and as the fine sand and soil
is blown away it settUs little by little, moving
farther and farther down the hill. But although
the Blackfeet are well aware of the cause of this
movement, to them the rock is a sacred object.
Passing it, they stop a moment and place on it
a bracelet, a necklace, some beads or other offer-
ing, and beg it to take pity on them, to guard
them from all evil things and grant them long life
and happiness. The last time I passed this rock
there was at least a bushel of various small offer-
ings lying upon, or around it. And there most
likely they are to this day unless the white set-
tlers have picked them up. Years after I last
rode by the rock, Nat-ah'-ki and I crossed the bot-
tom on a train of the new railway. We sat out
on the platform of the rear sleeper, whence we
could get a good view of the country. Oh, the
dreariness and desolation of it all. Gone were
the rich grasses, even the sages, which once grew
thickly on flat and hillside. Gone, too, were the
grand old cottonwoods, the clusters of willow,
and cherry, and sarvis berry thickets which bor-
dered the river. Nat-ah'-ki silently pressed my
hand, and I saw tears in her eyes. I said noth-
ing, asked no question; well I knew of what she
was thinking, and I came near crying, too. What
a — to us — terrible change had taken place; gone
were our friends, extinct the herds of game ; even
the face of the country was changed. Do you
wonder that we felt sad?

Walter B. Anderson,
[to be continued.]

Lost in the Woods.

Reading the admirable series of artij
above subject reminds me of an incj
to me some time ago.

Incidentally I incline to the opij
men are born with the **sensj
like others with the poetic ini
for music, or kindred gifti
woodsman, who had spent tj
life in the woods, told m<
same question, that he
dropped into any unkno^
his way out. He instan<
when the railway was^
island; he was carried^
locality he had never
ahead on the line, ai
ferent sea ports, rai
of meat, and nevei
finding his way ab(

He also told
curred within hi:
sessing or lack
coming across
occasion, he cj
small pond h<
arrived homi
of his audi]
woods lovej
him the pj
described^
trails in
little U!
startedi
ing arj
he g(
day.
adi
lie:

2k6

FOREST AND STREAM.

[Feb. 17, 1906.

In the Lodges of the Blackfeet.

XIII.— The Snake Woman.

At ihe lower end of the bottom opposite that
of the Medicine Rock, the Dry Fork of the
Marias joins the greater stream. At times in
spring it is a raging, muddy torrent, but for the
larger part of the year is a shallow, sometimes
dry stream, the water standing in deep holes or
where it has been backed up by the industrious
beaver. — Why, why do I persist in writing in the
present tense? as if there were any beaver there
now ! But I'll not change the line. — The day
after we went into camp on the river there was
to be a bufifalo run out on the flat beyond the
medicine rock, where an immense herd of buffalo
had been located. Weasel Tail and I, however,
chose to go up the Dry Fork on discovery. In
our lodges were many a parfleche of dried meat ;
we wanted no summer skins of the buffalo, and,
of course, we could kill what fresh meat was
needed at almost any time and place. We crossed
the river and rode through the bottom, then fol-
lowed a broad, deep game trail running up the
rather narrow valley of the Dry Fork, crossing
and recrossing the stream. We passed a great
many beaver dams and saw several of the ani-
mals swimming around in their ponds. Here and
there were narrow strips of willow along the
bank out of which an occasional white-tail deer
would break for the hills, scared by our ap-
proach. There were sciilary cottonwoods,
stunted, many of them dead, their trunks worn
quite smooth by the buffalo rubbing; against
them. Rattlesnakes were numerous; every little
while we would be startled by one suddenly
sounding his warning near the trail, and we killed
all we saw save one or two which managed to
escape into a nearby hole. As we ascended the
valley, antelope became more and more numer-
ous. The plain lying between the Dry Fork and
the next water to the south, Pend d'Oreille
coulee, was one of their favorite feeding
grounds in that part of the country. If possible,
when we saw a herd of antelope or buffalo
ahead, we would ride up a coulee on to the plain
and go around them, for we liked not to have
the game stampeding from us, betraying our
presence and probable route to any chance enemy
thereabouts.

It was at least 8 or 9 o'clock when we left
camp, long after the departure of the buffalo run-
ners, and by noontime we were well up the Dry
Fork, twelve or fourteen miles from camp. Off
to our right was a long ridge running east and
west, the nearer point of it broken by sandstone
cliffs. Thither we wended our way, riding up a
coulee which headed there. Arrived at the foot
of the ridge we picketed our horses and climbing
up, sat down on its crest to get a view of the

country. I had brought some broiled antelope
ribs, and, opening the little bag, laid them upon
a convenient rock. "Take part of them," I said.
Weasel Tail shook his head. "What,'* I asked,
"you will not eat? Take half; I brought them
for you."

*Tt is not wise," he replied, "to eat when out
on discovery, on the hunt, or when traveling
anywhere away from camp. You should eat
plenty after you arise in the morning, eat very
much. Then you saddle up and strike out. You
feel strong; you ride, and ride, and ride. You
may be hunting, you are unlucky perhaps, but
you are not discouraged ; you go on, and on, with
strong faith that the luck will change, that you
will soon find a band of antelope or buffalo, or
game of some kind. The sun mounts up, and
up, arrives at the middle, starts downward to his
ledge beyond the edge (edge of the world). You
have food tied to your saddle, and you say to
yourself, 'I am hungry; I will stop and eat.'

"On the crest of some ridge or butte you dis-
mount, and, half lying on the restful ground,
you begin to eat, meanwhile your clear, strong
eyes search plain and valley or brush and moun-
tainside for life of some kind. You are very
hungry, of course; the food tastes good in your
mouth, your stomach keeps crying for its fill, and
you keep on eating until the last morsel has dis-
appeared. Then, Hai-ya ! what a change comes
over you ! Your flesh suddenly becomes soft,
your eyes no longer seek to pierce the far dis-
tance, the lids close upon them. The ground
feels so good ; it is a soft couch. You become
sleepy; it is only by great effort that you keep
awake. You lie there and the sun goes on, and
on, down toward his lodge. You know that you
ought to arise, that you ought to mount and ride
until you can see what is beyond that high, long
ridge, but the food has done its work and you
lie to yourself, saying: 'Oh, I don't believe that
I would find any game over there; I'll rest here
for a time, and then start homeward. I am sure
to kill something on the back trail.' So you
recline there, as lazy and sleepy as a full-gorged
bear, and toward evening you arise and go home-
ward, finding no game whatever by the way. You
arrive at your lodge, the people see that you
bring neither meat nor skins. Your women
quietly unsaddle your horse ; you go inside and
sit down upon your couch, much ashamed, and
begin to lie, telling how very far you have rid-
den, how barren the country is, wonder where all
the game can be.

"No, friend, no ribs for me. You eat, if you
will. Loan me your glass and I will have a look
at the country."

What Weasel Tail said was all very true. Had
I not time and again experienced the lassitude,
the sleepiness caused by my midday lunch? I
resolved never again to take food with me when
going for a day's ride. But this time need not

count. I ate most of the ribs, joined my friend
in a smoke, and fell asleep.

Weasel Tail poked me in the ribs several times
before he succeeded in awakening me. I sat up
and rubbed my eyes. My throat felt dry; there
was a fuzzy taste in my mouth all caused by my
midday lunch and nap. I noticed that the sun
was midway down J:oward the distant blue peaks
of the Rockies. I had slept long. My friend
was looking steadily through the glass at some-
thing to the westward of us and muttering to
himself. "What do you see?" I asked, yawning
lazily, reaching for his pipe and tobacco pouch.
"It does not seem possible," he replied, "that
I see that which I see ; yet, I am sure neither
my eyes nor this glass deceive. I see a woman ;
a lone woman, a woman on foot walking along
the crest of the ridge yonder and coming straight
toward us.

"Let me look," I exclaimed, dropping the pipe
and taking the glass. "Are you sure that you
are awake?"

"See for yourself," he replied. "She is on the
third rise from here."

I brought the glass to bear on the slope indi-
cated, and, sure enough, there was a woman
striding easily down the grassy incline. She
stopped, turned, and shading her eyes with her
hand, looked away to the south, then to the
north, and lastly back whence she had come. I
noticed that she carried a small pack on her back,
that she stood erect and was of slender figure. A
young womart undoubtedly. But why, why was
she there, and afoot, on that great plain whose
vastness and silence must be appalling to one so
alone and so defenseless.

'What do you think of this?" I asked.
"I don't think anything," Weasel Tail replied.
"It is useless to try to account for so strange a
thing. She comes this way ; we will meet, and
she will tell us the reason of it all."

The woman passed out of sight into the hollow
back of the second rise of the ridge, but soon
appeared on its crest and kept on down into the
next low place. When she arrived at the top of
the slope on which we sat, she saw us at once,
stopped and hesitated for an instant and then
came on with her natural, easy, graceful stride.
I am afraid that we both rudely and coldly stared
at her, but there was neither fear nor diffidence
in her manner, as she walked steadily up to us.
My first impression was that she had beautiful
eyes ; large, clear, kindly, honest eyes, and my
next was that her face was exceedingly comely,
her long hair glossy and neatly braided, her fig-
ure all that one expects a woman's form to be.
She came on, quite up to us, and said: "How?"
"How, how?" We answered.
She unslung her pack, sat down and began to
talk in a language unintelligible to us. By signs
we interrupted and said that we did not under-
stand her talk.

Fe^ 17, 1906.]

FOREST AND STREAM.

257

*She is a Snake woman;' said Weasel Tail.
**By the cut and pattern of her moccasins I know
that she is one of that tribe/' \

Who was he, I wonder, of what tribe and time,
who conceived the idea of the sign language, by
means of which all the tribes of the plains from
the Saskatchewan to Mexico are able to converse
with each other and tell all that their tongues
may not utter. Here were we, unable to under-
stand one word of this woman's language, yet by
means of this wondcrfui invention of some an-
cient one, language mattered not.

**Who are you?" Weasel Tail asked, "and
whence come you?"

'T am a Snake," the woman signed, *'and I
come from the camp of my peopje far to ths
south." She paused, and we signified that wc
understood. For a moment or two she sat think-
ing, brow wrinkled, lips pursed, and then con-
tinued :

*'Three winters ago I became Two Bears' wo-
man. He was very handsome, very brave, kind-
hearted. I loved him, he loved me, we were
happy." Again she paused, and tears rolled
down her cheeks. She brushed them away re-
peatedly, and with much effort resumed her
story: '*We were very happy for he never got
angry; no one ever heard cross words in our
lodge. It was a ledge of feasts, and song, and
laughter. Daily we prayed to the Sun, asking
him to continue our happiness, to let us live long.
"It was three moons ago, two before this one
which is almost ended. Winter had gone, the
grass and leaves were coming out. I awoke one
morninp^ and found that I was alone in the lodge.
My chief had arisen while I slept and gone out ;
he had taken his gun, his saddle and rope, so I
knew that he had started on a hunt. I was glad.
*He will bring home meat,' I said, 'fal meat of
some kind, and we will give a feast.' I gathered
wood, I got water, and then I sat down to await
his return. All day I sat in the lodge waiting
for him, sewing moccasins, listening for the foot-
falls of his hunting horse. The sun went down,
and I built a good fire. 'He will come soon now,'

I said.

"But no, he didn't come, and I began to feel
uneasy. Far into the night I sat waiting, and
fear pressed harder and harder on my heart.
Soon the people of the village went to bed. I
arose and went to my fathers lodge, but I did

not sleep.

"When morning came the men rode cut to look
for my chief; all day they hunted through the
little prairies, through the forests, along the
river, but they did not find him, nor any signs
of him, nor of his horse. For three days they
rode the country in all directions, and then gave
up. *He is dead,' they said, 'he has drowned, or
a bear or some enemy has killed him. It must
have been an enemy, else his horse would have
returned to its mates.'

"My own thought was that he lived; I could
not believe him dead. My mother told me to cut
off my hair, but I would not do it. I said to her :
*He is alive. When he returns should he find my
long hair gone he will be angry, for he loves it.
Many a time he has himself combed and braided

it.'

"The days passed and I waited, waited and
watched for him to come. I began to think that
he might be dead, and then one night my dream
gave me hope. The next night and the next it
was the same, and then on the fourth night, when
my dream again came and told me I knew that

it was true, that he lived. Tar away to the
north,' said my dream, *on a river of the plains,
your chief lies wounded and ill in a camp of the
prairie people. Go find him, and help him to get
well. He is sad and lonely, he cries for you.'

"So I got ready and, one evening after all
were asleep, I started; it was the only way. Had
they known what I was about to do, my father
and mother would have stopped me.. I carried
some food, my awl and sinews, plenty of moc-
casin leather. When my food was gone I snared
squirrels, rabbits, dug roots, so I was never hun-
gry. But the way was long, very, very long, and
I feared the bears prowling and snuffing around
in the night. They did not harm me ; my dream
person must have kept them from doing me
wrong. The camp, my dream said, was in sight
of the mountains. After many days I came to
the Big River, and for many more days I fol-
lowed it down, until I came in sight of the white
men's houses, but I found no camo of those I
sought. I turned north, and coming to the next
stream, followed it up to the mountains; still I
found no people. Then I went nortK again until
I came to this little creek and now I meet you.
Tell me, is my chief in your camp?"

busied mvself with my food. The little woman
rted to the other side of the lodge, covered her
head with her ^hawl, and began 10 cry. Some-
how, although I had thought 1 was hungry, my
food did not taste good. 1 nervously ate a little
01 it and then went out and over to Weasel

Tail's. ,, . ,

-Send your mother over to my lodge, ^^1 said,
"and have her tell Nat-ah'-ki all about it."

-\h ha!" he laughed, "the young ones have
quarreled, have they? The little one is jealous?
Well, we'll soon fix it out," and he bade his
mother go over.

An hour or two later, when I went home,
Nat-ah'-ki was all smiles and welcomed me joy-
ously, insisted that I should have another sup-
per, and gave me a pair of gorgeous moccasins
which she had been surreptitiously making for

my adornment. .

"Oh, that poor Snake woman," she said, j"st
before' we fell asleep, "how I pity her. To-mor-
row I shall make her a present of a horse."

Walter B. Anderson.

[to be continued.]

Crazy, say you? Well, that depends upon the
point of view. Some there are who believe in
"a prophet's paradise to come." Some, for in-
stance, have faith in the revelations said to have
been made to a certain Joseph Smith; some be-
lieve in Allah; others in Christian Science; still
others in divers creeds and faiths. If they are
crazy then indeed was this Indian woman also,
for she had faith in a dream, doubted not for
one instant that by following its instructions she
would find her loved, lost man. Dreams, to
most Indians, are a reality. They believe that
they really do commune with spirits in their
sleep, that* their shadows— souls— temporarily re-
leased from the body, then travel far and meet
with strange adventures. If a Blackfoot, for in-
stance, dreams of seeing green grass he is abso-
lutely certain that he will live to see another sea-
son of spring.

We were, of course, obliged to tell the wan-
derer that her lost one was not in our camp.
Weasel Tail also informed her that some North
Blackfeet and some Bloods were visiting us, and
advised her to accompany us and question them.
She readily consented to that, and we started
homeward. My friend was riding a vicious little
mnre which would not carry double, so I was
obliged to take the woman up behind me, and
we created a big sensation when we rode into
camp about sundown. Weasel Tail had agreed
to give her a place in his lodge, and I had hoped
to drop her near it unobserved by the mistress
of a certain home a little farther along. But no
such luck. I espied Nat-ah'-ki from afar stand-
ing and gazing at us, at the handsome young
woman perched behind me, her arms tightly
clasped about my waist. But when I rode up
to my own lodge there was no one 'to greet me,
and for the first time I was permitted to unsaddle
my animal. I went inside and sat down. Nat-
ah'-ki was roasting some meat and neither spoke
nor looked up. Still in silence she brought me
water, soap, a towel and comb. After I had
washed she set before me a bowl of soup, some
meat and then what a sad, reproachful look she
gave me. I grinned foolishly, vacuously, and,
although I had been guilty of no wrong, some-
how 1 could not return her gaze and quickly

The Passing of a Sultan.

Between camps ten and eleven the trail
Malabang to Camp Vicars runs through th(
est and is as crooked as the proverbial stre-
Boston, which, as all the world knows, tuj
twist so that a stranger who once starl^
his hotel to go to the railroad station ij-
self coming back. . • t 1

Along this trail one morning ni JiiJ
three years ago, a party of recruit^
ding on its way from Malabang to
ranks of the companies at "the lake,j
solid months of fighting and expor

depleted. , .

To one who has never before
experience it is difficult to reali:
dumped on the beach of Mor
safety of civilization has been^
you are now in a country whej^
of things prevails and "it's
eyes and ears open, and to
color is different from your
striking distance unless yr
is readv to hand.

So it was with these r<
their New England fan
the great white transpoi
spent such a restful six
of the fact that they wj
in many forms stalks^
hidden in the sunlit

And they were lit!
a more peaceful scej
agine than that wj
tramped leisurely
morning of whicl
brightly ; the birds
breeze stirring tl
freshing as in tj
which they cam<
their heads, ai]
silence of the

To be sure,
sent to the frj
tales of sud(
the natives,
tion to thei
they knew
ting a rai'
tales with,
ceived to^
butter c]
absurd ;
much
their (j

Of
camp
swatl
'•hadi
a bci
for<

296

FOREST AND STREAM.

[Peb. 24, 1906.

In the Lodges of the Blackfeet

XIV. — The Snake Woman's Quest.

Nat-ah'-ki was the proud owner of a little
band of horses, some of which had sprung from
mares given her by relatives at various times.
She loved to talk about them, to describe the
color, age and peculiarities of each one. A
Blackfoot who was horseless was an object of
reproach and pity. Horses were the tribal
wealth, and one who owned a large herd of
them held a position only to be compared to
that of our multi-millionaires. There were in-
dividuals who owned from one hundred to three
and four hundred. Were the owners sonless, they
employed some orphan boy to herd them, to
drive them twice and thrice daily to water.
And they liked to sit out on the plain or hills
for hours at a time to be among them and
gloat over them as they cropped the rich
grass. When a man died, the bulk of his prop-
erty was divided among the male relatives,
and they were so numerous that it was r^re for
one to inherit any number of animals. He who
could count his horses by the hundred, had
gained them by a strenuous life, by many a long
raid against bordering tribes, by stealing into
their camps at night, by hand to hand conflict
with them on many a field. No wonder then,
that he was proud of them, and of himself, and
that the people honored him.

Nat-ah'-ki's band was herded by her uncle.
Fish Robe, who himself had a large herd.
When they were driven in the morning after
our discovery of the Snake woman, she selected
a fat, pot-bellied roan, begged an old woman's
saddle from an aunt, placea it in position and
led the animal over to Weasel Tail's lodge.
She handed the end of the lariat to the Snake
woman; at first the stranger did not compre-
hend the meaning of the act; but when Nat-
ah'-ki signed that the horse was to be hers, was
a gift, her joy was pleasant to witness. The two
women became great friends, and she lived a
part of the time with us. **I am resting," she
said, *'and questioning arriving visitors from
other tribes. If I do not soon hear of my
chief, I shall again set forth in quest of him."

But that was not to be. One day when she
and Nat-ah'-ki were gathering wood, a party of
Bloods passed by on their way to our camp,
and she ran after them as fast as she could,
Nat-ah'-ki following and wondering if the poor
woman had lost her wits. The visitors dis-
mounted and entered our chiefs lodge. The
Snake woman, excited, trembling, pointed at
one of the horses they rode, a black and white
pinto, and signed: "I know it; my chief's horse.
Ask the man where he got it."

Nat-ah'-ki went inside and made known the
request to one of the women of the lodge, and
the latter, as soon as there was a break in the
conversation, repeated it to Big Lake. All
heard her, of course, and one of the visitors
spoke up: "The pinto is mine," he said, "my
taking."

"Bring the woman in!' Big Lake ordered, and
he told his guests about our finding her alone
on the plain, about her dream and her quest.

She came inside all eagerness, the inbred
diffidence of a woman facing a number of
chiefs and men of distinction forgotten. "Who,
who," she quickly signed, "is the rider of the
pinto horse?"

I am." the Blood signed. "What about it?"
It is my horse — my man's horse, the one he
rode away one morning three moons ago. And
what of my man? Did you see him? How
came you by his horse?"

The Blood hesitated for a moment, and then
replied: "We went to war. Away south of the
Ground-of-many-gifts,* at daylight one morn-
ing, a man riding the pinto horse surprised us,
and I killed him. I took the animal for my
own."

As he gestured his answer, the woman sud-
denly noticed a bear's claw necklace he wore,
and pointing to it, she gave a fearful, heart-
broken, gasping sob, and fled from the lodge.
She went crying through the camp, and at the
edge of the timber sat down, covered her head
with her robe, and began to wail for the one
who was dead.

Did you, reader, ever hear a woman of the
plains mourn for a lost loved one, calling his
or her name heart-brokenly, despairingly, over
and over again for hours at a time? Nothing
else in all this world is so mournful, so ex-
pressive of the feelings of one whom death has
bereaved of a dear child, relative, companion.
I can liken but one thing to it, and that is the
cry of the mourning dove. It embodies all the
feelings, the thoughts, of one utterly desolate,
forsaken. Somewhere I have read, or heard,
that an Indian's loss of to-day is forgotten on
the morrow. That is certainly not true of the
Blackfeet, nor of the Mandans. Often and
often I have heard many of the Blackfeet mourn
for one dead long years since. The Mandans
used to care for the bones of their departed
ones. Those of each family were placed in a
little circle on the burying ground, and thither
the survivors would repair frequently to de-

posit choice food, and to talk to the skulls of
their dear ones, just as if they were alive and
in the flesh. It is not for the Anglo-Saxon to
boast of affection, of constancy, for he can take
lessons from the despised red men. Never, with
the Indians— I speak only of the two tribes be-
fore mentioned — was there a separation except
for adultery, and that was rare indeed; nor did
they ever abuse or desert their offspring. The
affection of parents for their children, their
pride in them, their sacrifices for them, were
practically limitless. And such also was the re-
gard in which the young held their elders.
Family ties were something sacred.

I have often heard the Blackfeet speak of
various white men as utterly heartless, because
they had left their parents and their youthful
home to wander and seek adventure in a strange
land. They could not comprehend how one with
right feeling might absent himself from father
and mother, as we do, for months and years.
"Hard hearts," "stone hearts," they call us, and
with some reason.

The Snake woman continued to mourn,
passing the greater part of the time up on the
hill, or at the edge of the timber, wailing. She
cut off her hair, scarified her ankles, ate little,
grew thin and listless; and finally a day came
when she remained on her couch instead of
arising with the others in Weasel Tail's lodge.
"I am to die," she' signed, "and I am glad. I
did not understand my dream. I thought that
I was told to seek my chief in the flesh. In-
stead, it was meant that my shadow should look
for his shadow. I see it plainly now, and in a
few nights I start. I know that I shall find
him."

And start she did. She died on the fourth
day of her illness, and the women buried her
decently, respectfully in a not far distant tree.

Walter B. Anderson,
[to be continued.]

♦The country in the vicinity of Helena, Montana,
which city, by the way, the Blackfeet have given the
same name. It was a land rich in game and berries,
hence the appellation:

Ah-kwo' to-kwtit-si sak-6m.
Much giving ground.

_ *

The Linnaean Society of New York.

A MEETING of the Society will be held in
em Assembly Room on the ground floor^
American Museum of Natural History,^
seventh street and Eighth avenue,
evening, Feb. 27, at 8:15 o'clock,
read by Dr. William C. Braislii
Birds of Prospect Park, Brooklj

In addition to its regular mj
Society has arranged to hoi
of public lectures on gen<
trated by stereopticon
large lecture hall oj
Natural History oj
o'clock : March
Edgar T. Stej
March 14, "^
son Bay,'^
York ci
Camej

33^ ^

FOREST AND STREAM.

[March 3, 1906.

In the Lod§:es of the Blackfeet.

XV.— I Return to My People.

The long summer days went one by one,
lingeringly, peacefully, happily. No war parties
attacked us, and the young men who went out
to war upon other tribes returned spoil-laden,
without loss to their numbers. Perhaps in those
times I was not much given to thinking about
things; but I knew when I was content, was
fully satisfied with the returns of each day and
hour and looked not to the future nor what it
might have in store for me. But one thing
troubled me, the insistent letters from home,
commanding me to return. They were several
months old when I got them, as were my New
York Tribunes and other papers. I ceased read-
ing any more than the headlines of the papers;
they had no more interest to me, but I could not
help worrying about the contents of ther letters.
There were grave reasons why I should heed
them, should go home on or before the date
that I became of age. Many an unpleasant half
hour I passed after breaking their seals, and
then, consigning them to the flames of the
lodge fire. I would go out with Nat-ah'-ki for
a ride, or to some feast or social gathering. It
was interesting to note the extreme care with
which my mail was handled. It was securely
bunched up by my Fort Benton friends, and
then those to whom it was intrusted re-wrapped
and rebound it in various coverings. The Black-
feet ever regarded the art of writing and reading
as the greatest of accomplishments. Some of
them would sit for hours inspecting the pictures
in my magazine and papers, and although they
persisted in holding them sideways, or even up
side down, they seemed, nevertheless, to grasp
their significance. Nat-ah'-ki was wont to
spread out my letters and endeavor to learn
what they told, although, of course, she knew
not even a letter of the alphabet. She early
came to know my mother's handwriting, and
when I received letters from others written in
characteristically feminine style, she would
watch me closely as I read them and then ques-
tion me as to the writers. *'Oh," I would care-
lessly answer, "they are from relatives, women
of our house, just telling me the news and
asking if I am well ^nd happy."

And then she would shake her head doubt-
fully, and exclaimed: "Relatives! Oh, yes. rela-
tives! Tell me truly how many sweethearts
you have in the land from whence you came?*'
Then I would truthfully answer, swearing by
Ihe Sun, calling upon him to bear witness that
I had but the one sweetheart, she there present,
and she would be content — until I received an-
other bundle of letters. As the summer wore
on these letters became more frequent, and I

realized with ever-increasing regret that my days
of happy, irresponsible wandering were about
over, that I must go home and begin the career
which was expected of me.

We left the Marias not long after the death
of the Snake woman, moved south by the way
of the Pend d'Oreille Coulee and the Knees, and
camped on the Teton River, the stream which
Lewis V. Clark named the Tansy, and which
the Blackfeet rightly call Un'-i-kis-is i-si-sak-ta,
Milk River, for its waters in its lower course
are ever of a milky color. Late in August we
moved to a point on this stream only three
miles north of Fort Benton, and every day or
so I used to ride in there often accompanied
by Nat-ah'-ki, whose desire for various bright-
colored prints, ribbons, shawls and beads, was
well night insatiable. There we found Berry
and his good wife, his mother and the Crow
woman, the two latter recently returned from
a sojourn with the Mandans. And thither, one
day, came Sorrel Horse and his outfit. He and
Berry were making preparations for the winter
trade. I was beginning to feel pretty blue. I
showed them my letters, told them what was
expected of me, and declared that I must re-
turn east. They both laughed long, loudly, up-
roariously, and slapped each other on the back,
and I gazed solemnly, reproachfully at them.
I could not see that I had joked or said any-
thing funny. ^

"He's goin' home," said Sorrel Horse, "and
he's goin* to be a good, quiet little boy ever
alfter."

"And go to church," said Berry.
"And walk the straight and narrer path,
world without end, and so forth," Sorrel Horse
concluded.

"Well, you see how it is," I said. "I've got to
go — much as I would like to remain here with
you; I simply must go."

"Yes," Berry acquiesced; "you have to go
all right — but you'll come back. Oh, yes! you'll
come back, and sooner than you think. These
plains and mountains, the free life have you,
and they'll never let go. I've known others to
return to the States from here, but unless they
died back there right quick, they soon came
back. The couldn't help it. Mind you, Tve
been back there myself; went to school there,
and all the time old Montana kept calling me,
and I never felt right until I saw the sun
shining on her bare plains once more and the
Rockies looming up sharp and clear in the
distance."

"And then," Sorrel Horse put in, speaking
Blackfoot, which was as easy to him as English,
"and then, what about Nat-ah'-ki? Can you for-
get her, do you think?"

He had, indeed, touched the sore spot. That
was what was worrying me. I couldn't answer.

We were sitting in a corner of Keno Bill's
place. I jumped up from my chair, hurried out,
and mounting my horse, rode swiftly over the
hill to camp.

We ate our evening meal: dried meat and
black fat (o-sak'i), stewed dried apples — how
good they were — and yeast powder bread. In
due time we went to bed, and for hours I rolled
and tossed uneasily on my couch. "Nat-ah'-ki,"
I finally asked, "are you awake?"

"Ah!"

"I want to tell you something: I must go
away for a time; my people call me."

"That is not news to me. I have long known
that you would go."

"How did you know?" I asked. "I told no

one.

"Have I not seen you read the little writings?
Have I not watched your face? I could see
what the writing told you. I know that you are
going to leave me. I have always known that
you would. You are no different from other
white men. They are all unfaithful, heartless.
They marry for but a day."

She began to cry; not loud, just low, des-
pairing, heart-broken sobs. Oh, how I hated
myself. How I did hate myself. But I had
opened the subject. I felt that I must carry it
through, and I began to lie to her, hating my-
self more and more every moment. I told her
that I was now twenty-one, at which time a
white youth becomes a man. That there were
papers about the property which my father had
left, that I must go home to sign. "But," I
said, and I called on the Sun to witness my
words, "I will return; I will come back in a few
moons, and we will once more be happy. While
I am away Berry will look out for you and your
good mother. You shall want for nothing."

And thus, explaining, lying, I drove away her
fear and sorrow, and she fell peacefully asleep.
But there was no sleep for me. In the morning
I again rode in to the Fort and talked long with
Berry. He agreed to look after the girl and her
mother and keep them supplied with all neces-
sary food and clothing, until such a time, I ex-
plained, "as Nat-ah'-ki will forget me and be-
come some other man's woman." I nearly
choked when I said it.

Berry laughed quietly. "She will never be
another man's woman," he said. "You will be
only too glad to return. I shall see you again
inside of six months."

The last steamboat of the season was dis-
charging freight at the levee, and was to leave
for St. Louis in the morning. I went back to
camp and prepared to leave on it. There was
not much to do, merely to pack up a few native
things I wished to take home. Nat-ah'-ki rode
back with me, and we passed the night with
Berry and his family. It was not a festive time

MAfc^ h> 1906.]

FOREST AND STREAM.

337

to me. Berry's mother, the faithful old Crow
woman, both lectured me long and earnestly on
the duty of man to woman, on faithfulness —
and what they said hurt, for I was about to do
that which they so strongly condemned.

And so, in the morning, Nat-ah'-ki and I
parted, and I shook hands with every one and
went on board. The boat swung out into the
stream, turned around, and we went flying down
the swift current, over the Shoukin Bar and
around the bend. The old Fort, the happy days
of the past year were now but a memory.

There were a number of passengers aboard,
mostly miners from Helena and Virginia City,
returning to the States with more or less dust.

They gambled, and drank, and in a vain effort
to get rid of my thoughts, I joined in their
madness. I remember that I lost three hundred
dollars at one sitting, and that the bad liquor
made me very ill. Also, I nearly fell overboard
near Cow Island. We had run into a large
herd of buffalo swimming the river, and I tried
to rope a huge old bull from the bow of the
boat. The loop settled fairly over his head,
but we had not counted on such a shock as I
and the three others helping me got when the
rope tightened. In an instant it was jerked
from our hands. I lost my balance, and would
have followed it into the water had not the next
man behind happened to catch me by the collar
and drag me back.

We tied up to the shore each night; there
were constant head winds after we entered
Dacotah, and when early in October we arrived
at Council Bluffs, I was glad to leave the boat
and board a train of the Union Pacific. In due
time I arrived in the little New England town,
where was my home.

I saw the place and the people with new
eyes; I cared for neither of them any more. It
was a pretty place, but it was all fenced up, and
for a year I had lived in the beyond, where
fences were unknown. The people were good
people, but, oh! how narrow-minded. Their
ways were as prim and conventional as were
the hideous fences which marked the bounds
of their farms. And this is the way most of
them greeted me: "Ah! my boy, so youVe
come home, have you. Been a hull year in the
Indian country. It's a wonder you wasn't
scalped. Those Indians are terrible bad people,
so I've heard. Wall, you've had your fling; I
suppose you'll steady down now and go into
business of some kind."

To only two men in the whole place could
I tell anything of what I had seen or done, for
they were the only ones who could understand.
One was an humble painter, ostracised by all
good people because he never went to church,
and would occasionally enter a saloon in broad
daylight. The other was a grocer. Both of
them were fox and partridge hunters, and loved
the ways of the wild. Night after night I would
sit with them by the grocery stove, long after
the staid villagers had retired, and talk of the
great plains and the mountains, of the game
and the red people. And in their excitement, as
their minds pictured that wonderful land and
its freedom, they would get up and pace the
floor, and sigh, and rub their hands. She wanted
to see it all, to experience it all as I had, but
they were "bound to the wheel." It was im-
possible for them to leave home, and wife, and
children. I felt very sorry for them.

But even to them I said nothing about a cer-
tain other tie which bound me to that land of
sunshine. There was not a moment of my
waking hours in which I did not think of Nat-
ah'-ki and the wrong: I had done her. Across
the several thousand miles which separated us,
I could see her in my mind's eye, helping her
mother in the various occupations of the lodge,
and her manner was listless; no more her hearty
infectious laughter rang out, and in her eyes
there was an expression which was far from
happy. Thus I pictured her by day, and in my
dreams at night, awakening to find myself talk-
ing Blackfoot to her, and trying to explain
away my faithlessness. The days passed for
me in deadly monotony, and I was in constant
strife with my relatives. Not with my mother,
I am thankful to say. I think that she rather
sympathized with me. But there were uncles
and aunts, and others, old friends of my long
dead father, all well meaning, of course, who
thought that it was incumbent on them to ad-
vise me, and shape my future. And from the
start we were antagonistic. They brought me
to task for refusing to attend church. To at-
tend church! To listen to a sermon, forsooth,
upon predestination, and the actual hell of fire
and brimstone awaiting all who lapsed from the
straight and narrow path. I no longer believed
that. My year with old Mother Nature, and
ample time to think, had taught me many things.
Not a day passed but what I got a lecture from
some of them, because, for instance, I played
a harmless glass of beer with some trapper or
guide from the North Woods. There was more
real human kindliness, more broad-mindedness
in one of those simple men of the woods, than
there was in the hearts of all my persecutors.

Diagonally across the way from us lived a
good old Methodist. It was his habit to ascend
to the attic of a Sunday and pray. On a sum-
mer day, when windows were open, one could
hear him for hours at a time, entreating his
God to forgive his many and grievous sins — he
had never committed one — and to grant him an
humble place in the life hereafter. He also
came and besought me to change my ways. To
change my ways! What had I done, I won-
dered, that made all these people so anxious
about me. Was this man's life a happy one?
No; he lived in constant fear of a jealous God.
What had I done? I had been friendly to cer-
tain black sheep who longed for a pleasant
word. I had entered the hotel bar and in broad
daylight clinked glasses with them. These were
not, in my estimation, sins. But, deep down in
my heart, there lay a heavy load. One wrong
thing I had done, a grievous one. What of
Nat-ah'-ki ?

There came a certain night when all the well-
meaning ones were gathered at our home. They
had decided that I should buy out a retiring
merchant, who, in the course of forty or fifty
years, has acquired a modest competency. That
was the last straw. I arose in my wrath, and
tried to tell them what I thought of the nar-
row life they led; but words failed me, and,
seizing my hat, I fled from the house. It was
past midnight when I returned, but my mother
was waiting for me. We sat down by the fire
and talked the matter out. I reminded her that
from earliest youth I had preferred the forests
and streams, rifle and rod, to the so-called at-
tractions of society, and that I felt I could not

bear to live in a town or city, nor undertake a
civilized occupation of any kind, especially one
which would keep me confined in a store or
office. And she, wise woman, agreed that as
my heart was not in it, it would be useless to
attempt anything of the kind. And she also
admitted that, since I had come to love the
plains and mountains so well, it was best that
I should return to them. I said nothing about
Nat-ah'-ki. Some time in the future, I de-
termined, when I had done the right thing, she
should learn all. For the first time in weeks
I went to bed with a light heart. Two days
later I boarded a train, and in due time arriving
in St. Louis, put up with genial Ben Stickney
of the Planters' Hotel. There I fell in touch
with things once more. I met men from Texas
and Arizona, from Wyoming and Montana, and
we talked of the fenceless land, of the Indians
and the buffalo trade, of cattle and miners and
various adventures we had experienced. We
would congregate in the lobby of an evening
and sit there talking aud smoking until long
after midnight, or we would go out in a body
and see the town in true western style. If we
were a trifle hilarious, the* police were good, and
kindly looked the other way when our
sombreroed crowd tramped by, singing per-
chance, at the top of our voices.

Also, I did not forget Nat-ah'-ki. I bought an-
other trunk, and prowling around among the
stores picked up various washable things of
quaint and pretty pattern, strings of beads, a
pair of serpent bracelets, a gold necklace, and
various other articles dear to the feminine heart;
At last the trunk was so full that I could barely
lock it, and then, gathering up my things, I
boarded a train for Corinne, Wyoming. We
were, I believe, four days and nights en route.
From there by stage to Helena a week, and on
to Fort Benton two days more. My first in-
quiry was for Berry. He was down at the
mouth of the Marias, the trader told me, with
the Piegans, but his mother and the Crow
woman were living in the little cabin above, and,
with a knowing wink, he added that he believed
a certain young woman named Nat-ah'-ki was

with them.

It was very early in the morning. I hurried
out and up the dusty trail. A faint smoke was
beginning to arise from the chimney of the
little cabin. I pushed open the door and
entered. Nat-ah'-ki was kneeling before the
fire-place blowing the reluctant flame. "Ah,"
she cried, springing up and running to me, "he
has come! My man has come!" She threw her
arms around my neck and kissed me, and m
another instant she was in the next room cry-
ing out: "Awake, arise; my man has returned!

Berry's mother, the Crow woman, hurried out
and also embraced and kissed me, and we all
tried to talk at once, Nat-ah'-ki hanging to my
arm and gazing at me with brimmmg eyes.
''Ah," she said, over and over, "they kept telhng
me that you would not come back, but I knew
that they were wrong. I knew that you would

not forget me."

Truly, these were my people. I had returned
to my own. Come what might, I vowed never
to even think of leaving the little woman again,
and I kept my word. Kept it, say I— I never
had cause nor wish to do anything else.

That was a queer breakfast Nat-ah'-ki and I
had; in fact, no breakfast at all. We gave up

338

FOREST AND STREAM.

[Marc* 3» 1906.

attempting to eat, and she recounted all that
had happened during my absence. Then she
questioned me: What had I been doing all this
time? What had I seen? Was my good mother
well? I had nothing to relate. I wanted to
hear her talk, to watch her happiness, and in
that I was happy too. In due time my trunks
were brought over, and handing her the key of
one, I said that it and its contents were all hers.
What exclamations of surprise, of admiration ^
there were as she unwrapped and unfolded the
various things and spread them out here and
there on table and couch and chairs. She
threw the necklace on over her head, clasped
on the bracelets, ran over and gave me a silent
kiss, and then laid them away. "They are too
nice, too good," she said. **I am not hand-
some enough to wear them."

Then she came back and whispered: "But
all these are too many for me. May I give
some of them to my grandmothers?"— meaning
Mrs. Berry and the Crow woman.

In the lot there were several quiet dress pat-
terns, a couple of shawls, which I had intended
for them, and I said that they would be ap-
propriate gifts for women of advanced age.
How happy she was as she picked them up and
presented them to the faithful friends. I look
back upon that morning as the pleasantest one
of my life.

After a while I strolled out and down to
Keno Bill's place. It was December, but there
was no snow on the ground. The sun shone
warm, a gentle chinook was blowing. I thought
of the far-away New England village shrouded
in three feet of snow, and shivered.

I found the usual crowd in Keno's place.
Judge D., a brilliant lawyer and an ex-com-
mander in the Fenian war, was playing the
Marshal a game of seven up for the drinks.
Some bull whackers and mule skinners were
bucking faro. A couple of buckskin clad, kit-
fox-capped, moccasined trappers were arguing
on the best way to set a beaver trap in an ice-
covered dam. They were all glad to see me,
and I was promptly escorted to the bar.
Several asked, casually, what was new in the
States? Not that they cared anything about
them; they spoke of them as of some far-off
and foreign country.

"Hm!" said Judge D., "you didn't remain
there long, did you, my boy?"

"No," I replied, "I didn't; Montana is good
enough for me."

'^Montana!" cried the Judge, lifting his glass.
"Here's to her and her sun-kissed plains.
Here's to her noble mountains; her Indians and
buffalo; and to those of us whom kind fortune
has given a life within her bounds. Of all men,
we are most favored of the Gods."
We all cheered the toast— and drank.
It happened to be one of the frontier towns.
One man begins in the morning to assuage a
sudden acquired thirst, and one by one, and by
twos, and threes, and fours, the rest join in,
merchants, lawyers, doctors and all, until not a
sober man is left, until all are hilarious, and
half seas over. Judge D.— peace to his ashes-
started it; by 4 o'clock in the aftgrnoon things
were pretty lively. I left the crowd and went
home. The buffalo robe couch and a pipe, the
open fire and Nat-ah'-ki's cheerful presence, were
more to my liking.
At sundown, who should roll in but Berry and

Sorrel Horse, with their women. How glad I
was to see them all again. "You didn't think
that I would return?" I hazarded.

They laughed. "Didn't I tell you that you
would," said Berry. "I only wonder that you
didn't come sooner."

We sat by the fire until late, the women
chattering in another room. We went to bed.
"Little woman," I said, taking her hand, "pity
your man; he is not so good as he might be;
there are bad places in his heart-

"Stop!" she exclaimed. "Stop! You are
good, all good. I would not have you different
from what you are. You have come back to me.
I cannot tell how happy I am— I have not power
to do so." Walter B. Anderson.

[to be continued.]

The Eskimo Dog.

No STORY of the far north is complete without
an account of the dogs which in winter there
haul the sledges and make possible journeyings
from place to place. They carry food for the
traveler and for themselves and such other scant
supplies as he may take with him. On a beaten
track a good dog can haul about 150 pounds,
and on short journeys a team of four dogs could
haul about 400 pounds. On the crust or on a
hard road the average rate of travel is often as
much as four miles an hour, but if the snow was
soft and deep it is very much less.

In a country where dogs furnish the only
means of winter transportation they are valu-
able so that a good dog may be worth from
$25 to $30, and in old times a good team of four
dogs readily brought $100. The dogs are com-
monly fed on frozen or dried fish, which is a
part of their daily load, and each dog commonly
received two fish— about seven pounds— at night
after the day's work was done.

Perhaps no living man has had a greater ex-
perience with the Eskimo dog {Canis familians
borealis, Desmarest) than Mr. R. Macfarlane,
whose notes on the species we give below :

The Eskimos make use of this indispensable
animal for traveling during the winter season,
and in summer it renders much assistance m
tracking their boats (umiaks) upstream, on the
Mackenzie, Peel, Anderson, and other arctic
rivers. These boats are manned by women, and
are always steered by an elderly man. When
tracking on the beach, the woman is attached
to the cord hauling line next to the bow of the
umiak, then follow at intervals, similarly
harnessed thereto, from four to six dogs, who
with their leader go forward or halt at the call
of their driver mistress. Nearly all of the haul-
ing dogs used by the company at Fort Anderson
were obtained from the Eskimos.

Early in the month of February, 1864, a very
virulent and fatal form of distemper broke out

among the post and native dags, and, in a short
time, it carried off about three-fourths of their
number; but as there was still much work to be
done in the way of transport of outfit and re-
turns between the Anderson and Fort Good
Hope besides the hauling of fresh venison from
the camp of the fort hunter for the spring and
summer use of the establishment, we had to be
constantly on the lookout to purchase as many
dogs as could be spared by visiting Indians and
Eskimos, to replace our heavy weekly losses.
The distemper did not much abate until May,
when it ceased almost as suddenly as it had
appeared; but during the three and one-half
months of its prevalence, the company lost no
less than sixty-five sleigh dogs at ^'ort Ander-
son, while the total native losses must have
been very considerable. It was remarkable at
the time that bloodless fights between healthy
and affected animals resulted in no injury to the
former, but when the fight was hard and bloody
the disease was thereby communicated and the
bitten dog soon fell a victim to it. Compar-
atively few ever recovered. Most of the attacked
animals became very quarrelsome and some
quite ferocious, while a few fled and died quietly
in the neighboring woods, or after traveling a
distance of from 5 to 15 miles. . In course of a
residence of over thirty years in the districts of
Mackenzie River and Athabasca, I have known
distemper to occur on. different occasions at
several trading posts in both, and always with
fatal results to the dogs, but this Anderson
epidemic was, I think, one of the very worst
ever experienced in the far north. I find that
Sir George Nares, when on his polar expedition
of 1875-76, long after the foregoing was written,
lost quite a number of his Eskimo dogs by dis-
temper in his winter quarters in latitude 82° north.
He writes that the "first observed symptoms there-
of in an animal was his falling to the ground in
a fit, soon followed by a rushing about in a
frantic manner as if wholly deprived of all sense
of feeling. On some occasions one would rush
into the water and get drowned.. At other times
a few would wander away from the ship and be
seen no more. Sometimes their sufferings
would terminate in death. Several appeared to
suffer so very much that they were shot to rt^-
lieve the poor things from their pain." Mark-
fiam also remarks "that nearly all arctic ex-
peditions have experienced the same kind of dis-
ease and mortality among their dogs, and for
which there has hitherto been no remedy.
Hydrophobia is unknown among the Eskimo or
Indian dogs, as no one bitten by a diseased ani-
mal has ever suffered permanent injury there-
from."

ESKIMO DOG OF ALASKA.

Most of the true breed of Eskimo dog are
more or less wolfish in appearance, while others
facially resemble the common fox. Many of
them are very playful and affectionate, but some
others are bad tempered, sulky, and vicious
in disposition. McClintock mentions one or
two notable characteristics. "Chummie," the
favorite dog in Commander Hobson's Eskimo
team, while on the Fox in her celebrated pack-
ice drift, disappeared and was supposed to be
lost; but "after an absence of six days he re-
turned decidedly hungry, although he could not
have been without food all the time, and evinced
great delight at getting back. He devoted his
first attention to a hearty meal, then rubbed
himself up against his own particular associates,
after which he sought out and attacked the
weakest of his enemies, and, soothed by their
angry bowlings, lay down and coiled himself up
for a long sleep."

Like domestic and Indian dogs, the female of
the species under review reproduces at various
seasons, but as a rule most frequently during
the warmer months of the year. The litter of
pups seldom exceeds five in number, sometimes
less and occasionally more, and there is no
apparent difference in other relative dog char-
acteristics. The full-grown female, however, is
generally smaller in size than the male.

Arctic explorers and other voyagers of ex-
perience have written much and spoken highly
of the capacity, the fortitude, and the endur-
ance of the North American hauling dog. After
half a century's residence in northwestern Can-

376

FOREST AND STREAM.

[March io, igo6.

In the Lodges of the Blackfeet.

XVI.— The Story of Rising Wolf.

When Berry and Sorrel Horse returned to the
mouth of the Marias, Nat-ah'-ki and I, of course,
went with them. Word of our coming had pre-
ceded us, and when we arrived in the great camp
at dusk there we found our lodge set up between
those of Talks-with-the-buffalo and Weasel Tail.
Beside it was a pile of fire wood ; within a well-
built fire was burning cheerfully; at the back our
couch of soft robes and warm blankets was
spread, guest seats with the comfortable back-
rests arranged, and in their proper place were our
parfleches and cooking utensils, the former well
filled with dried berries and choice dried meats
and tongues and pemmican. All this had been
done by Nat-ah'-ki's good mother, who greeted
her daughter with a hearty hug and kiss and me
with a shy but sincere welcome. She was a good
woman ; I may say a noble woman. Yes, a noble,
high-minded, self-sacrificing woman, always doing
something to alleviate the suffering of the sick
and the sorrow of the bereaved.

I had no sooner got down from the wagon and
gone inside, leaving Nat-ah'-ki and her mother
to bring in our possessions, than my friends be-
gan to arrive, and right glad they seemed to be
to see me again, as pleased as I was to meet them
and hear them say, as they heartily grasped my
hand : "Ah'-ko-two ki-tuk'-ah-an-on"— our friend
has returned.

Thev told me briefly of the happenings during
my absence, and then asked for the story of my
trip. While Nat-ah'-ki prepared a little feast, and
they smoked, I gave it to them as well as I could,
giving the number of days that I had traveled on
the steamboat, and then on the train, in order to
reach my home, a distance in all of lOO nights'
sleep were one to travel it on horseback. I had
to repeat the story several times that night, once
in the chiefs lodge. When I had finished the old
man inquired particularlv about the railroad and
its trains, fire wagons— is-tsi' an'-e-kas-im— as he
called them. He wanted to know if any of them
were heading for his country.

*'No," I replied, "none are coming this way;
there is but the one, that which runs east and
west far south of here, through the land of the
Wolf People and the Sheep Eatersv"

*'Ai!'' he said, thoughtfully striking his chin,
"Ai ! that one many of us have seen on our raids
to the south. Yes, we have seen it, the wagons,
crowded with people, roaring across the plain,
killing and scaring the buffalo. Some day you
write to our Grandfather (the President) and tell
him that we will not allow one to enter our coun-
try. Yes, tell him that I, Big Lake, send him this
word: 'The white men shall neither put, a fire-
wagon trail across the country of my people, nor

settle here and tear up the sod of our valleys in
order to plant the things they feed upon.' "

I attended many a feast that night, no sooner
finishing a visit at one lodge than I was invited
to another one. It was late when I finally re-
turned home and lay down to rest, the song and
laughter of the great camp, the howling of the
wolves and coyotes lulling me to sleep. I thought
of the far-away New England village buried in
deep snow, and of its dreary monotony. ^'Thrice
blest am I bv propitious gods," I murmured.

Nat-ah'-ki" nudged me. "You talk in your

sleep," she said.

'1 was not asleep ; I v^ras thinking aloud."

"And what thought you?"
"The gods pity me," I replied. "They have
been kind to me and given me much happiness."
"Ai!" she acquiesced; "they are good; we
could ask of them nothing that they have not
given us. To-morrow we will sacrifice to them."
And while she prayed I fell asleep, having deter-
mined that, save perhaps for an occasional visit,
the East should know me no more.

The following day the chiefs and leading men
held a council and decided that we should move
out to the foot of the Bear's Paw Mountains.
Thither we went across the wide, brown and
buffalo-covered plain, encamping on a little
stream running down from a pine-clad coulee, re-
maining there for several days. There were vast
numbers of elk and deer and bighorn here, and
in our morning's hunt Wolverine and I killed
four fat ew^es, choosing the females instead of
the rams, as the rutting season of the sheep was
nearly over. So numerous were the bands of
these now scarce animals that I doubt not we
could have slaughtered twenty or more of them
had we been so minded; but we took no more
than our horses could carry.

When I returned to camp I found Nat-ah'-ki
busily chipping the hide of a cow buffalo I had
killed. She had laced it to a frame of four lodge
poles and frozen it, in which condition the sur-
plus thickness of the hide was most easily re-
moved with the short elkhorn, steel-tipped hoe
used for the purpose. But even then it was ex-
ceedingly hard, back-breaking labor, and I said
that I would be pleased if she would cease doing
that kind of work. I had said something about
it on a previous occasion, and this time, nerhaps,
I spoke a trifle too peremptorily. She turned
away from me, but not before I saw the tears
begin to roll down her cheeks.

"What have I done?" I asked. "I did not mean
to make you cry."

"Am I to do nothing," she in turn queried, "but
sit in the lodge in idleness? You hunt and pro-
vide the meat ; you buv from the traders the vari-
ous foods we eat. You buy my clothes and
everything else I wear and use. I also want to
do something toward our support."
"But you do. You cook and wash the dishes.

you even provide the fire wood. You make my
moccasins and warm mittens; you wash my
clothes ; when we travel it is you who takes down
and sets up the lodge, who packs and unpacks

the horses."

"Yet am I idle most of the time," she said
brokenly, "and the women jest and laugh at me,
and call me proud and lazy, lazy ! Too proud and
too lazy to work!"

Thereupon I kissed her and dried her tears,
and told her to tan as many robes as she wanted
to, taking care not to work too hard nor too long
at' a time. And immediately she was all smiles
and danced out of the lodge; presently I heard
the monotonous chuck, chuck, chuck of the hoe
tip against the stiff hide.

One night a dimly luminous ring was seen
around the moon, and the next morning a
brighter ring encircled the sun, while on either
side of it was a large sun dog. The rings por-
tended the arrival of a furious storm at no dis-
tant date; the rainbow-hued sundogs gave cer-
tain warning that the enemy, perhaps a large
war party, was approaching our camp. This was
a bad combination, and a council was called to
consider it. The tribe was not afraid to meet
any enemy that might do battle with them, but it
was certain that in the night of a severe storm a
party could approach unseen and unheard, steal
many horses, and that the driving, drifting snow
would effectually blot out their trail, so that they
could not be followed and overtaken. It was
decided to break camp at once and move to the
mouth of Creek-in-the-middle, on the Missouri.
If much snow fell and severe cold weather set
in there would be better shelter in the deep val-
ley of the river ; the horses could be fed the rich
bark of the cottonwood and kept in prime condi-
tion; by moving camp the certainly approaching
enemy would probably never run across our trail,
especially if the promised storm came soon. By
10 o'clock the last lodge was down and packed,
and we strung out east by south for our destina-
tion. At noon snow began to fall. We camped
that night on Creek-in-the-middle, so named be-
cause it has its source midway between the Bear's
Paw and Little Rocky Mountains. The early
voyageurs named it Cow Creek.

Snow was still lightly falling the next morn-
ing and it was much colder; nevertheless, we
again broke cam.p and moved on, arriving at the
river before dusk. Here we intended to remain
for some time, and the hunters rode far and near
on both sides of the valley and out on the plains
setting deadfalls for wolves. Strychnine had not
then come into general use. These deadfalls were
merely a few six to eight feet poles set up at an
angle of about forty-five degrees and supported
by a two-stick trigger. They were covered with
several hundred weight of large stones; when
the wolf seized the bait at the back end of the
fall, down came the heavy roof and crushed him.

chiefs, the medicine men have lost their power."
You will remember that the old man was a
Catholic. Yet I know that he had much faith in
the Blackfoot religion, and believed in the effi-
cacy of the medicine men's prayers and myster-
ies. He used often to speak of the terrible power
possessed by a man named Old Sun. "There was
one," he would say, "who surely talked with the
gods, and was given some of their mysterious
power. Sometimes of a dark night, he would in-
vite a few of us to his lodge, when all was calm
and still. After all were seated his wives would
bank the fire with ashes so that it was as dark
within as without, and he would begin to pray.
First to the Sun, chief ruler, then to Ai-so-pwom-
stan, the wind-maker, then to Sis-tse-kom, the
thunder, and Puh-pom', the lightning. As he
prayed, entreating them to come and do his will,
first the lodge ears would begin to quiver with
the first breath of a coming breeze, which gradu-
ally grew stronger and stronger until the lodge
bent to the blasts, and the lodge poles strained
and creaked. Then thunder began to boom, faint
and far away, and lightning to dimly blaze, and
they came nearer and nearer until they seemed
to be just overhead; the crashes deafened us, the
flashes blinded us, and all were terror-stricken.
Then this wonderful man would pray them to go,
and the wind would die out, and the thunder and
lightning go on rumbling and flashing into the
far distance until we heard and saw them no
more."

All this the old man firmly believed that he
had heard and seen. I cannot account for it, nor
can you, except— if there be such a thing— the
wily old magician hypnotized his audiences.

Walter B. Anderson,
[to be continued.]

/iii6

FOREST AND STREAM.

[March 17, 1906.

In the Lodges of the Blackfeet.

XVII.— A Friendly Visit from the Crows.

In the days of which I write the Blackfeet
were not, as they are now, cursed with the
different forms of tuberculosis. Yet there were
of course occasional cases. The wife of Four
Horns, a young man of the Small Robe band
had it, and was growing steadily worse. As the
lodge of the young couple was quite near ours,
we naturally saw much of them. Four Horns
was an exceedingly tall well-built, pleasant-
featured man of twenty-eight or thirty, and his
wife was also good looking, neat in person and
habits, but the disease had sadly shrunken her
once f^ne form. The man was a famous raider,
a tireless hunter, and with what he had taken
from the enemy, and by careful breeding, had
acquired a large band of horses. In his lodge
were always bundles of fine robes and furs,
ready to be bartered for anything that was
needed or which took his wife's fancy. Nothing
was too good for his woman; he thought the
world of her, and she of him.

When the disease appeared a doctor was
called in, and given a fee of three horses. His
medicines and prayers did no good, however,
and another one was tried, fee, five horses, but
with like results. In succession the doctors of
the whole tribe attended the patient, and now
the end was near. The fine herd of horses had
shrunk to less than a dozen head. Robes, furs,
costly blankets and finery had also been given
to the doctors. Late one evening a messenger
hurriedly entered our lodge: "You are called,"
he said, "by Four Horns; he bids you, both of
you, make haste.'*

We found the poor woman gasping for breath.
Four Horns was sitting on the couch beside her,
his face buried in his hands. An old woman,
robe thrown over her head, was feeding the
fire. I poured out a large drink of whiskey,
added some sugar and hot water to it, and
Nat-ah'-ki gave it to the sufferer. It revived
her; she soon breathed more easily, and then
said to me, speaking very slowly and interrupt-
edly: "Never in all my life have I done a
wrong thing. I have never lied, nor stolen, nor
done that which brings shame upon a woman's
parents and upon her. Yet our gods have for-
saken me and I am near to death. You have
godsas well as we. I have heard of them. The
Maker, His Son, the Mother of the Son. Pray
to them, I beg you; perhaps they will take pity

and make me well."

I cannot explain, I fear, how I felt upon hear-
ing that simple request. I wished that I could
grant it, and knew that I could not. How was
it possible for one to pray who had no faith?
I cast abcnit in my mind for some excuse; for

something to say, for some way to explain my
inability to do it. I looked up and found Nat-
ah'ki earnestly, expectantly gazing at me. We
had talked about religion, the white man's re-
ligion, several times, and she knew that I had
no faith in it. Nevertheless, I could see that
she expected me do what the dying woman had
requested. I made the sign of negation; no.
She moved at once to the side of the sufferer
and said: "I will pray to those gods for you.
Long ago, when I was a little girl, a Black-
robe and my uncle taught me the way," and she
began: "Ap'-ai-stu-to-ki, kin -ah-an-on, etc."
'Twas the Lord's prayer! Some zealous Jesuit,
perhaps Father De Smet himself, had translated
it into Blackfoot, and good Blackfoot, too.

But even as the prayer ended, a dark stream
flowed from the woman's mouth, the last and
fatal hemorrhage. "That which kills you,"
cried Four Horns, "shall kill me. I follow you
soon to the Sandhills." And bending over he
drank of the blood flowing from his loved one's
lips. With one last effort she clasped her thin
arms around his neck, and died. It was a dread-
ful scene.

"Come," I said presently, gently lifting him.
''Come with me to my lodge; the women now
have their work to do."

With one last, long look, he arose and fol-
lowed me. I gave him the guest couch, and
handed him a cupful of whiskey which he
quickly swallowed. After a time I gave him
another cupful; worn out with long watching,
overcome by the strong liquor, he laid down and
I covered him with a robe. He slept soundly
until after noon the next day; by that time
Nat-ah'-ki and others had bound the body in
robes and blankets and lashed it in a tree some-
where down the river. I know not whether
Four Horns had long since contracted the dis-
ease, or if he was infected there at the woman's
death bed. He died of the same dread scourge
some six weeks later. If there is a Sandhills,
let us hope that his shadow found hers, and that
together the dreariness of that abode of shadows
became lightened.

The uncle Nat-ah'-ki had mentioned was a
French Creole, one of the earliest employees of
the American Fur Company. He had married
the sister of her mother, and had been very
kind to his various relatives. Nat-ah'-ki had
passed two winters in his quarters at Fort
Benton, and much time in his lodge when he
traveled with the tribe. A devout Catholic him-
self, he had tried to spread the doctrine among
his adopted people. I would have said nothing
about the prayer she had made, but she opened
the subject an evening or two later by asking
me why I had not done what her dying friend

asked of me. t 1 ^ 1^

*'How could I, not believing, as I have told

you, that which the Blackrobes and others tell
us?" I asked in turn.

^'Surely," she said, "if I can believe, I who
can neither speak your language nor read the
Blackrobes' sacred writings, then you should be
able to do so, you who can understand it all."

*'In that very writing," I explained, "the
Maker says that we shall have no other god than
Him, and that if you pray to others than Him,
He will punish you in some fearful manner.
Therefore, if you do pray to Him, you must no
longer pray to the Sun, to Old Man, or to any-
thing else whatever."

"Nevertheless," said Nat-ah'-ki, decidedly, "I
shall pray to Him, and tb our gods also. That
writing was not meant for us; only for the
white people. We are poor; we are like a blind
person feeling his way along high cliffs; we need
the help of all the gods we can find."

"Right you are," I told her. "We do need
help; pray to them all; and since I cannot, why,
pray for me."

"Ah!" she sighed. "As if I did not always do
so! There is the Sun; you can see him every
day. How good he is, giving us light and heat.
Can you not believe in him?

"Yes," I replied, "I do believe in him, he is
the life of this earth."

That pleased her, and she went about her
work happily singing.

In February we were visited by a deputation
from the Crows, who were wintering on Tongue
River, away to the south of us. They came with
tobacco and other presents from their chief to
ours, and the message that their people offered
to make a lasting treaty of peace with the
Piegans. Their leader was one Rock Eater,
half Crow and half Blackfoot. His mother had
been captured by the former tribe when a young
girl, and in due time became the wife of her
captor's son. Rock Eater, of course, spoke
both languages perfectly. The envoys were well
received, and became guests of the more prom-
inent men. Their proposition was one which
required mature deliberation, and while the
chiefs and head warriors were discussing it,
they were feasted and given* the best of every-
thing in the camp. Rock Eater himself became
my guest, and many an interesting talk I had
with him by the evening fire.

"Is your mother happy with the Crows?" I
asked him one night. "And how do you your-
self feel— that you are Piegan, or Crow, or
both?"

"It is this way," he replied. "My mother
loves my father, and I love him, for he has al-
ways been kind to us. Generally, we are quite
happy; but there are times, when a party re-
turns with Piegan scalps, or horses taken from
them, boasting loudly of their victory, calling
the Piegans cowardly dogs. Ah! then we feel

y«

March 17, 1906.]

FOREST AND STREAM.

417

very sad. And often the proud young Crows
have made fun of me, and joked about me,
calling me bad names. Oh! yes, we are very
miserable at times. Long ago my mother be-
gan to urge my father to talk with the chiefs
and urge them to make peace with her people.
I have also long been saying what I could to
help the plan. But always the most of the people
would object. One chief would arise and say,
*The Piegans killed my son; I want revenge, not
peace.' Others would speak, crying out that
they had lost a brother, or father, or uncle, or
nephew in war with the Piegans, and that they
could not think of making peace. Not long ago
my father again called a council to consider this
ciuestion, and as ever, he was opposed by many
of the leading men. The last speaker said this
to him: *We are tired of being asked to talk
about' making peace with the Piegans. If you
are so anxious to be friendly with them, why go
and live with them; become a Piegan yourself.'
" *So I will,' cried my father in anger. *So I
will. I will become a Piegan, and fight with
them against all their enemies.' And so saying,
he arose and went home, I following him.

"Now, my father is a chief himself; a fearless
man in war, so kindly and generous that he is
loved by all but a few who are jealous of his
position. When it was learned what he had said
in the council, the people came to him and
begged him to take back his words; also they
went to the other chiefs and insisted that peace
should be declared, provided the Piegans would
agree to it. *We have had enough of this war/
they said. *See the widows and orphans it has
made. We have our own great country, covered
with buffalo, the Piegans theirs; the two tribes
can live without killing one another.' So, after
all, my father had his way, and we were sent to
you. I hope that we will carry Piegan tobacco
back with us."

Rock Eater was called to a feast, and soon
after Rising Wolf came in to smoke a pipe
with me. I asked him to tell me something
about the wars between the two tribes. "Ha!"
he said, grimly laughing; "I was in one of the
fights, and a sad day it was to us. But to begin:
The Blackfeet are a northern people. They once
lived in the Slave Lake country. The Crees
named those lakes after them, because they made
slaves of the enemies they captured. Gradually
they began to journey southward and came to
these great plains abounding in game, where the
winters are mild. There they found different
tribes, Crows, Snakes, Assinnaboines, Sho-
shones, various mountain tribes, the Kutenais,
Pend d'Oreilles, Stonies, and drove all before
them, taking possession of their country. There
were times of peace between them and these
tribes, but mostly they waged war upon them.
In 1832 the Blackfeet made a treaty of peace
with the Crows, at Fort Union, which lasted
only two years. Again, in 1855, at the mouth of
the Judith River, at what is known as the
Stevens treaty between the United States and
various tribes, the Blackfeet, Crows, Gros
Ventres, Pend d'Oreilles, the Kutenais, Nez
Perces and others agreed to cease warring
against one another, and intruding upon an-
other's hunting ground. The Musselshell River
was designated as the boundary separating
Blackfeet from Crow territory. In the summer
of 1857 the Crows broke this agreement by
raiding a camp of the Bloods, killing two men
and running off a large number of horses. That

reopened the old feud, the three Blackfeet
tribes, Bloods, Piegans and Blackfeet proper,
making common cause against the enemy. In
the fall of 1858 I joined the Piegans with my
family at Fort Benton, and we went south of
the Missouri to winter. We camped for a time
on the Judith River, and then determined to
move over on the Musselshell, follow it down
by easy stages, and return to the Missouri by
way of the east slope of the Snowy Mountains.
About noon of the second day we came to the
divide separating the two streams. Our column
was loosely scattered along four or five miles
of the trail that day, and most of the hunters
were behind, a way to the east and west, skin-
ning buffalo and other game they had killed;
ahead of us a mile or so rode our scouts, some
thirty or forty men. It was a warm day; the
horses felt lazy as well as their riders, and the
big camp moved slowly along the trail, widely
scattered as I have said. The scouts, far ahead,
gave no sign that they had seen anything to
make them suspicious. The old people dozed
in their saddles; young men here and there
were singing a war, or drinking song; mothers
crooned to the babe at their breast; all were
happy. The scouts passed out of view down
the south slope of the gap, and the head of our
column was nearing the summit, when out from
a large pine grove on our right dashed at least
two hundred mounted Crows, and fell upon us.
Back turned the people, the women and old
men madly urging their horses, scattering
travois and lodge poles along the way, shriek-
ing for help, calling on the gods to preserve
them. Such fighting men as there were along
this part of the line did their utmost to check
the rush of the Crows, to cover the retreat of
the weak and defenseless. Hearing shots and
shouts, back came the scouts, and from the rear
came charging more men to the front. But in
spite of stubborn resistance the Crows swept
all before them for a distance of at least two
miles, strewing the trail with our dead and dying
people—men, women, children, even babies.
They took not one captive, but shot and struck,
and lanced to kill, scalping many of their
victims. But at last the Piegans bunched up in
some sort of order, and the Crows drew off
and rode away to the south, singing their songs
of victory, taunting us by waiving in triumph the
scalps they had taken. So badly had our people
been stampeded, so stunned were they by the
terrible calamity that had befallen them, that
they simply stood and stared at the retreating
enemy, instead of following them and seeking
revenge.

"Right there in the gap the lodges were pitched,
and search for the dead and missing begun. By
night all the bodies had been recovered and
buried. On every hand, in nearly every lodge,
there were mourners cutting their hair, gashing
their lower limbs, crying and wailing, calling
over and over again by the hour the names
of the loved ones they had lost. Yes, it was a
camp of mourning. For weeks and months,
when evening came, the wailing of the
mourners, sitting out in the darkness just be-
yond the circle of the lodges, was pitiful to hear.
It was a very long time before singing and
laughter, and the call of the feast giver were
again heard. I happened to be with the scouts
that day, and when we charged back did my best
with them to check the Crows. But they so far
outnumbered us, had so demoralized the people

by their unexpected and fierce assault, that we
were well-nigh powerless until our men in the
rear came up. More than half of the scouts
were killed. I got an arrow in the left thigh.
In all, one hundred and thirteen Piegans were
killed, while we shot down but seven of the
enemy.

"After this happened, you may be sure that
most of the war parties leaving the Piegan camp
headed for the Crow country, and from the
north came parties of their brothers, the Black-
feet and Bloods to harass the common enemy.
In the course of two or three years they killed
enough members of the Crow tribe, and drove
off sufficient numbers of their horse herds, to
more than offset their own losses in the massa-
cre and in later fights— for, of course, our war
parties were not always victorious.

"In the spring of 1867 the Gros Ventres— then
at war with the Blackfeet tribes— concluded a
treaty with the Crows, and there was a great
gathering of them all on lower Milk River, to
celebrate the event. A party of young Gros
Ventres returning from a raid against the Crees
brought word that they had seen the Piegan
camp in the Divided— or, as the whites called
them. Cypress— Hills. This was great news.
The Crows had a long score to settle with
their old-time enemy. So also felt the Gros
Ventres. Although they had for a very long
time been under the protection of the Black-
feet, who fought their battles for them, and
protected them from their bitter foes, the Assin-
naboines and Yanktonais, they had no gratitude
in their make up, and had quarreled with their
benefactors over a trivial cause. And now for
revenge! What could the Piegans do against
their combined forces? Nothing. They would
kill off the men, capture the women, seize the
rich and varied property of the camp. So sure
were they of success, that they had their women
accompany them to sort out and care for the
prospective plunder.

"From a distant butte the war party had seen
the Piegan camp, but had not discovered that
just over a hill to the west of it, not half a
mile further, the Bloods were encamped in
force, some five thousand of them, or in all
about one thousand fighting men. No, they
hadn't seen that, and so one morning the Crows
and Gros Ventres came trailing leisurely over
the plain toward the Piegan camp all decked out
in their war costumes, the plumes of their war
bonnets and the eagle feather fringe of their
shields fluttering gaily in the wind. And with
them came their women happily chattering, al-
ready rejoicing over the vast store of plunder
they were going to possess that day. An early
hunter from the Piegan camp, going with his
woman after some meat he had killed the pre-
vious day, discovered the enemy while they were
still a mile and more away, and hurried back to
give the alarm, sending one of his women on to
call out the Bloods. There was a great rush
for horses, for weapons; some even managed
to put on a war shirt or war bonnet. Luckily
it was early in the morning and most of the
horse herds, having been driven in to water,
were feeding nearby. If a man did not at once
see his own band, he roped and mounted the
first good animal he came to. And thus it
happened that when the attacking party came
tearing over the little rise of ground just east
of the camp they were met by such an over-
whelming force of determined and well mounted

4i8

FOREST AND STREAM.

[March 17, 1906.

men that they turned and fled, firing but few
shots. They were utterly panic-stricken; their
only thought was to escape. Better mounted
than their women, they left these defenseless
ones to the mercy of the -enemy, seeking only
to escape themselves.

"From the point of meeting a fearful slaughter
began. Big Lake, Little Dog, Three Suns and
other chiefs kept shouting to their men to spare
the women, but a few were killed before they
could make their commands known. There was
no mercy shown to the fleeing men, however;
they were overtaken and shot, or brained with
war clubs. So sudden had been the call that
many men had found no time to select a swift
horse, mounting anything they could rope, and
these soon dropped. out of the race; but the
others kept on and on, mile after mile, killing all
the men they overtook until their horses could
run no more and their club arms were well-nigh
paralyzed from striking so long and frequently.
Few of the fleeing party made any resistance
whatever, never turned to look backward, but
bent forward in the saddle and plied the quirt
until they were shot or clubbed from their seats.
For miles the trail was strewn with the dead
and dying, through which fled their women,
shrieking with terror— the women they had
brought to care for the plunder. *Let them
go!' cried Big Lake, laughingly. *Let them
go! We will do as did Old Man with the rab-
bits, leave a few for to breed, so that their kind
may not become wholly extinct.'

"A count was made of the dead. Only five
of the Blackfeet had lost their lives, and a few
been wounded. But along the trail over which
they had so confidently marched that morning
three hundred and sixty Crows and Gros Ven-
tres lay dead. Many of them were never
touched, for the victors had become tired of
cutting and scalping. Their arms were taken,
however, and in many cases their war costumes
and ornaments, and then the two camps moved
westward a ways, leaving the battlefield to the
wolf and coyote.

*'As you know, the Gros Ventres asked for
peace, and are again under the protection of
our people. And now come these messengers
from the Crows. Well, we will see what we will
see." And bidding us sleep well. Rising Wolf —
I never could call him Monroe — went home.

When Berry was in camp, or anywhere within
a reasonable distance of it, the Piegans did no
business without consulting him, and they al-
ways took his advice. He was really their
leader; their chiefs deferred to him, relied upon
him, and he never failed to advise that which
was for their best interests. So, now he was
called to attend the council to consider the
Crow proposal, and I went, too, under his wing
as it were. I wanted to hear the speeches. The
Crow delegation, of course, was not present.
Big Lake's lodge was well filled with the chiefs
and leading men of the tribe, including the
younger heads of the different bands of the All
Friends Society. Among them I noticed mine
enemy, Little Deer, who scowled at me when
I entered. He was beginning to get on my
nerves. To tell the truth, I impatiently looked
forward to the day when we would have it out,
being possessed of a sort of unreasoning
belief that I was fated some day to send his
shadow to the Sand Hills.

Big Lake filled his big stone pipe, a medicine
man lighted it, made a short prayer, and then

it was passed back and forth around the circle.
Three Suns opened the subject for consideration
by saying that he and his band, the Lone Eaters,
favored the making of a peace treaty with their
old enemy. He had no sooner finished than
Little Deer began an impassioned harangue.
He should have been one of the last to speak,
older and men of higher position having pre-
cedence over the younger; but he thrust him-
self forward. Nevertheless, he was listened to
in silence. The Blackfeet are ever dignified, and
pass over without remark any breach of tribal
manners and etiquette. In the end, however,
the transgressor is made in many ways to pay
the penalty for his bad conduct. Little Deer
said that he represented the Raven Carrier band
of the great society, and that they wanted no
peace with the Crows. Who were the Crows
but murderers of their fathers and brothers;
stealers of their herds? As soon as green grass
came, he concluded, he and his friends would
start on a raid against the people of the Elk
River (Yellowstone), and that raid would be
repeated again and again while summer lasted.
One after another each one had his say,
many declaring for a peace treaty, a few— and
generally the younger men — voicing Little
Deer's sentiments. I remember especially the
speech of an ancient blind white-haired old
medicine man. "Oh, my children!" he began.
"Oh, my children! Hear me; Hsten understand-
ingly. When I was young like some of you
here, I was happiest when raiding the enemy,
killing them, driving off their horses. I became
rich. My women bore me four fine sons; my
lodge was always filled with good food, fine
furs. My boys grew up, and oh, how proud of
them I was. They were so strong, so active,
such good riders and good shots. Yes, and
they were so kind to me and to their mothers.
'Y^'ou shall hunt no more,' they commanded.
'You grow old; sit you here by the lodge fire
and smoke and dream, and we will provide for
you.' Lwas happy, grateful. I looked forward
to many pleasant winters as I aged. Hai-ya!
One after another my handsome sons went forth
to war, and one after another they failed to re-
turn. Two of my women were also killed by
the enemy; another died, and she who remains
is old and feeble. I am blind and helpless; we
are both dependent on our friends for what we
eat and wear, and for a place by the lodge fire.
This is truly a most unhappy condition. But if
there had been no war — ai! If there had been
no war, then this day I would be in my own
lodge with my children and grandchildren, and
my women, all of us happy and content. What
has happened will happen again. You who have
talked against peace, think hard and take back
your words. What war has done to me, it surely
will do to some of you."

When the old man finished, nearly every one
in the lodge cried "Ah!" "Ah!" in approval of
his speech. Big Lake then spoke a few words:
"I was going to make a talk for peace," he
said, "but our blind friend has spoken better
than I could; his words are my words. Let us
hear from our friend the trader chief."

"I say with you," Berry agreed, "that the old
man's talk is my talk. Better the camp of
peace and plenty than the mourning of widows
and orphans out in the darkness beyond the
fires. Let us make peace."

"It shall be peace!" said Big Lake. "Only
six of you here have talked against it, and you

are far out-numbered. I shall tell the Crow
messengers that we will meet their people at
Fort Benton in the sarvis berry moon, and
there make friends. I have said. Go you
forth."

We went our several ways; I to my lodge,
where I found Rock Eater talking with Nat-
ah'-ki. I saw at once that she was excited about
something, and as soon as I had told our friend
the decision of the council, she began: "See
what we have discovered. His mother," point-
ing at Rock Eater, "is my mother's cousin, my
relative; he is my relative. How queer it is;
he came into our lodge a stranger, and we dis-
cover that he is of our blood, our very own
family! And you say that we are to meet the
Crows when the sarvis berries ripen. Oh, I
am glad; glad! How pleased my mother will
be to see her whom we thought was dead. Oh,
we will be good to her. We will make her for-
get all that she has suffered."

I reached over and shook hands with Rock
Eater. "Friend and relative," I said, "I am glad
to hear this news."

And indeed I was glad. I had taken a strong
liking to the young man, who in his plain and
simple way had told us of his sufferings and
humiliations among a partly alien— one may say
wholly alien— people, for, after all, the mother's
kin, and not the father's, are almost invariably
the chosen kin of the offspring of a marriage
between members of different tribes or nations.
The All Friends Society gave a dance in
honor of the visitors, a Parted Hair, or Sioux
dance, which was indeed a grand and spectacu-
lar performance. Not to be outdone, the Crows
decided to give one of their own peculiar dances,
one called, I believe, the Dog Feast dance. But
at the very mention of it, the Piegans suddenly
lost all interest. Not but that they wanted to
see the dance; they were anxious to see it. The
hitch was about the dog. To them it was a
sacred animal, never to be killed, nor worse
still, to be used as an article of food. None of
them dared even, dreading the wrath of the
gods, to give the visitors one, knowing that it
would be killed and eaten. I solved the prob-
lem by buying one of an old woman, pretending
that I wanted it for a watch dog, and then giv-
ing it to the Crows. 'Twas a large, fat, ancient
dog, well-nigh toothless, purblind and furred
like a wolf. The Crows led it down into the
timber by the river, and when next I saw it,
it was hanging in a tree, dressed and scraped,
its skin as white and shiny as that of a newly
butchered pig. The next day they wanted a
kettle in which to stew the dog, and no one
dared loan one for such a purpose. Again I
went to the rescue, "borrowed" two empty five-
gallon alcohol cans from Berry and donated
them. In these the dog meat was cooked to
perfection.

These Crows had about the handsomest war
costumes I ever saw. Every eagle tail feather
of their headdresses was perfect, and the hang-
ing part of them swept the ground at their
heels. Their shirts and leggins were elegantly
fringed with weasel skins, scalp locks and buck
skin, and embroidered, as were their belts and
moccasins, with complex designs in perfectly
laid porcupine quills of gorgeous colors. The
steaming cans of dog meat were carried to a
level, open place between the camp and the
river, and placed by a freshly built fire. Two
of the Crows began to beat a drum, and the

.z'

*i\

''dance began, an immense crowd having gath-
ered around in a great circle to see it. No one
cared to go near the cans of forbidden food.
As I remember it through all these years, the
dance song was very different from any the
Blackfeet sing, but the dance step, a forward
spring on one foot and then the other, body
slightly inclined forward, was like that of the
Parted Hairs. Forth and back they danced,
now to the right, again to the left, every little
while circling completely around the fire and
the cans, arms and hands extended, as if they
were blessing the food. After dancing the
circle there was a rest, during which a pipe was
smoked, and then the dance was repeated. The
performance lasted about an hour, and then the
party removed the cans from the fire and pre-
pared to feast on their contents. In less than
two minutes the last Piegan had left the vicm-
ity, some of the women badly nauseated at the
thought of eating such proscribed food.

After remaining with us a couple of days
longer, the Crows prepared to depart, and
many a present wak given them for themselves
and for their chiefs. They carried about ten
pounds of tobacco as a token that the Piegans
accepted their overtures of peace, also a hand-
some black stone pipe, a present from Big
Lake to their head chief. Then they were given
a number of horses, fine blankets, parfleches of
choice dried meat and skins of pemmican.
Nat-ah'-ki had her little herd run in. ^ "My
horses are your horses," she said to me. "Give
Rock Eater that four-year-old black." I did so.
Then she got together some things for his
mother— a new four-point blanket, a blue trade
cloth dress, various paints and trinkets, and
lastly a lot of food for the traveler. Rock
Eater could hardly speak when he was leaving.
Finally he managed to say, "These days here
with you have been happy. I go from you,
my good and generous relatives, only to meet
you soon with my mother. She will cry with
joy when she hears the words you send her
and receives these fine presents." And so they
rode away across the bottom and over the ice-
bound river, and we turned to our every-day
^ff^irs. Walter B. Anderson.

fTO BE CONTINUED.]

49^

FOREST AND STREAM.

[March 31, 1906.

TOl STOIEf ^i\]^ TOUMnOT

In the Lodges of the Blackfeet.

A Raid by the Crows*

A BIG Chinook wind in the latter end of Feb-
ruary cleared the river of ice, and the little snow
in the coulees soon melted away. There was no
more cold weather thereafter, grass showing
green in the bottom lands in March.

Life in camp was generally tranquil. One
night some Assinaboines stole forty head of
horses, and were not overtaken, although a
large party followed their trail eastward as far
as Hairy Cap butte. Their coup stick, a long
arrow, to which was tied a large scalp, was
found sticking in the ground in the heart of our
camp the morning after the theft, causing the
people much chagrin. It was practically a
message from the enemy, reading something like
this: "We present you with a scalp, which
we tore from the head of a member of your
tribe. We have taken some of your horses.
We are Assinaboines," for the tribe was known
by the peculiar make of the arrow. **They will
hear from us as soon as summer comes," said
the young men. The Blackfeet did not often
start on raids in cold weather. On the other
hand, Assinaboine war parties seemed to prefer
the most inclement months of winter for their
expeditions. They were a very cowardly peo-
ple, and realized that they ran less risk of being
discovered and made to fight at a time when
the enemy went abroad only to hunt in the
vicinity of camp.

I shall never forget another morning, when,
for a few moments, it seemed as if we all must
face a terrible death. The evening before a
vast herd of buffalo had been discovered two or
three miles back from the river — a herd so large
that it was said the valley of Cow Creek and the
hills on each side of it were black with them as
far as one could see. Soon after sunrise many
hunters, with their women following on travois
horses, had gone out to run this herd and get
meat. An hour or so later they charged in
among them on their trained runners, splitting
the herd in such a way that about a thousand or
more broke straight down the valley toward the
camp. This was the part of the herd that they
chased, for the nearer to camp the killing was
done the easier it was to pack in the meat.
Down the valley the frightened animals fled,
followed by their tenacious pursuers. We in
camp heard the thunder of their hoofs and saw
the cloud of dust they raised, before the animals
themselves came in sight. Our lodges were
pitched on* the lower side of the bottom, between
the creek and the steep, bare, rocky ridge to the
east. Every man, woman and child of us had
hurried outside to witness the chase, for it was
not every day that we had such an opportunity.

It was really far more exciting to see such a
run near at hand than to take part in it. When
one mounted his runner and flung into the thick
of the herd, he saw only the particular animals
he chased and shot or shot at; he had not time
nor sense for anything else. But the spectatoi
of the run saw much. First of all, he was im-
pressed with the mighty power of the huge
shaggy, oddly shaped beasts charging madly by
him with a thunderous pounding of hoof and
rattle of horns, causing the ground to tremble
as if from an earthquake; and then to see the
hunters, their long hair streaming in the wind,
guiding their trained mounts here and there in
the thick of it all, singling out this fat cow or
that choice young bull, firing their guns or
leaning over and drivinjj an arrow deep into
the vital part of the great beast; to see the plain
over which they passed become dotted with the
dead, with great animals standing head down,
swaying, staggering, as the life blood flowed
from mouth and nostrils, finally crashing over
on the ground, a limp and lifeless heap. Ah!
that was a sight! That is what we, standing
by our lodges, saw that morning. No one
cheered the hunters, nor spoke, nor laughed.
It was too solemn a moment. We saw death
abroad; huge, powerful beasts, full of tireless
energy, suddenly stricken into so many heaps
of senseless meat and hide. Paradoxical as it
may seem, the Blackfeet reverenced, spoke with
awe of, regarded as "medicine" or sacred, these
animals which they killed for food, whose hides
furnished them with shelter and clothing.

A band of horses drinking at the river be-
came frightened at the noise of the approaching
herd. They bounded up the bank and raced out
over the bottom, heads and tails up, running
directly toward the herd, which swerved to the
eastward, crossed the creek, and came tearing
down our side of it. The rocky ridge hem-
ming in the bottom was too steep for them to
climb with anything like speed, so they kept on
in the flat directly toward the lodges. Such a
scampering as ensued! Some in their terror ran
wildly around, stopping behind one lodge a
moment, then running to the shelter of an-
other. Women screamed, children bawled, men
shouted words of advice and command. I seized
hold of Nat-ah'-ki, ran with her over to one of
Berry's wagons, and got her up in it. In a
moment both his and Sorrel Horses* wagons
were filled with people, others crouching under
and standing in lines behind them. Persons in
the vicinity of the ridge clambered up among
the rocks. Those near the creek jumped down
in it, but many stood helplessly behind their
lodges in the center of the camp. Now, the
leaders of the herd reached the outer edge of
the village. They could not draw back, for
those behind forced them forward, and they

loped on, threading their way between the
lodges, nimbly jumping from side to side to
avoid them, kicking out wickedly at them as
they passed. For all his great size and uncouth
shape, the buflFalo was a quick and active ani-
mal on his feet.

I had taken shelter behind one of the wagons
with many others and watched the brown living
stream surge by, winding in and out between
the lodges as a river winds past the islands and
bars in its channel. Not one of us but was
frightened; we held our breath in anxious sus-
pense, for we well knew that almost anything —
the firing of a gun or sight of some suspicious
object ahead — might throw the herd into con-
fusion, and if it turned or bunched up in a com-
pact mass, people would surely be trampled to
death by them, lodges overturned, the greater
part of camp reduced to irreparable ruin. To
us it seemed a very long time, but in reality no
more than a couple of minutes elapsed ere the
last of the herd had passed out beyond the
outer lodges into the river and across it to the
opposite side. No one had been hurt, not a
lodge had been overturned. But long scaffolds
of drying meat, many hides and pelts of various
animals pegged out on the ground to dry, had
either disappeared or been cut into small frag-
ments. That, indeed, was an experience to be
remembered; we were thankful to have escaped
with our lives. When we thought what would
have happened had we got in the way of the
rushing herd, we shuddered. When Nat-ah'-ki
said: "How good was the Sun to keep us un-
harmed through this great danger." I am
sure that she voiced the sentiment of all. The
next day I noticed that the trees and high
bushes bordering the river were bright with
the peoples' offerings or sacrifices to their god.
They gave always of their best, their choicest
and most prized ornaments and finery.

The winter was now gone. Berry and Sorrel
Horse started for Fort Benton with their fami-
lies and the last loads of their winter's trade.
They had done exceedingly well, and concluded
to remain for a time at the fort. Berry declared
that he would do no more freighting to the
mines with his bull train; he would either sell
it or employ some one as a train-master. The
Piegans still had a large number of prime robes,
wolf pelts and other skins on hand, which they
were to trade at the fort, but instead of going
there direct, they decided to circle southward,
up the Judith River, thence around to the north
by way of Arrow Creek and the foot of the
Highwood Mountain. I went with them, agree-
ing to meet Berry at the fort and plan with him
for the ensuing season's trade.

So, one warm, sunny day in the end of
March, camp was broken, and crossing the wide,
shallow ford of the river at Cow Island, wc

March 31, 1906.]

FOREST AND STREAM.

497

climbe4 the south slope of the valley and strung
out over the plain. At such times Nat-ah'-ki
and I frequently dropped behind and rode along
a wile or more to the right or left of the trail
on little side hunts. We were free to do this,
for the good mother and her uncle's family
took charge of our pack and travois horses, and
herded them along with their own. And when
we came to camp in the evening we would find
our lodge put up, the couches made, wood and
water at hand, the tireless mother sitting by
the fire awaiting our arrival. Sometimes Nai-
ah'-ki would remonstrate with her for doing all
this, but she would always say, "Young people
should be happy. This my mother did for mc
when I was newly married. Some day you will
likely be doing it for your daughter.*' Which
latter remark would cause the little woman to
turn away in confusion, and she would pretend
to be very busy about something. Alas! they
thought that this carefree life was going to last
forever. Even we white men little dreamed how
soon the buflfalo were to disappear.

On this lovely morning we rode gradually and
slowly obliquely away to the west until we were
a Qouple <yi miles from the trail. Still further
out we could see several hunters now and then,
as they passed over a rise of ground, and oc-
casionally the long column of the moving camp
was in sight. Sometimes we loitered, letting
our horses feed as they walked, and again we
would start them into a lope and keep it up
until we were well abreast of the others. Nat-
ah'-ki kept up a ceaseless chatter of gossip and
story and questions about the country from
which I came. She was ever wanting to know
about the ways of white women, good and bad;
and when I told some of the things I had
known, had seen the bad ones do, she would be
horrified and say over and over again, "Ter-
rible, shameless! No Blackfoot woman would
ever act like that."

Along toward noon we came to the head of
a pine-clad coulee running into the far-away
Judith, and in a little grove there was a small
spring of clear, cold water. We drank, and
then leading our animals up to the top of the
slope, where we could obtain a good view of the
surrounding country, we ate our lunch of bread,
depuyer and dried meat. A kit fox came
trotting over the bench opposite us, ran down
the slope into the grove and to the spring, and
presently it came out on our side, sniffing the
air, undoubtedly having scented our food. It
walked up to within thirty feet of us, stopped
and stared at us and the grazing horses, then
circled around and finally stretched out on its
belly, head up, watching us intently, and fre-
quently sniffing the air, curiously working its
slender, delicately contoured nose. It was evi-
dently reasoning like this, "There is something
to eat over by those strange looking animals.
I'll wait here a while, and nose around the place
after they leave." At least, that is what Nat-
ah'-ki said the little creature was thinking, and
I had reason to believe that in such matters she
generally knew whereof she spoke. "Did I ever
tell you," she asked, "about my grandfather and
his pet fox? No? Well, then, listen:

"One night my grandfather's dream com-
manded him to catch a kit fox, tame it and be
kind to it. He thought long over this, and
counseled with others as to its meaning; but
none could understand it any more than he.

The next night his dream told him the same
thing, and again on the third night, and lastly
on the fourth night. Four times his dreams
commanded him to do this. Four is the sacred
number. When he arose the fourth morning he
knew that he must obey his dream. He no
longer asked why, nor what was meant, but
after eating went out to catch a fox. There
were many foxes; every little way as he walked
he saw them running onward or sitting by their
dens, into which they disappeared as he drew
near. He had a long lariat, to an end of which
he had tied a length of fine buckskin string.
Making a running noose of the string, he would
lay it in a circle around the entrance to the
den, then go back as far as the lariat ex-
tended and lie down, to watch for the animals.
If one poked its head out, he would jerk the
lariat, and the noose would tighten around its
neck or body. In this way children catch
ground squirrels — he had done it himself in
youthful days — and he believed that in like man-
ner he could capture a fox.

"These animals have more than one entrance
to their den, often as many as five or six. If
my grandfather set the noose around a hole into
which he saw a fox go, the animal was certam
to look out from another opening, and seeing
him lying there near by, would dodge back and
appear no more, even though he waited a long
time. Thus passed the first day, and also the
second. On the evening of the third he noosed
one, but with a snap of its sharp teeth it cut
the string and escaped. Tired and thirsty, and
hungry, he was returning home that evening,
when on the side of a coulee he saw five young
foxes playing near the entrance to their den,
the mother and father sitting near by watching
them. They were very small; so young that
they were not quick and active on their feet,
but tumbled over each other slowly and awk-
wardly. He sat down on the opposite side of the
coulee and watched them until the sun set and
night came on. Over and over he asked him-
self how he could catch one of the young. He
prayed, too, calling upon the gods, upon his
dream, to show him the way.

"Returning to his lodge, he ate and drank
and filled and lighted his pipe, again praying
for help in that which he had to do. And sud-
denly, as he sat there silently smoking, the way
was shown him. The gods had taken pity on
him. He went to bed and slept well. *Go out
and find a large buffalo shoulder blade,' he said
to my grandmother, after the morning meal,
*then take a cow skin and accompany me.'

"They went to the den of young foxes. Very
close to the place where the little ones played was
a large bunch of rye grass, and in the center of
it my grandfather began to cut away the sod, to
loosen the earth with his knife. My grand-
mother helped him, using the shoulder blade as
a white man does his shovel, removing the earth
and piling it on the cowskin, then carrying the
load away and scattering it in the bottom of the
coulee. They worked and worked, cutting and
digging, and scraping, until the hole was deep
enough for my grandfather to stand in. His
eyes were even with the top of the ground, the
fringe of rye grass still standing made a good
screen ; the foxes might scent him, but they could
not see him. *Go home,' he said to my grand-
mother, when they had finished their work. *Go
home and make a sacrifice to the Sun, and pray

r '.

that T may succeed in that which I have to do.'

"Then he got into the hole and stood very still,
waiting, watching for the little ones to come out.
Long he waited ; the sun seemed to travel very
slowly down toward the mountains. It was very
hot; he became very thirsty; his legs ached, but
he stood as motionless as the ground itself, al-
ways watching. A little while before sunset an
old one came out, and walked half way around
the rye grass bunch. Then, suddenly, it scented
him, and ran swiftly away up the coulee, not
daring to return whence the wind had warned it
of some danger, unseen, but more to be feared
for that very reason. Soon afterward the little
ones came forth, one by one, slowly and lazily,
yawning and stretching themselves, blinking
their eyes in the strong light. They began to
play, as they had done on the previous evening,
and before long they gathered in a scuffle at the
edge of the rye grass. Then my grandfather
quickly reached out, and seized one by the back
of the neck. *Hai-ya', little brother,' he cried, T
have caught you.' Climbing out of the hole he
wrapped it in a fold of his robe and hurried to
his lodge. He was happy. Four times his dream
had spoken to him ; on the fourth day he had ful-
filled its command. He felt sure that in some
way the taking of the fox was to be for his good.
"Puh'-po-kan (dream) my grandfather named
the little animal. From the very beginning it
had no fear of him, and soon made friends with
the dogs of the lodge. An old bitch loved it at
once, and if any strange dog came nosing around
where it was she would drive the stranger away.
The fox eat readily the bits of meat my grand-
father gave it, and learned to drink water and
soup. He forbade anyone to pet it, or feed it,
or call it by name, so it was friendly only with
him. It wanted to follow him wherever he went,
and at night would crawl under the robes and
sleep beside him. When camp was moved, it had
a little nest in a travois load, where it would lie
quite still to the journey's end. It was such a
' funny little one ; always wanting to play with my
grandfather or with the lodge dogs ; and when it
got scared at anything it would run to him, mak-
ing short, gasping, hoarse little barks, just as we
hear them at night out beyond the lodges. I did
so want to play with it, take it up in my arms
and pet it, but always my mother would say:
'Don't you dare do it; 'tis a sacred one, and if
you touch it something dreadful will happen to
you. Perhaps you would go blind.'

"As it grew older it would wander around at
times during the night until chased by some dog,
and then it would rush in and crawl into bed be-
side my grandfather. Not a mouse wandered in
under the lodge-skin but Puh'-po-kan had found
and killed it, and often he would bring home a
bird or brown squirrel. About the time when
Puh'-po-kan had seen two winters, we were
camping on the Little River, just north of the
Bear's Paw Mountains. One night, after the
lodge fires had all died out and everyone was
asleep, Puh'-po-kan awoke my grandfather by
backing up against his head and barking in a
way it had when scared. *Stop that,' said my
grandfather, reaching up and giving the little
one a light slap. *Stop barking and go to sleep.'
"But Puh'-po-kan would not stop; instead he
barked harder than ever, trembling because he
was so excited. My grandfather raised up on his
elbow and looked around. The moon was shin-
ing down through the smoke-hole, so that h#

493

FOREST AND STREAM.

[March 31, 1906.

• 4^

could make out the diflferent objects in the lodge;
over by the doorway there was something that
did not belong there; a dark, motionless object
that looked like a person crouching. 'Who are
you?* he asked. 'What do you want here?'
"No answer.

"Then my grandfather spoke again: 'Tell me,
quickly, who you are. Get up and talk, or I
will shoot you.*

"Still there was no answer. Puh'-po-kan kept
on barking. My grandfather quietly reached out
for his gun, which lay at the head of the bed,
cocked it without noise, aimed and fired it. With
a fearful scream a man— for such the object
proved to be— sprang up and fell dead right in
the hot ashes and coals of the fire-place, from
whence my grandfather quickly dragged him. Of
course the shot aroused the camp, and the
screams of the frightened women in my grand-
father's lodge brought every one to it. A fire
was quickly built and the light showed that the
dead one was an enemy, a far-away tribe Sioux.
He had no weapon except a big long knife, still
firmly gripped in his right hand. Evidently he
had entered the lodge intending to steal a gun,
and would have stabbed anyone who interfered
with him. When the fox gave warning of his
presence, he most likely thought that by remain-
ing crouched to the ground he would not be dis-
covered, and that those aroused would soon again
fall to sleep. He seemed to have come to the
camp alone, for no trace of others could be
found, no horses were stolen.

"All the talk in camp was about the fox, and
my grandfather's dream. It was all great medi-
cine. And my grandfather, how pleased he was.
He made many sacrifices, prayed much, and loved
Puh'-po-kan more than ever. Two more winters
the little one lived, and then one summer night .
it was bitten by a rattlesnake and soon died. The
women wrapped the swollen little body in robes
and buried it on a scaffold they made in a cotton-
wood tree, just as if it had been a person."

I recinched our saddles. Nat-ah'-ki spread the
remains of our lunch on a smooth flat stone. "Eat
heartily, little brother," she said. We mounted
and rode away, and looking back we saw the fox
busily chewing a piece of dried meat. Later in
the afternoon we arrived in camp, which had
been pitched near a small lake on the high pla-
teau. The water was bad but drinkable when
made into tea. We used buffalo chips for fuel.
In the evening I was invited to a feast given by
Big Lake. Monroe, or Rising Wolf, as I pre-
ferred to call him, was also a guest along with a
number of other staid and sober men. Young
men seldom feasted and smoked with their el-
ders, and in the camp were many coteries, or
social sets, just as we find them in any civilized
community, with this exception; there was no
jealousy nor rivalry between them; no one of
them felt that its members were in anyway any
better than the members of another set.

We had smoked but one pipe, I remember,
when a young man bounced in through the door-
way, and said: "A war party of many men is
near us."

"Ah!" all exclaimed, and then Big Lake,
"Quick! tell us about it."

"I was hunting," said the young man, "and tied
my horse to a bunch of sage while I crept up to a
band of antelope. Perhaps I did not tie him se-
curely; he got loose and ran away on his back
trail and I started back afoot At sundown I

came to the top of a ridge and could see our
camp and over on another ridge near the Judith
I saw at least fifty men. Saw them climb up and
stand on its summit. They must have discovered
our camp, by the smoke from the lodge fires, if
nothing more. I waited until it was so dark that
they could not see me, and then hurried in. They
will certainly raid our horses to-night.

"Scatter out through camp all of you," said
Big Lake, quickly and decisively. "Tell the men
to come here at once, warn the women not to
scream or cry or run. Hurry !"

I went home and told Nat-ah'-ki the news, re-
moved the cover of my rifle, filled my coat pock-
ets with cartridges. "Wait!" she said, grasping
the gun barrel. "What are you going to do?"

"Why, Big Lake told us to meet at his lodge,"
I explained. "He has some good plan, I sup-

pose.

"Yes, he is wise," she agreed, "but you are not
going out there to be killed by a war party. Stay
here with me."

"But our horses. I cannot remain here in the
lodge and let the enemy run them off."
"They do not matter. Let them go."
"But," I said, "if I remained here think what
people would say. They would call me a coward,
they would say to you : 'Your white man has a
woman's heart; why don't you make some
dresses for him ?' "

That ended the argument. She just sat down
on the couch, covered her head with a shawl, and
thus I left her. I will acknowledge that I did
not go forth with a mad desire for battle. The
cheerful lodge fire, the restful couch and the
long-stemmed pipe were dear to all save the rash
young man whose only thought was of war. Big
Lake was a born tactician. In the few moments
required to assemble the men around his lodge
he had thought out his plan of defense, and
issued his orders in a few words. The various
bands of the All Friends Society were told off
into four groups, and ordered to steal quietly out
to the north, south, east and west of camp and
there await the arrival of the enemy. All others
not of the society were to go ^yith any one of the
bands they chose. It was not feared that a war
party of fifty or of even three times that number
would make an attack on camp. They came, of
course, to steal horses, and the plan was to go
out where the herds were grazing and lie in wait.
The really valuable animals were all tethered, as
usual, near the lodges of their owne.s, and pass-
ing by the herds of common horses, the enemy
would try to get in to them, cut their ropes and
lead them away one by one, and by twos and
threes.

I moved out with the Crazy Dogs, Raven Car-
riers and thirty or forty others who, like myself,
belonged to no organization. We spread out in
a wide line, and after walking slowly and silently
for about half a mile, word was passed to stop,
whereupon we sat down in the cover of the sage
and grease-wood brush. There was a moon, low
down in the western sky, and due to set about
midnight, so it was not very dark; we could see
quite plainly the brush forty or fifty yards dis-
tant We remained there quietly a long time.
The man nearest me on the right slowly crawled
over and sat beside me.

"The night light is about to go out of sight,"
he whispered. "The war party will appear some-
where soon, if they come at all to-night"
He spoke truly, for a little later we heard in-

distinctly away out beyond a murmur of voices.
Then there was silence, and then with soft tread
and harsh swish of brush against their leggins,
the raiders came into view, unsuspectingly- ad-
vancing, some of them to their death. Some one
on my left fired first, and then the whole line shot
an irregular volley. How the sparks of the cheap
black powder glowed and sparkled as they
spouted from fuke and rifle into the darkness.
The flashes blinded us for a moment, and when
we could see again the enemy were running
away. They had fired a number of shots in an-
swer to ours, but as we afterward found, not one
of their bullets had found a mark. Almost as
one man our line sprang forward, with cries of
"Now, Crazy Dogs ! Now, Raven Carriers ! Take
courage; we must wipe them out." Here were
some bodies, five in all, one with life still in it.
Thud went a war club and the recumbent figure
sprawled out, face up, in the waning moonlight.
In a trice the dead were scalped, their arms taken
by those who first came to them. On sped our
party, an occasional shot was fired at a dimly
seen retreating figure. Behind us now came the
three other divisions of the camp, shouting words
of encouragement. But now no enemy could be
seen, nor heard, and our party stopped; it was
useless to look further for them in the darkness.
Big Lake came up. "Spread out," he said,
"spread out again and encircle the camp. Per-
haps some of them are concealed in the brush
closer in, and with daylight we will find them."

I shouldered my rifle and went home. Nat-
ah'-ki was sitting up with her mother for com-
pany and I related all that had occurred.

"Why did you come back?" she asked, after I
had finished. "Why didn't you stay out there with
the rest as Big Lake ordered?"

"Hai-yah!" I exclaimed. "How peculiar are
women; one mav not understand them. You
begged me this evening to remain here with you.
I came back because I am tired and hungry, and
sleepy, and now you are displeased because I
returned. Well, to please you I'll go back and
sit with the others until morning."

"Sit down, crazy man," she said, pushing me
back on the couch from which I had started to
rise. "You will stay right there. Here is your
pipe; fill it and smoke while I broil some meat
and make tea."

"You are the chief," I told her, contentedly
leaning back against a willow mat. "It shall be
as you say."

Ah, me! Roll them back, you ruthless har-
vester of the years. Give back to me Nat-ah'-ki
and my youth. Return to us our lodge and the

wide brown buffalo plains.

Walter B. Anderson.

[to be continued]

Ames, la.— It is now almost a year since we
have been receiving your interesting and practical
journal for the use of our students who are spe-
cializing in the study of forestry. Your paper
has been a constant help and inspiration to our
men by giving them a clearer, more practical un-
derstanding of hunting and fishing matters in this
country. There has been, and is so much abuse
of our great privileges, as far as hunting and
fishing is concerned, that I have been very
anxious that our men get a right understanding
of this subject. ^ H. P. Baker

Forester Iowa State College.

Pasadena, Cal— I want to congratulate you
on the new dress of the paper. It is better look-
ing and more convenient to handle. G. B. P.

536

FOREST AND STREAM.

[April 7, 1906.

In the Lodges of the Blackfeet.

XIX.— Nat-ah'-ki's Wedding.

At daylight an unusual stir and confusion in
camp< awoke us, and Nat-ah'-ki went out to learn
what it was all about. She soon returned with
the news that our enemy of the night had proved
to be Crows, that the bodies of seven of them
had been found, and that they had succeeded in
running off seventy or more horses. A large
party had already started in pursuit of them, and
we were not to break camp until they returned.
I arose and dressed betimes, had breakfast and
went visiting. Turning into Weasel Tail's lodge
I found him nursing a gash in the thigh, where
a Crow bullet had creased him. I sat with him
a loni? time, while other visitors came and went.
All were calling the Crows any bad name their
language contained, but unfortunately or fortu-
nately, some may say, in this line their speech
was exceedingly limited. The very best they could
do was to call their enemy dog faces and present
them to the Sun, begging him to destroy them.

I went on to the lodge of the chief, where I
found many of the principal men assembled. *T
for one," Big Lake was saying when I entered,
"will talk against making peace with the Crows
so long as I live. Let us all agree never to smoke
their tobacco. Let us teach our children that
they are like the rattlesnake, always to be killed
on sight."

The visitors heartily agreed to this, and I may
say here that they kept their word, sending party
after party against their Yellowstone enemies
until the Government interfered and put a stop
to inter-tribal war. The last raid occurred in the
summer of 1885.

There was much scalp dancing during the day,
participated in by those who had lost most re-
cently husband or father or some other relative
in battle with the Crows. This was not, as has
been often luridly pictured, a spectacular dance
of fierce exultation and triumph over the death
of their enemy. As performed by the Blackfeet,
it was a truly sad spectacle. Those participating
in it blackened their faces, hands and moccasins
with charcoal, and wore their meanest, plainest
clothes. An aged man held the scalp of the
enemy tied to a willow wand in front of him, and
the others ranged in line on each side. Then
they sang a low and very plaintive song: in a
minor key, which to me at least, seemed to ex-
press more sorrow over the loss of their kin than
it did joy for the death of the enemy. On this
occasion there were seven scalps, seven parties
dancing in different parts of camp at once, and
one band of mourners after another took their
turn, so that the performance lasted until night.
There was really no dancing about it, the singers
merely stooping slightly and rising in time to
the song.

The pursuing party returned at dusk, having
failed to overtake the enemy. Some were for
starting at once on a raid into the Crow country,
but there was now little ammunition in camp
and it was decided that we should push on to
Fort Benton with as little delay as possible. After
obtaining a good supply of powder and ball there
the war party could turn back southward. Four
or five days later camp was pitched in the big
bottom opposite the fort, Nat-ah'-ki and I crossed
the river, and wended our way to the little adobe
house. There we found Berry, his wife and
mother, and the good Crow Woman. What a
happy lot they were those women, as they bustled
around and got in each other's way trying to get
supper ready. And I am sure Berry and I were
happy too. We did not say much as we stretched
out on a buffalo robe lounge and smoked, but
words are often superfluous. It was all good
enough for us, and each knew that the other so
felt. Berry had got my mail out of the office and
there it lay on the table, a few letters, a bushel or
more of papers and magazines. I read the let-
ters, but the rest mostly remained unopened. I
had lost all interest in States affairs.

In the evening Berry and I went down to the
fort for a while, and, of course, we called in at
Keno Bill's place. As usual, at that time of year,
the town, if it could be so called, was full of peo-
ple, traders and trappers, bullwhackers and mule
skinners, miners and Indians, all awaiting the
arrival of the steamboats which had long since
left St. Louis, and were soon due to arrive.
Every table in Keno's place was so crowded with
players that one couldn't edge in to watch a
game. Keno himself and two assistants were
busy behind the bar, as the kegs still held out de-
spite the heavy draught on them during the win-
ter months. There were even a few bottles of
beer left. I gladly paid a dollar and four bits
for one of them, and Berry helped me drink it.

We went into the Overland Hotel for a mo-
ment on our way home, and there among other
guests I saw a man whom I thought to be a
preacher; at any rate, a white tie adorned his
blue flannel shirt front, and he wore a black coat
which, if not cut in approved ministerial style,
was at least of the right color. I went up to
him and said : "Excuse me, sir, but I'd like to
know if you are a preacher?"

*T am," he replied with a pleasant smile. "I
am a minister of the Methodist Episcopal Church.
I have been in the mountains for the past year,
both preaching and mining, and am now on my
way to my home in the States."

"Well," I continued, "if you'll go along with
me I guess I can find a job for you."

He arose at once and accompanied us home.

"May I ask," he said on the way, "what is to
be the nature of my services? A baptism or
marriaee, or is there some sick one in need of a
few words?"

«Ta'

'It's a marriage," I replied; "that is, providing
the other party is willing."

With that Berry shamelessly snickered.

The women were gaily talking and laughing
when we arrived, but became silent at once when
they ?aw our companion. They were always thus
in the presence of strangers. I called Nat-ah'-ki
into the back room. "He out there," I said to
her, "is a sacred (more correctly Sun) white
man. I have asked him to sacredly marry us."

"Oh," she cried. "How did you know my
wish? It is what I have always wanted you to
do, but I — I was afraid, ashamed to ask it of you.
But, is he a real sacred white man? He wears
no black robe, no cross?"

"He is of another society," I replied. "There
are a thousand of them, and each claims that
theirs is the only true one. It matters not to us.
Come on."

And so,' Berry acting as interpreter, we were
married, and we sent the preacher forth with a
gold piece as a souvenir of the occasion. "I'm
hungry," said Berry, "broil us a couple of buffalo
tongues, you women."

Broiled tongue and bread, tea and apple sauce
comprised the wedding feast, as we may call it,
and that also was good enough for us.

"It is this," Nat-ah'-ki confided to me later.
"Many white men who have married women of
our tribe according to our customs, have used
them only as playthings and then have left them.
But those who took women by the sacred words
of a sacred white man, have never left them. I
know that you would never leave me, no never.
But how the others have laughed at me, joked
about me, saying: *Crazy girl, you love your
man, and you are a fool ; he has not married you
in the white man's way, and will leave you as
soon as he sees another woman with a prettier
face.' They can never say that again. No,
never."

We had planned. Berry and I, to remain in
Fort Benton during the summer and make a
camp trade the following winter. The steam-
boats began to arrive in May and then the levee
was a busy place. The traders were also rushed,
the Indians crowding in to dispose of the last
of their robes and furs. But we had no place
in this, and in a few weeks we became restless.
Berry decided to make a couple of trips to
Helena with his bull train, although it was not
necessary for him to go, as he had hired a train
master, or, in the language of the bullwhacker.
a "wagon boss." The women decided that they
wanted to go berrying. The Piegans had long
since crossed the river and were camped on the
Teton, only a few miles away. We proposed to
join them, Nat-ah'-ki sending word to her
mother to have our saddle and pack horses
driven in.

A couple of weeks before this, I was sitting on
the levee one day when a stranger came along

April 7, 1906.]

]^ .,_

FOREST AND STREAM.

537

and sat down by my side, and we fell to talking
about various things. I saw at once that he was
a man of education and refinement, and from
the moment I first saw him I took a liking to
him. He was tall and well built, brown-eyed and
brown-Tiaired, and had a pleasing, frank ex-
pression of countenance, although it was rather
a sad one. Also, he seemed to have no enthus-
iasms. He seldom smiled, never laughed out-
right, and was often so lost in thought over —
to judge from his sad eyes — something near his
heart that he was entirely oblivious to his sur-
roundings. I invited him over to the little abode
for dinner, and Berry immediately took to him
as I had done. So did the women, who were
usually very distant and dignified in the presence
of strangers. He soon passed the most of his
time with us, and nothing in the estimation of
our household was good enough for him. Old
Mrs. Berry rigged up a fine robe couch with
willow back rests for his especial use. The
Crow Woman gave him a beautiful pair of
moccasins. Nat-ah'-ki and Berry's wife got out
their choice stores of pemmican, and depuyer,
dried meats and berries for our little evening
feasts.

"See here," I said to Nat-ah'-ki one day. "I'm
getting jealous of this man. You women think
more of him than you do of Berry and me."

"He is so sad feeling," she said, "that we
pity him. What is it that troubles him? Has
he lost some loved one?"

I knew no more than she what troubled him;
that he was grieving about something was evi-
dent. We never questioned him, never even
asked his name, nor whence he came. And
that is where the western people differed from
those of the east. They never gossiped, never
tried to pry into one's secrets, nor demanded
his pedigree. They simply gave him the hand
of good-fellowship and used him as they wished
to be used.

The women named him Kut-ai'imi: Never-
Laughs, and thus among themselves they ever
spoke of him. It was a long time before he
knew it, and then it didn't matter. He told
Berry and I that his name was— well, what it
was is not necessary for this story; we will call
him Ashton. He also informed us that his home
was in Boston, and that he had come west
merely to see something of western life. When
he learned that the women and I were to join
the camp, he asked to be allowed to go with us,
and of course we were glad to have him go. He
purchased a horse and saddle, blanket and riflcj,
and various other things necessary for the trip.
So, one evening we returned to camp, to our
very own lodge, which Nat-ah'-ki's mother had
again set up and furnished for our home coming.
On every hand there was song and laughter,
and beating of drums, and calls for feasts. The
women broiled some meat, made some bread and
tea, and we eat the simple meal with relish.
Then Ashton and I lay back on our soft lounges
and smoked, talking little. I was perfectly con-
tent; my friend, judging by his dreamy and far-
away expression, had gone back eastward, in
thought, a couple of thousand miles. The
women soon washed the dishes, and got out their
porcupine quill, or bead embroidery work.
^'Grandmother," I said, "tell me a story; some-
thing about your people in the long ago."

"Hai!" the Crow Woman exclaimed. "Just
hear him. He is always wanting stories. Before

long, if we are to keep him contented, we will
have to make up some, for he has heard about
all we know."

"But just think how selfish he is," said
Nat-ah'-ki, looking at me mischievously. "He
gets all of our stories, but tells us none of his."

I was obliged to acknowledge that the little
woman was right, and promised to tell some
later. Old Mrs. Berry, after some thinking, be-
gan:

The Story of No-Heart.

"It was before my grandfather's time, yes, far
back of that, for he said that the old people
whom he had heard relate it, told about having
heard it from their grandfathers. So, it is surely
a story of great age.

"It was in the spring time. The people were
scattered out on the plain one day, busily digging
the white root, when a terrible thunder storm
came up. It was far to the lodges, so the
diggers, knowing that they would get wet
whether they ran or staid, just sat down where
they were, covered themselves with their robes,
and waited for the storm to pass by. One
family happened to be all near each other when
the rain began to fall, all huddled up closely to-
gether.

" This is a very cold rain,' said the mother.
*I am shivering.'

" *Yes,' said the father, *it is cold. Crowd
closer together all of you.'

"Thus they sat, when thunder crashed above
them, and a ball of lightning, falling in their
midst, broke with a big noise, and knocked them
all fiat and limp on the wet ground. There they
lay, the father and mother, two sons and a
daughter, and none dared go to aid them, for
fear the angry god would strike them, too. But
when the storm passed by, the people ran to do
what they could for the stricken ones. At first
they thought that all of them were dead, and
four of them surely were; the fifth one, the girl,
still breathed. In a little while she sat up and,
seeing what had befallen the others, wept so
piteously that the women there wept with her,
although none of them were related to her. The
father had been an orphan since childhood; so
had the mother; and the poor girl was now
alone. In the whole camp she had not one
relation.

"Kind friends buried the dead, and then many
different ones asked the girl to come and live
with them; but she refused them all. *You must
go and live with some one,' said the chief, *No
one ever heard of a young woman living by her-
self. You cannot live alone. Where would you
procure your food? And think of what people
would say should you do so; you would soon
have a bad name.'

" *If people speak evil of me, I cannot help
it,' said the girl. 'They will live to take back
their bad words. I have decided to do this, and
I will find a way to keep from starving.'

"So this girl lived on alone in the lodge her
parents had built, with no company save her
dogs. The women of the camp frequently visited
her and gave her meat and other food; but no
man, either young or old, ever went in and sat
by her fire. One or two had attempted it, but
only once, for she had told them plainly that
she did not wish the society of any man. So the
youths gazed at her from afar, and prayed the
gods to soften her heart. She was a handsome

young woman, a hard and ceaseless toiler; no
wonder that the men fell in love with her, and
no wonder that they named her No Heart.

"One young man, Long Elk, son of the great
chief, loved the lone girl so much that he was
nearly crazy with the pain and longing for her.
He had never spoken to her, well knowing that
her answer would be that which she had given
to others. But he could not help going about,
day after day, where she could always see him.
If she worked in her little bean and corn patch,
he sat on the edge of the river bank nearby. If
she went to the timber for wood, he strolled
out in that direction, often meeting her on the
trail, but she always passed him with eyes cast
down, as if she had not seen him. Often, in the
night, when all the camp was fast asleep. Long
Elk would steal out of his father's lodge, pick
up a water skin, and filling it again and again
at the river, would water every row in No
Heart's garden. At the risk of his life he would
go out alone on the plains where the Sioux
were always prowling, and hunt. In the morning
when No Heart awoke and went out, she would
find hanging in the dark entrance way, choice
portions of meat, the skin of a buffalo or the
deer kind. The people talked about this,
wondering who did it all. If the girl knew, she
gave no sign of it, always passing the young man
as if she did not know there was such a person
on earth. A few low and evil ones themselves,
hinted wickedly that the unknown protector was
well paid for his troubles. But they were al-
ways rebuked, for the girl had many friends who
believed that she was all good.

"In the third summer of the girl's lone living,
the Mandans and Arickarees quarreled, and then
trouble began, parties constantly starting out to
steal each other's horses, and to kill and scalp
all whom they could find hunting or traveling
about beyond the protection of the villages.
This was a very sad condition for the people.
The two tribes had long been friends; Mandan
men had married Arickaree women, and many
Arickaree men had Mandan wives. It was
dreadful to see the scalps of perhaps one's own
relatives brought into camp. But what could
the women do? They had no voice in the
councils, and were afraid to say what they
thought. Not so No Heart. Every day she
went about in the camp, talking loudly, so that
the men must hear, scolding them and their
wickedness; pointing out the truth, that by kill-
ing each other, the two tribes would become so
weak that they would soon be unable to with-
stand their common enemy, the Sioux. Yes,
No Heart would even walk right up to a chief
and scold him, and he would be obliged to turn
silently away, for he could not argue with a
woman, nor could he force this one to close her
mouth; she was the ruler of her own person.

"One night a large number of Arickarees suc-
ceeded in making an opening in the village
stockade and, passing through, they began to
lead out the horses. Some one soon discovered
them, however, and gave the alarm, and a big
fight took place, the Mandans driving the enemy
out on the plain, and down into the timber be-
low. Some men on both sides were killed;
there was both mourning and rejoicing in the
village.

"The Arickarees retreated to their village.
Toward evening No Heart went down into the
timber for fuel, and in a thick clump of willows

538

FOREST AND STREAM.

she found one of the enemy, a young man, badly
wounded. An arrow had pierced his groin, and
the loss of blood had been great. He was so
weak that he could scarcely speak or move. No
Heart stuck many willow twigs in the ground
about him, the more securely to conceal him.
^Do n«n fear,' she said to him, 'I will bring you
food and drink.'

"She hurried back to her lodge and got some
dried meat and a skin of water, put them under
her robe and returned to the wounded one. He
drank much, ate some of the food. No Heart
washed and bound the wound. Then she again
left hmi, telling him to lie quiet, that in the
night she would return and take him to her
home, where she would care for him until he
got well. In her lodge she fixed a place for
him, screening one of the bed places with a large
cow skin; she also partly covered the smoke
hole, and hung the skin across the entrance so
that the interior of the lodge had but little light
Ihe women who sometimes visited her would
never suspect that any one was concealed and
especially an enemy-in a lodge where for three
summers no man had entered.

''It was a very dark night. Down in the
timber there was no light at all. No Heart was
obliged to extend her arms as she walked, to
keep from running against the trees but she
knew the place so well that she had little trouble
HI finding the thicket, and the one she had come
to aid. 'Arise/ she said, in a low voice. *Arise
and follow me.'

"The young man attempted to get up, but fell
back heavily upon the ground. 1 cannot stand,'
ne said; 'my legs have no strength'

"Then No Heart cried out: 'You cannot

'^^^ .L "^ """^ ^^^"^^^ ^"^ ^^^t you could
walk. What shall I do? What shall I do ^'

"'You will let me carry him for you,' said
some one standing close behind her. 'I will
carry him wherever you lead.'

"No Heart turned with a* little cry of sur-

prise She could not see the speaker's face in

he darkness, only his dim form; but she knew

the voice. She was not afraid. 'Lift him then,'

she said, 'and follow me.'

"She herself raised the wounded one up and
placed him on the newcomer's back, and then
led the way out of the timber, across the plain
through the stockade, in which she had loosened
a post, and then on to her lodge. No one was
about, and they were not discovered. Within
a fire was burning, but there was no need of the
light to show the girl who had helped her He
was Long Elk. 'We will put him here,' she
said, lifting the skin in front of the couch she
had prepared, and they laid the sick man care-
fully down upon it. Then Long Elk stood for
a little, looking at the girl, but she remained
silent and would not look at him. 'I will go
now,' he said, 'but each night I will come with
meat for you and your lover.'

"Still the girl did not speak, and he went
away. But as soon as he had gone. No Heart
sat down and cried. The sick man raised up a
little and asked, ^What troubles you? Why are
you crying?'

"'Did you not hear?' she replied. 'He said
that you are my lover.'

" 'I know you,' said the man. They call you
No Heart, but they lie. You have a heart; I
wish it were for me.'

" 'Don't!' the girl cried. 'Don't say that again!

[April 7, 1906.

I will take care of you. feed you. As your
mother is to you, so will I be.'

"Now, when night came again. No Heart went
often out in the passageway, staying there
longer and longer each time, returning only to
give the sick man water, or a little food. At
last, as she was sitting out there in the dark,
Long Elk came, and feeling for the right place,
hung up a piece of meat beyond the reach of
the dogs. -Come in/ she said to him. 'Come
in and talk with the wounded one.*

'After that Long Elk sat with the Arickaree
every night for a time, and they talked of the
things which interest men. While he was in
the lodge No Heart never spoke, except to say,
'Eat it,' when she placed food before them.
Day after day the wounded one grew stronger.
One night, after Long Elk had gone, he said.
'I am able to travel; to-morrow night I will
start homeward. I want to know why you have
taken pity on me, why you saved me from
death?'

'**Listen, then.' said the girl. 'It was be-
cause war is bad; because I pitied you. Many
women here, and many more in your village, are
crying because they have lost the ones they
loved in this quarrel. Of them all, I alone have
talked, begging the chiefs to make peace with
you. All the other women were glad of my
words, but they are afraid, and do not dare speak
for themselves. I talked and feared not; because
no one could bid me stop. I have helped you,
now do you help me; help your women; help us
all. When you get home tell what was done for
you here, and talk hard for peace.'

" 'So I will,' the Arickaree told her. 'When
they learn all that you have done for me, the
chiefs will listen. I am sure they will be glad
to stop this war.'

"The next night, when Long Elk entered the
lodge, he found the man sitting up. By his
side lay his weapon, and a little sack of food,
'I was waiting for you,' he said. 'I am now well,
and wish to start for home to-night. Will you
take me out beyond the stockade? If any speak
you can answer them, and they will not suspect
that their enemy passes by.'

"'I will go with you, of course,' Long Elk
told him. Whereupon he arose, slung on his
bow and quiver, the sack of food, and lifted his
shield. No Heart sat quietly on the opposite
side of the lodge, looking straight at the fire.
Long Elk turned to her: 'And you?' he asked.
'Are you also ready?'

"She did not answer, but covered her face
with he robe.

" 'I go alone,' said the Arickaree. *Let us start.'

'They went out, through the village, through
the stockade, and across the bottom to the
timber, where they stopped. 'You have come far
enough,' the Arickaree said, 'I will go on alone
from here. You have been good to me. I shall
not forget it. When I arrive home I shall talk
much for peace between our tribes. I hope we
may soon meet again in friendship.'

*' 'Wait,' said Long Elk, as he turned to go,
'I want to ask you something: 'Why do you
not take No Heart with you?'

" 'I would if she were willing,' he answered;
'but she is not for me. I tell you truly, this:
She has been a mother to me: no more, no less.
And you,' he continued, 'have you ever asked her
to be your woman? No? Then go now; right
now, and do so.'

« <

It would be useless,' said Long Elk, sadly.
*Many have asked her, and she has always turned
them away.'

'**! have seen much while I lay sick in her
lodge,' the Arickaree continued. 'I have seen
her gaze at you as you sat talking to me, and her
eyes were beautiful then. And I have seen her
become restless and go out and in, out and in.
when you were late. When a woman does that,
it means that she loves you. Go and ask her.'

*They parted. Long Elk returned to the
village. 'It could not be,' he thought, 'that the
young man was right. No, it could not be. Had
he not kept near her these many winters and
summers? and never once had she looked at him,
or smiled.' Thinking thus, he wandered on, and
on, and found himself standing by the entrance
to her lodge. Within he heard, faintly, some
one crying. He could not be sure that was it,
the sound of it was so low. He stepped noise-
lessly in and carefully drew aside the door skin.
No Heart was sitting where he had last seen
her, sitting before the dying fire, robe over her
head, and she was crying. He stole past the
doorway and sat down beside her, quife close,
but he dared not touch her. 'Good Heart,' he
said, 'Big Heart, don't cry.'

"But she only cried harder when she heard
his words, and he was much troubled, not know-
ing what to do. After a little he moved closer
and put his arm around her; she did not draw
away, so then he drew the robe away from her
face. 'Tell me,' he said, 'why you are crying?'
" 'Because I am so lonely.'
'Ah! You do love him then. Perhaps it
is not too late; I may be able to overtake him.
Shall I go and call him back to you?'

" 'What do you mean?' cried No Heart, staring
at him. 'Who are you talking about?'

"'He who just left; the Arickaree,' Long Elk
answered. But now he had edged up still closer,
and his arm was tighter around her, and she
leaned heavily against him.

"'Was there ever such a blind one?' she
said. 'Yes, I will let you know my heart; I will
not be ashamed, nor afraid to say it. I was
crying because I thought you would not return.
All these summers and winters I have been
waiting, hoping that you would love me, and
you never spoke.'

" 'How could I?' he asked. 'You never looked
a.t me, you made no sign.'

" Tt was your place to speak,' she said. 'Even
yet you have not done so.'

"*I do now, then. Will you take me for
your man?'

"She put her arms around his neck and kissed
him, and that was answer enough.

"In the morning, like any other married man.
Long Elk went out and stood by the entrance
to the lodge which was now his, and shouted
feast invitations to his father and friends. They
all came, and all were pleased that he had got
such a good woman. Some made jokes about
newly married ones, which made the young
woman cover her face with her robe. Yet she
was so happy that she would soon throw it back
and laugh with the others.

'*In a few days came a party from the
Arickarees, and the wounded young man was
one of them— asking for peace. The story was
told then, how No Heart had taken in the
young man and brought him to life again, and
when they heard it many a woman prayed the

April 7, 1906.]

gods to be good to her, and give her and her
man long life. Peace between the two tribes
was then declared, and there was much rejoicing.
"There, my son, I have finished."

'*Well, what was all that about?" asked
Ashton, rousing up and reaching out for his
pipe and tobajcco.

**Oh!" I replied, "'twas the story of a girl
and a man. And I proceeded to give him a
translation of it. After I had finished, he sat
quietly thinking for some time, and then re-
marked:

"This gives me a new and unexpected view
of these people. I had not thought that love,
that self-sacrifice, such as the story depicts was
at all in their nature. Really, it's quite refresh-
ing to learn that there are occasionally women
wiio are true aad steadfast in their love."

He said this bitterly. I could have told him
things, but contented myself by saying, "Keep
your eyes open, friend. You may find much in
these people to be commended."

Walter B. Anderson,
[to be continued.]

FOITEST AND STREAM.

[April 14, 1906.

In the Lodges of the Blackfeet.

The Attack on the Hunters.

After a couple of days camp was moved out
to the Marias, in the bottom opposite the mouth
of Black Coulee. Sarvis berries were very
plentiful all along the river, and the women
gathered large quantities of them to dry for
winter use. Ashton had not yet fired a shot
from his new rifle, so one afternoon I prevailed
upon him to go for a hunt. I had some diffi-
culty, however, in getting him out. He seemed
to have no interest in anything, passing most
of the time on his couch, smoking, smoking, and
abstractedly refilling hs pipe and smoking again.
The women were right. Never-Laugh was
sorely grieving about something. I wished that
I could find a way to make him forget it, what-
ever the trouble was.

We climbed on to our horses, crossed the river
and rode northward, near enough to the Black
Coulee to look down into it occasionally. Game
was not very plentiful, for the hunters had
driven the most of the herds back toward the
Sweet Grass Hills. However, we saw some
antelope here and there, several small bands of
buffalo, with occasionally a lone old bull. We
rode out five or six miles, and then down into
the coulee to water our horses at a pool we
saw in the bottom. It was a shallow, narrow
stretch of water, about fifty yards in length, and
I was surprised to see that the willows border-
ing its eastern side had been cut in considerable
quantity by beavers. On the western side, there
was a clay slope of twenty or thirty feet, up to
a high cut bank, and in the base of this bank
was a deep, dark, low cavern, in which the
beavers lived. Judging by the various sized
footprints about, a whole family of them lived
there. I never before, nor since, found these
animals in such a place. There was no water
between this pool and the river, some miles
distant; the pool was not deep enough to wholly
cover them. But most unusual of all was the
fact that they lived in a cave, the entrance to
which was some distance from and above the
pool. There were three or four old lodge poles
lying nearby, and I tried to ascertain the depth
of the cave with one of them, but failed. I
found, however, that the roof of it sloped down
so near the floor, that nothing larger than a
fox could get into the uttermost recesses. A
fox, even a red one, would go hungry a long
time before trying to make a meal of a

beaver.

Before descending into the coulee we had
seen a few head of buffalo feeding on the op-
posite side of it, and while we loitered at the
pool they came in sight at the top of the slope,
breaking into a trot and finally on a 'lope, hurry-
ing down for water. "Now, then,'' I said to

Ashton, **try your rifle; shoot that young cow,
the third from the leader."

The band turned, when about a hundred yards
away, in order to come into the bottom of the
coulee above the cut bank, and where this par-
ticular animal swung broadside to us, he threw
his gun up and, without a noticeable pause to
sight the arm, sent a bullet into the right place,
just back of the shoulder. Blood streamed from
its nostrils almost at the crack of the gun, and
after 'loping on a short distance, it suddenly
stopped and then sank to the ground. "That
was a fine shot," I remarked. "You have evi-
dently handled the rifle before."

"Yes," he said, "I used to shoot a good deal in
the Adirondacks, and in Maine and Nova

Scotia."

We led our horses over to the fallen buffalo,
and I bled it, then set it up to cut out the boss
ribs, Ashton standing by watching the way I did
it. "I'll not kill another one," he said, more to
himself than to me. "It doesn't seem right to
take the life of such a magnificent animal."

"Well," I remarked, "there isn't a bit of fresh
meat in the lodge. I don't know what the
women would say were we to return without

some."

**Oh! we must eat, of course," he agreed; "but
I don't care to kill any more of these noble
animals. Somehow I've lost all pleasure in hunt-
ing. Hereafter I'll loan some Indian my rifle,
and he can furnish my share of the meat. That
can be done, I presume?"

I told him that he could probably make some
such arrangement. I didn't tell him though, that
I would see that he got out and rustled some
himself. I wanted to wake him up; to get him
out of the trance he was in. There is nothing
so conducive to good mental health as plenty
of fatiguing work or exercise.

When we returned home with the boss ribs
and the tongue, and several other, parts of the
animal which I had surreptitiously cut out and
hurriedly placed in the sack I especially carried
for them, I took pains to relate what a fine shot
my friend had made. The women praised him
highly, all of which I translated, and the Crow
Woman told him that if she was not already his
mother, so to speak, she would like to be his
wife, for then she would be sure to have plentv
of meat and skins. Ashton smiled, but made

no answer.

We had a dish for supper that evening at
which my friend looked askance, as I had done
when I first saw it, and then, after tasting it. he ate
it all, and looked around for more, as I also had
done. I had brought in the little sack, among
other things, a few feet of a certain entrail which
is always streaked or covered with soft, snowy-
white fat. This Nat-ah'-ki washed thoroughly
and then stuffed with finely-chopped tenderloin,
and stuffed it in such a manner that the inside

of the entrail became the outside, and conse-
quently the rich fat was encased with the meat.
Both ends of the case were then securely tied,
and the long sausage-like thing placed on the
coals to roast, the cook constantly turning and
moving it around to prevent its burning. After
about twenty minutes on the coals, it was
dropped into a pot of boiling water for five or
ten minutes more, and was then ready to serve.
In my estimation, and in that of all who have
tried it, this method of cooking meat is the
best of all, for the securely tied case confines all
the juices of the meat. The Blackfeet call this
Crow entrail, as they learned from that tribe
how to prepare and cook the dish. It remains
for some enterprising city cook to give it an
English name, and open a place where it will be
the main feature of the food. I'll guarantee that
all the lovers of good things in the town will
flock to him.

A day or two later, in pursuance of my plan
to get Ashton out more frequently, I pretended
to be ill, and then Nat-ah'-ki told him, I in-
terpreting, that the meat was all gone, and un-
less he went out and killed something, we would
go hungry to bed. He appealed to me to find a
substitute for him, offering to furnish rifle and
cartridges, and also pay the hunter, and Nat-
ah'-ki was sent out to find some one. But I
had posted her, and she presently returned with
a very sad expression in her face, and reported
that no one could be found to go; that all who
could were already gone to hunt.

'*Well, then," said our friend, "if that is the
case, there's no need of my going out. I'll buy
some meat of them when they return."

I thought that I had failed after all in my little
plan, but Nat-ah'-ki came to the rescue, as soon
as I told her what he had decided to do.

"Tell him," she said, "that I did not think he
wished to bring shame upon this lodge. If he
buys meat, the whole camp will laugh and jeer
at me, and say, what a useless man she has got.
He can't kill enough meat to supply his lodge.
His friend has to buy it to keep all from

starving."

Ashton jumped up at once when he heard that.
"Where's my horse?" he asked. "If that is the
way they look at it, why, I've got to hunt. Send

for the horse."

I saw him off with Weasel Tail, whom I told
to make a wide circle that would require the
whole day. And a long day they certainly had,
returning home after sunset. I had also in-
structed the Indian to lose his gun caps— where
he could conveniently find them again. So
Ashton had been obliged to do the shooting,
and they brought in plenty of meat. He was
very tired, and hungry and thirsty that evening,
and instead of smoking innumerable times, he
filled his pipe but once after eating, and then
went to sleep. From that day on, for a time, he

April 14, 1906.]
— * 1

FOREST AND STREAM.

585

had to do all the hunting. I remained ill, or
hurt my leg, or my horse was missing, so I
couldn't go out. And it was truly wonderful the
amount of meat we used. Nat-ah'-ki carried out
quantities of i( every day, and gave it to the
needy ones of the camp, widows and others who
had no one to hunt for them. But I did not
remain Jn camp, because of this. As soon as
Ashton and his hunting partner, either Weasel
Tail or some other friend, had departed, I would
go berrying with the women, or Nat-ah'-ki and
I would saddle up and have a ride somewhere
in a direction opposite to that in which they
were traveling. But for all his hard work, I
could not see that Ashton became any more
cheerful. The improvement was that he had less

when there suddenly appeared a number of
riders tearing down the north slope of the
valley, and the camp began to hum with excite-
ment. One or two of the riders were waving
their robes, making the sign for the "enemy."
Men and boys grabbed lariats and started on the
run for their horses. Down into the camp came
the little bunch of riders, and a moment later
Ashton rode up beside me. He had a young
girl in front of him, whom he dropped into Nat-
ah'-ki's outstretched arms. He was terribly ex-
cited, his dark eyes fairly shone, and he said
over and over again, "The cowards! Oh, the
cowards! But I killed two of them, yes, I got
two."
The girl was crying, wailing: *'My mother,

I kilkd one of the enemy before I got on my
horse, and another one a little later. And Vm
glad I did, I just wish I could have killed them
all.

"Well, they followed us quite a long ways,
perhaps two miles, but we managed to stop them
finally, or perhaps they thought they had better
not venture too near to our camp. One of
them creased me, didn't he? Well, he will not
do any more shooting. I got him. He just
tumbled off his horse on his head, and flopped
over flat on the ground. The girl? They shot
her horse, but before it fell I reached over and
lifted her on to mine. After that I couldn't
handle my rifle, or I might have done better.
I'll tell you what, old man, if 'twasn't for those

time to think, for he was generally sound asleep
by eight or nine o'clock.

Twice the camp was moved, each time a few
miles further down the river. The berry season
was about over, and the women began to talk of
returning to Fort Benton, having gathered and
dried all the fruit they needed. We had been
out about six weeks, and I also was ready to
return, as I was sure that Berry would be there
awaiting us. We had a talk, a little council of
our own one evening, and decided to move in
the following day but one. Was it preordained
that I should send Ashton out for a last hunt
the morning before our departure? If I had not
done so— but I did. You shall learn in time
what was the result of it. He needn't have
gone, we had plenty of meat. I sent him, and
thereby changed the course of his whole life.
Why, he might be living to-day had be re-
mained in camp that morning. Looking back
at it all, 'I don't know whether to blame myself
or not.

Ashton and Weasel Tail rode away. The
women began to pack up, getting out their par-
fleches and filling them with their store of
berries and dried meats. It was about noon,
and I had just signed to Nat-ah'-ki I was hungry,

REMAINS OF OLD FORT BENTON.
From a photograph taken about 1882.

my father," she kept repeating, "both dead, both
killed."

There was a great commotion in camp; men
were saddling horses, calling wildly for their
weapons, mounting and riding away out on to
the plain in an ever-increasing stream. Ashton
dismounted and I saw that his left trouser leg was
soaked with blood. He limped into the lodge,
and I followed and undressed him; there was
a long, open bullet furrow just below the hip.
**It was this way," he told me, while I washed
and bandaged the wound, "Weasel Tail and I
overtook a party of hunters three or four miles
out, and traveled on with them. Some had their
women along, to help skin and bring in what
they killed, I suppose. In a little while we
sighted a fine herd of buffalo, approached them,
and had a good run, the party killing something
iiKe twenty of them. We were butchering the
animals when something like fifty riders ap-
peared from God knows where, and com-
menced shooting at us. We were only seven or
eight men, not strong enough to stand them ofT,
but we partly held them in check, while the
women got their horses, and we all lit out for
home — that is, all but three, two men and a
woman, who had been killed at the first fire.

poor scalped corpses lying out there on the
plain, I would say that it was great sport."

Never-Laughs Goes East.

Owing to the ensuing stifTness and soreness
of Ashton's leg, we deferred for a few days our
departure from the camp. A Piegan who had
been wounded in the fight on the previous day
died during the night. The attacking party
proved to be Assinaboines, and in all they lost
seven of their number, the pursuing party which
left our camp overtaking and killing two who
were riding slow horses.

Nat-ah'-ki constituted herself protector and
guardian of the orphan. The girl had two aunts,
sisters of her dead mother, but they were
married to a Blackfoot and were far away in the
north. In the Piegan camp she had not a re-
maining relative. She was a shy, quiet slip of
a girl, about thirteen or fourteen years of age.
Just now she was more than usually quiet, never
speaking except to answer a question, silently
crying most of the time. Nat-ah'-ki remodelled
some of her own clothes for her. The Crow
Woman gave her a shawl. When she appeared
dressed in a neat calico dress, her hair nicely
braided and bound with a deep red ribbon, even

586

FOREST AND STREAM.

[April 14. iQo^.

* * —

Ashton's aesthetic sense was pleased. "She is a
very comely girl," he remarked. "Poor thing!
Whatever will become of her?'*

**Weli;' I reminded him, "this is not a
civilized community; she would be welcomed
and provided for by any and every family in the

camp."

Such was, indeed, the case. Many a woman
came to our lodge and asked that the girl might
live with her, each one saying that the mother
had been her particular friend, or that her own
daughter was the friend and playmate of the
orphan, and for that reason she wished to give
the lone one a home. Nat-ah'-ki invariably told
them that the girl was free to go, or remain,
and then the latter would say that they were
all very kind, but she preferred to stay where
she was for a time.

When I told Ashton what these visitors were
asking, he seemed to be surprised, and said that
he had rather doubted my view of their kind-
liness and charity. He sat silently musing and
smoking a long time and then, more in the way
of a joke than seriously, told me to say to the
girl that as he had saved her from the Assina-
boines, he thought that she belonged to him;
that he was now her father, as it were. But
this was no joke to her; she took it very
seriously indeed, and replied: "I know it; he
is now my chief; I take his words."

This unexpected answer certainly surprised
Ashton, and made him very thoughtful.

In about a week we packed up and moved in
to the fort, Nat-ah'-ki's uncle accompanying us
to drive the horses back to the herd, as we had
no way of caring for them. We ought to have
remained longer in the camp, for the ride re-
opened Ashton's wound, and retarded his com-
plete recovery. After reaching the fort, he kept
pretty close to his lounge for a couple of weeks,
and the young orphan waited on him, highly
pleased when she could save him a few steps.
To pass the time, he taught her simple English
words, and short sentences. It was really laugh-
able sometimes to hear her mix them up, as
for instance, when she would say, "The cow he is
water drink." But we didn't laugh, for if we
had, there would have been an end to the
lessons. Many a promising Indian scholar has
been lost by the thoughtless ridicule of his
teacher.

Berry returned to the fort a day or two after
we arrived, and we began to plan for the
winter's trade and to make lists of the goods
needed. Whether we should make a camp trade,
or build a post, and at what point, would de-
pend entirely on the Indians', plans for the
winter. Ashton intended to winter with us
wherever we went, but one day he received a
letter that changed his plans. He did not tell
us more than the fact that it was necessary for
him to return to the States soon. In fact, he
had never spoken of his affairs, nor his family.
All we knew was that he had proved to be a
good companion, a man of kindly nature, a
wholly dependable man.

"I am not very inquisitive, I hope," said Berry
to me; "but I'd just like to know what our
friend's trouble is, what he is always grieving
about, and what it is that causes him to go
back. It's plain to be seen that he doesn't want

to go."

I felt as Berry did, but no more than he could
I say anything to Ashton about it.

Several steamboats were yet to arrive before
the close of the season, and he deferred his de-
parture. One evening, when we were all con-
gregated in the front room, the conversation
turned to his impending departure, and he said
that he would return to us as soon as possible;
if not sometime during the winter, then by the
first boat in the spring. "And now," he con-
tinued, "say this to my little girl; tell her that I
wish to take her with me, and put her in school
down there with a lot of other nice little girls,
where kind black robe women will care for her,
and teach her to read, and write, and sew, and
many other good and useful things."

This proposition certainly surprised Berry and
me, and when it had been interpreted, the women
were simply lost in astonishment. A long
silence ensued; we all waited for the girl to
speak; all certain that she would refuse to leave
us. We were still more astonished, if that
were possible, when she at last replied that she
would go. And then she ran to Nat-ah'-ki, hid
her face in her lap, and cried. We men got
our hats and strolled out.

"I have been thinking of this for some time,"
Ashton said to us, after we had sat down on
the river bank and lighted our pipes. "I am
curious to know what effect a really first-class
education will have upon the girl, and what use
she will make of it. Do you think it a good
plan?"

"God only knows," Berry replied. 'Tt may
make her very unhappy; it certainly will if, in
spite of high education and all accomplishments,
the whites shall still avoid and despise her be-
cause she is an Indian. Again, it might make of
her a noble and useful woman. I advise you to

try it, anyway."

"But, Berry, old man!" I exclaimed, "the white
people do not despise Indians. On the other
hand, I am sure that they highly respect those
of them who are really men."

*T guess I -know what they think, what they
do," he rejoined. "I am only half Indian, but I
have been abused by them in my time."

*Who were T/tey,' " I asked. "Were they

men fairly representative of the white people?

Or were they the ignorant and low down ones?"

He acknowledged that he had ever been kindly

and respectfully treated by the former class.

*'Well," Ashton concluded, "The girl goes
with me. I'll take her to St. Louis and place
her in some good institution, preferably one
managed by the Sisters. All that money can pay
for shall be done for her; moreover, I'll make
my will and provide for her in case of my death.
I'd rather she should have what I leave, than
anyone else."

Early one morning we went to the levee to
see them off. On tjie previous evening the girl
had cried bitterly while the few things that we
could provide for her were being packed, and
Nat-ah'-ki told her that if she did not wish to
leave us, she need not do so, that Never-Laughs
would not think of taking her away against her
will. The girl replied that she would do as he
wished. "He saved me," she said; "and I be-
long to him. I know that he means well."

The boat had steamed up, the whistle blew,
and the passengers went aboard. The young
one was very quiet, and dry-eyed. She followed
Ashton up the gang-plank, shawl thrown over
her head and partly concealing her face, and
they went up on the upper deck. The boat drew

out into the stream, slowly turned, and then
swiftly disappeared around the bend. We went
thoughtfully home.

"I do not like it at all," said the Crow Woman.
**What have we to do with whife peoples' ways
and learning? The Sun gave us these plains,
and these mountains and rivers, the buffalo and
the deer. They are all we need." •

"You speak truth," old Mrs. Berry said to
her. "Yet I am glad that my son went down to
the far white men's country, for what he learned
there is of use. He can make their writing and
read it. He is a trader, knowing how to buy
and sell. He is above the chiefs, for they come
to him for advice."

"I think," I said, "that I ought to have sent
Nat-ah'-ki along with them."

"Just hear him!" she cried, seizing me by the
shoulder and pushing me out of the trail. "As
if he couldn't teach me himself. But he will
not, although I have asked him to do so more
than a hundred times."

That was one thing Nat-ah'-ki always rather
regretted, her inability to speak English. I did
not teach it to her, for I early realized that she
would never be able to master some of our con-
sonants, especially b, f, 1 and r, the sounds of
which are wholly foreign to the Blackfoot
language. Rather than hear her speak our
tongue incorrectly, I preferred that she should
not speak it at all. And then, I spoke her
language, more and more fluently as time went
by, and I thought that we were sufficient unto
ourselves. I did not think that we would ever
be much in the company of white people, es-
pecially white women. The majority of the
latter, those who lived upon the frontier, hated
the Indian women, especially those married to
white men, and equally they hated, despised, the
whites who had married them, and lost no op-
portunity to show their ill will.

Berry keenly realized this, and at times was
actually sick at heart over the slights, real and
imagined, but mostly the latter, put upon him.
Once, and once only — it was soon after Ashton's
departure with his protege— he told me of an
experience he had gone through, which, I think,
was in many ways the most peculiar and pathetic
one I ever heard. It so burned itself into my
memory that I can repeat it word for word as
he related it.

"When I was only a child," he said, "I can
remember my father frequently mentioning the
property, a farm, he owned in Missouri. After
he left the service of the American Fur Com-
pany, he became an independent trader, and
made almost yearly trips to St. Louis to dispose
of his furs. • He gradually made longer and
longer stays down therfe, and finally gave up
trading altogether, remaining down on his farm,
and visiting us only occasionally. Young as I
was, I had a great desire to become a trader
myself, and worked hard for the men with whom
he successively placed me, beginning with Major
Dawson, the company's factor here. Dawson
himself, as well as the clerks, seemed to like
me, and they all helped me when they saw that I
was trying to read and write. If I do say it, I
believe that I made pretty rapid progress, more
rapid that my father thought I would. He in-
tended, when the time came, to send me to
school in the States.

'There came a time when he had been away
from us for two years, and my friends thought

April 14, 1906.]

FOREST AND STREAM.

587

that they would take the matter into their own
hands and send me to a school they knew about
ia St. Joe, Missouri. They gave me a pocket
ful of money, and shipped me on a batteau which
pulled out early m September. The fare down,
by the way, was three hundred dollars, but I was
dead-headed through. It was a long and tedious
trip, especially in the lower part of the river,
where the current was slow and head winds
delayed us. We arrived in St. Joe late in the
fall, and I went at once to the place selected for
me, a boarding school which also took in
day scholars. Right there my troubles began:
While a few of my schoolmates liked me and
were very kind, the most of them abused me and
made fun of me, calling me *low down Injun'
and many other names which hurt. I stood it as
long as I could, until, in fact, they began calling
me coward. Me a coward, when Fd already been
in two battles where men were killed, and done
my share of the shooting! Well, when they
called me a coward, I just waded in and gave
three or four of them a good pounding, although
I was in no way used to that style of fighting.
After that they left me alone, but all the same
they hated me.

"I had not written my father where I was, as
I had planned a little surprise for him. When
the Christmas vacation came, I started to pay
him a visit. I went for some distance on a
train, and thought that a grand experience.
Then I got on a stage, and one evening was set
down a couple of miles from his home. I went

on, inquiring my way, and about dusk I came
in sight of his house, a very nice, trim, white-
painted one, surrounded by fine fruifand otber
trees. Some one was coming along the road,
and I saw that it was my father. When he
recognized me, he ran and threw his arms
around me, and kissed me, and said that he
loved me best of, all. I didn't understand what
he meant by best of all, but I soon learned.
After asking me all manner of questions, how I
had come, how my mother and all his ft^iends
were, he stood silent for some little time, lean-
ing on my shoulder, and then he said: *My
boy, I hoped you would never learn what I
have to say, at least not until after my death.
But now I must tell you all: In that house
yonder is a woman to whom I am married, and
there are a boy and a girl, our children. I can
introduce you there only as a friend, as the son
of an old-time Montana friend. Oh, shame on me
that I have to say such a thing! WillVou come?"

**'Yes,' I said, T will go with you,' and we
went in.

"She was a very kind woman that, and the
children, younger than I, were, as well as she,
very good to me. I couldn't help but like them,
and at the same time I felt very sad about it
all. I believe that I cried about it nights after
I had gone to my room and to bed.

"My father and I had many talks in private,
and he told me over and over again that he
loved me best; that I was first in his thoughts.
Of course, I could not remain there long; the

situation was too trying. In the last talk we
had there, he asked me if I intended to tell my
mother what I had learned, and I replied that
I had no intention of doing so. And so we
parted, and I returned to school. To thw day
my mother does not know anything about his
other life. He comes and stays with us, some-
times for a whole summer, and she loves him so,
that I am sure it would kill her to learn what
he has done, as it would also kill the other
woman to know it. And he is my father. I love
him, too. I cannot do anything but love him,
no matter what he has done."

I may add that the old gentleman was true to
his word. So long as he was able, he con-
tinued to visit his Montana son and wife, and
when he died, we found that his will, executed
several years previous to the time Berry visited
him, bequeathed the greater part of his property
to the first and favorite son. He was a man of
good education, and interested in everything that
pertained to the west. He entered the service
of the American Fur Company when it was
organized in 1822 or 1823, and rose to be one
of its prominent factors. For many years he kept
a diary of the daily occurrences in his active
life, which included much regarding the Indians
he met, their customs and traditions. He was
preparing them for publication when they were
destroyed in a fire which burned down his house.
That was a loss which many of us regret.

Walter B. Anderson,
[to be continued.]

624

FOREST AND STREAM.

[April 21. 1906.

MMiaiMf TOUMn^TF I

In the Lodges of the Blackfeet.

The;^War Trip of Queer Person.

It was about time for us to be doing some-
thing besides loafing at the fort. Berry saddled
a horse one morning and rode out to the camp
on the Marias to interview the chiefs. When
he returned, a day or two later, he was more
than satisfied with the result of the council, for
it was agreed that the winter should be passed
on the Marias. We could use the post that had
been built two years previously. It needed some
repairs, but by the middle of September we
were well established there, with a good stock
of goods. The chief difficulty in moving out
was our inability to keep the bullwhackers sober.
One of them, Whiskey Lyons, was the worst
I ever saw. He never was on hand to help load
the wagons, and when we were ready to pull out
we had to hunt him up, tie a rope under his
arms and souse him in the river until he came
to his senses. There was another, "Captain"
George, whose specialty was a singing spree.
He had a large store of quaint songs, which he
would sing unendingly when drunk.

I have often wondered whatever become of
the old-time bullwhackers, they who spent their
money so freely and joyously whenever they had
the opportunity. I never heard of them dying.
I never saw them after the advent of the rail-
roads and the close of transportation on the
upper Missouri. They simply vanished.

There was little for us to do until the prime
winter robes began to come in. The Piegans
had moved out on Milk River back of the
Sweet Grass Hills, and would not return to
stay until cold weather drove them in. A few
were coming and going all the time, bringing in
beaver skins to exchange for ammunition, to-
bacco and liquor, or to obtain the same from us
on credit. We missed Sorrel Horse, who had
gone down on the Missouri somewhere below the
mouth of the Judith, to run a woodyard, and to
trade with the Gros Ventres. He was always
good company. During the time of slack trade.
Berry was as uneasy as the proverbial fish. Al-
ways a very nervous, active man, he could not
be happy unless he was doing something. I
have seen him throw and shoe a bull that did
not need shoeing; repair an old wagon wheel
that could never be of any service. But his
most dangerous hobby was medicine. An army
surgeon had given him a fine, large medicine
chest, which contained dozens of bottles of
drugs, drawers full of knives, saws, probes and
various other instruments of torture, lint,
plasters, splints— an exceedingly large variety of
things. When any of us felt sick, we concealed
the fact from him if possible, lest he should dose
us into our graves.

One day our friend, Four Bears, the camp
crier, a man of great dignity, came in complain-
ing that he felt very ill. Berry was interested at
once.

'*I think," he said to me, after he had
diagnosed the case, ''that I have exactly the
Remedy he needs. A Seidlitz powder will fix him
all right. Yes, that's what he needs for sure,
ril give him a double dose.'' Whereupon he
emptied two of the white paper powders into a
glass of water and had the patient gulp it down.
He then discovered that he had forgotten to
put in the powder contained in the green papers.
"Oh, well," he said, " 'tisn't too late, I'll just
dissolve them in more water. I guess they'll
mix all right in his stomach."

They did. Four Bears swallowed them and
instantly an expression of surprise, of terror,
spread over his face. He began to gasp; he bent
nearly double and pressed the pit of his stomach;
then he dropped to the floor and rolled and
rolled, while the foaming mixture spouted from
his mouth and nostrils, as does the contents of
a seltzer siphon when the lever is pressed.
Fortunately, the agony didn't last long, and as
soon as he could the orator sprang to his feet,
and fled across the bottom to his lodge. We
didn't see him again for a month or more. After
that the Indians seldom applied to Berry for
relief. When they did, they required him to
take a dose of his prescription before they would
touch it, and they would first stand around for
a while and watch to see how it affected him.

But if Berry was at his wits' end for some-
thing to do, 'twas different with me; no day was
too long. Nat-ah'-ki and I went hunting, either
in the river bottoms for deer, or out on the
plains for antelope. Buffalo, of course, were
everywhere; and down below the post some ten
or twelve miles there were quite a number of
bighorn. And then the evenings were as full
of interest as the days. What more pleasant
than to be with the women where the flames and
glowing coals in the rude fire-place, lighting up
the grim log walls of the room, seemed a fit
accompaniment to the quaint tales they so
earnestly and reverently told. My dingy old
note-books contained the outlines of those
happy days, and as I look over them it all
comes back to me as vividly as if it all had
happened yesterday, or last week. Here, for
instance, is a story the Crow Woman related
one evening which may interest you as much as
it did me. She called it the "Story of Three
Stabs":

''In all the village there were none poorer than
White Flying and her young grandson. Her man
was long since dead; her son-in-law had been
killed by the Sioux, and her daughter, while
working in their little plantation one day, had
suddenly dropped to the ground and ceased

breathing. The boy was still too young to go
on the hunt, so they lived on what small store
of corn they could raise, and what portions of
meat was given them by the kind hearted. There
were days when they went to bed hungry, for
their best friends sometimes forgot to provide
for them, and White Flying was too proud to
go out and beg. When this happened, the boy
would say, 'Never mind, grandmother, wait until
I grow up and I'll kill more meat than you can
take care of.'

"The boy's name was Sees Black, a name an

old medicine man had given him when he was

born. No one but his grandmother so called

him; he was nick-named Queer Person, for he

had ways different from those of any other boy

ever heard of. He never played with other

children, never laughed nor cried, and scarcely

spoke to any one except his grandmother. He

seemed to be dreaming of something all the

time; and would sit on the bank of the river,

or on the hill near the village, often for half

a day, looking straight away into the far distance

as if he saw things there of great interest — so

great that he never noticed people who passed

near him. He brought strange and forbidden

things to his lodge; once, a human skull, which

he placed under the end of his couch. When

making up his bed one day, the old woman

found it, and it frightened her so that she fell

right down and was dead for a while. When

she came to life, she begged him to take it back

to the place where he had found it, and he did

so at once, for he was a good boy and always

obeyed her. When she asked him why he had

taken it, he replied, 'I am seeking a great

medicine. I thought that if I slept by it I might

have a powerful dream.*

"Sometimes he would leave the village and
stay away all night; and when his grandmother
asked him where he had been, he would tell her
that he had gone upon the plain, or down in the
timber, or out on a sandbar, to sleep, hoping
that some of the spirits or animals who wander
about in the darkness, would have pity and give
him the medicine he sought.

"While other boys of his age still played, he
made bows and arrows. He watched the flint
workers, and became as skillful as they in
chipping out sharp, thin arrow points. He
hunted, too; at first, rabbits in the rosebush
thickets; and then, one day, he brought home
a fine deer — a part of the meat at a time— which
he had shot on a trail they used in going to
and from their watering place. After that he
seldom hunted the rabbits, but often brought in
deer, and once in a while the hide and meat of
a buffalo which he crept up on and killed in a
coulee, or at the river where they went to drink.
Still, they were very poor; all the family horses
had long since been given the doctors who had

April 21, 1906.]

FOREST AND STREAM.

625

tried to cure the grandfather. Without horses
Queer Person could not go out on the big hunts
and bring in loads of meat sufficient to last
during the bad weather, or through the long
sieges of the Sioux against them. In the summer
time this enemy came often in great numbers
and stayed around the village for a whole moon
and more, hoping to starve the people and fall
upon them when they were at last obliged to
go out to hunt.

**The summers and the winters passed. The
boy grew and grew, tall and strong, and very
fine looking. He was now old enough to go to
war; to fight the enemy and drive away their
horses. But no war party would let him join
them. 'One who slept with skulls,' they said,
*who went forth to sleep where the ghosts
wandered— there was surely something wrong
with such a person; he would cause bad luck to
befall them.'

*'Of course, the young man felt very badly
about this, grieving much; and the grandmother
grieved with him. And then he became angry.
*I will make them take back their words,' he
said to the old woman. *I will go against the
enemy by myself, and the time shall come when
they will beg to go with me. Make me a boat
and I'll float down the river to the camps of
the Sioux.'

**White Flying went out and cut the willows,
crossed and recrossed them, bent them to the
proper shape, then stretched and bound upon
the frame the fresh hide of a big bull, and the
boat was done. No, it was not like the boats
of the white men. It was flat on the bottom
and round, like the tubs white people have for
washing clothes. Unless one was accustomed to
them, he was helpless, for, if he did not upset
when he tried to paddle, he would only make
the boat whirl around and around like a child's
top, and it would drift wherever the current and
the wind chose to push it.

*There was a full moon now, and one night
when it rose, soon after the sun had gone down.
Queer Person got into his boat and pushed it out
from the shore. No one was there to see him
leave, except his grandmother ; no one else in the
village knew that he was going away.. *Oh, be
careful!' she said. *Be ever on the watch for
the dangers, and try nothing that you are not
certain you can do.'

'**Take courage,' he called back to her. 'I
will return to you; I will surely return. My
dream has told me that I will.*

'The poor old woman sat down on the shore,
covered her head with her robe, and cried; cried
for those loved ones who were dead, and for
the young man who was going, perhaps, to jom
them and leave her alone in her old age. She
was very unhappy.

"On and on Queer Person drifted in the bright
moonlight, down the wide, deep river, never
paddling, except to keep facing down stream,
and to avoid the snags and sandbars. The
beavers played and splashed around him, and he
prayed to them: 'Pity me,' he said; 'give me
of your cunning, so that I may escape all
danger.*

"Where the water boiled and swirled under
the shadow of a high cut bank, some dim thing
rose above the surface, and slowly sank and
disappeared. He could not see it plainly; it
might have been one of the people who live in
the dark, deep places; he prayed to them also,

and dropped a sacrifice to them. 'Do not harm
me,' he said; 'let me pass over your waters in

safety.'

"All the animals of the valley seemed to be
gathered along the shores, feeding, drinking, the
young of elk and deer running and playing along
the sandbars. There were big bears snuffling and
pawing at the water's edge, wolves and coyotes
looked down at him as he passed under the low
blufifs. But none paid any attention to him, for
there was no wind, and they could not know
that an enemy was near. Thus the night passed,
and with the daylight he went to the shore,
dragging his boat into some thick willows and
then smoothing ofif the trail he had made across
the sands.

"Thus drifting by night and hiding in the day-
time. Queer Person kept on toward the country
of the Sioux. Every morning, after going
ashore, he would walk out to the edge of the
timber, sometimes climbing a nearby slope, and
look carefully up and down the valley for signs
of people. He saw none until the fifth morning,
when he discovered a great camp directly across
the river in a big bottom. There was a long
strip of cottonwoods bordering the stream; the
lodges were pitched on the open plain back of
it. A large number of horses were tied in the
camp, people were just coming out and turning
them loose to graze. 'My medicine is good,' he
said to himself. 'I have come safely down the
river, and here I am in sight of that which I
seek.'

"During the day he slept for some time, feel-
ing quite safe where he was, for the enemy had
no boats, the river was very high, and they
could not cross. He made plans for the night.
'I will cross over,' he said, 'after the light in
their lodges dies out; I will take some of their
horses, and ride homeward as fast as I can.' All
the afternoon this thought pleased him, and
then came into his heart another thing which
he considered. Any one could go into a camp
and take horses and have a good chance to
escape with them. That was easy to do. His
people had refused to let him go with them on
raids; he wanted to do some great thing, to
show them that he was a braver man than any
of them. What should he do to prove this?
What could he do? He considered many things,
many plans, and could not decide. Toward
evening he slept again, and then his dream
helped hiin and showed him the way to make a
great name for himself.

"This is what he did; listen to the cunning his
dream gave him: In the night he crossed the
river, put some stones in his boat, then cut a
hole in the bottom, so that it filled with water
and sank. Then he went into the timber and
buried his things beside a large cottonwood
log, buried his clothes, moccasins, weapons;
nothing remained on him, except his belt and
breech clout. Lastly, he unbound his braided
hair, washed it to straighten out the kinks, then
tangled it and scattered dust in it. He smeared
mud and dust on his body; soiled his breech
clout; scratched his legs with a rose brush; when
he had done, he looked very wild, very poor.
He went out of the timber, down to the lower
end of the bottom, and remained there the rest

of the night.

"When the sun came up, and people were
moving about. Queer Person arose and walked
toward the camp, sometimes stopping and look-

ing around, sometimes running, again walking
slowly, looking at the ground. Thus he ap-
proached the lodges, and the great crowd of
people who stood staring at him. He pretended
not to see them, walking straight on; they parted
to let him pass and then followed him. He
stopped by a fire outside a lodge, ► upon which
some meat was roasting, and sat down. The wo-
men tending it fled. The people gathered around
him and stood and talked. Of course, they thought
him crazy. A man came up, asked him many
questions in signs; he did not reply, only to
occasionally point down the river. This man
had a wide scar on his left cheek. Queer Person
knew that he was a chief. He had heard his
people talk about him as a terrible man in battle.
After a time an old woman came and set some
broiled meat before him; he seized it and eat
it as if he had been starving for many days. He
ate a great deal, and a long time. The people
mostly went away to their lodges. The scar-
faced man made signs again, but when he got
no answer, he took Queer Person by the arm,
made him get up, and led him to his lodge,
showed him a couch, made signs that it was his,
that he should live in the lodge. Still the young
man pretended not to understand, but he re-
mained there, going out sometimes, but always
returning. People made him presents— moc-
casins, leggins, a buckskin shirt, a cowskin robe.
He put them on and wore them. After a few
days he would walk about in camp, and the
people would hardly notice him. They had got
used to seeing him around.

"Queer Person soon found that the scar-
faced chief was a very cruel man. He had five
wives, the first one older than he, and very
ugly. The others were all young women, and
good looking, one very pretty. The old wife
abused the others, made them do all the work
and labor hard all day long. Sometimes she
struck them; often she would talk to the chief,
and he would get up and beat them or seize a
couple and knock their heads together. They
were very unhappy. The young man could not
help but look often at the youngest one, she was
so pretty and so sad. He would always walk
around where she was at work, and met her
often in the grove when she gathered wood, and
then they would smile at each other. After
many days, he found her all alone in the woods
one evening; his time had come, and he quickly
told her in signs who he was, that he was not
crazy; that he had started all alone to war. And
then he said that he loved her; that it made him
sad to see her abused. He asked if she would
go away with him and be his woman. She did
not answer, but she just stepped up and clung
to him and kissed him. Then they heard some
one coming, and they parted.

"The next day they met again in the timber
and went and hid in the thicket willows, and
made their plans to leave. They could hardly
wait for night to come.

"When the fire had died out and the chief and
his old wife snored, Queer Person and the young
woman crept out of the lodge and went to tne
river. There they tied together two small logs
and placed their clothes upon them, on top of
a little pile of brush they had laid. The young
man got his clothes and weapons which he had
buried, and piled them there also. Then, with
nothing but his knife, he went back to the lodge,
leaving the woman by the raft. He crept in, and

626

FOREST AND STREAM.

over to the chief's couch, raised his knife and
gave him one deep stab right in the heart, then
another and another. The man did not cry out,
but he kicked a little and the old woman beside
him awoke. Queer Person at once seized her
by the throat and strangled her until she lay
still. Then he scalped the chief, took his
weapons, and ran back to the raft. The woman
was waiting for him, and together they waded
out, pushing the logs, and when they got into
deep water they swam, holding on to the logs
with one hand. Thus they crossed the river and
dressed and started on the long walk to the
Arickaree village. Back across whence they had
come, all was quiet; the trouble there had not
yet been discovered.

''What a proud old woman White Flying was
when her grandson returned home with his
pretty wife, with the scalp and the weapons of
the terrible chief. He had made a great name:
in time he himself would be a chief. And he
did become one, the head chief of his people.
No one any longer called him Queer Person:
he took the name Three Stabs, and all were
proud to call him that. He and his good wife
lived to great age. They had many children and
were happy.''

"Get up!" Nat-ah'-ki commanded, grasping
my arm and nearly pulling me out of bed. "Get
up! It is very happy outside."

"Why did you awake me?" I asked. "I was
having such a good dream."

"Of course you were, and you were talking,
too. That is why I awoke you; I don't want
you to dream about her. Tell me, quick, what
the dream was, and what she said."

"Well, if you must know, she said — she said —
she said — "

"Yes, hurry! What did she say?"

"She said, "It's time for you to arise and
wash. I have your morning food cooked, and
we are going hunting to-day.' "

"Oh, what a lie he can tell," she exclaimed,
turning to the Crow Woman. "He was not
dreaming about me at all, because he spoke in
his own language."

I insisted that I was speaking the truth. "In
the first place," I said, "there is no 'her' but
you, and even if there were, her shadow could
not come away out here to visit me in my sleep,
because it would be unable to find the trail."

This reasoning was convincing, and closed the
argument. It was indeed a lovely morning.
There had been a heavy frost during the night,
the grass in the shadow of the Fort was still
white with it, but the sun was shining in a clear
sky, a warm southwest wind had started up —
everything was auspicious for a perfect autumn
day.

We breakfasted, saddled our horses, dnd rode
out across the river, up the slope of the valley,
and out on the plain. Nat-ah'-ki began to sing
one of the women's songs of her people. "Be
still!" I toM her. "This is no way to hunt; you
will scare away all the game."

"I do not care if I do," she said. "What mat-
ter? We have still some dried meat on hand. I
can't help singing; this happy morning just
makes me do it."

As she said, it did not matter. It was pleas-
ant to see her so happy, to see her eyes sparkle,
to hear her laugh and sing. A not distant band
of antelope scampered away over a ridge; out of
a nearby coulee rushed a small band of buffalo
and loped off westward; a lone coyote also ap-

peared, sat down on his haunches, and stared
at us. "Hai'-yu, little brother," said Nat-ah'-ki,
addressing him, "are you also happy?"

"Of course he is," she continued. "His fur
is so thick and warm that he does not fear the
coming cold, and he has plenty, oh, always
plenty of food. Some he kills for himself, and
he can always feast on the remains of the ani-
mals his big relations kill. Old Man gave him
and the wolf great intelligence."

We rode on and on aimlessly across the
plain, talking and laughing, very, very happy,
as two young people should be who love one
another and who haven't a care in the world.
Often, on reaching the top of some little emi-
nence, we would dismount and let the horses
graze while I smoked and swept the country
with my telescope. Nat-ah'-ki also loved to use
the glass, and watch the various animals it
would bring so near to one, as they rested or
grazed, or the young bounded and skipped and
chased each other in their exuberance of spirits.
It was a powerful glass, that old telescope, re-
vealing even the dead old cones and dark
abysses on the surface of the moon. But that
was an object at which I never succeeded in
coaxing her to level the instrument. Night
light to her was no dead old globe, but a real
and sacred personage — wife to the Sun — and
not to be scrutinized and studied by mortal
eyes.

It was mid-afternoon when we decided that it
was time we should get the meat we had started
after and return home. We were about to
mount and ride toward a coulee to the west,
where a few buffalo were feeding, when, away
to the north, we saw columns of dust rising, and
nearer, some bunches of buffalo, loping in vari-
ous directions, but mostly toward us. A few
moments later a number of horsemen came in
sight, and behind them, on the top of a long
ridge, appeared a long column of riders and
loose animals.

"Ah!" I said, "the Pe-kun-ny are moving in."

"My mother is there. Let us go to meet
them," said Nat-ah'-ki.

Some of the startled buffalo were making
almost a bee-line for the place where we stood,
so I told her to lead the horses back out of
sight, and I myself moved down, so that I could
just look over the top of the ridge. In a short
time some thirty or forty of the animals came
within easy range. I aimed at a big cow, and
broke the left front leg the first shot; she
dropped behind the others at once, and a second
shot laid her low. She proved to be very fat,
and her coat was fine, not quite of full length,
perhaps, but very dark and glossy.

I was about to cut the animal open on the
back, intending to take only the boss ribs and
the tongue, when Nat-ah'-ki came up and in-
sisted that I should properly skin it for a head-
and-tail robe, and cut up all of the meat for pack-
ing. "We wmII give the hide to my mother,"
she said, "and get her to pack in the meat for
us."

So I did as I was told, of course; the butcher-
ing taking some little time. Meanwhile Nat-ah'-
ki went to the top of the ridge, but soon re-
turned to say that the people were pitching
camp near where we had discovered them, and
thafe it would be pleasant to remain with them
for a night.

"All right," I said, "we'll go over and stop
with Weasel Tail. We'll take a little of the

[April 21, 1906.

— I, — *—

meat and leave the rest and the hide for your
mother to pick up in the morning."

But that, it seemed, would not do. "Either
the wolves will feast upon it in the night," she
said, "or some one will find and take it in the
early morning; so, to be sure, let us pack it
into camp."

I spread the great hide over her horse, en-
tirely covering the animal, saddle and all, from
neck to tail, and then hung the greater part of
the meat across it over the saddle, covering it
all by folding and refolding the hide. The rest
I put in two large meat sacks and tied behind
my saddle. Then I helped Nat-ah'-ki to get up
and perch on top of her load, mounted my ani-
mal, and we wended our way to camp and in
among the lodges. There were pleasant greet-
ings and pleasant smiles for us on every hand,
and some jokes were made about the young
married hunters. We dismounted in front of
Weasel Tail's lodge. My good mother-in-law
ran and met her daughter, the two affectionately
embracing and kissing each other, the former
repeatedly saying, "My daughter! My daughter!
She has arrived."

And the good woman looked at me and smiled,
but gave me no greeting. Even in being in my
vicinity, to say nothing of smiling at me, she had
broken a strict rule of Blackfoot etiquette, of
which I have already spoken, which is that
mother and son-in-law must never meet nor
speak to each other. For my part, I trans-
gressed this form at the very first opportunity.
I came upon the good woman when she could
not escape, nor help listening, and told her that
with us it was to be different; that white people
had no such custom. "Wherever we are." I
continued, "you are to come and live with us
when you will, and I shall go where you are
when occasion to do so arises."

I am sure that my words pleased her, as they
also pleased Nat-ah'-ki. In time she became
used to the new order of things, in a way, but
was always rather backward about directly ad-
dressing me. Very often, when I asked her for
information about something, she would turn
to her daughter and say, "Tell him that it was
in this way," etc. Walter B. Anderson.

[to be continued.]

The Roosevelts and Early Mississippi

Navigation.

A w^HiLE ago you published a brief account of
a trip from Pittsburg to New Orleans in a fiat
boat "with a huge box containing a comfortable
bedroom, dining room, pantry and a room in front
for the crew"— in brief, a houseboat, built in 1809
by Nicholas G. Roosevelt. It seems that this
Nicholas G. was great uncle to the present Presi-
dent of the United States, and I venture to send
you an account of the building of the first Mis-
sissippi steamboat by this Roosevelt and the trip
of himself and his plucky and admirable wife to
New Orleans. She was a Miss Latrobe, of Bal-
timore, and seems to have been an excellent graft
on the Roosevelt stock.

On his houseboat trip Roosevelt told the peo-
ple of Cincinnati, Louisville and other cities of
the success of steamboating on the Hudson, but
they reminded him of what he well knew, the
swift currents of the Ohio and Mississippi rivers,
and predicted that no steam or other boat could
be built to go up stream.

[April 28, 1906.

I »

In the Lodges of the Blackfeet.

XXII.— A Wolverine's Medicine.

We camped with Weasel Tail, whose good
woman spread out a number of new robes for
our use. Visitors came and went, and we were
called to several smokes at different places. In
the latter part of the evening, after the feasting
and visiting was over. Weasel Tail and Talks-
with-the-bufifalo, the two inseparables, and I
were again together, as we had been on many
a previous night. There were no three smokes
and then the polite dismissal when we got to-
gether, no matter which of us was host. We
would sit together for hours, smoking when
we felt like it, talking or idly silent, as the mood
struck us. The women passed around some
berry pemmican, which was fine. "Friend,"
said Talks-with-the-buffalo, after we had eaten
and the pipe was again filled and lighted, "I
have a present for you.'*

"Ah !" I replied, "I am always glad to get

presents."

"Yes," he continued, "and I will be glad to get
rid of this. I want you to take it to-morrow
morning, lest something happen that you never
get the thing. It is a wolverine skin. Listen,
and I will tell you what trouble it has caused
me. First, as to the way I got it: One morn-
ing my woman here told me to kill some big-
horn; she wanted their skins for a dress. I
said that those animals were too difficult to get;
that she ought to make her dress of antelope
skins, which also makes fine soft leather when
well tanned. But, no; they would not do; they
were uneven, thick on the neck, too thin on the
belly; nothing would do but bighorn skins, be-
cause they were all of the right kind— neither
thick, nor very thin in any place. I tried to
get out of it by saying that if she must have
them I would require her to go on the hunt
with me, and help pack down what I killed. I
thought that when I said this, she would make
up her mind that antelope skins were good
enough. I was mistaken. 'Of course, I'll go
with you,' she said. 'Let us start in the morn-
ing.'

"I made up my mind that I would pretend to
be sick; but when I awoke in the morning I had
forgotten all about the hunt, and after I had got
up and washed, I ate a big meal. When I did
remember, it was too late. I couldn't get her to
believe that I was sick, after making her broil
meat twice. We started, and rode as far as our
horses could carry us, up the north side of the
west Sweetgrass Mountain; then we tied the
animals and went on afoot. It was pretty steep
climbing; in places the pines grew so closely
together that we could hardly squeeze between
them. My hunting partner was always behind.
'Come on; come on,' I kept saying; and 'Wait,

wait for me,' she was always calling, and when
she caught up she would be breathing like a
horse that has run a race, and sweat would
just drip off her chin. 'It is very pleasant, this
bighorn hunting,' I told her; and she said, 'You
speak the truth. Just look how high up we are,
and how far we can see the plains away north-
ward.'

"After that I did not tease her, because she had
good courage, and did her best to climb. I
traveled slower, and she kept close behind me.
We approached the summit. The top of that
mountain — you have seen it — is a mystery
place. When Old Man made the world he
painted the rocks he placed there with pretty
colors, red, brown, yellow and white.* Some
say that it is a lucky place to hunt; others, that
if one kills anything there, he will have bad luck
of some kind. I thought of this as I climbed,
and at last I stopped and spoke to my woman.
I told her that we had, perhaps, better go back
on account of the bad luck we might have if I
made a killing there. But she just laughed and
laughed, and said that I was getting to be very
foolish.

" 'Well,' I said to her, 'if you must laugh, do
so with your hand over your mouth, else you
will scare everything on this mountain.*

"We continued climbing, and in a little while
came to the summit. Looking out at it from
the cover of some pines, I saw a band of bighorn,
maybe twenty or more, all she ones, and their
young, except a two-year-old male. I took a
careful aim at him— he was close by and stand-
ing side to me— and as it was handy, I rested
my gun on a limb of a tree. I took a very good
aim, right for his heart, and fired. I don't know
where the bullet went, but I am sure that it
never hit him, for we could find neither hair
nor blood where he had stood nor along his
trail. When I shot, the smoke hung like a
little cloud before me, and when it blew away,
1 saw the animals, just as they disappeared into
the timber down the slope. I was much sur-
prised that I had not killed the animal, most
surprised when I found that I had not even hit
him, for I had aimed so long and so carefully.
*' 'You must have hit him,' said my woman.
'Let us look again. We will likely find him
lying dead somewhere not far away.'

"We followed his trail for some distance down
in the timber; it was easy to follow, for his
track was larger than that of the others; but
there was no sign at all that he was hurt. We
climbed up on top again, and sat down at the
edge of the bare rocks, in the shelter of a low
pine. I thought that, if we stayed there a while
some rnore bighorn might come along. But
none appeared, although we sat and watched
until long after the middle of the day. We were

♦Thej' are porous burnt quartz, that seems to have been
thrown up through a seam in the porphyry.

about to leave, when a big wolverine appeared,
walking among the rocks, smelling and snuf-
fing, sometimes climbing up on top of a big
rock to look all around. He looked very pretty,
his hair just shining in the sun. He soon came
near, and the next time he climbed upon a rock
I shot him. He fell off it and hardly kicked. I
told my woman to skin it carefully. I knew you
would want it to go with those you got last
winter. She said that she would tan it very
soft, and we would make you a present of it.
The bad luck began right there. She cut her
hand— the knife slipped— before she had half
got the hide off, and I had to finish the work.
Then we started homeward. When we got to
the horses I tied the skin behind my saddle
and got astride. The horse had been standing
with his head to the wind, and when I turned
him he got the scent of the wolverine for the
first time, and it frightened him so that he went
crazy. He snorted and made a big high jump
down the mountain, and when he struck, the
jar threw me off, right on my back into a lot
of stones. I thought I was broken in two. The
horse went on, jumping and kicking, and snort-
ing, right into a pile of big rocks, where he got
caught by a foreleg, and broke it. As soon as I
got my breath and could walk and my woman
found my gun I had to go down and shoot him.
We were late getting home, for we rode double
on the other horse, and had to hang on to my
saddle and other things. One thing we had
learned: It was bad luck to kill anything on
the painted rocks. Maybe, if I had killed the
sheep also, my back would have been really
broken when I was thrown by the horse.

"It was some days before I recovered from
the soreness caused by my fall. My woman
could not tan the wolverine skin on account of
her sore hand, so she got a widow to do it.
The next morning the old woman brought back
the skin. 'Take it,' she said. 'I have been sick
all night, and in my dream a wolverine came and
tried to bite me. It is bad medicine. I will not
tan it.'

"You know old Beaver Woman? Yes? We
gave the skin to her. She said that she wasn't
afraid ' of wolverines, that her medicine was
stronger than theirs. Well, she took it to her
lodge and went to work, fleshed it, put on the
liver and brains, rolled it up and laid it away
for two or three days. When it was well soaked
with the mixture, she cleaned it and began to
dry it, working it over the sinew cord, when
she suddenly fell over dead for a short time.
When she came to life her mouth was drawn
around to one side and she could hardly speak.
She was that way about four nights. Of course,
the skin came back to us. The cut on my
woman's hand had healed, so she went to work
and finished the tanning, and without any mis-
hap.

PRIL,

"Day before yesterday we started to move in;
my woman packed the skin with other things
on the lodge skin horse. When we made camp
in the evening, the skin was missing. Every-
thing else that had been placed in the pack was
there, the skin only was gone. While we were
wondering how it could have happened, a young
man rode up and tossed it to us. *I found it on
the trail/ he said.

**So, you 5ee, this skin is powerful bad medi-
cine. I said that I was going to give it to you,
and I now do so. Also I have told you all
the evil it has done. I shall not blame you if
you throw it in the fire, or otherwise dispose of
it. All I ask is that you take it off our hands."

Of course, I accepted the skin. In time it
became part of a handsome robe; a small bear
skin in the center, the border of six wolverines.

Nat-ah'-ki and I were in the saddle next
morning long before the lodges began to come
down, and started homeward. It had been a
very warm night. Soon after we left camp a
light wind sprang up from the north, cold,
damp and with a strong odor of burning grass.
W^e knew the sign well enough; the smoky smell
was always the precursor of a storm from the
north. "The Cold-maker is near," said Nat-
ah'-ki. Let us hurry on."

Looking back, we saw that the Sweet Grass
hills had become enveloped in a dense white
fog, which was sweeping southward with in-
credible swiftness. It soon overtook us, and
was so thick that we could not see a hundred
yards ahead. The sweat on our horses in-
stantly froze; fine particles of frost filled the
air; our ears began to tingle, and we covered
them with handkerchiefs. It was useless to at-
tempt to look out a course to the river, so we
gave our horses the reins and kept them going,
and arrived home before noon. The wind had
steadily increased, the fog had gone, but snow
had taken its place. Winter had come.

Prime robes soon began to come in, and we
were kept pretty busy exchanging goods and
spirits for them. For convenience, we used
brass checks in trading, each check representing
one dollar. Having some robes to sell, an In-
dian would stalk in, followed by one or more
of his women, carrying them, and as a rule, he
would stand at a little distance, very silent and
straight, his robe or blanket partly concealing
his face, while we examined them and counted
down the checks. Unless he needed a gun or
some such expensive article, he generally gave
his women a part of the proceeds, and invested
the rest himself in whatever took his fancy;
tobacco always, generally some liquor. They
always wanted to taste of the liquor before
buying, and we kept for that purpose a pailful
of it and a cup behind the counter, which was
four and a half feet in height. There was seldom
any objection to the strength of the article we
sold, which was alcohol of high proof, mixed
with five parts of water. A few moments after
one of these extremely haughty customers had
taken a drink, his manner changed. He became
quite aflfable and loquacious, and before leaving
would sometimes wish to embrace and kiss all
present, including the traders. It was not often
that any of them became cross with us, their
quarrels generally taking place in camp. Nor
were they, on the whole, much more quarrel-
some than so many white men. We did little
trading after dark, most of the people preferring
to come in the morning to barter their furs and

robes. I never knew a trader who had not
some especial and privileged friends, and we
were no exception to the rule. Several of these
would sometimes come and sit with us of an
evening to smoke and tell stories, and every lit-
tle while either Berry or I would pass around
the cup, but not too frequently. It was very
interesting to listen to their tales, and queer
conceptions of various things.

Little Deer's End.

Then there were days when the warm chinook
was blowing, that simply drew one out of the
Fort and away on the plain. Nat-ah'-ki and I
would saddle a couple of horses and ride
a great circle, returning home tired and hungry
and ready to retire right after the evening meal,
to sleep soundly through the long winter night.
One fine day we were out, and along about 2 or
3 o'clock struck the river some five or six miles
above the Fort and turned homeward down the
valley. Riding along the trail through a grove of
cottonwoods, we met mine enemy. Little Deer, in
quest of beaver, as he had some traps tied to his
saddle. He leered at Nat-ah'-ki, who happened
to be in the lead, and scowled savagely at me as
we passed. I must confess that I bent in the
saddle once or twice, pretending to adjust my
stirrup leather, but really furtively looking back
under my arm. I was certainly afraid of him and
felt relieved when I saw him disappear around a
bend of the trail without once, so far as I could
determine, turning to look back at us.

Passing through the grove we crossed an open
flat, went into another piece of timber and then
out on a wide, bare bottom. When about 150 or
200 yards from the last grove a gun boomed be-
hind us and a bullet whizzed past my left side
and kicked up the .dust when it struck the ground
farther on. Nat-ah'-ki shrieked, whipped up her
horse and called to me to hurry, and we made
pretty good time the rest of the way home. When
the shot was fired I looked back and saw a thin
cloud of smoke in front of some willows, but no
man. It was Little Deer who had shot, of course,
and he had come near hitting me. He had done
just what I had always predicted he would do-
attack me from behind ; and from such a position
as he was in it would have been folly to attempt
to dislodge him.

Nat-ah'-ki was well-night speechless from
terror and anger. I was angry, too, and swore
that I would kill Little Deer at sight. Berry lis-
tened quietly, but made no comment until after
supper, when we had quieted down.

''You see," he began, "that fish has some pow-
erful relations in camp, and although they know
well enough that he needs killing, they are never-
theless bound to avenge his death."

"Well ?" I asked, "and am I to do nothing, and
some day be potted from an ambush?"

"No," he replied. "We've got to kill him, but
it must be done in such a manner that we will
never be suspected. Just lay low and we will find
some way to do it."

After that day Little Deer came no more to the
Fort. If he needed anything he sent some one to
purchase it for him. When Nat-ah'-ki and I rode
we went out on the open plain, avoiding the
coulees and the timber in the valley. Sometimes,
of a nip^ht, Berry and I would try to devise some
way 10 effectively get rid of my enemy, but we
never succeeded. Could I have waylaid him, or
shot him from behind, as he had attempted to do
to me, I would gladly have done so. One should

always fight the devil with his own weapons.

It was a day in the fore part of March when
Little Deer was missed from the camp. The pre-
vious morning he had gone out with some other
hunters on the plains north of the river to kill
some meat. They had separated finally, but late
in the afternoon several of them had seen the
missing man on a butte skinning a buffalo. Dur-
ing the night his horse had returned and joined
the band to which it belonged, still saddled and.
trailing its lariat. Relatives of Little Deer went
out and continued to search for him for several
days, and at last they found him a long distance
from the carcass of the buffalo he had skinned
and cut up. He was lying in a coulee and the top
of his head was crushed in. His wives and female
relatives buried him, but the wives did not
mourn ; he had been very cruel to them and they
were glad to be free. The meat of the buffalo
he had killed had all been neatly cut up and pre-
pared for loading on the horse. It was thought
that he had left the place to kill something else
and had been thrown, or that, perhaps, his horse
had fallen with him and had kicked him in its
struggles to rise.

Nat-ah'-ki and I rejoiced when w^e learned this.
She herself was the first to hear of it and came
running in, all excitement, her eyes sparkling, and
gave me a hearty squeeze.

*'Be happy," she cried. "Our enemy is dead;
they have found his body; we can ride where we
please and without fear."

One night my old friend whom I have vari-
ously called Bear Head and Wolverine— he took
the former name after a successful battle he was
in— paid us a visit. He stayed long after all the
others had gone, silently smoking, much preoc-
cupied about something. Both Berry and I no-
ticed it and spoke about it.

"He probably wants a new gun," I said, "or
maybe a blanket or a new dress for his woman.
Whatever it is I'll give it to him myself."

We were getting sleepy. Berry brought out a
drink and handed it to him. "Well," he said,
"tell us about it; what is on your mind?"

"I killed him," he replied. "I killed him and
carried his body to the coulee and dropped it."

This was news indeed. We knew at once to
whom he referred, no other than Little Deer.
"Ah !" we both exclaimed, and waited for him to
continue.

"I rode up to where he was tying his meat and
got off my horse to tighten the saddle. We got
to talking and he told about shooting at you. 1
don't see how I missed,' he said, 'for I took care-
ful aim. But I'm not done. I'll kill that white
man yet, and his woman shall be my woman, even
if she does hate me.*

"His words made me mad. 'Kill him !' some-
thing said to me. 'Kill him, lest he kill your
friend who has been so good to you.' He was
bending over tying the last pieces of meat; I
raised my rifle and struck him right on top of
his head, and he fell forward, his shadow de-
parted. I was glad that I did it."

He arose and prepared to leave. "Friend," I
said, grasping his hand and heartily shaking it,,
"what is mine is yours. What can I give you?"

"Nothing," he replied. "Nothing. I am not
poor. But if I ever am in need then I will come
and ask for help."

He went out and we closed and barred the
door. "Well, I'll be damned if that isn't the best
turn I ever knew an Indian to do for a white

666

FOREST AND STREAM.

[April jf, igp6^

man/' Berry exclaimed. "He's sure a friend
worth having."

For obvious reasons we kept what we had
learned to ourselves, although I had a struggle
to do so. It was years afterward when I finally
told Nat-ah'-ki about it, and when the time came
that our friend certainly did need help he got it.
We had with us that winter one Long-haired
Jim, bull-whacker, a man about forty years of
age. He wore hair that was at least two feet
long and which fell in dark, rippling waves very
gracefully over his back and shoulders. When
on the road or out at work in the wind he kept it
braided, but in camp it was simply confined by a
silk bandage bound around his head. He was
very proud of it and kept it nicely washed and
combed.

Jim had made various trips, he claimed, on the
Santa Fe and the Overland Trails, and had
drifted up into Montana from Corinne. Accord-
ing to his own story, he was a great fighter, a
successful gambler, but these advantages, he said,
were offset by the fact that he was terribly un-
lucky in love. *'l have set my affections on four
different females in my time," he told us, "an'
I'll be dog-goned ef I got ary one of 'em."

"I come mighty close to it once," he continued.
"She was a red-haired widow what kept a board-
in* house in Council Bluffs. We rolled in there
one evenin', an' as soon as we had corralled all
hands a went over to her place fer supper. As
soon as I set eyes on her I says to myself, That's
a mighty fine figger of a woman.' She was small,
an' slim, an' freckled, with the purtiest little turn-
up, peart nose as ever happened. 'Who is she?'
I asked a feller settin' next me.
" *A widder,' he says, 'she runs this here place.*
"That settled it. I went to the wagon boss,
told him I quit, drew my pay, an' packed my bed-
din' and war sack over to her place. The next
evenin' I caught her settin' out on the steps all
by herself and walked right up to her. 'Mrs.
Westbridge,' I says, I've sure fell in love with
you. Will you marry me?'

" 'Why, the idear !' she cried out. 'Jest listen
to the man ; an' him a stranger. Scat ! git out o'
here !' An' she up an' run into the house an' into
the kitchen an' slammed an' locked the door.

'That didn't make no difference to me. I wa'n't
ordered to leave the house, so I staid right on,
an' put the question to her every chanct I got,
sometimes twict a day. She got sost she didn't
run, took it kinder good-natured like, but she al-
ways gave me a straight 'No' for an answer. I
wa'n't no way discouraged.

"Well, it run along a matter of two weeks, an'
one evenin' I asked her again ; 'twas the twenty-
first time, which number bein' my lucky one, I
considered it sure to win. An' it did.

" 'Yes, sir, Mr. Jim What's-yer-name,' she says,
straight out, Til marry yer on certain conditions :
You must cut vour hair.'
'Yep.'

'An' throw away them six-shooters an' that
long knife.'
'Yep.'

'An' quit gamblin'.'
'Yep.'

'An' help me run this yere boardin' house.'
"Yes, I agreed to it all, an' she said we'd be
married the comin' Sunday. I asked her fer a
kiss, but she slapped my face an' run off into the
kitchen. 'Never mind,' I says, settin' down on
the stens, 'I'll wait 'till she comes out an' ketch her.'

**\\r.

n (•

(( t

tt (

it i

t( t\-'.

(( (

'Wal, sir. I was a settin' there all peaceful an'
happy like, when along comes an ornery lookin'
one-leg cripple an' he asks, 'Is this whar Miss
Westbridge lives?'

" 'It are," I Faid. 'An' what might you want
of her?'

" 'Oh, nothin',' he says, "cept she's my wife.'

"I allow I might have swatted him, even if he
was a cripple, if the woman hadn't come out just
then. When she see him she jest throwed up her
hands and cried out : 'My Gawd ! Wherever did
you come from? I thought you was dead. They
told me you was. Are you sure it's you?*

"'Yes, Sairy,' he said. 'It's me all right; that
is, what's left of me. It was reported that I died,
or was missin', but I pulled through. I been
trailin' you a long time. It's a long story — '

"I didn't wait to hear it. Went up to my room
and sat down. After a while she come up. 'You
see how 'tis,' she said. 'I've got to take care of
him. Yer a good man, Jim; I admire yer spunk,
a askin' and a askin', an never takin' "no" fer an
answer. As it is, ef you care fer me I wisht you'd
go.'

"I packed right up an' pulled out. No, I never
did have no luck with women. Sence that hap-
pened I ain't had a chance to tackle another

one.

»»

Jim took great interest in Nat-ah'-ki and me.
"My Gawd!" he would say, "just hear her laugh.
She's sure happy. I wisht I had such a nice
woman."

He spent much time in the trade room, and
went often through the camp seeking to make a
conquest of some fair damsel. He was really
ridiculous, smiling at them, bowing and saying
something in English which none could under-
stand. The maidens turned away from him
abashed. The men looking on either scowled or
laughed and joked and named him the One-
unable-to-marry, a very bad name in Blackfoot.

The main trouble was that he wore an im-
mense mustache and chin whiskers. The Black-
feet abhorred hair, except that of the head. An
old acquaintance never buttoned his shirt winter
nor summer; his breast was as hairy as a dog's
back. I have seen the Blackfeet actually shud-
der when they looked at it. But a happy day was
coming for Jim. On a trip out from Fort Benton,
Berry brought him a letter containing great news.
A woman back in Missouri whom he had known
from childhood had consented to marry him. He
left for the States at once by the way of Corinne.
We heard from him several months later : "Dear
friends," he wrote, "she died the day before I
got here. I'm sure grevin'. Theys a nuther one
here, but she's got seven children, an' she's after
me. I take the Santy Fe trail to-morrer. Hain't
I sure out of luck?"

By the same mail we heard from Ashton. He
was in Genoa, Italy, and expected to be with us
in the spring. He also wrote that he was get-
ting good reports of his protege's progress. A
little later there came a letter for Nat-ah'-ki from
the girl herself, which was very touching. It was
in print, and read, including some additions by
the sisters: "I can read. I can write. The sis-
ters are good to me. I have pretty dresses. When
I sleep I see the lodges and the people, and I
smell the kak-sim-i' (sage). I love you. Diarta
Ashton."

Dear me! but Nat-ah'-ki was proud of that let-
ter. She carried it around and showed it to her
friends and had me translate it many times. She

made several beautiful pairs of moccasins for the
child, and after we returned to Fort Benton in
the spring had me ship them on a steamboat with
a lot of pemmican. dried meat and tongues, and
a big bunch of sagebrush. I objected to sending
the pemmican and meat, saying that the girl had
all the food she wanted and the very best.

"Yes," she said, contemptuously, "white peo-
ple's food; nothing food. I know she is hungry
for real food."

We had a good trade that winter, but troublous
times succeeded. A part of the Piegans, the
Bloods and Blackfeet became a real terror to the
whites in the country, and it was really unsafe to
try to trade outside of Fort Benton. We passed
the following two winters there. In January of
the second one the Baker massacre occurred, and
the Indians at once quieted down. In the spring
of 1870 we began, to plan for another season at
some more or less distant point.

Walter B. Anderson,
[to be continued.]

A Boy.

For the last four or five years, I have noticed
a boy fishing from the docks at this place. When
he first started in at the spot he was quite young,
and at that time he was generally in company
with some older person. Later on he came alone
and used to sit for hours waiting for a "bite." If
unsuccessful he still seemed contented enough.
He would come the next Saturday or some other
day when he did not have to go to school.

Sometimes he would have good luck. I have
seen him take home a nice string of flounders,
and in their season snappers (young bluefish),
blackfish and so on. Now that he is a little
older I see he has a nice rod and reel. He goes
to the beach with his little spading fork on his
shoulder to dig his sand worms for bait. Later
in the season you will see him along the creek
with a basket holding some sawdust ready to re-
ceive the shrimp he will catch with his net. In
the fall you will see him chasing fiddler crabs
on the beach. He wants them to lure the black-
fish.

He is still a small boy, not yet grown out of
short trousers, but in his head he is older than
the boys that use their spare time at a crap game
or stealing some one's watermelons or robbing
birds' nests. I do not know that he ever played
truant to go fishing, but if I knew that he had
done so I would suspend sentence. I often did
that and was brutally used for doing so. but I
was brought up in that old Puritanical common-
wealth where they used to squeeze witchcraft out
of existence.

This boy has been told by his grandfather
about the great fishing he formerly had in Rari-
tan Bay, how people used to make their nets to
catch every striped bass that came., along the
shore. The boy has had the spot pointed out to
him where the old settlers used to catch sheeps-
head. 'The boy tried it last year, but he went
home without sheepshead, and the reason why
is not yet quite clear to him. He is going to try
fishing for sturgeon when he gets old enough.
His plans are all laid to have a motor boat when
he is large enough, and perhaps lots of other
modern improvements, but when he is old
enough for all these things he may not have the
chance to use them. He can remember, though,
the pleasant boyhood days, and as he grows older
they will be brought out more clearly.

I can never forget the early years of my New
England life and cannot but compare a dirty salt
water beach to the beautiful clear trout streams,
mountain meadows and sweet smelling forests
that I used to know. This is a matter of indi-
vidual association and taste. Let the natural
fisherman enjoy looking over the past wherever
it happened. ***

Prince's BAy, April IS.

In the Lodges of the Blackfeet.

The Ways of the Northland.

A LAW prohibiting the sale of liquor to Indians,
or even its transportation across the Indian coun-
try, had been practically a dead letter ever since
Congress passed it. Along in the fall of 1869,
however, a new United States marshal appeared
in the country and arrested several traders who
had liquor in their possession, confiscated their
outfits, and made them all sorts of trouble. So
long as this man remained in office it seemed as
if the trade was doomed, and Berry wisely hit
upon the plan of crossing the line into Canada
and establishing a post there. True, there would
be some trouble in transporting the forbidden
goods from Fort Benton northward to the line,,
but chances had to be taken.

Miss Alice Lant, author of ''Lords of the
North," ''Heralds of the Empire," etc., in her
"Tales of the Northwest Mounted Police" has
this to say about the exodus: "It was in the
early seventies that the monopoly of the Hudson's
Bay Company ceased and the Dominion Govern-
ment took over judicial rights in all that vast ter-
ritory which lies like an American Russia be-
tween the boundary and the North Pole. The
ending of the monopoly was the signal for an in-
rush of adventurers. Gamblers, smugglers, crim-
inals of every stripe, struck across from the Mis-
souri into the Canadian territory at the foothills
of the Rockies. Without a white population,
these riff-raff adventurers cor.ld not ply their
usual 'wide-open' traffic. The only way to wealth
was by the fur trade ; and the easiest way to ob-
tain the furs was by smuggling whiskey into the
country in small quantities, diluting this and trad-
ing it to the natives for pelts. Chances of inter-
ference were nil, for the Canadian Government
was thousands of miles distant without either
telegraph or railway connection. But the game
was not without its dangers. The country at the
foothills was inhabited by the Confederacy of the
Blackfeet— Bloods, Piegans and Blackfeet— tigers
of the prairie when sober, and worse than tigers
when drunk. The Missouri whiskey smugglers
found they must either organize for defense or
pay for their fun by being exterminated. How
many whites were massacred in these drinking
frays will never be known; but all around Old
Man's River and Fort Macleod are gruesome
landmarks known as the places where such and
such parties were destroyed in the early seventies.
"The upshot was that the Missouri smugglers
emulated the old fur traders and built themselves
permanent forts; Robbers' Roost, Stand Off,
Freeze Out, and most famous of all Whoop-Her-
Up, whose name for respectability's sake has been
changed to 'Whoo-Pup,' with an innocent sugges-
tiveness of some poetic Indian title. Whoop-Up,

as it was known to plainsmen, was palisaded and
loop-holed for musketry, with bastions and cannon
and an abrm bell. The fortifications of this place
alone, it is said, cost $12,000, and it at once be-
came the metropolis of the whiskey smugglers.
Henceforth only a few Indians were allowed in-
side the fort at a time, the rest being served
through the loop-holes. •

"But the Blackfeet, who loved a man hunt bet-
ter than a buffalo hunt, were, not to be balked.
The trail by which the whiskey smugglers came
from Fort Benton zig-zagged over the rolling
prairie, mainly following the bottoms of the pre-
cipitous coulees and ravines for a distance of
200 miles to Whoop-Up. Heavy wagons with
canvas tops and yokes of fifteen and twenty oxen
drew the freight of liquor through the devious
passes that connected ravine with ravine. The
Blackfeet are probably the best horsemen in the
world. There were places where the defiles were
exceptionally narrow, where the wagons got
mired, where oxen and freight had to be rafted
across rain swollen sloughs. With a yelling of in-
carnate fiends that would have stampeded more
sober brutes than oxen drawing kegs of whiskey,
down swooped the Blackfeet at just these hard
spots. Sometimes the raids took place at night,
when tethers would be cut and the oxen stam-
peded with the bellowing of a frightened buffalo
herd. If the smugglers made a stand there was
a fight. If they drew off, the savages captured the

booty."

Miss Lant's informants have most grievously
imposed upon her. The men who participated in
the trade across the line were not "criminals of
every shape," but honest, fearless, straightforward
fellows. Very many of them are living to-day,
and they feel that they have been wronged by
Miss Lant's statements. Neither were they smug-
glers into the country, for that part of Canada
was then to the Canadians an unknown land,
without any laws or white residents. Away up
on the Saskatchewan was the Hudson's Bay
Company selling rum to the Indians, as they had
been doing for many years. In the opposition of
the Americans they saw the end of their lucrative
trade, and complained to the Dominion Govern-
ment about it, finally getting relief with the ap-
pearance of the Northwest Mounted Police.
Neither were there any drinking frays in which
whites were massacred. One man named Joe
Neufrain was killed for cause by the Blackfeet
at Elbow, about icx) miles north of Belly River.
Two men, a Frenchman named Polite, and Joseph
Wey, were killed at Rocky Springs, on the trail
from Fort Benton north. The Assinaboines, not
the Blackfeet, shot them. The fact is that the
trail did not follow precipitous coulees and ra-
vines, but ran straight over the open rolling plain,
the freighters thereon were not attacked by the
Blackfeet, and their cattle stampeded. Nor did

they freight whiskey in heavy loaded bull trains.
In crossing the Indian country south of the line
they had the United States marshal to elude ; the
whiskey was transported by four-horse teams
which traveled swiftly across by a route which
the marshal was unlikely to know.

In the fall of 1870 Berry established Stand-Off,
after that Whoop-Up and Fort Kipp were built.
There were one or two other minor posts at
Elbow, on High River, and Sheep Creek. In all,
from 1870 until the arrival of the Mounted
Police in 1874, there were fifty-six white men at
these various places or camped out on the plains
wolfing. They were not massacred by the Black-
feet. When the Mounted Police came they also
got along peaceably with the Confederacy, be-
cause the Baker massacre had taken all the fight
out of them. So much by way of explanation.

Starting north from Fort Benton with a good
outfit of stores. Berry, I and several others ar-
rived at Belly River, at a point some twenty-five
or thirty miles above its mouth, and built Stand-
Off, a place of a few rude cabins. This is why
we gave it the peculiar name: The marshal got
on our trail and overtook us soon after we had
crossed the North Fork of Milk River and were
descending the slope to the St. Mary's.

"Well, boys," he said, smiling grimly, 'I've
caught you at last. Turn around and hit the back
trail with me."

"I don't think we will," said Berry. "We're
across the line. Better turn around and go back

yourself."

A warm argument ensued. The line had never
been surveyed, but we knew that according to the
treaty it was the 49th parallel. We were on the
Arctic slope watershed, consequently we were in
Canada; the marshal said that we were not.
Finally Berry told him that he would not turn
back, that he would fight first, as he knew that
he was right. The marshal was powerless to take
us, as he was alone. We "stood him off," and he
sorrowfully turned back.

Another time Berry went in to Fort Benton for
liquor and the marshal trailed him around day
and night. Nothing was to be done there, so he
hitched up his four-horse team and with another
man traveled up to Helena. Still the marshal fol-
lowed, but Berry was a man of resource. He
went to a certain firm there and got them to de-
liver thirty cases of alcohol to him on the banks
of the Missouri a few miles below town, where
he made a raft for them, got aboard and pushed
out into the current. Meanwhile the marshal was
watching the four horses and wagon at the livery
stable. That night Berry's helper got them out
and started on the back trail. In a little while the
officer caught up with the outfit, but lo, the wagon
was empty and Berry was missing. He turned

T)ack and stayed all that night in Helena, then
started again and arrived in Fort Benton about
#the same time as did the team. There the man
loaded up with straight provisions and pulled out
for the north. The marshal was completely non-
plussed.

Meanwhile Berry was having a hard time. A
raft of alcohol, which has but little higher specific
gravity than water, proved a difficult thing to
handle, and in rapid water was sometimes com-
pletely submerged. Sometimes it stuck on a bar
or was in danger of hitting a rocky shore and he
had to jump off and push it into deeper water.
For three days he played beaver, and practically
fasted, for his provisions got wet, but on the third
evening .he reached the mouth of Sun River with
the loss of but one case of alcohol, which the
rocks had punctured. There a four-horse team
awaited him, sent from Fort Benton by the driver
of his own outfit. The two men at once loaded
up the wagon and struck out over the trackless
prairie, crossing the line and arriving at Stand-
OflF without trouble.

The Bloods and Blackfeet gave us a fair trade
that winter. We realized, however, that with the
building of Whoop-Up w^e were too far west to
be in the center of the trade; so the succeeding
summer we moved down some miles and built
another post. The main event of the succeeding
winter was the killing of Calf Shirt, the Blood
chief, and a terrible man. He was absolutely fero-
cious and his people feared him, he having killed
six or eight of them— several his own relatives.
He came into the trade room one day and point-
ing a pistol at the man on duty there, demanded
some whiskey. The trader also raised his pistol
and fired, the bullet taking effect in the Indian's
breast. He did not drop, however, or even stag-
ger; nor did he shoot, but turned and walked
calmly out of the door toward his camp. Upon
hearing the shot a number of men elsewhere in
the post rushed out; saw the pistol in his hand,
and thinking that he had killed some one, began
firing. Shot after shot struck Calf Shirt, but he
kept calmly on for many yards; and then fell over
dead. He possessed extraordinary vitality. The
body was thrown into the river through a hole
in the ice, but it came up in an airhole below, and
was found there. The chief had -always told his
wives that if he was killed they were to sing cer-
tain songs over his body, and he would come to
life, if they kept it up for four days. The women
took the corpse home and did as they had been
told, and felt very badly when they found that
their efforts were fruitless. All the rest of the
tribe, however, rejoiced that the terror was
gone.

The next winter a row broke out among the
traders and the wolfers of the country, the latter
demanding that no more rifles and ammunition
be sold to the Indians. They formed what the
traders named in derision the *Ts-pit-si Cavalry"
and went around trying to get signatures to an
agreement, both by threats and entreaty, that the
traders would comply with their request, but they
met with little or no success. Miss Lant also
refers to this "cavalry," and says that they were
organized by the smugglers to escort the freight-
ers and defend the fort. The freighters needed
no escort, and I w^ould like to know how men
could be called smugglers who broke no known
law; who, it may be said, practically settled the
country and made it possible for a little band of
Mounted Police to march into it. Miss Lant says
that the latter were the result of protests to the

Dominion Government "from the fur company
deprived of lawful trade.'* They sold tobacco,
tea, sugar, blankets, guns and various notions. So
did we. They sold watered Jamaica rum and
Scotch whiskey. We sold watered American alco-
hol and whiskey. I claim that we were just as
respectable as the honorable lords and members
of the Hudson's Bay Company, Limited. The
latter, at this very day, are selling liquor in nearly
every town of Alberta, Assinaboia and other ter-
ritory of Northwest Canada, but we long since
went out of the business.

I don't blame Miss Lant; she couldn't have
known the facts. The men who told her the
story — well, they slandered some pretty good men.
None of them were what might be called saints,
but the kindly, generous, honorable acts I have
know them to do.

Many of the traders had thousands of dollars
worth of merchandise in stock when the Mounted
Police drew near, and most of them were warned
in time of their approach to bury, or otherwise
conceal the liquor. A band of hunters brought
the news. "Some men are coming," they said,
"who wear ted coats, and they are drawing a
cannon."

That was sufficient for Berry and me, and we
promptly cached the ten or twelve gallons of
whiskey we had. Only one trader, I believe,
failed to get the warning; he had his whole stock
confiscated because among it were found a few
gallons of liquor. Of course, we were not glad
to see the strangers, but we met them with cour-
tesy and treated them well. Although they had
come through a country teeming with game they
were in an almost starving condition, and were
very glad to buy our provisions. Their com-
mander. Colonel Macleod, was a gentleman, and
became a life-long friend with some of the "smug-
glers." Many of the traders remained in that
country to continue trade with the Indians and
the newcomers, while others returned to Mon-
tana. We went with the latter outfits. None
"slid out," but went from time to time decorously
and peaceably, and with such of their, possessions
as they had not sold or given away. Thus passed the
trade in the north. I can't say that we regretted
it. Prices of furs had fluctuated and dropped in
value 100 per cent., few had cleared anything
worth mentioning. Four years later the last of
the Alberta buffalo herds drifted south and never
returned to that section of the country.

We again took up our quarters in Fort Benton
at the little adobe house and wintered there. It
was a relief to be out of the trade for a time and
rest up. A few of those who had been in the
north with us crossed the river and located
ranches on the Shonkin and along the Highwood
Mountains. Berry and I thought that we did not
want any ranching in ours.

We had frequently heard from Ashton. He
seemed to be a man of unrest, now somewhere in
Europe, again traveling in the States, once in a
while visiting his protege in St. Louis. Diana
also wrote quite frequently, and her letters were
now models of chirography, correct in grammar
and phrasing. In some she Spoke only of her
school work and the petty incidents of her daily
life. These, I fancied, yiere the ones the good
sisters glanced over before mailing them. But
the others told of her dislike of the city. "I could
bear it," she said, "if I could only see the great
mountains once in a while and the plains." She
also spoke of Ashton and told how eood he was
to her, how happy she was w hen he came to visit

there. He desired her in another year to enter a
seminary : she would go, of course, for what her
chief wished she would do, although she so
longed to see the dear land in which she was
born, and to visit us, if only for a day; but she
could not tell him that.

And in one letter she told Xat-ah'-ki that Diana
meant Sahm'i-ah-ki (Himter Woman), and she
was one who lived in the long ago, was a Sun
woman, and never married. "And I must do like-
wise," she concluded pathetically, "for no one I
could care for would love me, a plain, dark little
Indian girl."

"Kyai'-yo!" the Crow Woman exclaimed when
I had read this out. "I guess any young man in
camp would be glad to have her."

"I think that I imderstand," said Nat-ah'-ki,
meditatively. *T think that I understand. The
ways of her people are no longer her ways; she
has become a white woman in all but color."

Every winter since his departure Ashton had
written that he would visit us in the spring, but
he never fulfilled his promise. We had concluded
that he never would come again, when he sur-
prised us by coming ashore from a steamboat one
day in June. We were certainly glad to greet
him, and in his quiet way he seemed to be equally
pleased. We all went over to the house, and
when the women saw him they clapped hand to
mouth in surprise and came forward to shake
hands with him. "Ok'-i kut'-ai-im-i," they said.
You will remember that they had named him
Never Laughs, but he didn't know that.

He was the same Ashton we had known, not
given to much speech, and with the sad look in
his eyes, although upon his arrival he talked more
than usual and joked with the women, Berry or
I, of course, interpreting.

"You ought to be ashamed," Nat-ah'-ki told
him, "to come alone. Why didn't you bring
Diana ?"

"Oh," he said, "she is busy; she has her
studies ; she could hardly leave them. You should
see into what a fine lady she has grown. She
sends you all her love and some presents, which
I will hand you as soon as my trunk arrives."

Nat-ah'-ki wished me to tell him that the girl
was grieving for the sight of her country, but I
would not do so. "We are not to mix up in his
affairs," I said to her.

Nat-ah'-ki and I gave Ashton our room, and
moved out in a tent set up beside the house. But
that was not for long.

"In summer in this country one should not live
in a house," he said, one morning. "Ever since
I left here I have been longing to stay in that
lodge of yours once more. Many a time I've
thought of that robe couch, the cheerful little fire,
the quaint things scattered around. It was a place
to rest and to dream. I'd like to try it again."

I told him that he should. Our lodge was
about worn out. So Nat-ah'-ki sent word to the
Piegan camp to her mother — they were out on
the Teton somewhere — to get us a good one and
bring it in ; and when it arrived we set it up, and
there Ashton camped with us. He would sit or
recline on his couch as he used to for hours at a
time, smoking, smoking, and silent And his
thoughts were not happy ones, for the shadow
was in his eyes. And as before, Nat-ah'-ki and I
wondered what his trouble might be. She grieved
herself for him and said many times: "He is
very, very poor. I pity him."

A steamboat came in one evening, but none of
us went over to see her land; they had become

a common sight. We had finished supper, Nat-
iih'-ki had cleared the table and lighted the lamp.
Ashton had not yet returned to the lodge, but
was standing by the light repairing his pipe stem.
There was a sound of swishing of silk and then
a tail ?nd graceful woman crossed the threshold,
raising her veil with an impatient gesture, and
almost ran up to him, holding out her hands ap-
pealingly. We recognized her instantly. It was

Diana.

*'My chief/' she cried, ^'forgive me. I could not
help it. I so longed to see my country before I
went back to school, that I left Alice and came.
Oh, don't be angry, forgive me."

Ashton had grasped her hands when she held
them out to him, and almost drew her to him, and
I had never thought to see his face brighten so.
It fairly beamed with love and pride, and joy, I

thought.

"My dear! my dear!" he said, almost falter-
ingly. "Angry? Forgive? Your desires are al-
ways mine. God knows I always wish you to be
happy. Why didn't you tell me? We could have
come out together?"

But the girl was crying now, and Nat-ah -ki,
almost afraid of this tall and stately girl, dressed
in a manner unknown to her, walked up and
said : ''My daughter— you are my daughter, aren't

you?" ^ ,

*'0h, yes !" she faltered, and the two embraced.
We men filed out and left them together. Ash-
ton went to the lodge. Berry and I strolled up the

trail a way.

"Good God!" Berry exclaimed, '1 never thought

that one of our blood could be like that. Why,
she plumb knocks the spots ofif of any white wo-
man I ever saw, in some way. I can't explani the
difference between her and them, but it's there
sure. What is it?"

"Well," I said to him, *'it's a matter of educa-
tion, and of association with refined people
mainly, I guess; and, well, some women are that
way. I can't exactly explain it myself." ^^

"And did you notice how she's dressed!" Berry
added. "Plain like, yet somehow you know that
those clothes cost a heap of money, and were
made by somebody who sure knew how. And
that locket hanging down on her breast ; all pearls
and a big diamond in the center. My, my !"

She was beautiful, as we imagine Diana, her
namesake must have been. But where the god-
dess was cold and calm and all disdamful, our
Diana was gracious, and, as we had seen, she had

a heart

We went back. The tears were gone ; the wo-
men. Berry's wife, Nat-ah'-ki, old Mrs. Berry and
the Crow Woman were sitting around her breath-
lessly listening to some of her experiences. She
had not forgotten her mother's language. She
arose and shook hands with us, and said how
pleased she was to meet us again; that she had
never forgotten our kindness.

After a little she went over to the lodge with
Nat-ah'-ki and I, daintily holding up her skirts,
carefully circling the little fire and sitting down
opposite Ashton, who looked well pleased that we

had come in.

"Oh." she cried, clapping her hands. How
well I remember it all, even to the coals of dif-
ferent fuel. You are burning cottonwood." And
so she talked on, sometimes to Ashton and me,
sometimes to Nat-ah'-ki, and we passed a pleasant
evening. Berry and his wife gave up their room
to her, and came also to live in the lodge. Some-
how we could not ask her if she would like to

live in it, she seemed to be above the old life en-
tirely, out of place in it.

I must say that the girl created a sensation m
the Fort or town, as it was beginning to be
called. The bull-whackers and mule-skinners and
the wolfers stared at her open mouthed when she
passed. The gamblers did their best to get an
introduction. The real men, to whom she was
introduced, treated her with profound considera-
tion. We daily had visitors from the Piegan
camp the women regarded her with awe, and
timidlv shook hands with her. The chiefs even
shook her hand and talked to her ; the young gal-
lants came and stood at a little distance, posing,
and watching her out of the corner of their eyes
One morning Ashton proposed that we should
pack up and go somewhere for a month or two
•with the Piegan camp, or, if it was safe, by our-
selves out to the Belt, or the foot of the Rockies.
Diana objected. "I would rather not go," she
said. "You know I must soon return to school."
Ashton seemed to be surprised at her objection,

and so were we.

"My dear," he said, "I hoped you would
enjoy such a trip. There is ample time fcr you to

make it and return east for the school opening.

But stil! she made excuses, and the subject was
dropped. She told Nat-ah'-ki, however, that shel
longed to go out on the plains and roam about
once more, but that she was in duty bound to go
back soon. "You can't understand how good my
chief is to me," she said. "Always I have money,
more than any of the other girls, more than. I
can use. And I have the finest clothes, lovely
jewelry. Oh, he is so good and kind to me, and
seems so pleased that I learn things. I have seen
you all and my country once more, and he w^as
not angry that I came. Now, I am going back to

studv hard."

"Isn't she good," Nat-ah'-ki exclaimed, after
she told me this. "And isn't she beautiful! I
wish she was my real daughter.

"You simple thing!" I said. "She might be
your sister ; you are but little older, you know."

"I den t care," she concluded, "she is my
daughter in a way. Didn't I take care of her, and
wipe away her tears, and do all I could when
Never Laughs brought her home that bad day?

Walter B. Anderson.

[to BE CONTINUED.]

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FOREST AND STREAM.

[May 12, 1906.

TOM ^IKDIRirMMI TOUMnOT

In the Lodges of the Blackfeet.

XXIV.— The Story of Ancient Sleeper.

As Diana would not agree to the camping
trip, Ashton did all he could to make her visit
pleasant in other ways. He bought a horse and
saddle for her— a wholly unnecessary proceed-
ing, as we had plenty of both— and went riding
with her up over the plains, and across into the
Teton Valley, or wherever she chose to go.
Every evening she came into the lodge and sat
with us, sometimes happily talking, again silent
for long intervals, dreamily watching the flames
of the little fire. The girl was a puzzle to me.
I wondered if she were in love with Ashton, or
merely regarded him as any girl would a kind
and indulgent father. I asked Nat-ah'-ki if she
had ever speculated about it, and she replied
that she had, but could not make up her mind
how the girl felt.

It may have been ten days after Diana arrived
that one afternoon she requested Nat-ah'ki to
pass the night with her, and of course the latter
complied. I thought it a girlish whim. Diana
was unusually silent all of that evening, and
many times, when Ashton was unaware of her
gaze, I saw her looking at him with an ex-
pression in her eyes which I could not interpret
as anything but intense affection. We retired
early and, as usual, slept soundly. We were
none of us early risers, and Nat-ah'-ki's warn-
ing call aroused us for breakfast. We arose
and went into the house and took our places at
the table. Diana was not at hand, and I asked
Nat-ah'-ki why she did not call her. For reply
she handed Ashton a note and fled from the
room. He glanced at it and turned white.
''She's gone back!'' he said. "She's gone back!"
He sprang from his chair, seized his hat, and
rushed out toward the levee.

''What's all this?" I asked Nat-ah'-ki, whom I
found in the old women's room, sitting scared
and still. ''Where is the girl?"

"Gone back to her reading and writing work,"
she replied. "I helped take her things over to
the fire-boat, and it went away." And then
she began to cry. "She's gone!" she wailed.
"My beautiful daughter is gone, and I know
that I shall never see her again!"

"But why?" I broke in. "Why did she leave
without saying anything to Never Laughs? It
was wrong; you should not have helped her;
you should have come and told us about her

plan."

"I did as she asked me to, and would do so
again," she said. "And you must not blame me.
The girl was worrying, worrying, worrying.
She believed that her chief was not pleased be-
cause she had come up here away from where
he had placed her, and she goes back alone, be-

cause she feared that he would feel he must ac-
company her. She does not wish him to lose
a pleasant summer, a big hunt somewhere, on
her account."

Ashton came back from the levee. "She has
certainly gone," he said, dejectedly. "What
madness possesses her? See this!" handing me
the note.

"Dear Chief," it read, "I go back in the
morning at daylight. I hope you will have a
good time and kill lots of game." '■

"What possesses the child?" he continued.
"And to think that I could have a 'good time'
while she is traveling down this cursed river un-
protected."

I told him what I had learned from Nat-ah'-ki,
and he brightened perceptibly. "She does care
then," he said. "I didn't understand, I have
never felt that I knew her; but if this is the
reason she went— well, I'll go back, too, and
I'll be at the levee in Saint Louis to meet her."
And he was as good as his word, leaving on
the stage the next day for the Union Pacific
Railway, by the way of Helena and Corripne.
My parting words to him were these: "Old
man," I said," never doubt but what your
protege loves you. I know that she does."

The days passed monotonously. Berry fidgeted
around, and was cross, and I became nervous
and cross, too. We didn't know what to do with
ourselves. "My father always told me," he said
one day, "that a man who stayed in the fur
trade was a fool. One might make a stake one
winter, but he woiild be sure to lose it another
season. He was right. Let's give it up, buy
some cattle with what we have left, and settle
down to stock raising."

"All right," I agreed. "It's a go. Anything
suits me."

"We'll do some plowing^' he went on, "and
raise potatoes and oats and all kinds of garden
stuff. I tell you, it'll just be fine."

Berry's bull train had just pulled in from a
trip to Helena. We loaded it with some lum-
ber, doors and windows, what furniture we had,
plenty of provisions and some tools, hired a
couple of good ax-men and started it out, we
going on ahead with the women with a four-
horse team. We chose a location on Back Fat
Creek, not far from the foot of the Rockies,
and less than one hundred miles from Fort
Benton. We selected a site for the buildings,
and then leaving me to superintend their erec-
tion. Berry went away with a couple of men to
purchase some cattle. It didn't take long to
haul enough pine logs from the mountains for
a six-room shack, a stable and corral, and by
the time Berry returned with the cattle, about
four hundred head, I had everything fixed for
winter, even enough hay for a team and a couple
of saddle horses.

The Piegans were scattered that winter. Some
were on the Marias, some on the Teton, and a
number of lodges of them occasionally trailed
in and stopped near our place for several weeks
at a time. Buffalo were fairly plentiful, and up
in the foothills there were all kinds of game.
We had some trouble with the cattle at first,
but in a few weeks they located, and thereafter
it required little riding to keep them close
herded. I can't say that I did much of the
riding, but Berry enjoyed it. We had a couple of
men, so I went out on little hunts with Nat-
ah'-ki, poisoned wolves, caught trout in the
deep holes of the creek, and just stayed with
the women, listening to Crow Woman's and old
Mrs. Berry's tales of the long ago.

The room Nat-ah'-ki and I occupied had a
rude stove and mud fire-place, as did all the
others except the kitchen, where was a good big
stove. Previous to this, except when in Fort
Benton, the women had always used a fire-place
for cooking, and they still used one for roasting
meat, and baking beans in a Dutch oven. Be-
sides a bed and a chair or two, our room had
a bureau — one of those cheap, varnished affairs
—of which Nat-ah'-ki was very proud. She
was always washing and dusting it, although it
was never in need of such care, and arranging
and re-arranging the contents of the drawers.
Also, we had curtains to the window, tied back
with blue ribbons, and there was a table which
I made of a dry goods box, covered with a
bright blanket. At one side of the fire-place
was a buffalo robe couch, willow back rests at
each end. We had some argument over that.
When I explained what I wanted, Nat-ah'-ki
objected to its construction. "You disappoint
me," she complained. "Here we have built a
home, and furnished it with beautiful things,
pointing to the bureau, bed and curtains, and
we are living like white people, trying to be
white, and now you want to spoil it all by fixing
up an Indian couch!" But of course I had my
way.

One evening we visited a camp of some thirty
lodges, of which one. Ancient Sleeper, was the
head man. He owned a medicine pipe and
various other sacred things, and did some
doctoring, in which, besides various concoctions
of herbs that were given the patient internally
or externally, a mountain lion skin, and prayers
to that animal, played an important part. When
we entered his lodge, I was welcomed and
motioned to a place on his left, Nat-ah'-ki of
course taking her seat near the doorway with
the women. Above the old man, securely tied
to the lodge poles, hung his medicine pipe,
bound in many wrappings of various skins.
Spread over the back rest at the right end of
his couch was the sacred lion skin. In front
of him his everyday pipe of black stone rested

May 12, 1906.]

745

upon a large buffalo chip. Long before, I had
heard, his dream had commanded this, and ever
since the pipe he smoked had never been laid
on the ground. As in the lodges of other
medicine men, no one was l^ermitted to walk
entirely around the fire, thus passing between
It and the medicines, nor could any one remove
fire froyi the lodge, for by so doing the power of
his medicine might be broken.

Ancient Sleeper mixed tobacco and I'herbe,
chopping it fine, filled his pipe, passed it to me
to light, and we smoked together by turns.
When I received the pipe, I took it from him
with one hand; when I passed it to him, he
grasped the stem with both hands, palms down,
spreading and crooking his fingers, seizing,
pouncing upon it, in imitation of the way of a
bear. Thus did all medicine pipe men; it was
a sign of their order. We talked a little— about
the weather; the game; the whereabouts of the
people. The women set before us some food,
and I ate of it as in duty bound. I had gone
to the lodge with a purpose, and I began to
edge around to it. I told him I had at various
times in various places killed mountain lions.
"I see you have the skin of one there," I con-
cluded. "Did you kill it. or was it a present?"

"The Sun was good to me," he replied. "I
killed it. It was all ik-ut'-o-wap-i (very sun
power; very — let us translate it — supernatural)
that which occurred.

"I was a man. I had a lodge of my own, my
three women whom you see here. My body was
strong. I was successful in everything. I was
happy. And then all this changed. If I went
to war, I got wounded. If I took horses, I lost
them again; they died, or were stolen, or
crippled themselves. Although I hunted hard,
somehow I often failed to bring home meat.
And then came the worst of all, sickness. Some
bad ghost or evil thing got inside of me, and at
times would grip my heart, so that the pain was
terrible. When it did that, no matter where I
was, what I was doing, the pain was so great
that I became dizzy and staggered, and some-
times I just fell over and died for a short time
(fainted). I doctored; I had the medicine men
pray for me, giving a horse here, a horse there.
I did not get any better, and I became very
poor. At last we had only enough horses with
which to move camp. Parties would no longer
allow me to go to war with them; they feared
that I would die on their hands, or in some way
bring misfortune. I heard of a man, a Gros
Ventre, who had suffered with the same trouble.
He had bought a medicine pipe of great power,
and by its use he had got well. He would sell
the pipe, I was told, but I could not buy it. I
had no fifteen or twenty horses to give for it,
not even one. I preferred to die rather than
have my women go afoot. Neither had I rela-
tives to help me, nor had my women any who
could do so. Oh! I was very poor. Still, some-
how I kept up courage, trying in every way to
get well, and to provide for me and mine. At
last my dying times became so frequent that I
no longer went hunting nor anywhere, except
when one of. my women accompanied me.
They would not let me go off by myself.

"She there, my last woman, went with me one
day on a hunt. We were camping at the time
on the Pi-is-tun-is-i-sak-ta (Deep Creek) away
up toward the headwaters, and we went on foot
up into the pines of the Belt Mountains in

search of anything that was meat. The camp
had been in that locality for more than a
moon and the game had moved away to further
foothills, and high up on the mountain. We
traveled far before we found much fresh sign.
At last, away up high on the mountain side I
saw a band of elk move across an opening and
disappear in the timber which surrounded it.
The wind was right and I followed them, my
woman keeping close behind me. Down into a
deep coulee they went, across the stream at
the bottom of it, and up the other side. But
when we came to the stream we stopped, for
there in the trail, fresh on top of the hoof
marks of the elk, were the footprints of a real
bear, a very large one. He, too, was hunting,
and he was before me on the trail of the elk.
I gave it to him and turned back. I did not
wish to meet him there among the thick pines.
We came again to the opening and went into
the timber in another direction, up toward the
summit of the mountain. We found more fresh
elk sign and followed it very cautiously step
by step, looking, looking everywhere for sight
of the animals. At last we came to the foot of
a high cliff. Under it were broken rock,
bushes, low pines. Right out where the sun shone
on it full, lay an elk, a two-year-old bull, head
bent around to its side, fast asleep. I had but
my bow and arrows. To make a sure shot, I
must get close either above or below it, for the
animal lay lengthwise with the cliff, and I had
approached it from behind. It were useless to
shoot it in the haunches; I must send an arrow
down through its back, or from below up into
its side. I chose to go along the foot of the
cliff, and shoot downward. Never did I step
more carefully, more slowly. I had to get that
elk, for we were without meat, had lived for
some days on that given us by more successful
hunters. My woman had stopped and sat down
to give me more chance in the approach. I
glanced back and saw her looking at me, at the
elk, signing me to be cautious. I went even
more- carefully, if that were possible, and was
at last in a good position to shoot. I drew
back the bow and let go the string. I saw the
arrow sink down into the elk, saw it struggle
to rise, saw blood stream from its nostrils, and
then the pain gripped my heart. I staggered
and died.

"I was a very long time dead, for when I
came to life the sun had set and the last of his
colors were fading behind him. I was lying in
a sort of cave where my woman had carried
me. I felt too weak to get up. She brought
plenty of wood and made a little fire at the
mouth of the cave. Then she brought water in
a piece of the elk skin, and some meat. I drank,
and she fed me, some roast liver, a marrow
bone, a kidney, but I was not hungry; I could
eat only a few mouthsful. Neither could she
eat; we felt very sad; both knew that this time
I had almost really died. She came and lay
down beside me and smoothed my forehead,
speaking words of courage, and after a little
time I fell asleep. Then my shadow went forth
from my worn body. I was free, as light as the
bubble on the stream. I felt able to travel
wherever I wished to, and to understand all
things. Thus, as if I had been led, or shown
the way, I came to a fine, new, big lodge stand-
ing all by itself at the edge of a grove, in a deep,
wide valley in which was a beautiful stream.

Without hesitating, without bashfulness, I raised
the door skin and entered the lodge. An old,
old man was its owner, and he welcomed me,
gave me a seat beside him, told his woman to
prepare food. We smoked, and he asked many
questions. I told him all, all the story of my
life, how 1 now suffered. *Yes,' he kept saying,
and *Yes,' and *Yes.* *I know— I understand.'

"We ate that which the women set before us,
and he again filled the pipe. 'Listen,* he said, as
we smoked. 'Listen. Once I suffered as you
do, and, like you, I sought everywhere, in many
ways for help, and at last it was given to me.
I regained my health. My hair has turned white,
my skin wrinkles, I am very, very old; yet
still my body is strong and sound, and I provide
myself the meat for this lodge. All this be-
cause I found a powerful helper. I pity you.
As I was told to do, I will now tell you; heed
my words and follow the advice, and you, too,
will live to great age.

" *First, as to your sickness: Some ghost,
perhaps that of an enemy you have killed, has
in some way entered your body and set up an
evil growth in your stomach. It must be re-
moved, for it grows larger and larger, pressing
against the heart, and unless it is checked, will
soon press so hard that the heart cannot work:
then death. You must kill a mountain lion,
have the skin tanned, leaving the claws on the
feet. You must take good care of this skin, and
at nights hang it or place it near the head of
your couch. So, when you lie down to sleep
you will pray, saying, *Hai'-yu! maker of claws;
Hai'-yu! maker of sharp, cutting claws, I pray
you to aid me; claw away this thing which is
threatening my life, and will surely kill me
without your aid!* Thus you must pray to the
maker of claws, to the shadow of the ancient
lion himself. Also, you must learn these songs—
and he taught me three [here Ancient Person
sang them, needless to say, with all the deep,
sincere feeling that the devout express in their
sacred songs]. *Also,* he said, *that I must
always lay my pipe on a buffalo chip, for the
buffalo was a sacred animal, and that when I
prayed, blowing smoke to the four directions
of the world, to those above, and to our mother
(earth) my prayers would have more power.'

"It must have been far away where I found
that good, old man, for my shadow did not
return to my body until after sunrise. I awoke
and saw it shining into the cave. My woman
had rebuilt the fire, was cooking. *Let that be
for a time,' I said, *and come and sit with me.'
I told her all; where I had been, what the kind,
old man had said, and she was glad. Right there
one-half of the arrows in my quiver, with the
tongue of the elk I had killed, we hung up as
a sacrifice, and then we went home, my woman
carrying meat, as much as was possible for her
to handle. I could carry but little.

"I had a North gun (Hudson's Bay Com-
pany's make), but no powder and no balls; the
one fhnt was bad. From a friend I borrowed a
trap and in a short time I caught six beavers
with it. Another friend going in to Fort Ben-
ton to trade took them with him and brought
me what I needed, new flints and ammunition,
and then I began to hunt mountain lions. I had
never hunted mountain lions; neither had any
of our people. Some one occasionally came
across one and killed it, and he was thought to
be a lucky man, for the skins of these animals

1\^

FOREST AND STREAM.

[May 12, 1906.

have always been medicine. They are made into
qiiiver-and-bow-cases, or the owners use them
for saddle .-kins. Used in any way, they give
one success in hunting, or in war. No, I had
never hunted these animals, but now I was
bound to get one. Again she there and I went
afoot into the mountains. I took both gun and
bow, the latter for killing meat. The silent
arrow alarms nothing; the boom of a gun
arouses every living thing; the sleeping ones
awake, prick up their ears, sniflf the wind, and
watch.

**We walked along the shore of the creek.
Here, there, plainly marked in the mud, and on
damp sand were foot prints of those I sought,
foot prints, but nothing more. We went into
the deep timber; although many might have
passed there, they could make no sign, leave
no tracks on the dry, dead leaves. We went
higher, up through the timber, up where the
rock is chief and trees grow small and low.
There we sat all through the day, peering out
through bushes surrounding the place, seeing
once a small black bear, once a fisher, but no
. other living thing, except little birds, and eagles
lazily flying around. But near sunset came a
band of bighorn feeding toward us, following
the wind. I fitted an arrow to my bow and shot
one, a little young one. It bleated and fell
over, and the rest, at first running away scared,
came back with its mother and looked at it
curiously, looked all around, trying to under-
stand what had happened. I then shot the
mother. We left her lying, in hopes of finding
a mountain lion by it the next day, and taking
the young one we went away down the moun-
tain and camped for the night near a stream of
water.

**We passed many days like that, many days.
We camped wherever night came upon us, go-
ing home only when our lodge required meat,
or when camp was to be moved. Thus passed
the summer, and in all that time we saw not
once that which I sought. Twice during that
time I died, and each time I was dead longer
than before. I became much discouraged; I did
f not doubt my dream's words; no, I was sure
that old man had spoken truth, but I felt that I
was going to die before I could do all he had
told me to do. From the Belt Mountains we
moved to Yellow River, from there across to
Snowy Mountains. Then came winter, and
snow fell on the high slopes, falling lower, still
lower, until the mountains were white clear to
the plains. Nothing was now hidden from me
of the happenings of the night; wherever I
went the snow gave me the story as well as if
some one had looked on, had seen it all, and
then related it. Here walked, and fed, and
played, and rested deer and elk; bere a bear
prowled around, turning over logs and stones.
There were tracks of wolf, and coyote, and bob
cat and fox, each hunting in his own way for
something with which to fill his belly. Yes,
and here, what is this heap of brush and sticks
and leaves, soiled snow and earth? Up through
it protudes an antler. Over there is blood;
something has been dragged through the snow.
Ah! there, over there, is a trail of big, round
footprints near together. Here in the night a
mountain lion sprang upon a buck deer, killed
it and ate his fill, dragged the remains over to
his place and covered them with all the loose
things he could paw together. Thus I explained

it to my woman. 'And,' I told her, 'he has not
gone far; his belly is full; somewhere near he
lies stretched out, asleep.'

But what should I do? Hide somewhere near-
by and wait for him to return? He might not
come until far in the night when I could not
see him. He might, when coming, get wind of
me and turn, never to come back. No, I would
trail him. I would go as carefully as he him-
self when he crept along, preparing to spring
upon a deer. I would see him before he should
awake and notice me, and I would kill him
where he lay. Thus did I plan; thus did I ex-
plain to my woman, telling how to follow me
at a distance, just so near that she could see
me once in a while, no nearer. She was pleased.
'You will surely kill him,' she said. I was
glad, excited. After all these moons at last I
had a trail to follow, and on the snow that
was almost as good as seeing the animal far ofY
and approaching him. Think then, friend, think
of rhy despair when, almost within sight of the
covered deer, I found where the animal had
lain on a big log, had seen us talking, and
bounded away into the dark woods with long
leaps! It was too much. Again I got dizzy,
staggered, and was dead before I dropped upon
the snow.

"That time my woman got me home, going
back for a horse for me to ride, and I lay in the
lodge many days, weak in body, sick in heart,
discouraged. But friends came in to cheer me.
Their women brought choice meat, and tongues,
dried berries, soups, anything good. So we
fared well, and day by day my strength came
back. At last, one evening, a friend who had
been hunting came hurrying in. *Kyi!' said he,
T have good news for you. Up in a canon
where I trailed a wounded deer, I came to a
hole in the rocks. A hard beaten trail leads
from it out to the water, then parts into many
rmaller trails. A mountain lion lives there with
her young. I did not scare them. I did not
even kill the deer I followed to the place, but
came at once to tell you.'

''Once more I took' courage, and as soon as
it was daylight I started for the place with my
friend and my woman. We rode away to the
south, then up a creek, tied our horses and
entered a walled canon. From there it was
not far to the cave. Snow had fallen during
the night; the freshest tracks led in to the cave;
in there was the mother, and three young
partly grown, and they were somewhere back
in the darkness, watching us perhaps.

"I was scared; of course I was. Men had
been killed by these animals when following
them into their den. And this one had young;
she would fight all the more fiercely. Yes, I
was afraid, but for all that I must go in; as
well die there as in some other place, of the
sickness from which I suffered. I prepared to
go in. My woman cried and begged me not to
go. My friend proposed that we sit and watch
for the animals to come out. I fixed the
priming in my gun, took my knife in my teeth,
got down on my hands and knees and crawled
in. It was just a narrow, low hole in the wall,
and my body shut oflf most of the light, yet
there was enough for me to see ahead dimly,
and after a little I saw ahead two green-red eyes,
big, wide eyes of fire. I stooped lower, letting
in more light, and could see the old one's body,
see her ears laid back tight on her head, see

the tip of her tail swishing this way, that way.
She growled a little, a low, soft growl. She
lay on her belly and her forefeet shifted back
and forth, seeking the secure hold; she was
about to spring upon me. More dimly I saw
her cubs behind her, but they did not matter.
I slowly raised my gun, but before I could aim
it, she sprang. I fired, the ball met he;* in the
air; her body struck me and knocked the
breath out of me, and once more I died.

"They pulled me out of the cave, and while
my woman cared for me, my friend went back
in, shot the three young with his bow and ar-
rows, and dragged them out with the body of
the mother. My ball had struck her fair in the
breast. So, now, at last, I had that which my
dream had told me to get, and I prayed, I sang
the songs as I had been told to do. It was not
many nights after that, sitting on my couch, I
said the prayers and sang the first one of the
songs. I had just finished it when something
gave way inside of me, and blood and foul
matter streamed from my mouth. There was
no pain. After a time the blood ceased run-
ning. I washed my mouth, got up and walked
around. I no longer felt a tightness here in
my side. I felt light on foot; as if I could run
and jump, and I was hungry. I knew what had
happened; even as the old man had foretold,
the growth inside me had been clawed open.
I was well. We made great sacrifice for this
next day. I have been well ever since. Not
only that, but my medicine has cured many sick
ones. Kyi!"

That is one of the stories I heard that winter
and jotted down in my note book. Verily, there
is nothing like faith and courage for the cure
of ills, mental and physical, in savage and in
the civilized alike.

For Nat-ah'-ki and for me this was^ a happy
winter. It was for all of us except Berry,
who chafed over the "endless days of cold and
snow." I don't know how many times he went
down in the flat and measured it. So many acres
here for oats, so many there for potatoes, for
turnips, for peas. We would buy a lot of
sows, he said, and raise pigs as well as cattle.
Spring came early. Toward the end of March
the bulls were rounded up and yoked to the
plows. Old Mrs. Berry and the Crow Woman
prepared a little plot of ground in a bend of the
creek, and sorted seeds they had obtained at
some distant time from their people, the* Man-
dans and Rees. I didn't know anything about
plowing and planting, nor did I wish to learn.
Nat-ah'-ki and I rode among the cattle — and
found that the calves disappeared about as fast
as they were born. Wolves were numerous.
"Oh!" she would exclaim, as we rode slowly
homeward from a day with the cattle. "Oh,
isn't this happy and peaceful! Our strong, warm
home there, our pretty room, the men planting
things for us, the good meat we own feeding
on these hills. Oh, it is much better than living
in a camp and trailing from place to place across
endless plains, ever expecting to hear the yells
of the enemy and the whistle of bullets!"

"Oh! I don't know," I replied. "This is good
enough. I like any place my little woman likes;
but don't you remember what fun we had in
camp, the dancing and feasting, the big hunts,
the stories we heard of nights. That was great
fun, Nat-ah'-ki."

"Shame on you!" she exclaimed. "I really

(

May 12, 1906.]

believe you are an Indian, even if your skin is
white. Now, I want to be white, to Hve Hke
white people, and Vm just going to make you
do so, too. Do you hear? You must quit these
Indian ways."

In June more than a foot of snow fell upon
our fieMs of growing things, and when it
melted, there came a frost and froze everything.
Berry cursed loud and frequently. In July and
AiTgust we tried to put up some hay, but rain
spoiled it as fast as it was cut. In the fall we
had no grain to thresh, no potatoes nor turnips,
not even cabbage to put into our big root house.
After the fall branding, we found that we had
an increase in our cattle of only fifteen per cent.
The wolves were accountable for the additional
forty-five per cent we should have had. "This
here ranching and cattle raising," said Berry,
"isn't what it's cracked up to be. Let's sell out
and get back into the trade. There's more fun
and excitement in that anyhow."

Of course I agreed to that, and he went into
Benton to find a buyer for the place. He found
one. but the man would not make the deal until
spring, so we put in another winter there, which
was also a happy one for some of us — for Nat-
ah'-ki and I, at least. Ah, me! why shouldn't
we have been happy? We were young, we loved
each other; nothing else mattered.

Walter B. Anderson,
[to be continued.]

784

FOREST AND STREAM.

[May 19, 1906.

In the Lodges of the Blackfeet.

XXV.— Diana's Marriage.

May found i:s again installed in the little adobe
in Fort Benton, but not for long. Berry was /"arms. We noticed instantly a great change in

drove in from Fort Benton one evening, having
arrived there by steamboat the day before.
Nothing could have pleased us more than to
welcome them back. Nat-ah'-ki actually cried
from joy as she clasped her "daughter" in her

anxious to be doing something, and, learning
that Fort Conrad was for sale, we bought it.
This place, as I have previously mentioned, was
built at the upper end of a large bottom on the
Marias River, where the Dry Fork joins the
larger stream. It was not much of a fort, just
two rows of connecting log cabins, with stables
and a corral at the west end of them, the whole
thing forming three sides of a square. It was
a good location, however, for, besides the trade
in robes we expected to get, it was on the trail
between Fort Benton and Fort Macleod, and the
travel and freighting over it was heavy in the
summer time. The women were especially
pleased with the purchase. They had regretted
leaving our home on Back Fat Creek, but now
they had another one, further away from the
mountains, where the summers were warmer
and longer. ''Here," said Crow Woman, "my
beans and corn and squash will surely grow. I

am glad."

"This is happiness," Nat-ah'-ki said, as we sat
in the shade of a big cottonwood by the river*s
edge. "See the beautiful trees above there, and
below, and the pretty island with its young tim-
ber. And on all sides the high, steep hills— pro-
tection from the winter winds."

"Yes," I said, "it is a pretty place. I like it
better than I did the other one."

"Say this for me," she continued, leaning
over and drawing me to her. "Say this: We
will live here always; live here until we die, and
they bury us out across there where the big

trees grow."

I said it, and added thereto, "If it be possible
for us to do so," watching the expectant, pleased
expression of her eyes suddenly change to one
of pain.

"Oh, why," she asked, "why did you spoil it
all? Don't you know that you caii do anything
you wish to?"

"No, I don't," I replied. "No one can always
do only that he wishes to do. But let us not
worry; we will try to live here always."

"Yes," she sighed, "we will try; we will have
courage. Oh, good Sun, kind Sun! Pity us.
Let us live here in peace and happiness to
great age."

Even then Berry and I had some idea of the
changes that were to take place, but we did not
dream that they were so near at hand. We
looked for the old, free, careless times to last
for fifteen or twenty years at least.

Unannounced, without having written a line of
their intention to virit us, Ashton and Diana

Ashton. We could no longer call him Never
Laughs, for he began joking and laughing be-
fore he got out of the wagon; there was a merry
glint in his eyes; he ran around like a boy,
throwing things out recklessly. The sad, solemn,
silent, slow-moving Ashton had been, as it were,
reincarnated; and it did us good to see the
change in him; it made us joyous with him.

And Diana, ah, there was a woman, if you
please! Words fail me. I cannot describe her.
Diana she was in features and figure, but the
spirit within was that of the noble, human, lov-
ing, gentle woman — all pure, all good. Who
coifld believe that this was the thin, frail, wild-
eyed little thing Ashton had rescued and brought
to our lodge not so many years since? Could
this lovely, accomplished, refined woman have
been born in a lodge and trailed with her peo-
ple over the plains in pursuit of the moving
herds? It seemed impossible.

What a happy evening we passed. How
vivacious and affectionate Diana was, sitting
now with Nat-ah'-ki, again with the old woman,
clasping them lovingly in her arms, inquiring
into all the little incidents of their daily lives.
Education, travel, a knowledge of the great
world had not turned her head; the people of
her blood were as dear to her as ever. She
told me that it had been her daily practice to
speak over in the quiet of her room so much
Blackfoot, to translate a verse or two of Eng-
lish into it, lest she forget her mother's tongue.
I cast about in my mind for the cause of the
change in Ashton. "Perhaps," I thought, "he
has fallen in love with Diana; is going to marry
her; he may already have married her." I
looked at her hand; she wore neither engage-
ment nor wedding ring. It was late when we
separated, Diana going with the old woman to
their room, Ashton to a spare one we had.
When we were alone, Nat-ah'-ki came over,
leaned against me, and sighed heavily. "What
is it?" I asked. **Why are you sad?"

"Oh!" she exclaimed, "I am so disappointed.
This long, long time I have been praying for it,
yet it has not come to pass. Why doesn't he
marry my daughter? Is it that he thinks she
is not good enough for him? That he does not
love her? How can he help loving one so
handsome, so good, so true-hearted?"

"Little woman," I said, "don't be impatient.
I think everything will come right. Have you
not noticed how different he is — how he laughs,
how bright his eyes are? I am sure that he
loves her; that if he has not asked her to marry

him, he will when he thinks that the right time
has come."

Little did we think as we sat and talked, how
near that time was, and what an unexpected and
dramatic event would lead up to it. 'Twas a
few evenings later. Ashton was lazily smoking,
sitting by the table in my room. There was a
bit of fire in the hearth, occasionally flaring up
and illuminating the rude walls, again dying
away, leaving everything shadowy and dim.
Diana and Nat-ah'-ki sat together on a couch;
I lay stretched out on the bed. We were all
silent, each one occupied with his thoughts. A
team and wagon were driven in to the little
square outside, and through the open door we
heard a silvery, anxious voice ask, "Can you
tell me, sir," if Mr. Ashton is stopping here?"
Ashton sprang from his chair, made one or
two strides, stopped, considering something for
a moment, then returned and resumed his seat.
"Yes, madam," Berry was saying, "he is here;
you will find him over in that room."

She did not notice us as she hurried in. The
flame leaped up, revealing Ashton's face, pale
and stern. She hurried over to him and placed
a hand on his shoulder. "Oh, my dear," she
cried, "I've found you at last. I wrote several
times. Did you never get my letters? Oh, I'm
free; free, do you hear? I've got my divorce;
I've come to tell you that it was all a mistake;

to beg your forgiveness ; lo"

"Diana, child, come here," said Ashton,
quietly, interrupting her. The girl arose and
walked over to him, placed her hand in the one
he held out to her appealingly. The woman—
and she was a tall, hand,some one, too; fair-
haired, blue-eyed— stood looking at them in as-
tonishment, in fear, her hands clasped convul-
sively on her bosom.

"Diana, my dear," Ashton continued, looking
lovingly down into her face, "will you marry me?"
"Yes, Chief," she replied, clearly, firmly.

"Yes."

He arose, and put his arm around her, facing
the other woman, "Sadie," he said, "I forgive
you all that you have done to me— your broken
promises, your unfaithfulness, the years of mis-
ery I passed in trying to forget. I have found
peace and happiness at last, thanks to this dear
one by my side. I bid you good night, and good
by. No doubt you will be returning to town
early in the morning."

With his arm still around her waist, he and
Diana passed out of the room. The woman
sank into the chair he had vacated, bent
over on the table, burying her face in
her arms, and sobbed heart-brokenly. Nat-
ah'-ki and I arose, and also left the
room, tiptoeing across the floor and out into
the night. "Oh!" the little woman exclaimed,
when we were well beyond the fort. "Oh!"

May 19, 1906.]

FOREST AND STREAM.

-"^

and she shook me as hard as she could. "Why
didn't you teach me your language? Tell me
quick, who she is. What said they? What did
he tell my daughter?"

I explained it all as clearly as I could, and
then Nat-ah'-ki nearly went crazy with joy. She
danced around me, and kissed me, and said that
I was a good boy. I hoped I was. I couldn't
see, though, that I had done anything to further
this much-desired end of affairs between Ashton
and Diana. We came upon them sitting on the
shore end of our ferryboat. "Come here," said
Ashton. Diana jumped up and embraced Nat-
ah'-ki, and the two went back to the house.

"Old man," I said, "I congratulate you.
You've found peace and happiness, as you well
said a few moments ago. You can't help being
happy with Diana."

"Ah!" he exclaimed, "isn't she — my boy, what
she is to me, has long been, is beyond the tell-
ing. I feel that I am not woirthy of her; yet she
loves me devotedly, truly. She told me so here
to-night."

"But about the other one?" I ventured, "What
are we going to do with her?"

"She cannot go back to-night. Have Nat-
ah'-ki give her something to eat and a bed. I
presume her driver can look out for himself."

"That woman has been the curse of my life,"
he added. "I loved her deeply, devotedly. She
promised to marry me. I believed in her good-
ness and faithfulness as one docs in that of his
mother. But she threw me over for a wealthier
man. And now — now — well, enough of her; I'm
going to find Diana and ask her to walk with

me.

"There is some cold boiled meat," said Nat-
ah'-ki, "some bread and stewed sarvis berries.
If she will come into the Indian country hunting
my daughter's man, even that is too good for
her. I will make her a bed of buffalo robes
and blankets, although she doesn't deserve it."
But the woman would not eat. Nat-ah'-ki
made a bed for her on the floor of the trade
room, and there we left her to her thoughts—
and they were no doubt bitter. In the morning
she asked for Ashton, begged me tell him to
come to her for a moment. I told her that he
had gone hunting and would not return until
evening. She chafed at the driver's delay in
hitching up, refused anything but a cup of coffee
which I carried in to her. At last the team
was ready, and she got in and started away
without once looking back, without even thank-
ing us for her night's lodging. And thus she
passed out of Ashton's life.

I had told her truly that Ashton had gone
hunting; he and Diana had ridden away at sun-
up, but I imagine they did not go far— waiting
on some neatby hill to see the visitor depart.
As soon as the conveyance had crossed the bot-
tom and climbed the hill up on to the plain,
they returned, as happy and high-spirited as two
children, and we all had breakfast together.

"This is what we may call our wedding break-
fast," said Ashton, as we all sat down.

"That so?" Berry asked. "Are you going
in to the fort to-day and be married? You
can't make it with such a late start."

"No," he replied, hesitatingly. "No. Diana
and I have talked the matter over, and we are
agreed that a simple signed and witnessed mar-
riage contract is just as valid as is a marriage
before a justice of the peace or by a clergyman.

We intend to make it out this morning. What
think you, friends?"

"It strikes me all right," said Berry.
"And me, too," I replied.
"My parents married without any ceremony
whatever," Diana remarked. "Any way, what
pleases my Chief pleases me." She looked across
at hfm, and there was a world of love and faith
in her eyes.

Nat-ah'-ki, sitting by my side, gently pressed
my knee, which was one of her ways of asking
what was being said. I told her, but she made
no comment, remaining silent during the meal.
The old women and Mrs. Berry were pleased
with the idea. "Ai!" said the Crow Woman.
*'Let him fix the paper. It is enough; writing
cannot lie. What matters a Black Robe saying
many words? People married and lived hap-
pily together all their lives before these talking
men were ever heard of. They can do so still."
But, after breakfast Nat-ah'-ki called me aside.
**Will this way of writing things make her sure
enough his wife?" she asked. "A wife according
to the white men's laws?"

"Indeed it will," I replied. "It will be a mar-
riage that can no more be put aside than ours.
As strong as if a thousand Black Robes together
had said the words."

"It is well then; I am glad; let them do it
at once. I want to see my daughter married
and happy with this good man."

Right there on the dining table, the breakfast
things having been cleared away, we drew up
the paper, Ashton and I. Omitting the date
and signatures, it read:

"We, the undersigned, hereby agree to live
together as man and wife until death parts us."
Short, wasn't it? They signed it. So did
Berry and I as witnesses, the women standing
by and watching us interestedly. Then Ashton
took Diana in his arms and kissed her gently
before us all. There were tears in her eyes.
You see how frank and open they were before
us; not at all ashamed to show their love, ex-
press their feelings. It did us good. We felt
that we were witnessing something very sacred,
very ennobling. It made us think good thoughts;
gave us the desire to lead better lives ourselves.
They went out, remounted their horses and
passed the day somewhere on the big plains
which Diana loved so well. In the evening we
saw them returning, riding slowly side by side.
"The Sun is good," said Nat-ah'-ki. "He has
listened to my prayers and given them perfect
happiness. Tell, me, do you love me as much
as he does my beautiful daughter?"

Never mind what my answer was. I think
it was satisfactory.

The marriage contract was sent in to Fort
Benton and recorded by the County Clerk. Un-
less it was burned in the fire which destroyed the
Court House some years later, the curious may
find the transcription there. The contract itself
stamped with the county seal, was duly returned
and given to Diana.

seriously and Diana mischievously laid upon it
little sacrifices, the former a bead necklace, the
latter a bow of ribbon from her hair. For some
ten or twelve miles the trail led over the high
rolling plains, where we saw some antelope
and a few buffalo. Weasel Tail circled out and
killed one of the former, a fat, dry doe. which
saved Ashton and me from making any exer-
tion toward supplying meat that hot day. 'Twas
more pleasant when we again rode down into
the valley of the Marias, where the trail wound
through cool groves of cottonwood, crossing
and recrossing the river, over shallow, rippling
fords, where the animals drank as if they could
never get enough. Late in the afternoon we
arrived at Willows Round, a large, broad bot-
tom, whe^re good old Sorrel Horse had, as he
said, ceased from wandering and built himself
^ a home. At that time this place, our Fort
Conrad, and Mose Solomon's, at the mouth of
the river, were the only ones located on the
whole length of the Marias. Now, every last
bottom on both sides of it, no matter how small,
dry, and worthless it may be, is enclosed with
some one's wire fence.

Our lodges were pitched near the new cabin
of peeled, shining logs, and we strolled over
to inspect it. Sorrel Horse greeted Diana with
marked embarrassment. She seemed to him,
with her dainty, gracious ways, dressed as she
was in a wonderfully becoming out-door suit,
to be a creature from a far and unknown world.
He addressed her as "Miss Ashton." I cor-
rected him. "Mrs. Ashton," he said, "excuse

We now made ready for a hunt, long post-
poned. Nat-ah'-ki sent for her mother, I for
my good friends Weasel Tail and Talks-with-
the-Buffalo, just three lodges of us. They hav-
ing arrived, we pulled out westward one lovely
July morning, en route to the Two Medicine
Lakes. Passing the Medicine Rock, Nat-ah'-ki

me, mam.

Diana walked over and placed a hand on his
shoulder. "Dear friend," she said, "is that all
the greeting you have for me— can't you wish

* vt

me joyr
His constrained manner disappeared insUntly;

he bent over and lightly kissed her Bless
your heart," he said. "I wish you all the happ.
ness in this world. Put it there; shake

In the evening he brought over a bundle of
fine beaver skins and threw them down by the

„f «„f \nAap "Here's somethmg,
doorway of our loage. '^^"^ ="

he told Diana, "for your wedding present.
They'll make you a warm cloak. Somehow
this ranchin' business don't hit me nght; it s too
lonesome, and I can't help but go out an set
my traps once in a while."

Bear Head was camping with Sorrel Horse,
herding the cattle and making himself generally
useful; but when we came along he threw up
his job and ordered his wife to make prepara-
tions to accompany us. The grim old moun-
tains were calling him also. There were now
four lodges of us. Bear Head's the greatest, for
it sheltered a half dozen children of various
ages. Their happy laughter and prattle enliv-
ened our otherwise quiet camp.

In the morning an early start was made and
evening found us away up on the Medicine
River where the first pines grow. The next
noon we went into camp on the shores of the
lake, our lodges being pitched in a grassy little
bit of prairie on the north side. Back of us
rose the long, high pine and quaking aspen
ridge, which divides the deep valley from the
plains. In front, across the lake, was a long
cliflf-topped mountain of gray sandstone, its
slope densely forested with pines. The grand
view was to the west. First, but three or four
miles distant, a huge heart-shaped snow-patched

mountain, which I named Rising Wolf, in honor
of the greatest plainsman of us all, my friend
Hugh Monroe. Beyond that, hemming in a
vast amphitheatre of lake and forest, rose
more mountains, cliff-faced and needle-pointed,
forming the divide of the great range. Rose and
gold they were in the rising sun, jet black when
silhouetted against the evening sky. We never
tired of gazing at them, their shifting colors,
the fleecy clouds of a morning banding their
splendid heights.

The camp site selected, Ashton and I jointed
the rods he had brought out from the East, set
reels, strung lines, and attached the moistened
leaders and flies. Then we walked down to the
outlet of the lake, only a hundred yards or so
distant, followed by every one in our camp, in-
cluding the children. I had talked about the
pleasures of fly-fishing. The Indians were
anxious to see this to them new phase of the
white man*s arts. Ashton made the first cast,
and his artificial flies were the first that ever lit
upon the waters of the Two Medicine. The
response was generous. The placid water
heaved and swirled with the rush of unsophis-
ticated trout, and one big fellow, leaping clear
from the depths, took the dropper with him in
his descent. The women screamed. "Ah-hah-
hai'!" The men exclaimed, clapping hand to
mouth, "Strange are the ways of the white
man. Their shrewdness lias no end; they can
do everything."

The big trout made a good fight, as'all good
trout should do, and at last came to the surtace
floating on its side, exhausted. I slipped the
landing net under it and lifted it out, and agam
there were exclamations of surprise from our
audience, with many comments upon the success
of it all, the taking of so large a fish with such
delicate tackle. Trout we had in abundance,
rolled in yellow corn meal and fried to that
delicate brown color, and unsurpassable flavor
which all true fishermen appreciate.

The sandbars along the inlet to the lake were
all cut up with tracks of elk and occasional
moose. Once upon a time the beavers had con-
structed a huge dam clear across the valley and
parallel with the shore of the lake, but the
stream had broken through it, and the erst-
while bed of the great pond was now an almost
impenetrable thicket of red willow, a favorite
food of the moose. Ashton said that he wanted
to kill one of the great animals, and requested
us to let him have that especial part of the val-
ley for his hunting ground. Thither he and
Diana wended their way every afternoon to wait
and watch for some unwary game to appear,
often remaining so late that they had no little
difficulty in finding their way home through the
dark forest. Thus day after day was passed,
but no shot was ever heard from their retreat,
and each night they had to report that they
hadn't seen a living thing larger than a passing
mink or beaver.

**The newly married man,'' Bear Head re-
marked, "can only get meat by leaving his
woman in the lodge and going away to hunt
alone."

"Ai, that is true," Weasel Tail agreed. "They
cannot sit quietly together. They have so
much to say: 'Do you love me? Why do you
love me? Will you always love me?' Such are
the questions they ask each other, over and
over again, and never tire of answering. I

[^^Av 19. 1Q06.

:;S~^ — "TTJ

know all about it; we were that way ourselves
once, hah, my girl?"

"Ai!" his wife replied, "that you w^ere, and
you still keep asking those questions. How silly
you are."

Of course, we all laughed at Weasel Tail, and
in truth he looked rather sheepish over his
wife's frank disclosure. He hurriedly changed
the subject by saying that he would himself go
with the hunters in the afternoon, and try to
get them a shot at the desired game.

They returned quite early that evening, and
asked Weasel Tail to eat supper with us. "Well,
what luck had you?" I inquired.

Neither Diana nor Ashton seemed inclined to
answer, bending over their plates after a quick
glance at each other, and becoming very much
interested in their food. I repeated the ques-
,tion in Blackfoot, and Weasel Tail laughed
heartily. "It is as I suspected," he replied.
"There are many tracks on the sandbars of elk
and moose, and deer, but they are very old;
no game has been along there these many days.
Out on the point of a sandbar lies a big log,
from which one can see far up and down the
river. There they have sat, and the game, com-
ing to water, have seen them first, looking cau-
tiously through the bushes, before stepping out
in the open. They have talked, too, very low
they say, but a moose can, hear even the fall
of a distant leaf. Also, the winds have blown up
and down and across the valley, and told of
their presence, and one by one the animals have
left, sneaking away with careful footfalls to
distant places."

"Well, it doesn't matter," said Diana, in
Blackfoot, "We have sat and looked at the
grand old mountains, and the clear streams,
the feeding trout and prowling minks, and our
tramps -have given us health and strength. After
all, that is better than killing things. Isn't that
true. Chief?" she asked, repeating to Ashton in
English what she had said.

"We have certainly had a pleasant time, my
dear," he replied, smilingly; "but we have not
contributed our share; we must try some other
place to-morrow, and bring home meat."

Nat-ah'-ki and I went with them the following
morning, riding up the valley to the shore of
the upper lake on the way. We stopped to view
the falls, which are certainly interesting. The
river disappears in a mass of large boulders a
short distance below the lake, and a mile further
down gushes from a caiion in a high cliff into
a lovely foam-flecked pool. The cliff itself is
at least a hundred feet in height, and the fall is
about a third of that. There are no trout above
the pool.

Seen from a distance, the mountain I had
named Rising Wolf was grand and imposing;
from a nearer view, it proved to be a truly
stupendous mass of red and black, and dark
gray slate. It rises steeply from the depths of
the lake in a series of reefs and cliffs, cut by
streams of talus, and tapers to a sharp, walled
dome. High up on its eastern side, in a deep
and timbered pocket, lies a field of perpetual
snow and ice. There are grassy slopes, and
groves of pine, thickets of servis and blue berry
here and there, clear up to the foot of the dome.

"Mah-kwo'-i-pwo-ahts ! Mah-kwo'-i-pwo-

ahts!"* said Nat-ah'-ki, softly. "Truly, his
name will never die."

♦ Rising Wolf I Rising Wolf I

I know not what life there may be now upon
the mountain's grassy slopes and beetling cliffs,
but on that day the wild creatures were cer-
tainly in evidence. On the lower part several
bands of ewe bighorn and their young; higher
up, singly and tw« and three and four together,
some old rams, lazily feeding or lying down,,
but always watchful of their surroundings. And
then, up on the higher cliffs there were goats,
numbers of them, the snow white, uncouth, long-
haired alpine creatures which the naturalists tell
us are really antelope.

"Always Laughing," said Nat-ah'-ki to Ash-
ton— she had given him a new and happier
name, you perceive— "remember your words of
yesterday! Across up there is plenty of fat
meat; go and kill some, lest we starve."

"Oh," he said to Diana, "tell her that it would
be a sin to kill the pretty things. We cannot
starve, for there are always plenty of trout to be
caught in the pool below our lodge."

"In other words," I remarked, "he is too
lazy to climb. Well, I will not go. I have
killed my share of the provisions, and we'll do
without meat until he provides it."

Just then a big bull elk appeared on the fur-
ther shore of the outlet, and Ashton, crawling-
slowly back into the timber behind us, went
after it. We sat as still as possible, anxiously
watching the animal and our horses, fearing
that it would take fright at them. The women
were so excited that they could scarcely contain
themselves. "Oh," one would whisper, "why
doesn't he hurry?" And then the other, "It is
going away, he'll never get a shot at it. Isn't
it too bad?"

The bull was in a happy mood. He drank
standing belly deep in the water, walked out
and kicked up his heels, raced up and down the
beach several times, sniffed and pawed the
sand. And then a rifle cracked, and he fell
limply, instantly, and never even kicked. We
went over with the horses, and I cut up the
animal, taking all the best of the fat and juicy-
meat.

Thus the days passed in peace and happiness.
Before we left, the skins of bear and moose
and elk, deer and goat and beaver adorned our
camp, killed mostly by the Indians. Ashton
hunted little. He preferred to sit and gaze
into Diana's splendid love-lit eyes, and I — had
I not Nat-ah'-ki, faithful, true and tried com-
panion? Her gay laughter and happy chatter
is still echoing in my ears. Alas! alas! Old
Time you have done me grievous wrong.

Walter B. Anderson,
[to be continued.]

Houseboats South and North.

Mr. Hunt's beautiful volume, "Houseboats and
Houseboating," tells much about the joys of this
method of living as practiced in Florida, whence
the shoals of northern visitors are just now re-
turning. Of these many who know the pleasures
of houseboat life will, in the course of the next
month or two, transfer themselves to comfortable
and convenient houseboats afloat on Canadian
lakes.

In the Middle West houseboating on the
greater rivers has become a recognized form of
sumrner pleasuring, and, indeed, it is hard to
imagine a more attractive way of passing days or
weeks or months than to float down the current
of some stream great of small amid constantly
changing scenes. The sport of houseboating is
constantly growing in popularity, and is sure to
become more and more firmly established north
and south.

*tv

FOREST AND STRE

[Mav 26, I"

In the Lodges of the Blackfeet.

XXVI.— A Game of Fate.

We returned to the fort early in September,
and shortly afterward Ashton and Diana went
east. Nat-ah'-ki was for a time well-nigh
prostrated over the separation, for she fairly
worshipped Diana. Indeed, we all felt sorry to
see them depart, for they were truly, both of
them, very near and dear to us all.

During the summer we had put in a good
stock of merchandise, expecting to have a fine
winter trade at the fort, but now came the dis-
quieting news, that there were practically no
bufifalo to the north, the west, or the south of
us. We could not believe it at first; it seemed
impossible; somewhere away to the north we
argued, the great herds still roamed, and in
due time they would return. But theory soon
gave way to fact. Save for a few hundred in the
Great Slave Lake country, and a few more
scattered about the Porcupine Hills, the bufifalo
had drifted southeastward from the plains of
Northwestern Canada into Montana, and they
never recrossed the line. This was the winter
of 1878-79, it will be remembered. At the same
time the herds which had ranged along the
foot of the Rockies from Canada south to the
Missouri River left that part of the country never
to return. South of the Missouri to the Yellow-
stone and beyond, in all Montana, save on the
headwaters of Milk River, the Marias, Teton and
along Sun River, and into western Dakota,
the buffalo were, however, apparently as plenti-
ful as ever.

The Piegans had intended to winter in the
vicinity of Fort Conrad and trade with us, but
of course they were obliged to change their
plans and go to buffalo, and we had to accom-
pany them to get any trade at all. We left it to
the women whether they would remain at home
or accompany us, and all but Nat-ah'-ki elected
to stay at the fort. Her prompt decision to ac-
company me was exceedingly pleasing, for I
had felt that it would be well-nigh impossible to
go alone, even for a few months; that the life
would be unendurable. Yet for her own sake
I demurred: **You love this place," I said to
her. **You can be comfortable sitting here be-
fore the fire when Cold Maker comes down from
the north. You had better remain."

"Is it because you love me no more," she
asked, "that you tell me this?" And when I re-
plied that I was thinking only of her comfort,
she added: **I am no white woman, to be
housed up, and waited on. It is my duty to
go with you and do the cooking; keep the lodge
warm; do all I can to make you comfortable."

**Oh!" I said, **if that is why you would go,
just because you think you must, why, remain

here. I'll live with Weasel Tail; his wife will
take care of us."

**How you can use words!" she exclaimed.
"Always, always you search around with them
and make me say all that is in my mind. Know
then, if you will, that I go because I must fol-
low my heart; you have taken it."

"That is exactly what I hoped you would say;
but why could you not have told me at first
that you wanted to go because you cared for

me.

"Know this," she replied: "A woman does
not like to be always telling her man that she
loves him; she likes to think it and to keep it
deep down in her heart, lest he tire of it. That
would be terrible, to love and have your love
cast aside."

Many and many a time I have thought of that
talk by the evening fire, and I wonder, I wonder
now, if all women are that way, chary gf ex-
pressing their innermost thoughts. Women, I
take it, are generally past men's understanding;
but I believe that I knew Nat-ah'-ki. I believe
I knew her.

We pulled out. Berry, Nat-ah'-ki and I, with
a couple of four horse team loads, leaving a
man to look after the fort and the women.
Traveling by way of Fort Benton, we were
several days passing the mouth of the Marias.
Just beyond that point the sight of buffalo on
all sides gladdened our eyes, and we found the
Piegan camp, pitched at the foot of the Bear
Paws, red with meat, littered with drying hides.
Nat-ah'-ki's mother was on hand as soon as we
came to a stop, and the two women put up our
lodge while Berry and I unharnessed and cared
for the stock. We finally turned them over to a
boy who was to herd for us.

Big Lake's shadow had sometime since de-
parted for the Sandhills. Little Dog, another
great leader and friend of the whites, had been
dead a still longer time. White Calf was now
the head chief of the tribe, and after him, Kun-
ning Crane, Fast Buffalo Horse, and Three
Suns were the principal men. They were men.
Big-hearted, brave, kindly men, every one of
them, ever ready to help the distressed by word
and deed. Our lodge was no sooner set up and
supper under way than they came in to smoke
and feast with us, Nat-ah'-ki's mother having
gone around to invite them. Also came Weasel
Tail and Talks-with-the-Buffalo and Bear Head
and other friends. The talk was mainly about
the disappearance of the buffalo in the nortn
and west. Some thought that they might have
crossed the mountains; that the Nez Perces or
some other tribe of the other side had found
some means to drive or decoy them to the plains
of the Columbia. Old Red Eagle, the great
medicine pipe man, declared that his dream had
reliably informed him about the matter: **As it

happened before in the long ago," he said, "so
it is now. Some evil one has driven them into
a great cave or natural corral in the mountains,
and there holds them in his hate of us to whom
they belong. They must be found and released,
their captor killed. Were it not that I am blind,
I would undertake to do it myself. Yes, I would
start to-morrow and keep on, and on, and on,
until I found them."

"It may be that your dream speaks truth,"
said Three Suns.

"Have patience; in summer our young men
will go out to war, and they will search for the
missing herds."

"Ail Ai!" the old man grumbled. "Have
patience! Wait! That is what they always sdy.
It wasn't so in my day; was there something 10
do, we did it, now it is put off for fear of winter's
cold or summer's heat."

White Calf closed the subject by saying that
even if some one had cached the northern herds,
there seemed to be a plenty left. "And they're
on our own land, too," he added. "If any of
the other side people came over here to hunt,
we'll see that they never return; some of them
at least." * •

We had been asked to trade, even before we
unhitched our horses, but Berry said that noth-
ing would be done in that line until evening.
The feast over, and our guests departed, people
began to flock in. One for a rifle; another for
cartridges; others for tobacco, or sugar, coffee,
and some, alas! for spirits. We had nearly a
wagon load of alcohol, which we diluted, 4
to I, as occasion required. Before bedtime we
sold over five hundred dollars' . worth of goods
wet and dry, and it was easy to see that Berry
would be kept pretty constantly on the road all
winter, hauling our furs to Fort Benton and re-
turning with fresh supplies of merchandise.

There was an unusual craze for gambling tnat
winter. By day the men when not hunting
played the wheel and arrow game, rolling a
small bead-spoked disk down a beaten path and
trying to throw, or cast an arrow into it as it
whizzed along. At night the camp resounded
with the solemn, weird, gambling chant from
many lodges. There the players sat, the two
sides facing each other, and played the "hide the
bone game," striking with small sticks 'the outer
rail of the couches in time to the song. Even
the women gambled, and many were the alterca-
tions over their bets.

In a lodge near us lived a young couple,
Fisher and his woman. The Lark. They were
devoted to each other, and were always to-
gether, even on the hunts. People smiled and
were pleased to see the untiring love they had
for each other. They seldom went visiting, but
were always making little feasts for their friends.
Fisher was a fine hunter and kept his lodge well

May 26. 1906.1

FOREST AND STREAM.

supplied with meat and skins, and he was a suc-
cessful warrior, too, as his large herd of horses
testified. He was so devoted to his pretty little
woman that he never went out to gamble of an
evening, nor invited, parties to gamble in his
lodge; they played too long. Feasts were well
enough, for they were soon over, and he loved
the quiet evenings, just he and his woman chat-
ting by the fire after the guests had gone. Some-
times, when The Lark was chipping a robe, and
it was too cold to sit outside and talk to her
while she worked, Fisher strolled away to the
nearest wheel game and played for a while.
1\q was quite expert at it and won more fre-
quently than he lost. But one evil day he played
against a young man named Glancing Arrow,
and lost ten head of horses. I was busy trading
in our lodge, but from time to time I got news
of the game, and listened to the comments on
it. Glancing Arrow, it seemed, had himself
wanted to set up a lodge with The Lark. Her
parents, for reasons unknown — he was a rich
young man — had rejected his gift of horses and
given her to the Fisher, who was not nearly
so well ofif. This had pleased every one, for the
Fisher was loved by every one, but Glancing
Arrow was a surly, crossed-grained, miserly sort
of a fellow, and had not a single close friend. He
had never married, and once had been heard to say
that he would yet have The Lark for his woman.
"Fisher is crazy to gamble with him," said
one of my customers. *To gamble with the
best player in the camp, and the man who is his
enemy. Yes, he is certainly crazy."

There was more news the next morning. Sore
over his loss, the Fisher had sought out Glanc-
ing Arrow, played the bone game with him
nearly all night, and he had lost twelve more
horses! In the course of the forenoon The
Lark came over to visit Nat-ah'-ki, and I was
called into the conference. The woman was cry-
ing and sorely distressed. "He is sleeping now,"
she said, ''but when he awakes he is going to
play with Glancing Arrow again. I have begged
him not to, but for the first time he refuses to
listen to me. All he will say is, T shall play; 1
shall win back my horses.' Just think, twenty-
two horses are already lost, nearly half of our
band, and to that dog Glancing Arrow! Were it
any one else who had won them, I would not
care so much; but to him! to him!" And her
sobs checked her words for a time.

''Go over and talk with him," she continued.
"He thinks much of you; will listen to your
words; go and talk him out of this madness."

I walked over to their lodge and found the
Fisher still in bed, lying propped up on one arm
and staring moodily at the fire. "You needn't
say it," he began, before I could open my mouth.
'T know why you have come in; she sent you
to ask me to play no more, but Tm not gomg
to stop. I can't stop until I have won back
all that I have lost."

"But look here," I put in. "You may lose
more if you keep on, perhaps all you have, for
I hear Glancing Arrow is the most skilful of all
the players. Just think how much you are risk-
ing; what a shame it would be were you to be
set afoot, no horses with which to move camp,
not even one for your woman to ride."

"Oh! that could not happen," he said con-
fidently. "I could not lose them all. No, there
is no use of your talking. I must play again with
him, and Tm sure that I will win. I shall pray.
I shall make a sacrifice. I must win."

A howling southwest wind set in before noon,
so there was no gambling w'.th the disk and
arrows. The other game could not be played
in the daytime, according to the ancient custom,
lest bad luck befall one and all of the players.
The sun had not long set, however, before they
began again, the Fisher and Glancing Arrow, in
the lodge of Heavy Top. A big crowd gathered
there to witness it, and to encourage the Fisher,
whom every one loved as much as his opponent
was despised. The Lark came over to our lodge
and sat with Nat-ah'-ki, who tried to cheer her
up with encouraging words, and stories that might
direct her thoughts from her trouble. But she was
not to be amused and kept saying that she felt that
something dreadful was going to happen. Time
and again she went out and stood by the lodge
in which the gambling was going on, listening
and returning to tell us how the game pro-
gressed. "He has lost another horse," she
would say; "they are going one by one." Once
she reported that the Fisher had won one back.
"But he'll lose it in the next game," she con-
cluded despondingly and began to cry.

"Oh! do go over there and put a stop to it,"
Nat-ah'-ki entreated me. "Do something, say
something to end it."

I went, utterly at a loss what to do, quite
sure that I was setting out on a useless errand,
but still I went. The lodge was crowded, but
room was made and I found a seat well to tne
back of it, and near the players. When the
Fisher saw me, he frowned and shook his head,
as much as to say: "Leave me alone." And,
indeed, before that crowd I felt that I was
powerless; that I could neither entreat nor ad-
vise him to stop playing and go home.

By the side of Glancing Arrow lay a little
heap of small, red-painted, cylindrical sticks,
used for markers, and each one represented a
horse that he had won. I looked over in front
of his opponent and counted seven more sticks.
The Fisher had, then, but seven horses left.
"We will play for two head this time," he said
and threw two sticks out on the ground be-
tween them. The other placed a like number be-
side them, and the Fisher took the bones, one
red-oainted, the other with with black bands.
They began the song, the onlookers also joining
in and beating time on the couch rail. Manipu-
lating the little bones, the Fisher deftly passed
them from one hand to the other, back and
forth, back and forth, carried his hands with
the robe folded across his lap, while he changed
them there; then, at the conclusion of the song,
he suddenly extended both fists toward his ad-
versary, looking him steadily in the eyes. Rais-
ing his clenched right hand, forefinger extended,
Glancing Arrow slapped it down into the palm
of his left hand, the forefinger pointing at the
left fist. The Fisher reluctantly opened it and
exposed to view the black-banded bone. He had
lost, and had now but five horses. He picked
up the markers, counted and recounted them,
divided them into parts of two and three, tow
twos and one, and then bunching them, said:
"These are the last. I will play you for the five

head."

Glancing Arrow smiled; a cruel, sinister smile
it was, and his evil little eyes sparkled. His
eyes were set unusually close together in his
hatchet-like face, and his large nose was very
thin, and bowed owl-beak-like over his thin lips.
His countenance always reminded me of the
p'ctrre you see on tins of deviled ham. He

made no comment on this raise of the stakes,
but quickly laid out his five markers, and picked
up the bones. Again the song began, and
swelling out his bosom, he sang loudest of
all, crossed his hands forth and back, up and
down, fore fingers crookedly extended. He
rubbed them together, opened them and ex-
posed the black-banded bone, now in one palm,
now in the other, changing it so quickly that the
observer was bewildered, or made certain that
the bone still remained in the hand where he
had last seen it, only to find that it had in some
way been slipped into the other one. It was
the latter ruse which deceived Fisher, for the
instant the song ceased he pointed to the
player's right hand, and the losing bone was
tossed to him from it.

"Well," he said, "I have still a rifle, a lodge,
a saddle, war-clothes, blankets and robes. I
will bet them all against ten head of horses."

"Ten it is," Glancing Arrow agreed, laying out
ten markers, and again manipulatiiig the bones
as the song was renewed. But this time the song
was not so strong. Some, perhaps from the
acute interest they had in this last unusual stake,
or because they wished to show their disap-
proval, did not sing at all, and those who did
were half-hearted about it. And, as usual,
Glancing Arrow won, won and laughed wickedly,
loudly. The Fisher shivered as if from cold,
drew his robe about him, preparing to leave.
"Come over to-morrow," he said, "and I will
turn it all over to you— the horses and every-
thing else."

"Wait!" Glancing Arrow exclaimed, as he
arose. "I will give you one more chance; I will
give you the chance to get back everything you
have lost; I will bet everything I have won from
you against your woman."

Every one present clapped his hand to his
mouth in surprise, and there were exclamations,
deep and heartfelt, of horror and disapproval.
"The dog!" one said. "Knock him on the
head!" cried another. "Throw him out!" others

exclaimed.

Bue Glancing Arrow did not heed them; he
sat nonchalantly bunching and counting his
markers, the cruel smile still on his lips, the evil
fire in his beady eyes. The Fisher shivered
again, arose and pafsed around to the doorway.
There he stopped and stood like one in a trance.
Could it be, I wondered, that he was even con-
sidering the offer? I arose, too, and went over
to him. "Come home with me," I said. "Come
to my lodge; your woman awaits you there."

"Yes, go, go!" said others. "Go home with

him."

But he shook my hand from his shoulder and
quickly returned to his seat. "Begin!" he cried
to his adversary. "We will play. We will play
for her"— and he added under his breath, "tor
her and another thing."

Perhaps Glancing Arrow did not hear the
latter part of the sentence, or, if he did, he made
no sign. He picked up the bones and began to
sing, but no one joined in, not even the Fisher,
and looking at the rows of sullen, scowling faces
staring at him, he faltered, but kept on with it
in a manner to the end, and extended his closed
hands before him. There ensued a moment ot
tense silence. Breasts heaved and eyes flashed,
and if wishes could have killed. Glancing Arrow
had died where he sat. I myself, in spite of my
raising, felt an almost uncontrollable desire to
spring upon him, bury my fingers in his throat

864 "S

FOREST AND STREAM.

[June 2, 1906.

In the Lodges of the Blackfeet.

XXVII— Trade, Hunt and War Party.

Our trade flourished. Berry was almost con-
stantly on the road, so I had few opporttniitics
to do any hunting. There were days when I saw
a hand of buffalo 'loping swiftly over the dis-
tant plain pursued by the hunters, or when some
friend came into our lodge and told of an excit-
ing- chase— I found camp life irksome at such
times, and longed to be able to go and come as

1 pleased.

'To-morrow you shall be trader," I said to
Nat-ah'-ki one evening, "and I will go hunting.
I must have a ride. I am getting weak sitting
here in the lodge day after day."

''You shall go," she said. "Why didn't you
tell me long ago? I can trade as well as you
can. I know just how much to give for every-
thing. But I will not put my thumb in the cup
when I measure out sugar or coffee or tea."
"The cup has no handle," I interposed.
"But there are other cups of the very same
size with handles. You and Berry ought to be
ashamed of yourselves, to so cheat these poor
people. Now, here is the one"— picking up a
new tin one that Berry had just brought frpm
the Fort. "This is the one I shall use. See, it
has a strong handle and— and" she turned it

over and over, examining inside and outside.
"Why, what a strangely made cup; it has, two
bottoms; it will hold only a litile more than
half as much as a real cup. Oh, what rascals
you traders are!"

"Wait!" I exclaimed, 'you do not understand.
There is another trader in this camp. He gives
four cups of sugar for a wolf skin; with this
one we have had made we will give seven cupfuls
or sugar, or four of coffee, or five of tea. The
people will get just as much for a skin or robe
as they did before, but the other trader has no
false cup; he cannot give as many real cupfuls;
we will drive him out of here and get all of the

trade."

And that is just what we did. As I have re-
marked before. Berry was the man to get trade;
no one could successfully compete with him.

I went hunting in the morning as I had planned.
There were six of us, including Big Plume and
his nephew, a very bright, handsome, likable
young man named Moccasin. There were eight
or ten inches of snow on the ground and the
weather was cold. Thick, low clouds drifting
southward obscured the sun, and snow fell inter-
mittently at times so fast that we could not see
objects a hundred yards away. We rode east-
ward for four or five miles, before we saw any-
thing save a few scattering bulls, and then a lull
in the storm permitted a temporary view of a
large scope of country. A half dozen bands of
buffalo were in sight, one of several hundred

head not half a mile farther on and across a wide
coulee, a branch of which extended to where we
were. We sat very still on our horses until an-
other flurry of snow came down and blotted out
the landscape, when we rode into the side coulee,
down it and across the large one, and climbed the
hill on the other side. When we topped the rise
we were right in the herd, and then it was every
man for himself. It was all very misty and un-
certain chasing the white-covered creatures m
'the snowstorm, and half blinded by the stinging
clouds of snow their sharp hoofs threw into our
eyes. I trusted to luck to ride safely among the
hidden paririe dog and 'badger holes, and to
bring down the quarry when I fired. The muf-
fled reports of my companions' rifles sounded
very far off, my own seemed more like the dis-
charge of a toy pistol than anything else, yet
before I had emptied the magazine I saw three
different victims stop, and stagger, and fall, and
I felt that I had killed my share of the game,
and brought my excited horse to a stop. The
others did even better than I, and we were sev-
eral hours skinning our kill and preparing the
meat for packing. Not that we intended to do
that ; the hunters' women would come for it the
next day, and Big Plume was to have my share
taken in for one of the hides and part of the

meat. .

It was all of 2 o'clock when we started home-
ward, after tying to our saddles the tongues and
other choice parts of the buffalo. The wind had
veered to west northwest and was blowing
harder, driving the snow in clouds before it. We
had not progressed more than a mile, shielding
our faces with our hands or blankets, and trust-
ing to our horses to find the back trail, when
some one cried out : "A war party ahead ! Look !
See them run!" And, sure enough, there they
were, a couple of hundred yards distant, five men
running as fast as they could for the shelter of
a nearby coulee. Moccasin was away ahead of
us and he put the whip to his horse as soon as
he sighted them, regardless of his uncle's cries
to wait and be cautious. Long before we could
overtake him he had charged after them, firing
his carbine rapidly, and we saw one of them fall.
They, too, fired at him, and we saw that they
carried muzzle-loaders. He was now almost on
top of the four fleeing men when the one who
had fallen rose up as he was passing and dis-
charged a pistol at him, and doubling over in
the saddle he hung on for a moment, then fell
limply to the ground, his horse turning and run-
ning wildly back to us.

Big Plume hurried over to where he lay and
dismouning beside him, raised him up in his
arms. The rest of us made short work of the
war party. One or two of them succeeded in
reloading their guns and firing at us, but they
did no damage and fell one after another, rid-
dled with btillcts from our Henry and Win-

chester repeaters. They were Assinabuines, of
course, sneaking around in the cold and snow of
winter as usual, and they had met their just de-
serts. My Piegan companions were for once
quiet over their success, not even letting out a
single shout of victory. They felt too badly over
the fall of Moccasin, and quickly • scalping and
taking the weapons of the dead, they gathered
around him in mute sympathy. It was plain to
be seen that he had made his last run, fired his
last shot. Cold as it was. beads of perspiration
gathered on his pale face, and he writhed in
pahi. He had been shot in the abdomen. His
horse had been caught and stood with the others
nearby. "Help me to get into the saddle," he
said faintly. "I must get home. I want to see
my woman and my little girl before I die. I
must see them. Help me up."

Faithful old Big Plume was crying. He had
raised the young man and been a father to hmi.
'T can do nothing," he sobbed, "nothing. Some
of you lift him up. Some one ride ahead and
tell them what has happened."
"No," the wounded man said, "no one shall go
first ; they will learn about it soon enough. I am
badly hurt, I know, but I am going to live to
reach my lodge."

We got him up into the saddle and one, mount-
ing behind, supported his drooping form. An-
other led the horse, and thus we resumed our
homeward way. Twice he fainted, and we stopped
in a sheltered coulee, spread blankets and laid
him on them, bathed his brow with snow and fed
him snow when he revived. He was thirsty, call-
ing for water, water, continually. The way
seemed terribly long and coming night added to
the general gloom of our party. We had started
out so happily, had been so successful, and then
in an instant death had come among us, our
swift home going had been changed into a
funeral trail, a life full of happiness and love
and contentment was going out. That was the
way of it on the plains; the unexpected was
always happening.

We came to the edge of camp at dusk and filed
in past the lodges. People gathered and inquired
what had happened. We told them, and some
ran on ahead spreading the news. Before we
came. Moccasin's wife ran from her lodge to
meet us. sobbing heart-brokenly, cautioning us to
be careful and carry him in as easily as possible.
We laid him on his couch, and she leaned over
and held him to her bosom, kissed him fervently
and called on the Sun to let him live. I went
out and to my own lodge. Nat-ah'-ki met me
at the doorway. She, too, was crying, for Moc-
casin was a distant relative. She looked at me
anxiously to see if there was any blood on rny
clothes, and there was, plenty of it, buffalo blood.
"Oh," she gasped; "and they have shot you,
too? Show me. quick, where is it? Let me call
for help.*'

,r, ■i'*%.\*;i i\' ■■;•» , ' r,*r,

June 2, 1906.]
•tt-T-

CHAUDIERE FALLS.
Photo by Dr. Andrew Graydon.

'It is nothing," I told her, "nothing but blood
from my kill. I am as well as ever."

"But you might have been killed," she cried.
"You might have been killed. You are not go-
ing hunting any more in this country of war par-
ties. You have no business to hunt. You are a
trader, and you are going to stay right here with
me where it is safe to live."

Moccasin, poor fellow, died in less than an
hour after we got him home, and the wailing
of wife and relatives was heart-breaking to hear.
It was a sad time for us all, and made us think
of the uncertainty of life. Three of the kindliest
and best loved ones in the whole tribe had gone
from us in so short a time, in such an unlooked
for manner.

We did not get all of the robes that were
tanned that winter; whiskey traders occasionally
visited the camp, and by giving large quantities

of very bad liquor, bartered for some of them.
The Piegans also made frequent trips to Fort
Benton to trade. But we did get 2,200 robes, to
say nothing of deer, elk, beaver and other pelts,
and were well satisfied. About April i we were
home again at Fort Conrad, and Berry began at
once to tear up the big bottom with his bull
teams. Of nights he used up many a sheet of
paper figuring out the profit in raising oats, sixty
bushels to the acre, and in the pork raising in-
dustry, sixteen pigs to the sow twice a year — or
maybe thrice, I forget which; anyhow, it all
seemed very plain, and sure, on paper. More
plows were bought, some Berkshire pigs were or-
dered from the States, a ditch was dug to tap
the Dry Fork of the Marias. Yes, we were go-
ing to be farmers for sure.

Away down at the end of the bottom, where
the Dry Fork and the Marias met, the women

planted their little garden and erected a brush-
roofed summer house, under which they would
sit in the heat of the day and watch their corn
and pumpkins grow, morning and evening faith-
fully irrigating them with buckets of water
water. I passed much time with them there, or
with rude pole and line angled for catfish and
goldeyes in the deep hole nearby, the while lis-
tening to their quaint songs and still quainter
tales of the long ago. Time and again Nat-ah'-ki
would say: "What happiness; what peace. Let
us pray that it may last."

The Piegans drifted westward from the Bear's
Paw country and most of them returned to their
agency, which was now located on Badger Creek,
a tribtitary of the Marias, about fifty miles above
the Fort. Some, however, encamped across the
river from us and hunted antelope and deer, kill-
ing an occasional buffalo bull. Reports from the
Agency told of hard times up there. The agent
was said to be starving the people, and they were
already talking of moving back to the buffalo
country. Walter B. Anderson.

[to be continued.]

A Summer on the

BY DR. ANJ

Camping among
ways been in cont
able to close m:

of July, 1905,
with bright
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FOREST A^ND

[June 9. 1906.

In the Lod§:es of the Blackfeet.

XXVIlI.-Nat-ah.ki*s Ride.

Week after week the Piegans waited for the
buffalo to reappear on the plains of their reser-
vation. With the hot weather they thought that
some of the herds to the eastward would stray
up to the cooler altitude, and they still believed
that somewhere in the unknown fastnesses of the
Rockies hordes of the animals had been cached,
and that in some way they would be able to re-
turn to the open country. In the meantime the
hunters scoured the foothills in quest of deer and
elk and antelope, finding some, it is true, but
barely enough to keep their families from actual
starvation.

In our ranching work we were no more suc-
cessful than the hunters in the chase. There were
no rains, with the result that the Dry Fork re-
mained dry, and our irrigating ditch was useless.
Also, the thoroughbred Berkshires . we procured
from the States brought with them, or contracted
en route some disease, and all died except the
boar. He finally succumbed, after feasting upon
the months-old carcass of a slrychnined wolf.
All this was very annoying to Berry, but I must
confess that I did not feel very badly about it.
I was never cut out for a tiller of the soil, and I
hoped that this experience would prove to him
that he was not, either. We had a few cattle.
They roamed the bottoms and the nearby hills,
waxed fat on the short gramma grass and in-
creased. Who would plow, and sow, and reap,
if it rained, in preference to sitting in the shade
and watching a bunch of cattle grow? Not I.

We did sit in the shade, the women and I.
True, there was cooking to be done, but it was
a matter of a few moments to boil some meat,
bake a pan of biscuit, and heat the contents of a
couple of tins. We did not go in for those things
which require hours of preparation, and make
women red in the face from heat and loss of
temper. Washing? We wore soft things and
none too many of them. There wasn't an ounce
of starch in the land, thank heaven ! Long bull
trains trecked down into the bottom, and I sold
the dust-powdered bull-whackers beer, and
buckskins, and tobacco. I bought deer and an-
telope skins from the Indians, but mostly I sat
in the shade.

In June the river was bank full from the melt-
ing snow of the Rockies, and our cable ferry was
used by all travelers. One day I had to cross a
bull train, and for the first trip seven yokes of
. bulls were driven on board, all the yokes at-
tached to the long lead chain with which they
pulled the wagons. I took the wheel, the ropes
were cast off, and we left the shore, the bull-
whacker of the team standing beside me. He
was a French Creole, a voluble, excitable, nervous

man, as are most of his kind. When midway in
the stream, where the water was deepest and
swiftest, the lead yoke of bulls backed into the
next one, they into the one behind them, and so
on until they were all huddled to the rear of the
boat, and their great weight threw the bow and
upper side of the craft clear above the surface of
the stream. Water poured into the hold through
the submerged deck, and the increasing weight of
it tilted the bow higher and higher until the bulls
could no longer retain their footing and they be-
gan to slide off.

*'0h, mon Dieu," the bull-whacker cried, **it is
that they will drown ; that they will in the chains
entangle. Return, m'sieur, return to the shore."

But I could do nothing, the boat would neither
go on nor back, and kept settling deeper in the
water, which gurgled ominously under us. The
bulls finally^ slid off en masse, and how they did
roll and snort and paw, often entirely submerged,
but, strange to say, they drifted down to a bar

and waded safely out in spite of the dangerous
chain to which their yokes were attached. Freed
from their weight the ferry surged the other
way, dived into the stream as it were, and the
strong current bore it down.

*'0h,. mon Dieu ! Oh sacre !" the Frenchman
cried. ''Save me, m'sieur. I cannot swim."

And he ran toward me with outstretched arms.
I sprang backward to avoid his threatened em-
brace and fell, and, the water sweeping over the
deck, carried me with it. I didn't mind that
much, for I knew that the current would take me
to the bar where the bulls had landed. I looked
back at the Frenchman. The boat was now deep
under the water and he had perched on the cen-
ter hog-chain post, which was itself only a couple
of feet above the surface. I can see him to this
day, sitting there on top of the post, his eyes
saucer-like with terror, the ends of his fierce
mustache pointing to heaven, and I can still hear
him, as he repeatedly crossed himself, alternately
praying and cursing and calling on his comrades
ashore to save him from the turbid flood. He
was such a funny sight that I laughed so I could
hardly keep my head above the water.

"Hang on, Frenchy !" cried the wagon boss and
others. "Just hang on, you'll come out all right.'*
He shook his fist at them. "HT am sink. H'l
am drown. You maudit whack eet de bull," he
answered, "an' you tell me hang on. Oh, sacre !
Oh, misere! Oh, mon Dieu!'*

I doubt not that he might have let go and sunk
had the boat settled any deeper in the water, but
just then the cable parted and it rose so that the
deck was barely awash, and drifted along after
me. Down jumped Frenchy and pirouetted around
on its slippery surface, and shouted and laughed
for joy, snapped his fingers at the men who had
jeered him, and cried: "Adieu, adieu, messieurs,
me, I am bound for St. Louis, an' my sweet-

heart." The boat drifted ashore not far below,
and we had no difficulty in towing it back and re-
pairing the cable. Frenchy, however, would not
cross with his bulls, but went over with a load
of the wagons, and he took a plank with him, to
rse as a float in case of accident.

In the hot summer nights Nat-ah'-ki and I
slept out on the edge of a high-cut bank near the
river. Oh, those white moonlit perfect nights !
They were so perfect, so peaceful, that the beauty
and wonder of it all kept us awake long after we
should have been sleeping soundly. An owl
hooted. , "'Tis the ghost of some unfortunate
one," she would say. "For some wrong he did,
his shadow became an owl, and he must long
suffer, afraid of the Sun, mournfully crying of
nights, before he can at last join the other shad-
ows of our people who have gone on to the Sand
Hills."

A wolf howled. "Oh, brother, why so sad? It
seems as if they Were always crying for some-
thing that has been taken from them, or that they
have lost. Will they ever find it, I wonder?"

The river now moved and gurgled under the
bank, and roared hollow down the rapid in the
bend below. A beaver, or perchance a big fish,
splashed its silvery surface, and she would nestle
closer, shiver perhaps. " 'Tis the people of the
deep waters," >she would whisper. "Why, I wonder,
was it given them to live away down in the deep,
dark cold places, instead of on the land and in
the bright sunlight? Do you think they are happy
and warm and content as we are?"

Such questions I answered to the best of my
ability. "The goat loves the high, cold, bare cliffs
of the mountains,** I said to her, "the antelope
the warm, low, bare plains. No doubt the people
of the river love its depths, or they would live
on the land as we do."

One night, after listening to the hooting of a
big owl up on the island, she said : "Just think
how unhappy that shadow is, and even were it
permitted to go on to the Sand Hills, still it
would be unhappy. They are all unhappy there,
our people who have gone from us, living their
shadow, make-believe lives. That is why I do
not want to die. It is so cold and cheerless
there, and your shadow could not be with me.
White men's shadows cannot enter the home of
the Blackfeet dead."

I said nothing, and after a little she continued:
"Tell me, can it really be true that what the
priests say about the next life, that the good peo-
ple, Indian and white, will go away up in the sky
then and live happily with World Maker forever?"

"What could I do but encourage her. "What
they say," I replied, "is written in their ancient
book. They believe it. Yes, they do believe it,
and I do, too. I am glad to believe it. Even
the Indian may enter there; we can still be to-
gether after this life is over."

June 9, 1906.]

FOREST AND STREAM.

905

Still I had no comment to make, but I thought
of those lines of the old tent-maker:

And many a knot unravelled by the way,
But not the knot of human (ate.

But what a beautiful thing it is to have faith.
He who has it— that simple, unquestioning, un-
reasoning failh of our ancestors ; why, his heaven
has begun right here on earth.

As the summer wore on the questions of food
became a very serious one to the Piegans, and we
heard that the more northern tribes of the Black-
feet were also suflfering. The Piegan agent, in
his annual report to the Department of the In-
terior, had deplored the barbarism of his charges,
their heathenish worship of strange gods, but he
told nothing of their physical needs. "I have
nothing for you," he said to the chiefs. "Take
your people to buffalo and follow the herds."

This was in August. They all moved down
near our place, and while the hunters rode the
plains after antelope, the chiefs conferred with
Berry, planning for the winter. They finally de-
cided to move to the Judith country, where the
buffalo were thought to be still plentiful and
where, of course, there were practically as many
elk arid deer, beaver and wolves as ever. In
September we also trailed out, Berry, the Crow
Woman, Nat-ah'-ki and I, and in a week or more
went into camp on the Judith River, only a mile
or two above the mouth of Warm Spring Creek.
In Fort Benton we had engaged a couple of extra
men, and with their help we soon threw up a row
of log cabins and a couple of rude fire-places. We
were located in the heart of an extensive cotton-
wood grove, sheltered from the northern winds,
and right beside tis ran the river, then fairly
alive with big, fat trout. According to agree-
ment the Piegans came and pitched their lodges
near 'us, and a part of the Blood tribe moved
down from the north and mixed with them We
certainly had enough hunters, and if the buffalo
were rather scarce in our immediate vicinity there
were great herds of them only a day s journey
to the eastward. As for the deer arid elk. the
country swarmed with them, and antelope, too.

Up on Warm Spring Creek there was a cattle
ranch which had been located the previous year
\ man named Brooks was its manager, and it
was owned by a great firm which had large mer-
cantile interests in Helena and Fort Benton and
Fort Macleod, and also the tradersh.p at the
Blackfeet Agency, which the Piegans had left in
search of game. This was, I believe, the only
cattle ranch at that time in all the vast country
Wing between the Highwood Mountains and the
Yellowstone. Si.ice .hen that once rich grassed
cotmtry has supported hundreds of such ranches^
\nd then came the sheep and fed it ofi. It would
make the old-time hunters weep to see those bar-
ren plains and hills as they are to-day. I don t
wish ever to see them again. I prefer to remem-
ber them as I last saw them, before they were
despoiled by the white men's herds and flocks.
Just think how many centuries those rolling
plains furnished sustenance to the countless herds
of buffalo and antelope which roamed them and
how mwy more centuries they might have lasted
but for the white man's greed. I believe with the
Indian that the white man is a terrible destroyer.
He leaves the grassy plains mere brown wastes ;
before him the forests disappear, and only black-
ened stumps mark where once stood their green
and lovely aisles. Why. he even dries up the
streams, and tears down the mountains. And
with him are crime, and hunger, and want such

as were never before known. Does it pay? Is it
right that the many must pay for the greed of

the few?

Once only, during the winter, did I find time
for a hunt, as Berry was on the road much of
the time. Nat-ah'-ki and I went once after buf-
falo, camping with Red Bird's Tail, a genial man of
thirty-five or forty years. There were few lodges
of us, but many people, and we traveled as light
as possible. We foimd buffalo toward the close
of the first day out. but went on until noon of
the next one, and camped on the head of Armills
Creek. I had never seen the buffalo more plenti-
ful than we found them there. From a little
butte nearby we could see that the prairie was
black with them clear to the breaks of the Mis-
souri, and to the eastward where the buttes of
Big Crooked Creek and the Musselshell loomed
in the distance. The Moccasin Mountains shut
off the view to the south, but westward, whence
we had come, there were also buffalo.

"Ha '" exclaimed Red Bird's Tail, who had rid-
den up beside me. "Who says the buffalo are
about gone? Why, it is as it has always been;
the land is dark with them. Never have I seen
them more plentiful."

"Remember that we have come fir to tina
them," I told him; "that the plains to the west,
and away in the north, are barren of them."

"Ah that is true, but it will not be for long ;
they must have all moved eastward for a time,
as our fathers tell us once happened before. 1 hey
will go bade again. Surely, the good Sun will

not forget us."

I had not the heart to destroy his hopes, to tell
him of the vast regions away to the east and
south of us, where there were no longer any
buffalo, where the antelope, even, had been prac-
tically exterminated.

Red Bird's Tail was the leader of our party,
and the hunters were subject to his orders. We
had ridden out on to the butte very early, and
after getting a view of the country and the pos.^
tion of the herds, he decided that a certain herd
southwest of us should be chased, as they would
run westward into the wind, and not disturb the
larger ones grazing here and there in other direc-
tions. We returned then to camp for our morn-
ing meal, and to wait until everyone had sad-
dled his favorite horse and was ready to start.
It was a warm day, some snow on the ground
but a mild Chinook wind blowmg, so Nat-ah -k.
accompanied us. as well as most of the other
women. The lay of the land was favorable and
we succeeded in riding right into the edge of
the herd before they became alarmed, and then
they ran, as Red Bird's Tail had predicted, south-
westward into the wind and up a long slope, an
outlying ridge of the mountains. That gave us
an advantage, as the buffalo were not s.w. ft run-
ners on an up-grade. On a down-hill run, how-
ever they could easily outstep the swiftest horse.
All 'their weight was forward ; there was not
enough strength in their small, low hindquarters
to propel their abnormally deep chests, huge
heads and heavy hump with any noticeable speed
when they went up hill.

Nat-ah'-ki was riding a little mare of gentle
mien and more than quiet disposition, which hid
been loaned her by one of our Blood friends for
the trip. All the way from the Judith she kept
plying her quirt and calling it sundry reproach-
ful names, in order to keep it beside my more
lively and spirited mount. But the moment we
came near the herd, and the hunters dashed into

it, the animal's demeanor suddenly changed. It
reared up under her restriining hand, pranced'
sideways with arching neck and twitching ears,
and then, getting the bit firmly in its teeth it
sprang out into the chase as madly as any other
of the trained rimners. Indeed, that is what it
was a well-trained buffalo horse, but the owner
had not thought 10 tell us so. It was even
swifter than mine, and I felt no little anxiety as
I saw it carry her into that sea of madly-running,
shaggy-backed, gleaming-eyed animals. In vain
I urged my horse ; I could not overtake her, and
my warning shouts were lost in the thunder and
rattle of a thousand hoofs. I soon saw that she
was not trying to hold in the animal but was
quirting it instead, and once she looked back at
me and laughed, her eyes shining with excite-
ment On we went, up the slope for a mile or
more, and then the scattering herd drew away
from us and went flying down the other side of

'''"WhaTmade you do it?" I asked is we checked
up our sweating, panting horses. 'Why did you
do it? I was so afraid you would get a fall,
perhaps be hooked by some of the wounded.

"Well " she replied, "at first I was scared, too,
but it was such fun, riding after them. Jus
think of it, I struck four of them with my quirt
I just wanted to keep on, and on, and I never
thought of badger holes, or falling or anything
else And once a great big cow looked up at mt
and' snorted so hard that I felt her warm breath.
Tell me, how many did you kill?

"Not one," I replied. I hadn't fired a shot I
had noticed nothing, seen nothing but her as she
rode in the thick of it all, and I was "tore than
i when the run ended. We looked back down
fhe slope and saw the hunters and their women
already at work on the carcasses of their kill,
which dotted the snow. But we-we were meat-
less. It would never do for us to "turn to camp
without some, so we rode on for a niile or two
in the direction the herd had gone, and then
turned off into the mountains. Up among the
pines there were deer, both kinds, and here and
there were groups of elk feeding or lymg down
in the open parks. While Nat-ah'-ki held my
horse I approached some of the elk, and by good
luck killed a fat, dry cow. We bu.lt a fire and
roasted some of the liver, a piece of tripe, and
aft»r a hasty meal, we rode back to camp with
all \he meat our horses could conveniently pack.
^" ^ Walter B. Anderson.

[to be continued!

Yellowstone Park Atlas.

The notice of the publication of the Geo!
Atlas of the Yellowstone National Park
appeared in the Forest and Stream
aroused interest in not a few readej^'^
us several questions as to where
be obtained. The volume is "
States Geological Survey, V^
$37.S bound in cloth, or f^
As already pointed oj

four large sheets wlijj

geology of the Yejj

saroka Range, t^

ing the Manr

Fire Hole ^

There is a^

shores ol

that oj

Amej

FOREST AND STREAM.

IJuNE 16, igoti

In the Lodges of the Blackfeet.

XXIX. — An Incident in a "Century of Dishonor.**

We made another run the next dav. It was
an auspicious morning. The sun shone bright
and warm, there was a big herd of buffalo near-
by, every one rode out from camp in the best
of spirits. I had changed horses with Nat-
ah'-ki; while mine liked to run as well as hers,
it had a tender mouth, and she could easily con-
trol it. Once into the herd, I paid no attention
to any one else, but did my best to single out
the fat cows, overtake and kill them. I did not
need the meat nor robes, but there were those
with us who had poor mounts, and what I killed
I intended to give them. So I urged the little
mare on, even after she had begun to show
fatigue, and managed to kill seven head. When
I stopped at last, no one was near me; looking
back I saw the people gathered in two groups,
and from the largest and nearest one arose the
distressing wailing of the women for the dead.
I soon learned the cause of it all; Young Arrow
Maker had been killed, his horse disembowled;
Two Bows had been thrown and his leg was
broken. A huge old bull wounded and mad
with pain had lunged into Arrow Maker's horse,
tearing out its flank and knocking the rider off
on to the backs of its close pursuing mates,
whence he had fallen to the ground and been
literally trampled to death by the frantic running
herd. Two Bo^^s* horse had stepped into a
badger hole and he had been hurled to the
ground with such force that he lay senseless,
his right leg broken above the knee. Some of
the women's horses were dragging travois, and
we laid the dead and the injured on them and
they were taken to camp by their relatives.
We hurried to skin the dead buffalo, some of
the hunters taking no more of the meat than
the tongue and boss ribs, and then we also went
back to the lodges, very silently and quietly you
may be sure. There was no feasting and visiting
and singing that night. Instead, women wailing,
men sitting solemnly by the fire, smoking and
thinking upon the uncertainties of life, oc-
casionally speaking praises of their dead com-
rade and regretting his untimely end.

They buried Arrow Maker in the morning,
placing the body in the forks of a big cotton-
wood, and then we prepared to move camp,
which took all the rest of the day, as meat was
cut and dried to reduce weight, and the many
hides had to be trimmed, the frozen ones thawed
and folded for packing. There was not a man in
camp who knew anything about mending a
broken leg, but we splinted and bound Two
Bows' fracture as best we could. On the suc-
ceeding morning we broke camp early and
started homeward, every one being fairly frantic
to get away from the unlucky place, to end the

unlucky hunt before more misfortune should
happen. The injured man was made as com-
fortable as possible on a couch lashed to a
travoi.

In the afternoon a blizzard set in, a bitterly
cold one, which drifted and whirled the fine
snow in clouds around us. A few decided to
make camp in the first patch of timber we should
come to, but the rest declared that they would
not stop for anything, but keep on through the
night until they arrived home. They were
afraid to stop; more afraid of some dread mis-
fortune overtaking them than they were of Cold
Maker's blinding snow and intense cold. Evil
spirits, they reasoned, hovered near them, had
already caused death and suffering, and none
would be safe until the hunt was ended and
sacrifices made to the gods. Red Bird's Tail
was one of those who elected to keep on. We
could have stopped and found shelter with some
family which turned off into a timbered coulee
to camp until the storm would be over; but
Nat-ah'-ki declared that she wasn't in the least
cold and was anxious to get back to our com-
fortable shack and warm fire-place. "We can
make it by midnight," she said, "and just think
how pleasant it will be to eat before our little
fire, and then sleep in our big, soft, warm bed.
Don't be afraid for me, I can stand it."

That was a terrible night. There was a moon,
but most of the time it was hidden by the low
flying snow-spitting clouds. We simply hung
on to our saddles and gave our horses the reins,
trusting them to keep in the trail which Red
Bird's Tail broke for us. We could not have
guided them had we wished to, for our hands
became so numb we were obliged to fold them
in the robes and blankets which enveloped us.
I rode directly behind Nat-ah'-ki, she next after
our leader, whose family followed us. Looking
back I could see them sometimes, but more
often they were hidden in the blinding snow.
Red Bird's Tail and many of the other men
frequently sprang from their horses and walked,
even ran, in vain effort to keep warm, but the
women remained in the saddle and shivered, and
some froze hands and faces. While still some
six or eight miles from home. Red Bird's Tail,
walking ahead of his horse, dropped into a
spring, over which the snow had drifted. The
water was waist-deep and froze on his leggins
the instant he climbed out of the hole; but he
made no complaint, walking sturdily on through
the deepening drifts until we finally arrived
home. It was all I could do to dismount. I
was so stiff and cramped, and cold, and I had
to lift Nat-ah'-ki from her saddle and carry her
inside. It was past one o'clock, and we had
been on the road something like seventeen
hours! I aroused one of the men to care for
our horses, and we crawled into bed, under a
half dozen robes and blankets, shivering so

hard that our teeth chattered. But if you ever
get really numb with cold, try our way. You
will get warm much sooner than if sitting be-
fore the fire and swallowing hot drinks.

When we awoke in the morning it was nearly
noon, we learned that a woman of our party
was missing somehow — somewhere in the fear-
ful night she had dropped from her horse and
Cold Maker had claimed her for his own. Her
body was never found. I related the experiences
of the trip to Berry. "Well," he said, "I warned
you not to go. A man who can stay close to the
fire in the winter, but leaves it for a hunt out
on the plains, is sure locoed. Yes, sir, he's a
blankety blank, plumb fool."

In September a man named Charles'
Walmsby, en route from Fort MacLeod to Fort
Benton, was found murdered on Cut Bank
Creek, midway between the two places. His
wagon, harness and other effects had been partly
burned and thrown into the stream. Suspicion
finally fell upon one, Turtle, and his companion,
The Rider, Blood Indians, who had spent
several- hundred dollars Canadian money in Fort
Benton for guns and various things dear to the
Indian's heart. They were in the Blood sec-
tion of camp, and learning their whereabouts,
the sheriff of our county came out to arrest
them, bringing with him only the under sheriff,
Jeff Talbot. There may have been braver men
on the frontier than Sheriff John J. Healy, but
I never met them. He held the office for I
know not how many terms, and owned the Fort
Benton Record, the first newspaper to be
printed on the plains of Montana. Previous
to this he had been an Indian trader, and was
one of the leading men of Whoop Up and the
northern trade, one of the "thieves, murderers,
criminals of every stripe," as Miss Lant calls us.

He and Talbot drove in at our place about
sundown one evening, and as soon as they had
cared for their horses, he told why they had
come.

Berry shook his head. "I wouldn't attempt to
arrest him here if I were you," he said. "These
Bloods are pretty-mean, and Turtle has a whole
lot of relatives and friends among them. I be-
lieve they'll fight. Old man, you'd better go
back and get some of the soldiers at the fort
to help you."

"I don't care a continental d if he has a

thousand friends and relatives!" Healy ex-
claimed. "I've come out here after those In-
dians, and they're going back with me, dead or
alive."

"Well," said Berry, "if you are bound to try
it, of course we'll stay with you; but I don't like
it a bit."

"No, sir," said Healy. "This is my funeral.
On account of your trade you can't afford to
mix up in it. They'd have it in for you <ind
move away. Come on, Jeff,"

June i6, 1906.]

FOREST AND STREAM.

945

^ r-.

They v/ent, and we passed about fifteen
minutes of pretty acute suspense. We armed
our men and ourselves, and stood waiting to go
to their aid, although we knew that if anything
happened, we would be too late; and again, what
could we few do against a big camp of angry
Indians. But while we were talking, and you
may be sure keeping a good watch on the camp,
here came Healy and Talbot with their men,
both securely handcuffed. One they chained to
the center post of our trade room, the other to
a log wall of the kitchen. "There!'* Healy ex-
claimed, "that is done and I'm tired. Haven't
you anything to give a hungry man? I'm just
starving."

Healy spoke good Blackfoot. When he and
Talbot went into the camp he inquired for
Running Rabbit, the Blood chief, and they were
shown into his lodge, where he quickly stated
his business. The old chief said that he would
send for them, and they could have a talk.
"But," he concluded, "I can't be answerable for
what may happen if you try to put your hands
on them and take them away. My young men
are wild. I can't control them."

The women sent to ask Turtle and The Rider
to the chief's lodge had been cautioned to say
nothing, to give no reason why they were
wanted, and they came in and sat down quite
unsuspicious, following them a number of other
men, curious to learn the cause of the white
men's visit. Healy soon explained it.

"I don't know anything about it," said Turtle,
*'and I'm not going with you. I will not go;
I'll fight; I've got lots of friends here who will
help me."

He had no sooner spoken than Healy, who
was a very powerful man, seized him and
snapped a pair of handcuffs on his wrists,
Talbot doing the same with The Rider. Both
of the Indians were furious, and those sitting
with them became greatly excited, some crying
out, ''You shall not take them." "We will not
let them go." "Take ofif those iron things, or
we will do you harm."

"Listen!" said Healy, holding up his hand
warningly. "You all know me; I guess you
know I am not afraid. I have got to take these
two men with me. I am going to take them.
If any of you interfere, I will not be the only
one to die. You know how I can shoot — well,
some of you will die before I do."

He had not pulled his gun; he stared them
coldly in the eyes, and when he was aroused
those eyes fairly made an evildoer shiver.

"Come!" he said to Turtle, and as if dazed,
the Indian mechanically arose and followed him
out, Talbot and the other following.

None of us slept much that night. Late in
the evening a Piegan youth came in and told
us that the Bloods were planning to rescue their
friends, some proposing to attack the trading
post, others saying that it would be better to
waylay the of^cers on the trail next day. "You
go back and tell them that I hope they'll try it,"
said Healy. "We've got some big Winchesters
and six-shooters and plenty of cartridges, and
we'll have a real good time. Turtle and The
Rider here will get our first two bullets."

The prisoners were taken safely to Helena,
and when the trial came off, The Rider turned
States evidence; Turtle had shot Walmsley in
the back while he was cooking supper. He got
imprisonment for life, and died two years later
in the penitentiary in Detroit. No white man

has since been killed by any Indians of the
Blackfeet tribes.

The winter had been pretty hard, and the In-
dians did not kill so many buffalo as they would
had the herds been nearer camp. Still, they
were tanning a good number of robes, and had
a large number of rawhides on hand, when, one
evening, a detachment of soldiers under com-
mand of Lieutenant Grouse arrived from Fort
Benton. It was pitiful to see the women and
children run to hide in the brush, their eyes wide
with fear. They had not forgotten the Baker
massacre. The men said nothing, hut they
seized their weapons and stood about outside
of their lodges, ready to fight if need be, until
they saw the detachment halt and prepare to
camp. It was not to be war then, they con-
cluded, and called in their wives and little ones.
But the soldiers' errand was only a degree or
two less serious than would have been a battle.
They had come to escort the Piegans back to
their reservation, where there were no buffalo,
nor game of any kind, and to fight them if they
refused to go. A council was held. "Why,
why," asked White Calf, his face ashen with
suppressed anger, "is this to be done? By what
right? We are on our own ground. It was
always ours, who shall say that we must leave
it?"

Lieutenant Crouse told them that he was but
an unwilling instrument, carrying out the order
of his superiors, who in turn had been told, by
the Great Father himself that they must move
the Piegans back to their Agency. Complaint
had been made of them. The cattlemen claimed
that they were killing their cattle and had re-
quested that they be sent home. The Great
Father had listened to their demand. The
lieutenant was a gentle, kindly man, and did not
like the mission on which he had been sent.

"Listen!" said White Calf. "Years ago there
came some of the Great Father's men on a
steamboat to the mouth of the Judith River,
and there they made a treaty with our people.
It was made on paper, which they and our chiefs
put their names on. I was a young man then,
but I had understanding and I well remember
what was put on that paper in the white man's
writing. It said that all the land lying north of
the Musselshell River and the Missouri as far
as the mouth of Milk River, up to the Canadian
line, from the Rockies eastward to a line running
north from the mouth of Milk River, all that
corntry, it said, was ours. Since that time the
whites have never bought any of it, nor even
asked us for any. How then, can they say that
we shall not hunt here?"

"We are accused of killing cattle! We have
not done so. Why should we when we have
fat buffalo and deer and elk and other game,
fat animals, all whose hides are useful! We do
not wish to return to our Agency. The man
there has nothing for us. There is no game in
that region. If we go, we must starve. It is a
dreadful thing to suffer for want of food. Pity
our little children, our women and our aged
ones. Go you back to your fort and leave us
in peace."

Others arose and talked, and their pleas to
be allowed to rema.n in the game country were
truly pathetic. I believe they brought moisture
to the eyes of many of us. I am sure that there
was a catch in the lieutenant's voice when he
replied that he was powerless to do as they
wished, and he asked them not to make it any

harder for him by refusing to go. He then
arose and left the council, asking to be in-
formed soon what they concluded to do.

It did not take long to decide. "Of course,"
said White Calf, "we could kill off the soldiers
here, but others, many more, would replace
them. They would kill off our women and
children, even the new-born babies, as they did
before on the Marias. No, we cannot fight
them. Let us go back to the Agency and try
in some way to procure food."

A couple of days later the lodges came down,
we packed our robes and various impedimenta
into wagons and abandoned the post, and all
took the trail for the north, escorted by the
foldiers. This was in March, and the Indians'
Ftock was so worn and poor that they could
travel only twelve or fifteen miles a day, and
hundreds of horses died along the trail. Heavily
loaded as were our wagons, we made even bet-
ter time than they, and arrived in Fort Benton
ahead of them. Our total trade amounted to
eight hundred robes, three thousand deer, elk.
and tntelope hides, and I forget how many
beaver and wolf skins. '

From Fort Benton the Indians journeyed
slowly out to our place. Fort Conrad, and thence
straggled on up to their Agency, where the
women tanned their raw hides, and from the
sale of the robes they kept from actual starva-
tion for a time.

And now, here is the true explanation of this
unjust and cruel treatment of the Piegans: As
before stated, the owners of that lone cattle
ranch on Big Spring Creek also owned the
traders' post at the Agency, and they wanted
to have the Indians back there, well knowing
that they would get some hundreds of robes
from them. So they trumped up the charge
that the Piegans were slaughtering their cattle,
and having powerful influence in Washington,
their complaint was listened to, and believed.
They got the robes all right, and, seeing the
successful trade they were doing, they induced
an innocent pilgrim to purchase the tradership
from them. He got an empty bag, for by mid-
summer the Piegans hadn't a single robe to sell,
nor anything else with which to purchase a
pound of tea.

By right that vast tract of country lying between
the Missouri and Musselshell rivers and from
the Missouri to the Marias still belongs to the
Blackfeet. The treaty of 1855 guaranteed it to
them, but it was taken away by two executive
orders of July 2, 1873, and Aug. 19^ 1874. If
some good lawyer would take up the case, he
could undoubtedly get redress for them, and a
very handsome fee for himself.

Walter B. Anderson,
[to be continued.]

NOTICE TO NEWS STAND

Give Your Dealer,

After June 30 the Foj
ujiretuniable by dcqj
tliem to regular^
oecustomed
stores
stauj

9^4 *

FOREST AND STREAM.

[June 23, 1906.

In the Lodges of the Blackfeet

XXX.— Crces and Red Rivers.

Home again at Fort Conrad. Somehow Nat-
ah'-ki and I liked that place better than any we
had lived in. The river, murmuring and
gurgling by our window, the lovely green
groves in the grassy bottoms, the sloping rise
of the valley, the rude room itself built of
massive logs, cool in summer, warm in winter
and alight with the blaze in the hearth, seemed
to us all that we could desire. "Let us never
leave here again," she said; "let us stay right
here in peace and comfort."

But I told her, as I had before, that we could
not always do as we wished; that in a few weeks,
or months, we might be obliged to take the trail

to buffalo again.

Berry made a flying trip through the builfalo
country in May, and upon his return we made
preparations to establish a trading post on the
Missouri at a place named Carrol, something
like a hundred and fifty miles below Fort Ben-,
ton. Steele and Broadwater, partners in the
''Diamond R." outfit, which was a great trans-
portation company, had started the place some
years before with the view of hauling freight
from the steamboats there directly to Helena,
but for various reasons this plan had failed, and
their buildings had long since fallen into the
ever-encroaching river. We chose the location
because it lay south of the Little Rocky Moun-
tains, north of the Snowies, had good wagon
roads leading out of it, and above all because
it seemed to be in the very center of the remain-
ing buffalo country. We sent a trusty Indian
north into Canada to notify the Blackfeet and
Bloods of our intention, and they agreed to
move down there as soon as possible. So did
our near neighbors, the Piegans. We counted
on having a big trade, and as it turned out, we
were not mistaken.

It was about the first of July (1880) that we
embarked on the Red Cloud at Fort Benton,
Berry, the Crow Woman, Nat-ah'-ki and I.
There went with us also a French half-breed,
named Eli Guardipe, the best rifle shot, the
best buffalo runner and all-around hunter I ever
knew. He was six feet two in height, rather
slender, and I never saw any one who could
keep up with him walking or running, for he
had the wind and the muscle to endure. At the
mouth of the Judith we came to the buffalo, the
bottoms covered with them, the river black with
them swimming across, some north, some south.
And we saw herds of deer and elk and antelope,
and on the bare cliffs and buttes many a flock
of bighorn. The sight of all the game glad-
dened our eyes, and astonished the tenderfeet
passengers. They made a rush for their rifles
and shotguns and toy pistols, but the captain of

the boat forbade any shooting. He told
Guardipe, however, that he would like to eat
some roast bighorn saddle, and gave him per-
mission to kill one. Soon afterward we saw a
fine big ram standing near the top of a butte
watching us. It was at least three hundred
yards away, but a moment after Guardipe^s rifle
cracked it toppled over and rolled and bounded
down into the river with a mighty splash. The
captain reversed the big stern wheel, and waited
for it to float alongside, when the roustabouts
drew it on deck. That was about as difficult a
shot as I ever saw made. The tenderfeet
gathered around Guardipe, and stared at him in
open-mouthed wonder.

We arrived at Carrol late in the afternoon.
We had tons and tons of trade goods aboard,
and it was wonderful to see how quickly the
deckhands put the stuff ashore. Berry's bull
train had preceded us, overland, and the men
had already put up a commodious two-room
cabin, which was to be our kitchen and dining
room. We took possession of it at once, and
the women cooked us a good meal.

By the middle of September we were in good
shape for the winter, having built a large log
store and warehouse 40x125 feet, a smoking
house for curing buffalo tongues, and a row of
sleeping quarters. True to their promise, the
Blackfeet and Bloods came down from the north,
and a little later came about two thousand
Canadian Crees, under Chief Big Bear. There
also trailed in a large number of Red River
French and English halfbreeds with their awk-
ward, creaking, ironless, two-wheel carts.
Surely, we were not going to lack for customers.
An opposition trader had started a small store
about two hundred yards above us. He had
never been in the Indian trade, but boasted of
his commercial successes in the States, and said
that he would soon put us out of business, even
if he didn't have such a large stock of goods.
When the Blackfeet appeared on the opposite
side of the river, he went across and invited the
chiefs to feast with him. They all got into his
boat and came over, but the moment they
stepped ashore a bee-line was made for our
place, and the welcome they well knew awaited
them. The trader was about the most
chagrined man you can imagine. We made
things interesting for him before the winter was

over.

The north Blackfeet were friendly with the
Crees; had intermarried with them to some ex-
tent. The two tribes camped side by side in the bot-
toms near us all winter. The Bloods, however,
were not so friendly to them, and hunted out
south of the river, along the foot of the Snowies.
The chiefs of the two tribes made a sort of
armistice, agreeing that for the winter, at least,
there should be no trouble between them. But
the Piegans would not meet their long-time

enemy, and hunted in the country to the west
of us, occasionally sending out a war party to
kill a few of the Crees and drive off their stock
We got none of their trade.

Nat-ah'-ki and the Grow Woman were highly
indignant when they saw the Crees pull in from
the north. "By what right," asked the latter,
*'are they here? The soldiers ought to drive
them back to their brush swamps. It is wrong
to allow them to kill the buffalo and other game
belonging to our people."

"They are dog-eating dogs!" Nat-ah'-ki ex-
claimed. "If you are going to ask their chiefs
in here to feast, you can find some one to do
the cooking, for I will not." And she kept her
word. Seeing how she felt about it, I found an
English halfbreed family to take charge of the
mess. Nat-ah'-ki had lost a brother and an
uncle in war with the Crees, and I could not
blame her for feeling as she did toward them.
The Piegans, however, had always beaten the
Crees, as they were braver, better armed, and
better horsemen. Where the town of Leth-
bridge, Alberta, now stands, they once had a
battle with them in which two hundred and forty
of the Crees were killed, and many more
drowned while attempting to escape by swim-
ming the river.

I cannot explain why I also had a deep
hatred for the Crees unless it was that Nat-ah'-
ki's enemies were naturally mine, too. I am
ashamed to say that I did hate and despise
them, their looks, manners and even their
language. I soon learned their words for the
different articles of trade, but would never use
them, pretending that I did not understand, and
obliging them to tell me what they wanted either
in Blackfoot, which most of them spoke, or by
means of the sign language. Their chief. Big
Bear, was a short, broad, heavy-featured, small-
eyed man, with a head of hair which seemed
never to have known the comb. Why he was
a chief I could never learn. He did not seem
to have even ordinary intelligence, and his war
record did not compare with that of the average
Blackfoot.

Even more than the Crees, I disliked their
half brothers, the French-Cree Red River
breeds. They were not dark, but actually black
skinned like the negro, and they dressed in black,
both women and men, the latter wearing a bit
of color, a bright red sash around the waist.
The women's kerchiefs even were black. And
then the men had such a despicable way of wear-
ing their hair, cut straight off just above the
shoulders, and standing out around the head like
a huge mop. But it was not for their looks that
I disliked them so much as it was their habits
and customs. They ate dogs, for one thing;
they pretended to be faithful and zealous mem-
bers of the church, but were the worst set of
liars and thieves that ever traveled across thel

June 23, 1906.]

%■■■' w

FOREST AND STREAM.

985

plains; they bated the Americans as much as
they did the English, and in their vile bastard
French cursed us until, one day, I could btand
it no longer. I jumped over the counter and
struck one of them, a fellow named Amiott a
stinging blow in the cheek which sent him
sprawling to the floor, and it was all I could do
to keep from kicking him when he was down.
''That' is for your low down cursing of us," I
told him. "I will not hear any more of it in
this place. If you don't like it, you and the
others here go and heel yourselves and come

back."

Strange to say, we did not lose any trade by
this. The very ones I had called down re-
mained our customers, and quiet ones they

were, too.

Louis Riehl! How well and yet how little I
knew him, he who led the halfbreed rebellion
of 1885 in Canada, you remember. He was a
fine looking man, even if his bright black eyes
were a bit shifty and uncertain in their gaze;
and he had such courtly manners. When still
thirty or forty yards away he would remove his
wide sombrero with a ground sweep and ap-
proach you bowing and smiling, and filling the
air with high-flown compliments. He had a fine
education; the Jesuits having trained him for
the priesthood; but certain lapses had prevented
his ordination. It was his education, I believe,
which caused his downfall, for he overestimated
himself and his power. Still, I was never able
to determine whether he really believed in his
cause and his power to right what he called the
wrongs of his oppressed and defrauded people,
or whether he got up the row, expecting to be
bought ofif by the Canadian Government and to
live in wealth ever afterward. Also, it may be
that in his estimate of himself, his people and
his position, he was mentally unbalanced. He
came to us with his people from the plains of
the north and soon got into Berry's good
graces, for he was an exceedingly smooth and
persuasive talker. He wanted some goods on
credit with which to trade in his camp, and got
them. We kep*t an open account with him for
nearly two years. It is still open, for he left,
vanished between sun and sun, owing a balance
of seven hundred dollars.

*'Well," said Berry, *1 don't know but what
we are about even. He must have bowed to us
about seven hundred times, and I reckon that
such grand and low bows as those are worth
about a dollar apiece."

"Do you know," Riehl once told me, "these
people of mine are just as were the children of
Israel, a persecuted race deprived of their
heritage. But I will redress their wrongs; I
will wrest justice for them from the tyrant.
I will be unto them a second David. Yes, I
can compare myself to the great leader of the
Jews. I, too, am writing psalms. Riding at
the head of our columns, by the evening fire, in
the stillness of the night, I think them out and
put them on paper. Some day I shall have them

printed."

None of the Red River halfbreeds, save Riehl
had the slightest conception of the power of
the Canadian, and back of that, the English
people. But he knew, for he had been eastward
to Ottawa, Montreal and Quebec, and from his
reading had acquired an all-round knowledgge
of the world in general. Yet there at our place
he held meeting after meeting and wrought his
people up to the highest pitch of enthusiasm,

telling them that the Canadian-English were few
and inexperienced, and that in a very few weeks
they could subdue them by force of arms. Asked
for our opinion, we told them that they had no
earthly chance to win, and so did a Catholic
priest. Father Scullin, who lived with us. The
Bishop of Edmonton had sent him there to look
after the spiritual welfare of the different tribes
He spoke Cree, and Blackfoot, and the Canadian
French fluently. Had the buffalo lasted, 1 doubt
if Riehl would have succeeded in getting the
Red Rivers to revolt. But when they could no
longer live by the chase, and began to starve,^ ^
they became desperate and broke out. That
was four years after the matter was first de-
bated there on the Missouri. The whole body
of them, Crees and Red Rivers, did not put up
as good a fight as a handful of Blackfeet would
have made, and Riehl was tried, condemned,
and hung for treason.

Far different from the French, were the Eng-
lish and Scotch Red River breeds, who came
down to us. They were neither negro hued nor
black hearted, and it was a pleasure to trade
and associate with them. The women were
mostly fair haired, blue-eyed, rosy-cheeked
dames, and the men great muscular, sturdy
specimens of manhood, good to look upon. But
hold! I must not utterly condemn the French
breed women. I remember that some of them
were exceedingly lovely, even in the sombre
and outlandish garb they wore. There was a
certain Amelie X., for instance, whose husband,
a Frenchman, was killed in a buffalo chase.
Every young French breed in camp was courting
her, but she told them to go. about their business
and leave her alone. 'T don't want no more
French mans," she told us. 'T don't want no
H'Injun, no H'Englis mans. I want Ameri-

cane mans, me."

Long John Pape and Mike Duval fought over
her, and the former was badly whipped. Mike
thought then that he had her sure, and was
begging her to name the day, when, lo! one
morning, Billy Burns walked into her cabin,
picked her up in his arms without a word, and
carrying her over to our place, he set her on
her feet before the astonished priest. "Just
hitch us up," he said, "and be quick about it."

"I won't!" Amelie screamed, giving him a re-
sounding slap in the face. "I won't! Go way
from me, you bad mans! Let me alone!"

'*Oh! well," said Billy, "if you won't, of course
you won't. I thought you kind o' liked me."

He turned away abruptly and started for the
door, but Amelie ran after him and grasped his
arm. "Come back you big fools," she com-
manded, with a stamp of her pretty moccasined
foot. "Come back! Me, I'm only make it joke;
course I marry you; you got blue h'eyes."^

They stood again before the father: "It's a
go, then?" he asked them. It was, and he
married them then and there.

Such a blowout as there was that night! The
dancing and drinking were something to be re-
membered! Long John and Duval not only
made friends, but when Nat-ah'-ki and I looked
in for a moment, they were weeping on each
other's shoulder. Billy and Amehe had fled.
Having provided the cabin, the musicians, the
solid and liquid refreshments for the party, they
hitched a horse to a halfbreed sled and sped
away down the river to the camp of a friend.

The buffalo remained in our vicinity and their
numbers did not seem to diminish, although a

daily horde of hunters rode out to slay them.
I went once, with a number of the Red River
breeds. We sighted a herd soon after passing
the rim of the valley and, screened from their
sight by a sharp rise of ground, my companions
dismounted, removed their hats, fell upon their
knees, crossed themselves, and one old patriarch
offered up a long prayer, asking for a success-
ful chase and that no harm befall them or their
horses in the run. Then they sprang up into
the saddle and were off, quirting their horses
madly and cursing them with the most terrible
oaths at their command. Some, who found not
sufticient of them in their own tongues, swore
also in broken English.

"Paul," I said to one of them after the run,
-had yJu been killed in the chase, where would
your soul have gone?'* ^^

"Why, to the good God, most certainement.

''But after you prayed you cursed your horse;
you used terrible oaths."

"Ah! but that was in the excitement; to speed
the ill-born brute. The good God knows I
meant no disrespect; most certainement. My
—what you call him— soul would have gone to

the pleasant place.'*

To accommodate the Bloods, and a large camp
of Red Rivers, late in the fall we established a
branch post on Flat Willow Creek, a tributary
of the Musselshell. I rode over there several
times during the winter, through great herds
of buffalo, and antelope, and once I saw a
band of wild horses, wilder by far than the game
with which they mingled. Along the foot of the
Snowy Mountains, in which the Flat Willow
has its source, there were immense herds of elk
and deer, and we bought large numbers of their

skins

I think that the Crees and Red Rivers loved
liquor more than any other people I met on
the plains. The Blackfeet liked it, but not well
enough to impoverish themselves for it. The
former, however, would sell anythmg they had
to obtain it, even their women, and it was rare
for a family to have more than half a dozen
horses. Many of the Crees were obliged to
walk when moving camp, packing their few
effects on dogs. They were not lazy, however
and killed and tanned a great many robes which
they exchanged for liquor, tea, and tobacco,
seldom buying any finery. There were mghts
when at least a thousand of them would be
drunk together, dancing and singing around little
fires built down in the timber, some crymg
foolishly, some making love, others gomg
through all sorts of strange and uncouth antics.
There was very little quarreling among them,
not half a dozen being killed in the whole winter.
More than that number froze to death, falling
on their way in the night and being unable to

rise and go on.

Walter B. Anderson.

[to be continued.]

A Berlin paper tells of a new device that
makes herring fishing easy. A microphone,
which magnifies sounds, is plunged into the sea
to ascertain if fish are passing that way. A wire
connects the submerged microphone with an
•ordinary receiver, with which one listens to what
is going on in the depths of the sea. Excellent
results have been obtained in the North Sea by
the invention for signaling the passing of the
herring shoals.

I024

FOREST AND STREAM.

[June 30, 1906.

k .>

In the Lodges of the Blackfeet

XXXI.— The Last of the Buffalo.

When spring came the Blackfeet and Bloods
moved back into Canada in order to get their
treaty money from the Government. They in-
tended to return in the fall, but now crossed the
line again. The Crees and Red Rivers re-
mained with us. Our trade for the season footed
up four thousand buffalo robes and about an
equal number of deer, elk and antelope skins.
For the robes we received $28,000, for the skins,
some beaver and wolf pelts about $5,000 more.
That was our banner season, and the biggest one
Berry had ever experienced. It was remarkable
in that it occurred when the buffalo were so near
extermination.

We were looking forward to a quiet summer,
as usual, when orders came from the Sioux
Agency Indian traders of Dacotah, and from
firms in the Northwest Territory of Canada for
pemmican and dried meat. The letters all had
the same story to tell, "The buffalo are gone."
They said, "Send us as many tons of the stuff as
you can for our trade." The Crees and their half
brothers were happy when we told them that we
would buy all they could bring us, and they lost
no time in beginning to hunt. Everything went
that was meat — poor cows, old bulls and perhaps
crippled horses. The meat was dried in wide,
thin, flat sheets, and done up in rawhide thonged
bales. Pemmican was made by pounding the
dried meat into fragments and mixing it with
tallow and grease extracted from the animal's
bones. It was packed into green hide, flat, oblong
bags, and the covering shrunk so tightly over the
mass as it dried that a package of it had the
solidity and weight of a reck. I do not remem-
ber how much of the stuff we got during the
summer, literally cords and cords of the dried
meat and hundreds of bags of pemmican, all of
which we sold at a good profit.

There came to our place one day in midsummer
a tall, slender man, who from his face and the
black, sharp, ended-up curling mustache he wore
reminded one of pictures of the old-time
Spanish cavaliers. He spoke English, pure Eng-
lish, much better, indeed, than that of any white
man around, better than many West Point grad-
uates of the army. He introduced himself as
William Jackson. The name seemed familiar, but
I could not place him until he said that he was
sometimes called Sik-si-kai-kwan — Blackfoot Man.
Then I knew. How often I had heard old man
Monroe mention him, his favorite grandson; of
his bravery and kindness of heart. I couldn't help
shaking hands with him and saying, *T have long
Ruped to meet you, Sik-si-kai-kwan ; your grand-
father has told me much about you." Well, we
became lasting friends; friends to the day of his

death, and I hope that together we accomplished
some measure of good in penance for our many

sins.

No one can make me believe that there is
nothing in heredity. There was Jackson, for in-
stance. On his mother's side, he came from the
Monroes, a notedly brave family of Scotch High-
landers, and from the La Roches, a noble French
family, some of whom early emigrated to
America. His father, Thomas Jackson, had taken
part in the Seminole and other Indian wars of
1832; his great grandfathers on both sides had
fought in the Revolution. No wonder, then, that
he took to war as a profession, enlisting at an
early age as scout in the U. S. Army.

The summer previous to his enlistment he made
a name for himself by killing three Sioux. He
and his mother went berrying in the breaks of
the river north of Fort Union, and when four or
five miles away they saw five Sioux sneaking
down on them, following a deep coulee running
parallel with the ridge upon which they were
riding. The Sioux were just entering a big
thicket and imagined that they and their horses
had not been seen. Jackson kept on a little ways,
gradually riding off to the west side of the ridge
and out of sight of the enemy. Then he told
his mother what he had seen, made her take his
horse, which was the strongest and swiftest of the
two, and told her to ride back to the fort for help
as swiftly as she could. She cried and objected,
saying that if he was to be killed she wanted to
die with him. But he finally assured her that
he could take care of himself for a time and she
started back as fast as the horse could run. Jack-
son at once went up to the top of the ridge, peer-
ing over it very carefully. In a moment the
Sioux mounted and burst out of the brush full
tilt after his mother. There was his chance, and
kneeling to get a more steady aim, he fired his
Henry rifle a number of times, dropping two of
the enemy. But that did not stop the others, who
came swiftly up the ridge, so he mounted his
horse and took the back trail. One of the horses
the Sioux rode proved to be a better annimal than
his, the other two not so swift. The rider of the
former kept gaining on him, firing his muzzle-
loader as fast as he could, and Jackson kept
shooting back at short intervals, failing also to hit
his foe. Finally, when the Sioux had lessened the
gap between them to about a hundred yards,
Jackson stopped his horse, and jumping off, knelt
down and took a careful aim at his pursuer. He
must have been a very brave Sioux, as he never
stopped, but whipped his horse harder than ever.
Jackson fired twice at him ; the second shot hit
him fairly in the breast and he instantly rolled off
to the ground, where he lay perfectly still. Then
Jackson remounted and rode on, the remaining
tAO Sioux pursuing him for a half mile or so,
when they stopped, seemed to talk together for a

moment, and turned back to take care of their
dead.

Jackson was a favorite with the army officers,
especially Generals Custer and Miles. On the
morning of the battle of the Little Big Horn,
June 25, 1876, he, with the other scouts, was de-
tailed to accompany Major Reno. Had they ac-
companied Custer, they would have undoubtedly
shared his fate. As it was, they did what they
could — at the expense of the lives of most of
them — to save Reno and his command from utter
annihilation, for when the Sioux charged, they
held their ground for a time, to give the soldiers a
chance to retreat across the river and up on the
hill, where they were nearly overcome several
times by the enemy. Jackson was finally cut off
from the command with Lieutenant DeRudia, In-
terpreter Guard, and a soldier. They lay in the
thick brush all that day, and the next, and then
when evening came Jackson ventured out, took
sufficient leggings and blankets from the enemy
lying about, and when they had dressed them-
selves in the leggings and moccasins, and wrapped
blankets about themselves, he led them right
through the watch fires of the Sioux to their
comrades up on the hill. Only once were they
accosted. *'Who goes there?" asked some one
sitting by a small fire roasting meat.

Jackson, who spoke Sioux perfectly, replied, "It
is only us, we're going over here a little way."

"Well, go where you're going," said their ques-
tioner. "'I'm going to sit right here and eat some
meat."

At the time he came to the store at Carroll,
Jackson was trading with the Indians out near
the Judith Mountains. I was sorry to part with
him. I hardly expected to meet him again, but I
did seme years afterward, where all of we
"squaw men," as we were called, were driven by
the tenderfeet, the "pilgrims," with their five-cent
ways of doing business.

Winter came again, and the Crees and Red
River breeds were still with us, but' the buffalo
were not so plentiful as they had been the pre-
vious winter. Their range was also smaller, ex-
tending from the mouth of Judith River eastward
to the Round Butte, on the north side of the
Missouri, a distance of one hundred and twenty-
five miles, and back from the river not more than
forty miles. They were far more plentiful on the
south side, between the Missouri and the Yellow-
stone, but so were the hunters. They were
hemmed in on the east by the Assinaboine and
Yanktonais Sioux, on the south by the Crows,
and a horde of white skin hunters that the
Northern Pacific, then being constructed along
the Yellowstone, had brought into the country.
In the midst of the herds were our Crees and
Red Rivers. The white hunters were the most
destructive of all, and piled up more than one
hinidrcd thousand buffalo hides along the Yellow-

JrxF 30, 1906.]

FOREST AND STREAM.

stone that winter, which they sold for about two
dollars each to eastern tannery buyers. We got
twenty-seven hundred robes, about a thousand
deer, antelope and elk skins, and the rest of the
traders along the river, all told, had about as
many more. Most of the robes we got were
killed in the early part of the winter. As the
season advanced the hunters had to ride further
and further to find the game. There was no
doubt but what the end of the trade was
near.

•

In February we ran short of trade blankets,
and I went to a trading post up at the mouth of
the Judith after more, taking Nat-ah'-ki with me.
The river was solidly frozen, so we took that
route, each driving a pony hitched to a Red River
sled. It was pleasant, traveling up the familiar
river over the smooth ice. The weather was not
too cold, and it neither blew nor snowed. We
traveled the first day to the foot of the Dauphin
Rapids, and camped in the cabin of some wood
hawks, temporarily absent. They had left the
latch string out and a notice on the rude table
which read : ''Make yerself to hum, stranger, an'
shet the door when you leeve."

We did make ourselves "to hum.'* Nat-ah'-ki
cooked a good meal in the hearth, and then we
sat long before the pleasant fire in the most com-
fortable of chairs. They were merely green
buffalo hides stretched over a pole frame work,
but they had been used as the skins dried, and
fitted perfectly; every part of the body had just
the proper support.

The next day we reached our destination, and
on the following one started homeward with our
loads of blankets. It was about four in the
afternoon that we saw some buffalo scurrying
southward across the river, and heard some firing
back in the breaks. A little later we saw a large
camp of Indians file down into a bottom below us.
I was not a little uneasy at first, for I feared
that they might be Assinaboines, and they had
recently killed a woodhawk, and committed other
depredations along the river. I stopped my horse
and asked Nat-ah'-ki what we had best do, drive
on as rapidly as possible, or stop and camp with
them. She gazed at them intently for a moment;
they were already pitching their lodges, and a
painted lodge skin was just then elevated and
spread around the poles. ''Oh!" she cried, with
a happy catch of the breath which was almost a
sob, "Oh, they are our people. See! that is the
buffalo medicine lodge they have put up. Hurry I
let us go over to them."

They were indeed some of the Piegans under
Red Bird's Tail, with whom we cainped that
night. They were as pleased to meet us as we
were them, and it w^as far into the night .when
we reluctantly went to bed, the supply of lodge
fuel having given out. "We are near the end of
it," Red Bird's Tail said to me. "We have hunted
far this winter, along Milk River, in the Wolf
Mountains (Little Rockies), and now over here
on the Big River, and we have just about had
meat enough to eat. Friend, I fear that this is
our last buffalo hunt."

I told him of the conditions south and east of
us, that there were no buffalo anywhere, except
the few between us and the Yellowstone, and
even there no herds of more than a hundred or so.
"Are you sure," he said; "sure that the white
men have seen all the land which they say lies
between the two salt waters? Haven't they over-
looked some big part of the country where our

buffalo have congregated and from whence they
may return?"

"There is no place in the whole land," I re-
plied, "north, south, east or west, that the white
men have not traveled, are not traveling right
now, and none of them can find bj^ffalo. Do not
believe, as many of your people do, that they
have driven them away in order to deprive you of
your living. White men are just as anxious to
kill buffalo for their hides and meat as you are."

"Then, that being the case," he said with a deep
sigh, "misery and death are at hand for me and
mine. We are going to starve."

On our way homeward the next morning, I saw
a lone buffalo calf— almost a yearUTT^ then— stand-
ing dejectedly, forlornly, in a clump of rye grass
near the river. I killed it, and took off the hide,
horns, hoofs and all. The Crow Woman tanned
it for me later and decorated the flesh side with
gaudy porcupine quill work. That was my last
buffalo. Along in the afternoon we startled
something like seventy-five head which had come
to the frozen stream in search of water. They
scampered wildly across the bottom and up the
slope of the valley to the plains. That was the
last herd of them that Nat-ah'-ki and I ever
saw.

The little woman and I had been homesick for
some time. While we loved the great river, its
lovely valley and fantastic bad lands, we did not
like the people temporarily there. We were ever
talking and dreaming of our home on the Marias,
and so one May morning, we embarked on the
first boat of the season for Fort Benton, and
thence to Fort Conrad. And thus we bade good-
by forever to the old plains life and the buffalo
and the Indian trade.

Berry soon followed us, leaving a man in charge
of our place, which we ran — at a loss — for an-
other year, getting only three hundred, mostly
bull robes, the last winter, 1882-3.

Walter B. Anderson,
[to be continued.]

The Twilight Limited.

"All aboard Northwj
Limited for Lake
Deer Park, Clear
Spooner, Silver^
and Duluth,
our train,
jam, and j
jam, foi
depots
trail
thr<
be.
w|
e(

FOREST AND STREAM.

[July 7, 1906.

In the Lodges of the Blackfeet.

XXXII.— The "Winter of Death."

The summer days slipped by happily for all
of us. Berry's mother and the Crow Woman
made themselves a little garden, where the
Marias and its Dry Fork join, irrigating it with
water carried from the river. Their corn and
pumpkins and beans, all of the stock which the
natives had cultivated long before Columbus saw
America, grew apace. The old women erected
a shelter hard by their thriving plants, a roof of
brush supported by four posts; and there Nat-
ah'-ki and I spent many a pleasant afternoon
with them, listening to their quaint tales, and
the still more quaint songs which they occasion-
ally sung. Early in the spring. Berry had again
torn up the earth with his bulls and plows, and
sown it with oats and wheat. Strange to say —
for it was again a dry year — they grew and
ripened, and were harvested and stacked, but
never marketed. The pigs undermined the
stacks, cattle and horses broke through the
corral and trampled them, and all went to waste.
We were no farmers whatever.

All summer we had Piegans with us from time
to time, and they told harrowing tales of hard
times up at their Agency. The weekly rations,
they said, lasted but one day. There was no
game of any kind to be found; their Agent
would give them nothing. Those with us and
scattered along the fiver, by hard hunting, found
deer and antelope enough to keep themselves
alive, but those remaining at the Agency actually
suffered for want of food. They were the ones
who could not get away. They had lost their
horses through a skin disease which had spread
among the herds, or had sold them to the trader
for provisions.

In September Nat-ah'-ki and I went up to the
Agency to see for ourselves what was the con-
dition of affairs. Arriving at the main camp,
just below the Agency stockade, at dusk, we
stopped with old Lodge-pole Chief for the night.
*'Leave our food sacks with the saddles," I said
to Nat-ah'-ki, "we will see what they have to eat."
The old man and his wives welcomed us cor-
dially. *'Hurry," he commanded the women,
"cook a meal for our friends. They must be
hungry after their long ride." He spoke as if
the lodge was filled with provisions. He smiled
happily and rubbed his hands together as he
talked. But his wives did not smile, nor hurry.
From a parfleche they brought forth three
small potatoes and set them to boil, and from
another one, two quarter-pound trout, which
they also boiled. After a time they set them
before us. " *Tis all we have," said one of the
women, pathetically, brushing the tears from
her eyes. ** 'Tis all we have. We are very
poor."

At that poor old Lodge-pole Chief broke
down. "It is the truth," he said, haltingly. "We
have nothing. There are no more buffalo, the
Great Father sends us but a little food — gone
in a day. We are very hungry. These are fish
to be sure, forbidden by the gods, unclean. We
eat them, however, but they do not give us any
strength, and I doubt not that we will be pun-
ished for eating them. It seems as if our gods
had forsaken us."

Nat-ah'-ki went out and brought back one of
our food sacks and handed to the women three
or four tins of beans, corned beef and corn,
some sugar, coffee and flour. To the old man
she gave a piece of tobacco. Ah! how their
faces brightened! How they talked and laughed
as they cooked and ate a good meal. It was a
pleasure to watch them.

The next day we rode to the various camps
and found the same conditions in each. Not
what one could call actual starvation, but some-
thing very near it, so near it that the most
vigorous of the men and women showed the
want of food. They appealed to me for help,
and I gave freely what I had; but that of course
was a mere nothing, as compared to their needs.
Nat-ah'ki*s mother had been long in one of the
camps, caring for a sick relative, now dead. We
rescued her from the place of famine and made
our way back to the Fort.

After a talk with Berry, I determined to write
a full account of what I had seen on the Reser-
vation, and this I did, sending it to a certain
New York paper for publication. I wanted the
American people to know how their helpless
wards were being used. I knew that some good
people somewhere, would take the matter up
and see that sufficient food was sent them to
keep soul and body together. My contribution
was never printed. I was a subscriber to the
paper, and scanned its columns for weeks and
months after I had sent in my registered manu-
script. Alas! I did not then know how much
politics affected even such an ordinary position
as Indian Agent, and especially at that time,
when the *Tndian Office" was in the hands of a
"ring." I had sent my story to the paper which
was the mainstay of the Administration. Ot
course, they would not print it, and I gave up.
Both Berry and I advised the Indians to kill
their Agent, and see if that would not awaken
people to their necessities; but they were afraid
to do it; they remembered the Baker massacre.
I know now where I could have sent that story,
whence it would have been scattered broadcast
throughout the land; but I was young, and eas-
ily discouraged, and so matters drifted and
drifted along from bad to worse. Not many of
the people died during the winter from actual

want.

Summer came. The Agent gave out a few
potatoes to the Indians to plant. Some actually

did plant them; others were so hungry that they
ate what was given them. Also, in the early
spring they scraped the inner bark of pine and
Cottonwood, and dug "pomme blanch," a tuber-
ous growth something like a turnip, for food.
Then came fishing time, and they caught trout.
Somehow they got through the summer, and
then came winter again, the starvation winter,
the winter of death, as it was called, and from
which ever afterward, everything was dated. In
his annual report of the summer, dated Aug.
13, 1883, the Agent had much to say about the
heathenish rites of his people, and but little of
their needs. He told of the many hundred
acres they had planted with potatoes and turnips
— they may have planted five acres all told. In
fact, he gave no hint of the approaching calam-
ity. For years in his annual report he had re-
corded a constant increase in the tribe's re-
sources; he would not now, it seemed, take back
his words and make himself out a liar. It had
been through his own single, strenuous efforts
that the Blackfeet had risen to their present
stage of civilization, "but their heathenish rites
were most deplorable," he said.

Early in the fall, about fifty Ipdges of people
came down and remained with us. There were
still a few antelope, but when they failed to
make a successful hunt, we gave them from
what we had. None of them perished. But up
at the Agency, as January and February passed,
the situation was terrible. Old Almost-a-Dog,
day after day, by ones and twos and threes,
checked off the deaths of the starved ones.
Women crowded around the windows of the
Agent's office, held up their skinny children to
his gaze, and asked for a cup of flour or rice
or beans or corn— anything, in fact, that would
appease hunger. He waved them away. "Go,"
he would say, surlily, "go away! Go away! I
have nothing for you." Of course he hadn't.
The $30,000 appropriated for the Blackfeet had
disappeared — somewhere, I suppose. The In-
dian ring got a part, and the rest, from which
must be subtracted a freight tariff of 5 cents
per pound, was used to buy many unnecessary
things. Beef and flour were what the people
needed, and did not get. In one part of the
stockade the Agent kept about fifty chickens, a
couple of tame wild geese and some ducks,
which were daily fed an abundance of corn,
freighted all the way from Sioux City up to
Fort Benton by steamboat, and then more than
a hundred miles overland, for the use of the
Indians. The corn was Government property,
which, by law, the Agent could neither buy nor
in any way convert to his own use. Neverthe-
less, he fed it liberally to his hens, and the In-
dian mothers stood around mournfully watch-
ing, and furtively picking up a kernel of the
grain here and there. And day by day the peo-
ple died. There were several thousand pounds

JULY4>, 1906.]

FOREST AND STREAM.

of this grain, but the chickens needed it. And
while the Agent fed it to them, his family dyed
Government blankets to remove all trace of the
U. S. I. D. (United States Indian Department)
with which they were branded, and shipped
bales of them to certain places, where they were

sold.

The news of all this did not reach us until
February, when Wolf Head came in one day
riding the sorriest looking horse I ever saw. It
had a little hair in places, the skin along the
back was wrinkled, and here and there had
been deeply frozen. 'There are not many of
them up there that look better," said Wolf
Head, sadly. "Most of our herds are dead."
And then he went on to tell of the starving and
dying people. Long before he had finished,
Nat-ah'-ki began to cry, and so did the Crow
Woman, who was the only one of the others
present. But while they cried, they were quickly
heating some food and coffee, which they placed
on the table before Wolf Head and told him to
eat. Never in my life did I see food disappear
so quickly, in such huge portions. I arose after
a little and took the diflferent things away. *'You
shall have them later," I said. The women
protested until I convinced them that starving
people sometimes die when given much food
after their long fast. In the evening our place
was well filled with the Indians from camp, and
Wolf Head repeated what he had told us of the
suffering and dying people. He named some of
the dead, and one by one some of the listeners
stole away to mourn for relatives they had lost.
Here, there, sitting on the frozen ground or
bank of the river they wailed, calling over and
over the loved one's name. The sound of it
was so distressing, so nerve-racking, that I felt
like going out and asking them to desist and
go home. But I could not do it. It was their
way, their ancient way, of expressing their sor-
row. What right had I to interfere; of what
account were my nerves beside their sorrows?
When Wolf Head ended his harrowing tale,
for a time all the men sat very still, not even
smoking, and then they began, one by one, to
heap such curses on their Agent and white
men in general as their language permitted.
Berry and I listened in silence; we knew they
did not mean us— we knew that they regarded
us as members of their tribe, their very own
people. But we were nevertheless ashamed
before them, sore that the cupidity and careless-
ness and lust for land of the white race had
brought them and theirs to this pass. After the
talk had somewhat drifted into half silences,
Berry said what he could in the way of con-
dolence, adding, ''We told you months ago to
kill that Agent of yours. Had you done that,
there would have been a great excitement where
the white people live, and men would have been
sent here to look into the matter. They would
have learned that you were without food, and a
plenty would have been sent to you."

I said nothing. A thought had suddenly
struck me which I at once put into execution. I
sat down and wrote a letter to a New York
gentleman with whom I had had some corre-
spondence, but had never met, explaining fully
the sad plight the Blackfeet were in. I can't
say why I wrote to him, but I believe that fate
directed me, for my story in due time reached a
sympathetic hand, and I was told to go on up
to the Agency and write an account of what I
saw there. Unknown to me this gentleman had

ridden several trails in the West, and had formed
a diflferent opinion of Indians from what most
white men have. In time he became what may
be called an honorary member of the Blackfeet,
the Pawnees, the Cheyennes, and other North-
ern tribes. The Fisher Cap, as the Blackfeet
call him, has done more for them than all the
diflferent ^'Indian Rights,'^ "Indian Aid" soci-
eties put together. He has rid them of thiev-
ing agents; helped them to get ^ood ones; to
get full value for the lands they have been
obliged to sell; accompanied their delegations
to Washington, and stood by them in their
petitions to the Indian Oflfice.

Well, I saddled a horse and rode up to the
Agency. Not exactly to it, for I did not wish
to get my friends into trouble. The Indian
Police had been ordered by the Agent to arrest
every white man they found on the Reserva-
tion. If I rode right into the stockade, the
Police would have to arrest me or resign, and 1
wished none of them to leave the service, for
the Agent gave them plenty of food for them-
selves and families. Therefore,, I rode from
one camp to another for a day, and what I saw
was heart-rending. I entered and sat down in
the lodges of friends with whom I had feasted
not so long since on broiled buflfalo tongues
and ribs, on rich pemmican and other good
things of the plains. Their women were mostly
sitting gazing hopelessly at the fire, and upon
seeing me drew their old thin robes about them,
more securely to hide their rent and worn-out
dresses. And the men! There was no hearty,
full-voiced "Ok'-yi!" from them. They spoke
the word of welcome of course, but in a low
key, and their eyes could not meet mine, for
they were ashamed. There was nothing in the
lodge to eat, and the greatest of humiliations
to a Blackfoot is to be unable to set out a little
feast for his visitors. But when I began to
speak about their predicament, they roused up
quickly enough and spoke of their sufifering
children and wives, and of the deaths, and some-
times as they talked a woman would begin to
sob and go out; one who had, perhaps, lost a
child of her own. It was all very sad.

Leaving the camps in the vicinity of the
Agency, I rode over to Birch Creek, the south-
ern boundary of the Reservation, where there
was a small camp. I found the people there
slightly better oflf. A few range cattle were
wintering in the vicinity, and the hunters occa-
sionally w^ent out in the night and killed one, so
thoroughly covering up or removing all trace
of blood and oflfal that had one ridden by the
next day he would never have suspected what
had been done there but a few hours before. It
has always been a heinous oflfense to kill, re-
brand, or maverick cattle in the range country,
and the Indians knew it, hence their caution.
The cattlemen knew of course that their herds
were growing smaller, but they could prove
nothing, so they merely damned the Indians and
talked about "wiping them ofif the face of the
earth." Even that last remnant of the Black-
feet's once vast territory, their Reservation, was
coveted by the great cattle kings for many
years, and as you shall learn later, they eventu-
ally got the run of it, after surreptitiously fat-
tening, in connivance with various agents,
thousands of beeves upon it for the Chicago

market. ♦"

Walter B. Anderson.

[to be continued.]

FOREST'AND STREAM.

[July 14, 1906.

EffiMfflMf

la the Lodges of the Blackfeet.

XXXIII.— The '*Black Robe's*' Help.

During my visits to the various camps, I
had heard much of a certain Black Robe or
priest, whom the people called Stahk'-tsi kye-
wak-sin— Eats-in-the-middle-of-the-day. **He is
a man," the people told me, **a real kind-
hearted man. Twice the Agent has ordered him
off of the reservation, but he returns to talk
with us, and help us as he can."

I learned that he had built a Nat-o-wap'-o-yis,
or sacred house, on the non-reservation side
of Birch Creek, and thither I went after visit-
ing the last of the camps. I found the Rev. P.
P. Prando, S. J., at home in his rude shed-like
room, attached to the little log chapel, and
there we two struck up a fine friendship which
was never broken. I am not a religious man —
far from it; that is as to a belief in a revealed
religion and some certain creed. But, how I
do admire these Jesuits. They have always
been at the front here in America; have suffered
hardships, cold and heat, hunger and thirst, and
gone through such dangers as the repre-
sentatives of no other creed have done.
Nothing has daunted them in their zeal to
propagate their faith in wild and savage lands.
There was Father De Smet, for instance, who
ascended the Missouri in 1840, and established
a mission among the Flathead Indians. You
should read his story. He crossed the Rockies,
of course, to reach the Flathead country, and
then he made a trip with my old friend, Hugh
Monroe, among the Blackfeet on the east side
of the Rockies, during which they had several
narrow escapes from Assinaboine and Yank-
tonais war parties. But the Father found con-
ditions unfavorable for founding a mission
among the Blackfeet, for they were forever^
roaming over their vast hunting ground, one
winter on the Saskatchewan, for instance, and
the next far to the south on the tributaries
of the Missouri or the Yellowstone.

Father Prando made me welcome; made me
know that I was welcome, and I stopped with
him for the night. We had supper; some yeast
powder biscuits, rancid bacon, some vile tea,
no sugar. 'Tt is all I have," he said, depre-
catingly, ''but what would you? I have given a
little here, and a little there, and this is all that
remains."

Even that was better than I had found for
several days, and I ate a number of the bis-
cuits. We began to talk about the starving
Indians, and I learned with surprise and pleas-
ure, that the good Father had been trying for
some time to obtain relief for them. He had
written to the authorities in Washington, with-
out result. Then he had corresponded with the
army of^cers at Fort Shaw, especially with Col.

— now General — Edward A. Moole, and they
had accomplished something. Reporting to the
War Department the condition' of the Black-
feet, there had been a lively scene between the
officials of that and the Indian Department, with
the result that an inspector was to be sent out.
He was supposed even then to be on his way.
"And now," the good Father concluded, "it
all depends upon the inspector: If he be honest,

all will be well; if dishonest, then " his

voice trembled, ''and he could say no more.

It seemed that there was nothing more for
me to do, so I started homeward by way of the
Agency. When nearing the stockade, I met a
policeman, and his face was one big broad
smile. "Yesterday," he told me, "came a man
from the home of the Great Father, and we
are saved. I carry this letter from him to the
soldiers; they are to bring us food;" and with
that he hurried on.

Down at the trader's store, (it contained
about a wagon load of goods) I at last got the
details of all that had happened. I am sure
that never before, nor since, has the Indian
service had a more ef^cient man than was
Inspector, or Special Agent G. Arrived
at the stockade, he had the driver stop just
within the gates. "Where is that chicken house?
he yelled, jumping from the wagon and staring
at the gaunt forms of the Indians, standing
apathetically around. The driver pointed it out
to him, and he ran and kicked open the door,
shoved the chickens out and piled out after them
several sacks of corn. "Here, you," he called
to the astonished spectators, ''take these; take
the chickens and go and eat something."

If the Indians did not understand the words,
they at least understood his actions — and what
a scramble there was for grain and fleeing,
squawking hens. The Inspector hurried on
across to the ofifice, kicked open the door and
came face to face with the Agent, who had
arisen, and was staring at him in astonishment.

"\ou — canting old hypocrite," he

cried, 'TVe just given your Indians those
chickens, and some Government corn. What
do you mean by denying that your charges are
starving? Hey? What do you mean, sir?"

"They are not starving," the Agent replied.
"I will admit that they haven't a large ration,
but they are not starving by any means. Not
starving by any means, sir. But who are you,
sir? What right have you, breaking in here
and questioning me?"

"Here is my card," the Inspector replied,
"and ril just add that I suspend you right now.
Your goose is cooked."

The agent read the card and sank back into
his chair, speechless.

The Inspector drew on the Fort Shaw com-
missary for what supplies could be spared, and
bought more at Helena, but they were a long.

long time in coming. Owing to the melting
spring snow, the roads were almost impass-
able, so, still for a few weeks, Almost-a-Dog
kept cutting notches in his willow mortuary
record, and at the end, after a bountiful supply
of food had arrived, and a new and kind and
honest Agent was looking out for their welfare,
the total numbered five hundred and fifty-five!
Nearly one fourth of the tribe had passed away.
The living, weakened by their long privation,
became an easy prey to tuberculosis in its
various forms. To-day, there are but thirteen
hundred full-blooded Blackfeet, seven hundred
less than there were in 1884. They are going
fast; they might as well, for there is no place
left for them to abide in even comparative pros-
perity and peace. Since 1884, they have sold
three million dollars' worth of land, and the
money has mostly been used to purchase for
them food, farm machinery and cattle. Under
the few good Agents they have had they did
remarkably well. For instance, under one
Agent who served two terms, their cattle in-
creased to something like twenty-four thousand
head, for he allowed them to sell only steers
and old dry cows. Under a succeeding Agent,
however, their fine herd practically disappeared.
Cows, calves, yearlings, were bought by the
trader, rebranded and driven to his range in the
vicinity of the Bear's Paw Mountains. Also,
the Reservation was always, except during the
short administration of an army ofhcer, over-
run with the stock of the great cattle kings.
Their round-ups drove away many of the In-
dian stock, the vast number of steers they kept
shoving upon the reserve caused the grass to be-
come more and more sparse. To-day, I am told, the
range is about gone, and the Indians are about
to receive their allotments of land. When that
happens, and the surplus land is opened to set-
tlement, the sheepmen will drive their flocks
upon it, and thereafter the Blackfeet will be un-
able to raise either horses or cattle. In a very
few years, those once richly grassed hills will
become as bare of verdure as is the middle of
a country road.

I could not help but go back to tell the good
father that his efforts to aid the Indians had
proved more than successful, and thus I stayed
another night with him. He told me of his
work with the Crows, among whom he had been
for several years, long enough, in fact, to
learn their language. Like most of those
frontier Jesuits, he could do things: He had
a good knc^wledge of medicine and surgery. He
could build a log cabin; repair a broken wagon
wheel; survey and construct an irrigating ditch;
rnd he was a successful fisherman and good shot.
I came across him one afternoon away down on
Milk River. He had been visiting some distant
parishioners, and had tethered out his horses
for a short rest. He was broiling something

July 14, 1906.]

fcrr> r^^

FOREST AND STREAM.

over a small fire, and looking up, invited me to
alight and eat with him. *'It is a badger," he
said. **that I have just killed."

"But," I expostulated, "they are not good to
eat. I never heard of anyone eating badgers,
did you?"

"My son," he replied, deliberately turning the
meat over the glowing coals, "everything that
God has made, has some use, if we could only
discern it. This badger now, He made it; I am
very hungry; therefore, I broil its meat — I
killed it and it is mine — and I shall satisfy my
hunger."

"But see here," I went on, dismounting and
sitting down by his fire, "When you are travel-
ing around this way, why don't you have a well-
filled 'grub' box in your wagon?"

"I had; there is the box, you see; but save
for a little salt and pepper, it is now empty.
The people I visited were very poor, and I gave
them all."

There you have it in a word. They gave
them ally those Jesuits of the frontier. All their
strength and endurance, bodily and mental; gave
even the necessities of life, m their zeal to
"gather the heathen into the shelter of the
cross." This same man, at the age of sixty;
have I not known him more than once to start
out at dusk and drive wildly, madly, all night
through a forty degrees below blizzard, to
reach the bedside of some dying Indian 'who
had sent for him to administer the last sacra-
ment!

"Mistaken zeal." "Folly." Many of us may
say. Well, granting that, yet must we still re-
gard with reverence and something akin to awe,
the men who dare all things, endure all things,
for the faith that is in their hearts.

But to continue my story: Arrived home, I
stabled my horse, and went to my room to
hang up my chaps and spurs. I found Nat-ah'-
ki in bed, her eyes swollen with weeping; and
when she saw me, she sprang up and clung to
me crying: "They are dead, both dead! My
daughter, my handsome daughter. Always
Laughs; they two who loved each other so
much, both are dead! Both drowned in the
everywheres water."*

And then she told me, little by little, as she
could between her fits of sobbing, of what
Berry had read in the newspaper received that
morning. Ashton's boat had foundered in a
great storm, and all on board were lost. I
sought out Berry, and he handed me the paper
in silence. It was all too true. We were never
again to see Ashton and Diana. Their yacht
and all it held, lay at the bottom of the Gulf of
Mexico.

That was a sad time for us all. Berry and
his wife went to their room. Old Mrs. Berry
and the Crow Woman were mourning and cry-
ing, away down by the river. I went back to com-
fort Nat-ah'-ki if I could, and the men cooked
their supper. I talked long, far into the night
with the little woman, saying all I could, every-
thing I could think of, to allay her grief — and
my own too; but in the end, it was she who
solved the problem, in a way. I had thrown
another chunk or two on the fire, and leaned
back in my chair. She had been silent some
little time. "Come here," she finally said. So
I went over and sat down beside her, and she
grasped my hand with her own trembling one.

"I have been thinking this," she began, falter-
ingly: but her voice became firmer as she went
on, "This: They died together, didn t they.
Yes. I think that when they saw that they
must drown, they clung one to another, and said
a few words, if they had time, and even kissed
each other, no matter if there were other peo-
ple there. That is what we would have done, is
it not?"

"Yes."

"Well then," she concluded, "it isn't so bad
as it might have been, for one was not left to
mourn for the other. We must all die some-
time, but I think the Sun and the white man's
God favor those w^hom — loving each other as
they did — they permit to die that way."

She got up. and removing from wall and shelf
various little gifts Diana had given her, packed
them carefully away in the bottom of a trunk.
"I cannot bear to look at them now," she said
sadly, "but some day, when I am more used to
it, I will take them out and set them in their
places."

She went back to bed and fell asleep, while
I sat long after by the waning fire, thinking
much upon her words. More and more, as the
years went by, I realized that Nat-ah'-ki was —
well, I'll not say what I thought. Perhaps some
of you, of sympathetic nature, can fill in the
blank.

It w^as several years before Diana's gifts
again took their place in our abode to delight
the eye and the mind of the dwellers therein.
But many a time did I see Nat-ah'-ki
quietly take a picture of her daughter from the
trunk, and after gazing at it lovingly, go away
by herself to mourn.

Walter B. Anderson.
[to be continued.]

Drajjon Flies.

Much has been written in this country
Europe about dragon flies, but for the foil
and poetry of the subject we must go to

It is curious to note that the Island Em]
once actually called after the dragon fly^

Says Lafcadio Heam : "One of the
cf Japan is Akitsushhtia, meaning, "
of the Dragon Fly,' and wTitten wi]
acter representing a dragon fly — j
now called tombo, was anciently

"In a literal sense," continuesi
well deserves to be called the Laj
Fly; for as Rein poetically de<
Eldorado to the Neuroptera f^
other country of either tem]
so many kinds of dragoi
whether even the tropics
flies more curiously beaj
Japanese species.'

It is not to be won<
aesthetic and fanciful
should have adopter
The author alread)^

"They made vj
peculiarities, evei
propensity of thj
succession to
Sometimes tl
and comparj
Buddhist
imponden
stillness
times tl
anger,^
They^
chai
pla]

*Mo-to-yV awk-hi — The ocean.

In the Lodges of the Blackfeet

XXXIV. — Later Years.

The very last of the buffalo herds disap-
peared in 1883. Tn the spring of 1884 a large
flotilla of steamboats was tied up at the Fort
Henton levee; among them the Black Hills
and Dacotah, boats of great size and carrying
capacity. The latter came up but once in a
season — when the Missouri was bank full from
the melting snow in the mountains — and this
was their last trip for all time to come. Not
only was it the last trip for them, but for all
the smaller boats. The railroad was coming.
It had already crossed Dacotah, and was creep-
ing rapidly across the Montana plains. Tying
up at night, using enormous quantities of
wood fuel in order to overcome the swift cur-
rent of the Missouri, the steamboats could not
compete with the freight carrier of the rails.
When the railroad did finally enter the
Rocky Mountain country, a branch running to
Fort Benton, Great Falls, Helena and Butte,
the main line crossing the divide through the
Tw6 Medicine Pass, it brought in its coaches
many immigrants from the ''States," at whom
the old-timers laughed. "What are they com-
ing here for?" they asked. ''What are they
going to do — these hard-hatted men and deli-
cate looking women?'*

They soon found out. The new-comers set-
tled here and there in the valleys, and took
up the available water rights; they opened
stores in the towns and crossroads places and
reduced prices to a five-cent basis; they even
gave exact change in pennies. Heretofore a
spool of thread, even a lamp-wick, had been
sold for two bits. The old storekeepers and
traders, with their easy, liberal ways, could
not hold their own in this new order of things;
they could not change their life-long habits,
and one by one they went to the wall.

The men married to Indian women — squaw-
men as they were contemptuously called — suf-
fered most, and, strange to say, the wives of
the new-comers, not the men, were their bit-
terest enemies. They forbade their children
to associate with the half-breed children, and
at school the position of the latter was un-
bearable. The white ones beat them and called
them opprobrious names. This hatred of the
sqtiawman was even carried into politics. One
of them, as clean-minded, genial, fearless and
honest a man as I ever knew, was nominated
for sheriff of the county upon the party ticket
which always carried the day; but at that
election he and he alone of all the candidates
of his party was not elected. He was actually
snowed under. The white women had so
badgered their husbands and brothers, had so
vehemently protested against the election of

a squawman to any office, that they succeeded
in accomplishing his defeat. And so, one by
one, these men moved to the only place where
they could live in peace, where there was not
an enemy within a hundred and more miles of
them, the Reservation; and there they settled
to pass their remaining days. There were
forty-two of them at one time; few are left.

Let mc correct the general impression of
the squawmen, at least as to those I have
known, the men who married Blackfeet
women. In the days of the Indians' dire ex-
tremity, they gave them all they could, and
were content so long as there remained a lit-
tle bacon and flour for their families; and
some days there was not even that in the
houses of some of them, for they had given
their all. With the Indian they starved for a
time, perchance. Scattered here and there
upon the Reservation, they built for themselves
neat homes and corrals, and fenced their hay
lands, all of which was an object lesson to the
Indian. But they did more than that. They
helped to build their red neighbors* cabins
and stables; surveyed their irrigating ditches;
taught them how to plow, and to manage a
mowing machine. All this without thought of
pay or profit. If you enter the home of a
Blackfoot, you nearly always find the floor
clean, the windows spotless, everything about
in perfect order, the sewing machine and table
covered with pretty cloths; the bed with clean,
bright-hued blankets; the cooking utensils and
tableware spotless and bright. No Govern-
ment field matrons have taught them to do
this, for they have had none. This they learned
by observing the ways of the squawmen' s
wives. I have seen hundreds of white homes —
there are numbers of them in any city — so ex-
ceedingly dirty, their inmates so slovenl;^, that
one turns from them in absolute disgust; but I
only two steers, and what is that?"

In their opulent days, under a good agent,
and when they had numbers of steers to sell,
they bought much furniture, even good car-
pets. There came to me one day at that time
a friend, and we smoked together. "You have
a book with pictures of furniture," he said,
"show me the best bedstead it tells about."

I complied. "There it is," pointing to the
crib. "All brass, best of springs; price $80."
"Send for it," he said, "I want it. It costs
only two steers, and what is that-"

"There are others," I went on, "just as good
looking, part iron, part brass, which cost much
less."

"Huh!" he exclaimed. "Old Tail-feathers-
coming-over-the-Hill has one that cost fifty
dollars. I'm going to have the best."

Without the squawmen, I do not know what
the Blackfeet would have done in the making
of their treaties with the Government; in get-

ting rid of agents of whom the less said the
better — for the squawmen fought their battles
and took all the brunt of the trouble. I have
known an agent to order his police to kill a
certain squawman at sight, because the man
had reported to Washington his thievery; and
others to order squawmen to leave the Reser-
vation, separating them from their families, be-
cause they had spoken too openly regarding
their underhand doings. But at intervals there
were good, honest, capable men in charge,
under whom the Indians regained in a meas-
ure the prosperity they had lost. But such
men did not last; with a change of administra-
tion they were always dismissed by the powers
that be.

One thing the squawmen never succeeded
in .doing — they were never able to rid the
Reservation of the great cattle kings' stock.
The big men had an "understanding" with
some agents, and at other times even with
the officials of the Department. So their stock
remained and increased and fed down the rich
grasses. Most of the Indians and most of the
squawmen carefully tended their little herds
in some favorable locality as near as possible
to their home; but always, once in the spring,
once in the fall, the great round-up of the
cattle kings swept like wild fire across the
Reservation. Thirty or forty swift riders
would swoop down on one of these little
herds. Some of their cattle would be mixed in
with them; but they did not stop to cast thern
out; there wasn't time; and they drove them
all to some distant point or branding corral,
and the owner of the little herd lost forever
more or less of them. At last, so I am told,
the Indians prevailed upon the Department to
fence the south and east sides of the Reserva-
tion in order to keep the foreign stock out,
and their own inside. There was no Heed of
fencing the west and north sides, for the Rocky
Mountains form the western boundary, and
the Canadian line the northern. It cost $30,-
000 to build that fence, and then the cattle
kings obtained permission to pasture 30,000
head of cattle within it. But perhaps it is as
well. It is only hastening the end a bit, for
the Blackfeet, as I have said before, are to
have their lands allotted. Then will come the
sheep men, desolation in their wake, and then
the end. It has been nearly the end for them
this past winter. The Department decreed
that no able-bodied person should receive
rations. In that bleak country there is no
chance of obtaining work, for the white men's
ranches are few and far between. Even if a
man obtained three months' work in summer
time — something almost impossible — his wages
could not by any means support his family for
a year. A friend wrote me in January: "I was
over on the Reservation to-day and visited many

July 21, 1906.]

old friends. In most of the homes there was
little, generally no food, and the people were
sitting sadly around the stove, drinking wild tea."

In the hegira of the old-timers to the Reser-
vation, Berry and I took part. Fort Conrad had
been sold. Berry bought out the Reservation
trader, good will and goods, for three hundred
dollars.

I got an insane idea in my head that I wanted
to be a sheepman, and locating some fine springs
and hay ground about twelve miles abcfve Fort
Conrad, I built some good sheds, and a house,
and put up great stacks of hay. The cattlemen
burned me out. I guess they did right, for I
had located the only water for miles around. I
left the blackened ruins and followed Berry. I
am glad that they did burn me out, for I thus
can truthfully say that I had no part in the devas-
tation of Montana's once lovely plains.

We built us a home, Nat-ah'-ki and I, in a
lovely valley where the grass grew green and tall.
We were a long time building it. Up in the
mountains where I cut the logs, our camp under
the towering pines was so pleasant that we could
hardly leave it for a couple of days to haul home
a wagon load of material. And there were so
many pleasant diversions that the ax leaned up^
against a stump during long dreamy days, while
we went trout fishing, or trailed a deer or bear,
or just remained in camp listening to the wind
in the pine tops, watching the squirrels steal the
remains of our breakfast, or an occasional grouse

strutting by.

"How peaceful it all is here," Nat-ah'-ki once
said, "How beautiful the pines, how lovely and
fragile the things that grow in the damp and
shadowy places. And yet, there is something
fearsome about these great forests. My people
seldom venture into them alone. The hunters
always in couples or three or four together, the
women in large numbers when they come to cut
lodge poles, and their men always with them."
''But why are they afraid?" I asked. *T don't
see why they should be."

"There are many reasons," she replied. "Here
an enemy can easily lie in wait for one and kill
without risk to himself. And then— and then
they say that ghosts live in these long, wide dark
woods; that they follow a hunter, or steal along
by his side or in front of him; that one knows
they are 'about, for they sometimes step on a
stick which snaps, or rustle some loose leaves
with their feet. Some men, it is said, have even
seen these ghosts, peering at them 'from behind
a distant tree. They had terrible, big wide faces,
and big wicked eyes. Sometimes I even have
thought that I was being followed by them. But,
though I was terribly afraid, I have just kept
on going, away down there to the spring for
water. It is when you are away off there chop-
ping and the blows of your ax cease, that I am
most afraid. I stop and listen; if you begin to
chop again soon, then all is well, and I go on
with my work. But if there is a long silence,
then I begin to fear. I know not what; every-
thing; the dim shadowy places away out around;
the wind in the tree tops which seems to be say-
ing something I cannot understand. Oh, I be-
come afraid, and I steal out to see if you are
still there— if anything has happened to you—"
-Why— how is thai?" I interposed, "I never

saw you."

"No, you didn't see me. I went very quietly,
very cautiously, just like one of those ghosts
they talk about; but I always saw you. You

would be sitting on a log, or lying on the ground,
smoking, always smoking, and then I would be
satisfied, and go back as quietly as I came."

"But when you came out that way, why didn't
you come further and sit down and talk with
me?" I asked.

"Had I done so," she replied, "you would have
sat still longer idle, smoked more, and talked of
those things you are ever dreaming and think-
ing about. Don't you know that the summer is
nearly gone? And I do so much want to see
that house built. I want to have a home of my

own.

Thereupon I would for a time wield the ax
with more vigor, and then again there would be
a reaction— more days of idleness, or of wander-
ing by the stream, or on the grim mountain
slopes. But before snow came we had our modest
home built and furnished, and were content.

It was the following spring that Nat-ah'-ki's
mother died, after a very short illness. After
the body had been wrapped with many a blanket
ancl robe and securely bound with rawhide thongs,
I was told to prepare a coffin tor it. There was
no lumber for sale within a hundred and fifty
miles, but the good Jesuits, who had built a mis-
sion nearby, generously gave me the necessary
boards and I made a long wide box more than
three feet in height. Then I asked where the
grave should be dug. Nat-ah'-ki and the mourn-
Tng relatives were horrified. "What," the former
cried, "burying mother in a hole in the dark,
heavy cold ground?

"No! our agent has forbidden burials in trees,
but he has said nothing about putting our dead
in coffins on the top of the ground. Take the
box up on the side of the hill where lie the re-
main of Red Eagle, of other relatives, and we
will follow with all the rest in the other wagon."
I did as I was told, driving up the valley a
half mile or so. then turning up on the slope
where lay half a dozen rude coffins side by side
on a small level place. Removing the box from
the wagon, I placed it at some little distance
from the others and with pick and spade made
an absolutely level place for it. Then came the
others, a number of friends and relatives, even
three men, also relatives of the good woman.
Never before nor since have I known men to
attend a funeral. They always remained in their
lodge and mourned; so this was even greater
prof f the Ive and esteem in which Nat-ah'-ki's
mother had been held.

Nat-ah'-ki, from the moment her mother had
died, had neither slept nor partaken of food,
crying, crying all the time. And now she in-
sisted that none but she and I should perform
the last ceremonies. We carried the tightly wrap-
ped body and laid it in the big box, very carefully
and tenderly you may be sure, and then placed
at the sides and feet of it various little buck-
skin sacks, small parfleche pouches, containing
needles, awls, thread and all the various imple-
ments and trinkets which she had kept and
guarded so carefully. I raised and placed in
position the two boards forming the cover. Every
one was now crying, even the men. I held a
nail in position, and drove it partly down. How
dreadfully they sounded, the hammer blows hol-
lowly, loudly reverberating from the big, half
empty box. I had kept up thus far pretty well,
but the cold, harsh, desecrating hammering un-
nerved me. I tossed the implement away, sat
down, and in spite of all my efforts to control

myself, I cried with the rest. "I cannot do it."
I said, over and over, "I cannot drive those

nails."

Nat-ah'-ki came and sat down, leaned on my
shoulder and reached out her trembling hands
for mine.

"Our mother I" she said, "Our mother! just
think; we will never, never see her again. Oh.
why must she have died while she had not even
begun to grow old."

One of the men stepped forward, "Go you two
home," he said. "I will nail the boards."

So, in the gathering dusk, Nat-ah'-ki and I
drove home. I unhitched the horses and turned
them loose; and then entering the silent house
we went to bed. The Crow Woman, always
faithful and kind, came later, and I heard her
build a fire in the kitchen stove. Presently she
brought in a lamp, then some tea and a few
slices of bread and meat. Nat-ah'-ki was asleep ;
bending over me she whispered : "Be more than
ever kind to her now. my son. Such a good
mother as she had! There was not one quite
so good in all the earth; she will miss her so
much. You must now be to her both her man

and mother."

"I will," I replied, taking her hand. You
know that I will," whereupon she passed as
silently out of the room and out of the house as
she had come. It was a long, long time though,
before Nat-ah'-ki recovered her naturally high
spirits, and even years afterward she would
awake me in the night, crying, to talk about her

mother.

♦ ♦♦♦**

Since the rails of the great road had crossed
the land which White Calf said should never be
descrated by fire wagons, I thought that we might
as well ride upon them, but it was some time be-
fore I could persuade Nat-ah'-ki to do so. But
at last she fell grievously ill, and I prevailed on her
to see a famous physician who lived in a not far
distant city, a man who had done much for me
and of whose wonderful surgical work I never
tired telling. So, one morning, we took seats in
the rear Pullman of a train and started Nat-
ah'-ki sitting by the open window. ^^^'^fy^J^
came to a bridge spanning an . exceedingly deep
caiion, and looking down she gave a little cry of

surprise and terror, ^^^^^^^^'^ '\^^^^^
covered her face with her hands. I got her back
on the seat, but it was some time before she r^-
"ver d ^e^ composure. "It looked so awfuUy
fat down there," she said, "and supposing he
bridge had broken, we would all have been

^' itssured her that the bridges could not break^
that the men who built them knew just how
'much they could hold up, and that -s m^^^^^
than could be loaded on a tram. Thenceforth
she had no fear and loved the swift glide of a
train, her favorite place in suitable weather bemg
a seat out on the rear platform of the last PuU-

We hadn't been on the train fifteen minutes,
wheni suddenly realized something that I had never
• thought of before. Glancing at the women seated
here and there, all of them dressed in neat and
rich fabrics, some of them wearing gorgeous hats,
I saw that Nat-ah-'-ki was not in their class so
far as wearing apparel was concerned. She wore
a plain gingham dress, and carried a shawl and
a sun bonnet, all of which were considered very
"swell" up on the Reservation, and had been so

regarded in the days of the bufifalo traders at
Fort Benton. To my surprise, some of these
ladies in the car came to talk with Nat-ah'-ki,
and said many kind things to her. And the little
woman was highly pleased, even excited, by their
visits. **Why," she said to me in surprise, "I
did not think that white women would speak to
me. I thought they all hated an Indian woman.'*
"Many do," I answered, "but they are not
women of this class. There are women, and
women. My mother is like these you have spoken
to. Did you notice their dresses?" I added.
*'Well, so you must dress. I am glad that we
arrive in the city at night. You shall be dressed
like them before we go to the hospital."

Our train pulled into the city on time, and I
hurried Nat-ah'-ki into a cab, and thence to the
side entrance of a hotel, thence upstairs to a
room which I had telegraphed for. It was a
Saturday night and the stores were still open.
I found a saleswoman in a department store to
accompany me to the hotel and take Nat-ah'ki's
measure. In a little while we had her fitted out
with waists and skirts, and a neat traveling coat.
How pleased she was with them, and how proud
I was of her. There was nothing, I thought,
good enough to clothe that true and tried little
body, whose candor) and gentleness, and innate
refinement of mind were mirrored in her eyes.
We had dinner in our room. I suddenly re-
membered that I had not thought of one article
of costume, a hat, and out I went to get it. In
the lobby of the hotel I met an artist friend, and
besought his aid in selecting the important gear.
We looked at about five hundred, I thought, and
at las^ decided upon a brown velvet thing with
a black feather. We took it up to the room and
Nat-ah'-ki tried it on. " 'Twas too small," we all
declared, so back we went after another one.
There didn't seem to be any larger ones, and we
we discouraged. 'They don't fit down," I told
the woman, ''can't be made to fit like this," rais-
ing my hat and j amming it down in place, i he
woman looked at me in astonishment. "Why,
my dear sir!" she exclaimed. ''Women do not
wear their hats that way. They place them
lightly on the top of the head, and secure them
there with large pins, hat pins, running through
the hair."

"Oh, I see," I said. "That's the way, is it?
Well, give us back the hat and some pins, and
we'll be fixed this time, sure."

But we weren't. Nat-ah'-ki wore her hair in
two long braids, tied together and hanging down
her back. There was no way of skewering that
hat on, unless she wore her hair pompodour, or
whatever you call it, bunched up on top of the
head, you know, and of course she wouldn't do
that. Nor did I wish her to, I liked to see those
great heavy braids falling down, away down be-
low the waist.

"I have it," said my friend, who had ridden
some himself, in fact, had been a noted cow
puncher, "we'll just get a piece of rubber elastic
sewed on, like the string on a sombrero. That
will go under the braids, close to the skin, and
there you- are."

The store was just closing when I finally got
the elastic, some thread and needles, and Nat-
ah'-ki sewed it on. The hat stayed. One could
hardly knock it off. Tired and thirsty, the artist
and I withdrew in search of a long fizzing drink,
and Nat-ah'-ki went to bed. I found her wide
awake when I returned. "Isn't this splendid,"

she exclaimed, "everything as one could wish it.
You merely push a little black thing and some
one comes up to wait on you, to bring you your
dinner, or water, or whatever you want. You
turn faucets, and there is your water. With one
turn vou make the lightning lamps burn, or go
out. 'it is wonderful, wonderful. I could live
here very happily."

"Is it better than the neat lodge we had, when
we traveled about, when we camped right here ^
where this city stands and hunted buffalo?"

"Oh. no, no," she cried, "it is not like those
dear dead, past times. But they are gone. Since
we must travel the white man's road, as the chiefs
say, let us take the best we can find along the
way, and this is very nice."

In the morning we drove to the hospital, and
up the elevator to the floor and room assigned
to us. Nat-ah'-ki was put to bed by the Sisters,
with whom she immediately became infatuated.
Then came the doctor. "It is he," I told her, "the
one who saved me."

She rose up in bed and grasped one of his
hands in both her own. "Tell him," she said,
"that I will be good and patient. That no matter
how bad his medicines taste, I will take them,
that no matter how much he hurts me, I will not
cry out. Tell him I wish to get well quick, so
I can walk around, and do my work, and be happy
and healthy once more."

"It is nothing organic," said the doctor. it
does not even need the knife. A week in bed,
some medicine, and she can go home as well as

ever."

This was pleasing news to Nat-ah'-ki, when she
came to her senses. The chloroform did not
even make her ill, and she was as cheerful as a
lark from morning until night. The Sisters and
nurses were always coming in to talk and joke
with her, and when I was not on hand to inter-
pret, they still seemed to understand one another,
Nat-ah'-ki in some way making her thoughts
known. One could hear her cheery laughter
ringing out of the room and down the hall at
almost any hour of day.

-Never in my life," said the Sister Superior,
-have I known such another cheerful, innocent,
happy woman. You are a lucky man, sir, to have
such a wife."

Then came the happy day when we could set
out for home again. We went, and for a long
time Nat-ah'-ki talked of the wonderful thmgs
she had seen. Her faith in the Blackfoot men
and women doctors was shattered, and she did
not hesitate to say so. She told of the wonder-
ful way in which her doctor had cut patients in
the hospital and made them well; of his wonder-
ful lightning lamp, (X-ray) with which ones
bones, the whole skeleton, could be seen through
the flesh. The whole tribe became interested and
came to listen from far and near. After that,
many a suffering one went to the great hospital
and to her doctor, no matter what their ailment
was in full faith that they would be cured.

On our homeward way, I remember we saw a
man and two women loading a hay wagon, the
man on top of the load, the woman sturdily pitch-
ing up great forkfuls of hay to him regardless
of the extreme heat of the day. The little
woman was astonished, shocked. "I did not
think," she said, that white men would so abuse
their women. A Blackfoot would not be so cruel.
I begin to think that white women have a much
harder time than we do." •

"You are right," I told her, "most poor white
women are slaves; they have ot get up at three
or four o'clock in the morning, cook three meals
a day, make, mend and wash their children's
clothes, scrub floors, work in the garden, and
when night comes they have hardly strength left
to crawl to bed. Do you think you could do all

that?" ^ .,

"No," she replied, "I could not. I wonder it
that is not why some white women so dislike
us, because they have to work so dreadfully hard,
while we have so much time to rest, or go visit-
ing, or ride around here and there on the beauti-
ful plains. Surely our life is happier than theirs,
and you. Oh, lucky was the day when you chose
me to be your little woman."

The years passed happily for Nat-ah'-ki and me.
We had a growing bunch of cattle which were
rounded up with the other Reservation stock
twice a year. I built two small irrigating ditches
and raised some hay. There was little work to
do, and we made a trip somewhere every autumn,
up into the Rockies with friends, or took a jaunt
by rail to some distant point. Sometimes we
would take a skiff and idly drift and camp along
the Missouri for three or four hundred miles be-
low Fort Benton, returning home by rail. I
think that we enjoyed the water trips the best.
The shifting, boiling flood, the weird cliffs, the
beautifully timbered silent valley had a peculiar
fascination for us such as no place in the great
mountains possessed. It was one of these river
trips that Nat-ah'-ki began to complain of sharp
pain in the tips of her right hand fingers. "It
is nothing but rheumatism," I said, "and will

soon pass away."

But I was wrong. The pain grew worse, and
abandoning our boat at the mouth of Milk River,
we took to the first train for the city where our
doctor lived, and once more found ourselves in
the hospital, in the very same room, the same
good Sisters and nurses surrounding Nat-ah'-ki
and trying to relieve her of the pain, which was
now excruciating. The doctor came, felt her
pulse-, got out his stethoscope and moved it from
place to place until, at last, it stopped at a point
at the right side of the neck, close to the collar
bone. There he listened long, and I began to
feel alarmed. "It is not rheumatism, I said to
myself. Something is wrong with her heart."

The doctor gave some directions to the nurse;
then turning- to Nat-ah'-ki he said, "Take cour-
age, little friend, we'll pull you through all right."
Nat-ah-'-ki smiled. Then she grew drowsy

under the influence of an opiate; and we left

the room.

"Well, old man," said the doctor, "this time
I can do little. She may live a year, but I doubt

it." ,.

For eleven months we all did what we could,

and then one day, my faithful, loving, tender-
hearted little woman passed away, and left me. By
day I think about her, at night, I dream of her.
I wish that I had that faith which teaches us that
we will meet again on the other shore. But all

looks very dark to me.

Walter B. Anderson.

The Forest and Stream may he obtained from
any ncivsdealer on order. Ask your dealer to
supply yon regularly.

Ch-£,rOii^~^

V '

C. Hart Merrip^m

Papers

BANCMSS

80/18 c

ifi^^-^f

tream-

u gusty

Field and Stream — August ^ 19 i

ipe

left
dlii

liSS'!!

;xt arrivals at the tee

'hastily? Of will they

ind admiringly at that

it, tantalizing aroma?

>riar of yours is packed

Raleigh it will he as

>n the eighteenth hole

It's milder. It's full of

ind smooth — to the last

;af in the bowl. Pack

hip before your next

id watch how a sweet

>ves your game.

Sir Waltcf Raleigli, send
lur regular tobacconist and
k'ou kave a cliance to get
this rick) milder tobacco.

[rown and Williamson
>ration, Louisville, Ky.

ALTER
EIGH

Tob

acco

J milder

out of the notch. The string thereby
strikes the rear end of the arrow-shaft,
driving it forward along its groove.

The curious Dump seen over the lock
is ingeniously planned, shaped and con-
structed to check any jump of the bow-
string on coming out of the notch, such
as might cause it to fail to hit and drive
forward the shaft of the arrow. The com-
mon revolving catch or "nut" of the
mediaeval cross-bow, released by a sep-
arate trigger and thereby allowed to re-
volve and release the cord, was very
probably beyond the Indian's skill to copy
or his tools to construct. The entire arm,
save the bow-string, is of wood. No metal
of any kind enters into it.

On what game were these cross-bows
used, and at what distances were they
capable of accuracy and effectiveness? I
asked my Croatan informant both ques-
tions. His answer to the first was, "Any
small game." As a reply to the second,
he pointed out a distance which I meas-
ured and found to be 75 feet. In view of
the Indian's invariable custom of stalking,
or ''sneaking," into the shortest possible
range of any game whatever, it is entirely
possible that such short killing-range may
have been all he needed for birds, small
animals and the like. The arrows, he
told me, were made of dogwood, a com-
mon Indian arrow-material, or of stiff
reeds. The points were of flint, or later
of trader's iron, or often of the material
of the arrow-shaft itself, sharpened and
then hardened by fire.

Unlike Bob Becker's witnessing the
actual use of the blow-gun and using one
himself, none of us who saw and handled
the old cross-bow was willing to try to
bend it. Indeed, we would not have been
permitted, and rightly so, by those in
whose care it is today. Old bows of any
kind, long unused, invariably become so
dry and "set", that to draw one is almost
certain to crack or break it. This strange
old arm deserves, as it now receives, only

interested study and the respectful touch
of those privileged to examine it.

Finally, what actual evidence does it
present of the truth of the Croatan claim
to descent from ancestral intermarriage
with the members of the "Lost Colony"?
The only true answer is, "None." I do
think, however, that it is in itself definite
evidence that in the long ago— perhaps
more than three hundred years since —
the ancestors of these multi-bred Indians
learned, from Europeans familiar with
the cross-bow, how to make and use these
weapons, and that of such instruction this
remarkable relic is a direct descendant.
There exist even traces of other Indian
tribes (the Potawatomi) having made and
used similar weapons. In their case, also,
I feel sure that they learned the idea
from early European explorers.

THE cross-bow was used in England in
hunting deer till at least 1621 and
was similarly used on the Continent until
after 1650. During these latter years con-
stant expeditions of discovery, exploration
and colonization landed on the eastern
coast of America and even penetrated far
into the interior.

While the gun was being increasingly
adopted and developed for military pur-
poses during this time, pothing would
still be more likely than that many of
the arriving colonists, perhaps of the
humbler classes, would bring with them
their hunting cross-bows. The weapon's
independence of any supply of powder
and lead such as was necessary for the
serviceability of the gun was, doubtless,
an important factor. Its arrows could be
made anywhere and it would kill small
game or, with skill and good luck, even
deer. From such the ancestors of my Croa-
tan Indian friends learned to make these
arms with which hunting was done in
the pine-woods and swamps along the
Lumber River at a date within the mem-
ory of not a few who may read these lines.

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^^-^OTES^^^MS^SUBJEGT OF GUNJ^^TTING

By H. P. SHELDON /

SOONER or later, every gun lover who
enjoys an occasional opportunity to
publish his idea^-v^periences, and opin-
ions for the dubiou^vl^nefit of others, is
lured into the productioin of an essay
on the fitting of the gurhxThe subject
is beguiling in the matters it p«^ents for
discussion, and also because it na^ con-
stituted an active problem among^s^e
shooting gentry ever since the discovCTj;;
of the art of wing-shooting. It is a
dangerous subject for arbitrary discussiop,
however, and unless the essayist is y^y
good and very careful he is likely afr this
point in his career to lose Vbatever
measure of confidence he may ha|e gained
from his readers. / V

The correct "fit" of a guiV' is, V the
experienced shooter, the m^st desVable
and sometimes most elu^^e of allV.the
qualities that may be bestowed by ^e
gunmaker upon that temperamental arm,
the shotgun. A man can adjust himself to
the peculiarities of a rifle, but the shot-,
gun must be adjusted to the peculiarities
of the man— a thing that is sometimes
fairly easy to accomplish and in odier
cases is baffling and difficult in thft/ex-
treme. It cannot always be done ^mply
by giving the gunmaker a set of measure-
ments to indicate length and.*€rop of
stock, circumference and length of grip,
and kindred specifications. Th^i reason for
this is that the control of, 'the shotgun
involves mental impressions, nervous im-
pulses, reactions, and other influences
more nearly associated with the study of

psychology than we are apt to realize.
As a rule, we begin our shooting know-
ing little or nothing about gun fit. A
three-inch drop on a nine-pound gun
seems to us then to be as good as any
other combination. As we progress, how-
ever, we discover that certain individual
arn)^ seem to possess a marvelous power
tQ>' complement our" skill. The effect, to
(itie who has p^haps been shooting an
* wkward, badly/ designed, sluggish piece
o^k. ironmongej?5^, appears to be almost
mir^lous. Once it is experienced, no
sensiblbvguttner will ever again use for
long, orNwith any actual pleasure, a
weapon -^ab^oes not have this attribute.
The 9)&ality^not easy to define. Many
sportstfien belieW that fit is wholly a
matter of stock dh^nsions and so are
conj|?ent to rely onNhese specifications
wklen they order a neW gun. In truth,
th'e length, drop, and sha>e of stock are
important details, but the de^ed "handi-
/ ness" is concerned with more ttjan these.
The weight of the gun, the length of th?
barrels, the shape of the rib, the trigger
pull, and even the type of action, boX or
side lock, are likewise matters of im-
portance.

One will not purchase many guns be-
fore discovering that he can have t>yo
weapons exactly alike in all such details
as can be measured with a pair of calipers,
yet one may be a nice fit while the other
is hopelessly "off." It is at this stage that
men lose faith in the simple rules of
self -measurement and, unless they take

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75 Federal St., Boston, Mass.

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off by the inertia wh^rc such a Hght and
low mounted scope i^ concerned.

Another scope of comparatively recent
desigti is the Hunter Model brought out
by Bciding and Mul^ of Philipsburg, Pa.

This 'instrument Was designed by Mr
Belding to meet the ^eeds of those among
us who fopnd the original B. & M. Marks-
man Mod6l. entirely too heavy and cum-
bersome for sporting use.

It was built with ah eye to the fact that
the hunter normally uses but one load and
rarely changes adjustments. He usually
zeros his sights for average distanc^. and
holds over for increased range. This is
simple enough with a^y good tel^cope.

The glass is Zyi pdwer, whi^ft is quite
all the hunter requites in the way of
magnification, and hai a fieW of 40 feet
at 100 yards. The glass has unusually
high illumination an^ /^lear definition,
though I do not know^fhe exact amount.

The scope is 12 inches long and 1^
inches in diameter And weighs but nine
ounces alone and complete with the mount
attached, 14 ounces. It is supplied with a
reticule having a flat top post-^ne, me-
dium or coarse ; or a pointed picket for an
aiming point.

The glass has universal focus and is
said to be free from parallax at any
range. There are absolutely no exterior
projections on either sc6pe or mount. All
adjustments for elevation, windage and
parallax are achieved within the tube.
Upon the forward end of the tube is a
sleeve cover which slides forward reveal-
ing the adjustment screwsr-one on top for
elevation, and one on each side for wind-
age. The necessary adjuftment must be
mide with a small, preferably a jeweler's,
sc|ew driver, and when once set, remains
fi>4d for all time.

The mounts consist of two dove-tail
baies permanently screwed to the top of
th<j receiver and a truss female portion in
wl)ich the glass is supported. This is de-
taihable and when attached, is locked in
pldce by two locking levers, similar to
theHsystem vt»e^i-amth<ht Gi*i#n -and Howe »

TTOOnt,-^ instead of the impractical acrcvf-
oins supplied with the original Marksman
Model to which I objected. They involved
too much waste of time inl attaching or
detaching the instrument to the rifle with
the ever present possibility! that one or
more of them might be droifced and lost.

In all, its simplicity of Idesign — neat
outline, light weight and Itrength, to-
gether with the fact that it istttached and
sighted in for $56.00 to an)f rifle — com-
mends it to practical sportsiten.

The only fault with it is, that as it is
mounted directly over the center of the
barrel, it prohibits the use Ibf the iron
sights when the glass is atta&ed, unless
it is mounted far higher than ( desirable.

As attached to my Savajke Model
1899G for the .250-3000 cartrWge as il-
lustrated on page 82, it presentsfe splendid
combination for vermin. I had tw difficulty
in securing with it 2% inchfcroups at
100 yards from the prone potion with
sling, but without rifle rest.

THERE is also a new moun^ designed
and manufactured by the Ntidner Ri-
fle Corp., Dowagiac, Michigan. I have not
seen, much less used it. It appears from
the photographs to be similar to tfie Grif-
fin and Howe and the Noske, save that the
windage adjustment is taken care of at
the front end, instead of the rear and is
accurately laid off on the adjustment
screw-head. Also the fastening of the
detachable portion to the base portion on
the rifle is cared for by two screws, the
heads of which are slotted to be turned
with a coin. Otherwise, it is an off-set
mount with a dove-tail fastened to the
left side of the receiver supporting the
glass, over the center of the barrel.

I believe that, as all of the good mounts
are^ quite similar in design, except the
Meise, and it seems no better method can
be found at this late date for the bolt ac-
tion rifle — that the precision with which
they are made is the most important con-
siderafiolt. Such careful workmanship we
-^¥ooid ejq>«0^4M^iiUhe N«idner «l*Ofr. ^-

CROSS-BOWS AND THE INDIANS
WHO USED THEM

By Paul B. Jenkins

FEW articles on unusual arms have ever
given me as much of a "kick" — which
is saying a good deal, as they happen to
be my incurable hobby — as did "Bob"
Becker's striking tale in the March issue
of Field and Stream about the Cherokee
Indians on the eastern slopes of the Great
Smoky Mountains in western North Caro-
lina, and the primitive blow-guns which
they still use. Inasmuch as it chanced
that I got my copy the night before I
was to start for that identical neighbor-
hood, on a motor-trip from Wisconsin to
North Carolina, I naturally found this nar-
rative particularly interesting. I was not
half-way through it, before I had vowed
that I would go to Bryson City and meet
Horace Kephart — whom everyone inter-
ested in woodcraft or the Southern "high-
landers" or the history of the mid-South
always hopes to meet. From there I
would go to see those Cherokees of Bob's
and have a look at those blow-guns.

It happens that I know a little, in an
amateurish way, about blow-guns, as I
have owned two of them. One of these
came from Sumatra, and I shot — or should
I say "blew" — it around southern Wis-
consin. This gun, however, was of the
rnore common light-arrow variety using
tiny, slender bamboo darts whose points
had been, or were supposed to be, poisoned.
It is true they are old, and had been
"doped" some time ago, and maybe I
was a bit shy of them. I must confess,

however, that I never could get those
things to travel with any accuracy, and
I certainly wanted to see an American
blow-gun that would propel a life-size
arrow with sufficient power to kill small
game. Accordingly, the next morning,
when we waded through three feet of
snow in a temperatiire 19J^ degrees "be-
low," to start the car, the Lady said:
"Well, here goes for warmth and sun-
shine and flowers!" I added: "Yes, and
for Bob Becker's Cherokees and their
blow-guns !" ^

But I didn't make it, at that. After be-
ing detained for thirty-six hours at Berea
by that famous snow-fall such as the oldest
"highlanders" of those Kentucky hills had
never heard of, we finally wound around
the dizzy curves of the mountain highway
through Cumberland Gap in a pouring
rain that threatened to wash away any
road that wasn't made of concrete. And
I had an appointment at Pinehurst, on
the other side of the State, the next day 1
So I had to pass up meeting Horace Kep-
hart and the Cherokees and their blow-
guns, until — well, next winter, maybe.

It was a disappointment, of course;
such as only a "blown-in-the-glass** gun-
crank knows. But it chanced to be only
a few days thereafter that I ran across
a tale that made my eyes stick out—^or
a sane, normal, intelligent individual
calmly told me of more North Carolina
Indians, who claimed to be descendants

id and Stream — Augusty 1929

o. 5 OF A S

of Sir Walter Raleigh's famous "Lost
Colony" of 1587. These Indians used, and
still had in their possession cross-bows,
which they claimed were centuries old
and were copied, from old English origi-
nals in the possession of those long-lost
English Colonists of the Sixteenth Cen-
tury 1 Can you imagine how long it took
me to start for those cross-bows?

Were they there? Well, look at the

photograph! .1. • ut f

The claim of these people to their Lost
Colony" ancestry will be summed up as
briefly as possible. It is important, how-
ever, as their cross-bows are no small
link in such evidence as exists in the case.
In 1583 Queen Elizabeth— urged by that
popular craze to discover and claim new
and unknown lands and their possible
riches— authorized Sir Walter Raleigh,
*'his heirs and assigns forever, to dis-
cover, search, find and view such remote
and heathen and barbarous lands, coun-
tries and territories, not actually pos-
sessed of any Christian Prince, nor

the tract of sand, pine-forests, swamps
and rivers which constitute the south-
eastern corner of North Carolina. This un-
attractive area was largely passed by in
the continuous settlement of more fertile
and promising sections. Here an outlying
band of Cherokee Indians continued to
live very much as they pleased.

It chanced that in 1864, on a funeral
occasion attended by a number of whites,
an old Indian of the tribe made a speech.
He narrated a striking tale to the eftect
that many years before, his people had
taken certain whites to live with them.
They adopted their ways, laws and re-
ligion, and had ever since been on the
side of the white race.

When this address came to be known,
there gradually arose a marked interest
in these particular Cherokees. Investiga-
tions continuing until the present day have
revealed no definite clues whatever prov-
ing any connection between the famous
"Lost Colony" and this Croatan group
(as they call themselves) of obviously

fALI

^HE ideal shotgun p

gave the shot char

lling power without

[is ideal can never b

[ntradict a physical

lird Law of Motion 1

[etion and reaetiom

Expressing this ir

WEIGHT OF THI

VELO(

WEIGHT OF THI
RECOIL VEl

jean be seen from th
lot charge and the ^
[e same, then any in
[ot has to be accomj

icoil Velocity. It cai
fotgun load which

joil must necessarily
than a shotgun lo;

wavier recoil.

le Recoil Velocity ca
transposing the eq^

WEIGH

\coil Velocity:::, VELO
of Gun —

E. I. du Pont de Ne

American Indian cross-bow made about 1780 by the Croatan tribe of Cherokees,

Robeson County, North Carolma

moki

inhabited by Christian people, as to him,
his heirs and assigns, to every or any of
them shall seem good, and the same to
have, hold and occupy and enjoy, to him,
his heirs and assigns, forever/' ^

On the strength of that commission,
Raleigh fitted out a number of expeditions
to the still largely unknown eastern shore
of the new western world. Such expedi-
tions sailed in 1584, 1585 and 1586. In
1587 three ships landed what was meant
to be a permanent colony of 125 men,
women and children, on Roanoke Island
on the coast of North Carolina.

The'commander of the expedition, John
White, returning to England for supplies,
was detained by the Spanish Armadas
great attack on England. It was not until
four years later, in 1591, that he was able
to return to ascertain the fate of his luck-
less colonists. To his dismay he found
them vanished, their fort in ruins, the sole
tangible clue to their fate being the word
Croatoan carved on a tree on the deserted
site. This was the English version of the
name of a tribe of friendly Indians living
not far away, also called Croatans, But
the captain of ^'Governor*' White's hired
ship would not wait to permit a search to
be made for them, so the vessel left, and
neither man, woman nor child of the
"Lost Colony" was ever seen again by

white men. ^ . , . , ,,

So much is definite history ; and there
are details innumerable on record, of the
expeditions, their personnel, names, desul-
tory explorations, experiences, and the
like— a fascinatii?g story for the student.
In the course of the next two hundred
and fifty years America was largely set-
tled, developed and civilized, with here
and there a few out-of-the-way spots that
remained little known. One of these was

very mixed-breeds. There are, however,
many curious and certainly suggestive
evidences of a close degree of intimacy
between their forefathers and a consider-
able element of European and negro infu-
sions into the tribe.

In Robeson County, where they chiefly
live today, they constituted, as they still
do, the bulk of the population— possibly
some 6,000 to 8,000 living there now.
Among them is every shade of skin from
deep bronze to practically perfect blondes,
and every texture of hair from the long,
black, coarse locks of the Indian to
"kinky" or even "golden"curls— many very
fashionably "bobbed"! Any pretty ones?
Well, you ought to give the girls at the
County Normal School *'the once-over"!

BUT, note!— these investigations have
shown that of the hundred and twenty
recorded family names of the "Lost Col-
ony" of 1587, not less than sixty are
family-names among these Croatans to-
day. They are nearly all Protestants, and
claim long to have been such. The old
people among them use many curious
words which seem definitely old English
—"hit" for "it," "hosen" for "hose,'
"housen" for "houses." "mension" for
"measurement," "mon" for "man," and
many others. Almost without exception,
the more intelligent elders claim inter-
marriage between whites and Cherokees
as their definite family-traditions. And
up to fifty years ago the more remote or
poorer members of the tribe, unable to
afford guns and gunpowder, hunted con-
tinually with wooden cross-bows. It is
claimed that these bows were made-
many of them a hundred to a hundred
and fifty years ago— on the lines, con-
struction and operation of those originally

itions,
ed a s
J recoil
and is
raph.

[y susp
ointer
' as it f
hegui
exerci
as sa

:he pri
lave 8<
itic qi;
ority
uccess
>f exce
tinue
ammi:

nence
n sup
id qua
eputai
e conl

klelai7

lei

Field and Stream — August ^ 1929

brought over by the "Lost Colony"
of 1587.

Of these extremely interesting o-d
cross-bows, at least two survive today and
it is not improbable that others might be
unearthed by a thorough search among
their settlements. One is, so they told me,
in the possession of their "head chief."
Another was fortunately secured by the
devoted labor of their foremost white
friend and historian, the late Mr. Hamil-
ton McMillan of Red Springs, Robeson
County. It was wisely placed by him for
' permanent preservation with the State
Historical Commission at Raleigh, where
I saw it. I handled and measured it, and
by the courtesy of Colonel Fred. Olds
of the State Historical Collection was
permitted to secure the accompanying
photograph of this most remarkable relic

of the past.

The arm is 36 inches long from
center of butt to "muzzle," and the stout,
thick bow is the same length "from tip
to tip." It is extremely light in weight,
weighing less than four pounds. The
wood of which it is made is a light gray-
ish-yellow in color. One of the veteran
Croatans, Mr. Calvin Lowrey of near
Pembroke, told me that it was maple. It
shows every evidence of great age and
much handling, being literally worn
smooth in many places, such as the grip,
butt and left-hand grip. Mr. Lowrey told
me that the bow was not less than a hun-
dred and fifty years old, and possibly older.

THE shape of the stock from trigger
to butt is very definitely gun-like;
more so than of any early cross-bow of
which I know. I think that any informed
examiner would agree with me that this
part of the arm was copied from a gun-
stock. The bow-string is of thick, strong,
twisted raw-hide. It is fastened to the
ends of the bow so it can be either length-
ened or shortened at the choice of the
shooter, thus of course loosening or tight-
ening it and thereby giving less or more
power— and a corresponding range and
accuracy— to the discharged arrow. Such
alteration of tension was effected by sim-
ply taking up or letting out an additional
turn of the string around one tip of the
bow, as is distinctly shown on the right-
hand tip in the photograph. ^

The same veteran told me that in his
own use, and seeing others use these
weapons, it was the practice, for the sake
of avoiding unnecessary over-strain of
the bow, to effect only such tension of
the string as an anticipated shot would
seem to require.

The arm has no sights of any kind. It
is well known that many ancient European
cross-bows had elaborate sights, with ele-
vating "peep" and even wind-gauge
devices. A Swiss cross-bow that I own
has an elevating rear peep-sight and a
front bar-sight on a block.

The "lock," so to speak, of the arm,
whereby the string is held in the drawn
or "cocked" position, and thence dis-
charged, is at once simple and ingenious.
Yet it is unlike any other of which I
have been able to find record ; and I have
all the books on the subject. It consists
of a simple notch to which the string is
pulled back, thus bending the bow. In
the front face of this notch, is a slot in
which fits the upper rear face of the
trigger, a simple stout piece of wood,
trigger-shaped, pivoted in front of the
notch and extending below the stock like
the trigger that its lower portion forms.
There is no trigger-guard, nor a trace
of any. On "cocking" the bow-string—
and placing an arrow in the groove for
it with the rear end of the shaft just in
front of the drawn string— a pull on the
trigger simply shoves the string up and

/// get that bin

He is sure of himself and
equally sure of his —

IYER JOHN

SHOT GU

iSSB^^i'-

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M k

il -i-^^Av^sy'ii^

F\t\l and Strto-rn, March \41^.

Samson Welch, champion Cherokee blow-gunner, about to blow an arrow through his 9-foot 4-inch gun

owin

UpY

our

ame

T/ie Cherokee Indians of the Great Smoky Mountains are the original ''blow -hards''

EVEN in this day of remarkable
guns and long-range shells, many
a moan rises from disgruntled hun-
ters because they can't reach far
enough on a moving live target. I used
to be in this lamenting chorus, but I'm
cured, as just a short time ago I stepped
back five centuries to get acquainted with
the blow-gun. It's a far cry from "two-
lung" power guns to high-power rifles.
No, "far" is not quite strong enough to
describe the distance between the lung-
power blow-gun of the Cherokee In-
dians and our modern hunting weapons.
Now that I am shooting both, I have
resigned from the choir of gun com-
plaints.

And what is this American blow-gun?
Speaking straight to the point, it's a
long, hollow tube of bamboo cane
through which short arrows feathered
with thistle down are blown with suffi-
cient force to kill small game. Imme-
diately a loud noise may be heard, above
which the sportsman will shout, "Go
on ! You can't blow anything hard enough
to kill small game."

But the blow-gun will kill game, and
today in far-away countries it still is
killing game for the naked savage who
uses it. I do not know how old the blow-
gun as a weapon is. Perhaps the Bureau
of Ethnology in Washington can say.
But this much is true. The Choctaw and
Cherokee Indians in the United States
have used blow-guns for many centuries.
Aloreover, the scientists tell us that these
tribes learned of this weapon from In-
dians far to the south. Sounds reason-
able enough, as I have traveled many
thousands of miles through the hinter-
land of Brazil and I can take you to
blow-gun Indians down there along the
equator.

But enough of this scientific angle.
Lay aside your rifles and your goose

By BOB BECKER

guns, and Til put you next to the
mechanics of the original brand of "blow-
hard" smokeless powder and a two-lung
power gun.

I found the Cherokee Indian blow-gun
a few months ago, when I made a peace-
ful invasion of the Cherokee Indian
reservation about fourteen miles from
Bryson City, North Carolina. It seemed
quite fitting that close to Bryson I
should find this primitive old weapon
which brings with it an atmosphere of
outdoor life, woodcraft and savages, be-
cause in Bryson I met Horace Kephart,

Closc'iip of a thistle'doivn arrow

i'i^lt^fiiii-\',,<,iu,,i'i^ [friifi/.i».,»MwaMdiiiiaiMiii

author of the book on woodcraft which
every sportsman knows.

Living on 65,000 acres of as beautiful
a mountain country as I have ever seen,
the Cherokees and their blow-guns were
soon located. I spent many hours in their
home country tramping up steep moun-
tain sides to visit some of the old men
who owned blow-guns, and I talked with
them, through interpreters,- about the
old days when hunting witli a blow-gun
was a common way of getting meat for
the pot. Then some of the expert gunners
demonstrated their skill.

The first complete demonstration of
what a blow-gun could do in the hands
of an expert was given by Samson
Welch, a good-looking Cherokee living
altogether too high, for me, up one of
the many mountainsides on the reserva-
tion. Welch trotted out his blow-gun,
made two arrows for me, and then did
some target shooting.

HIS gun was 9 feet 4 inches in
length. It was a straight, hollow
tube of bamboo cane, brown with age,
slightly cracked, but still shooting
straight as a line. I found the breech
end slightly larger than the muzzle. The
inside of the gun was well polished. In
some way the Indians have been able to
burn out the joints in the cane so that
nary a blemish, bump or rough edge can
be seen in the barrel.

Every outdoorsman is familiar with
the feathering which the Indians of
North America put on arrows for bow
work. But the Cherokees, probably after
considerable experimenting, turned to the
light, fluffy, silk-like down of the thistle
pod for their blow-gun arrows. In this
phase of their blow-gun work they again
show a relationship to the Indians of
Brazil, who "feather" their small blow-
gun darts with finely drawn cotton.

"On a ny." Aiul Rill actually swelled.

It was a treat to sec the look of relict
( based by a smile that spread across his
Ic^Zrcd face. '"Crotch !" he exclaimed
and continued his smoke Presently, he
asked several questions that were ob-
viouslv to test out Bill's geographic
knowledge of the country in ^vhich Island
Lake lies. He seemed sat isheU with bills

answers. , . \ «.r 4^ ^

-By crotch!" he exclaimeA I got a
notion to tell you about a \pond, not
many miles from thar. An Ml gamble
lliat there ain't anybody fished \ it since
I was thar last." He got up (M o his
chair and looked at Bill. "By ji\gol Im
a-goin' to," he exclaimed. \

Then he insisted that we gathA about
him, and he whispered the tale : \

-iMfteen-no, it ain't more n tenVvcars

—come next July I done a fool thinaL he

began. *1 lugged a two-gallon ca\ ot

small salmon for thirty miles and duniteed

'em in a little pond in that country wh^c

vou catched that big trout. It s^ a litt

pond, maybe ten acres, but shes a de-

ceivin' one— waters deep, deeper n youd

cvucss a little pond could be. She s plumto

full of feed— shiners. Never was a good

fish pond. Fact, nobody ever caught a

trout in it. Some little ponds did get

left out when ole nature put the trout

round, ycr know. I was back thar two,

t'rec times, an' them salmon was a-

crowin' good. Sometimes when 1 cant

sleep at nights, I lay awake wondcrin

iiow big they be now."

BUT," pointed out Bill, "somebody
got them long ago." ^

The old-timer shook his head. Ciuess
not; guess not," he said. "It's an outer
ibc way pond. Off from the way a teller
would naturally look for a pond, and
there's no inlet or outlet to toller.

'•But somebody just must have blun-
dered on to them," persisted Bill.

'♦Guess not," said the old man. How d
vou like to be the f^rst to try em ou ?
' Bill opened his mouth and then shut

Captain Kidd's Pond

it. He looked as though he might laugh
or cry, and wound up with scratching his

^''?'You can see," said Jake, "that he's

^''^T^lfeyVe'um,^ said Durgin Bean im-

^'-But/'^said Jake, "ten years is a long

"^'it ain't so long, young feller. Thar's
sunthin' shy about that pond. If anybody
un that wav knows about it, they ye
never give it a thought as a place to
fish."

BUT somebody going by would be
sure to see them jumping m ten
years' time," I suggested.

"Does seem possible, agreed the old-
timer, "but I 'spose hundreds has passed
by that pond without seem it at an.

Several customers came into the stj
and I left to help the clerk, ^\hlle JrAs^s
so engaged the old-timer went ^. Ana
we never saw him again. ,'

It takes several kinds of ji^ffk to run a
^successful sporting goods store, or any
Siher project, for that matter. When the
olivchap failed to dt:e(p in again and we
nev^tsaw him trajMhg by. Jake formed a
pronounced opmibn that he had been

stringiiiktis. / _ . t-«jj

♦It ^ide^ like a Captain Kidd
trcasure-ni)i story /» he declared. But
lake iy^N-eW human; so he addeci,
''Blan>(^ if I aon't hate to think that he

wasygassing usSl}OH?J?-'* , . . tt-

Xiit you knowNEiH s kind. His own
selling psvchology \as turning its guns
on him. He began tdsplay with a dandy
little flv rod we had \i stock. And he
studied 'flies. In March ^had a thaw in
Boston, and a rush of ^siness. Bill s
special flv sold like hot cak?^

Now if vou like to fish buf^dont want
to suffer, keep out of a sporW goods
store when you cant get a\VV^. ine
bitten and the swollen come wifk their
tongues hanging out. And the liesN^iey
tell, and the dreams they air out, >mcl

the plans they unfold are enough to drive
one to fishing in his mother's mop pail.
Yes, sir; the dyed-in-the-hackle fisher-
man hasn't any license to laugh at Sim-
ple Simon— not by a long cast.

Even lake began to forget orders and
to misplace stock. Just at the right
moment, so far as I was concerned, Bill
produced a map the ol4rfimer had drawn
for him while I had >een waiting on the
trade, and on the 6pposite side of the
sheet* was a brief note of introduction to
a guide in Cardtunk, Maine.

Bill declar/d he had made up his mind.
"I'm goin&j' he said. "What if we can't
locate tbc lost pond? There are plenty
we cayftnd in that country."

h, all right, go ahead, said Jake,
look after the more prosaic end of
„,c partnership, and you and Mack can
take a week or ten days to chase rain-
bows. But just remember before you
start that Vm telling you, you will not
find Captain Kidd's pond."

Blowing Up Your Game

PETE, an acquaintance of ours, de-
cided to accept Bill's invitation to
accompany us, although he made it per-
fectly clear that he considered the oM-
timer's tip and map a couple of hoaxes.
In fact, he rubbed it in a little too much,
considering he was to be a guest and not
a court jester.

April came, and early fishing lies. May
came with more lies, and some truths
June came— and we went. Bill coulcln t
reconcile himself to the necessity of leav-
ing dear old Jake behind. In fact he
offered to stay behind himself it Jake
wanted to go. But Jake declarexl, vvith a
grin, that the pleasure was to be all his.
Caratunk is a pleasant little village,
with a population that is small but select
—hand-picked Yankees. The Kennebec
River flows just to the west of it, and
the road to Canada passes through the
main street. The old-timer's note was
addressed to one Dave Pooler, who
proved to be a mild, blue-eyed man,
large of build (Continued on page 85)

Alter the fo, lilted, we sat up in our blankets, and there, ben.nth ^\was a gray body ol water

Welch used the regtilation thistle-
down arrow. He took a straight, thin
shaft of wood about 21 inches long and
showed us how the thistle down, fragile
material at best, was bound to the ar-
row. It was a simple operation, because
the Indian merely tied chunk after chunk
to the arrow with stout cord until five
or six inches of thistle down had been .
wTapped. After sharpening the point of
the arrow, my Cherokee friend was ready
to hunt squirrels, rabbits, doves, par-
tridges or other small game.

How far does it shoot? What is the
range of the blow-gun? Here are two
questions which sportsmen pop at me
when I bring out my blow-gun and be-
gin to bang away at a target. Welch
shot his gun at a small target 5 x 2Vj
inches and hit it mid-center with no ef-
fort at all at a distance of forty feet.
Apparently those Cherokees have no
trouble in killing at ^0 yards, or 60 feet.
I talked for some time with Samson
Welch, one of the best blow-gunners on
the reservation today, and he showed me,
by pacing, the distances at which he was
accustomed to kill his game. Without
doubt one of those boys can hit and kill
an object farther away than sixty feet,
but nearly all their shooting is very like-
ly between forty and sixty feet. When
the Cherokees stage a contest and shoot
at a target, they stand at a distance of
forty feet, which apparently is a fair
standard.

WHILE down there I tried for dis-
tance and by excessive blowing
shot, or rather blew, an arrow 118 feet.
But, of course, at that distance there
was no killing power in the niissile.

This ten-foot gun is unwieldy, difficult
to carry in the woods and fragile because
thin bamboo cane can be cracked easily.
It's a fair-weather weapon, for the blovv-
gun cannot stand rain or snow, and is
limited in range and killing power. There
you are— a picture which stands on one
side of the panorama depicting the evo-
lution of our hunting weapons. On the
other side the high-power rifle, easy to
handle, with a short 18-inch or 26-inch
barrel, and the 32-inch goose and duck

The same stance as that ol South Sea
Island savages

gun capable of killing at long ranges.
Yes, sir; a visit to the Great Smokies
near Bryson, where the blow-gun is
rapidly passing as one feature of our
Indian Americana certainly does bring
home the fact that we have "come a long
way."

As far as I have been able to learn,
the Cherokee has never used poison on

Sigla Ned, an old Cherokee, with a ten-loot bamboo cane blow-gun

his blow-gun arrows— a stunt which is
common among tribes in South America
and the South Seas. This has made
hunting with a blow-gun a more difficult
task, as our Indians have been obliged
to kill their game with an arrow which
must shock, penetrate and disable. The
Brazilian blow-gunners using poison sim-
ply have to puncture their quarry, and
poison does the rest.

And now, can the American sportsman
find use for a modified blow-gun in his
fun afield? Take a good hold, mates, as
my answer is yes. I repeat yes; if
you're interested enough, you can have
some fun with a blow-gun.

Here is my program for the blow-gun.
I am now having a 5V$-footer made. The
material will be mahogany, and the bar-
rel will be hand-polished, so that friction
will be reduced to almost nothing. Ma-
hogany as a material is frankly an ex-
periment, but I believe it will work. I

also am having made three types of ar-
rows. Some will be barbed and some
merely sharp-pointed. They're going to
be used in the following manner.

In the ^liddle West the guides who
steer the muskie tishermen to the big
'lunge invariably tote a revolver of vil-
lainous size and dangerous possibilities.
The practice is to wham the 20-, 30- or
40-pound muskie with a revolver bullet
as soon as the fish is brought within
shooting distance. Sometimes a rifle is

used.

I have long considered all such hard-
ware quite superfluous, if not to say
strictly out of place. Moreover, I never
did like to participate in target practice
of any kind when I'm with two or three
excited fishermen. Maybe I'm persmck-
etv, but the fact remains; I don't like it!

Now if mv guide insists on shooting
the muskie, all right ; but let's get down
to a less dan- {Continued on page 6l)

BLOWING UP YOUR GAME

(Continued from page 35)
serous and at the same time sportier
basis. Let's take a crack at tiose (cro-

cious man-eating, fresh-water tigers with . . • y

a blow-gun. It's going to take some ^/ ^^^^ of h-fishlllg gtVCS a fcW SUggCStlOnS

nifty marksmanship to place an arrow y J J J J c>

in a moving fish which »s threshing on
the surface, and Mr. Muskic stands a
pretty good chance of breaking loose

vith some Uckle or throwing the hook
from his undershot jaw. But thats all
richt. There'll be fun in such a program,
and there'll be a challenge in standing

in a boat trying to blow an arrow into

a moving target. . . . „

I have a hunch that blow-gunnmg a

muskie is going to be no easy job, al-

™h I am confident that one tipped

arrow blown with the force which I have

finally gotten into my shots w'U certa nly

Uluss him up considerabe. And gettmg

the full force of your lung power be-
hind an arrow is quite a stunt. I watched

the Cherokees for some time before i

learned that you start your blow away

down around your tummy and then

zZlel Let 'er go with a sharp blast

which makes the arrow shoot out with

* Although the application of blow-gun-
nery to muskie fishing is occupying my
attention at the present moment. I have
found our original nine-foot Cherokee
cun a handy tool around the house, as
1 have been in the midst of a sparrow
and cat campaign. I commend the b ow-
gun for such a campaign because it is

"°lf you have any bird houses, you don't
want cats. Of late my idea has been to
cet blow-gun practice and not kill the
cats So I am able to open a window,
shove the gun through, and make it very
unpleasant for the bird-killing elines by
, smacking them with a blunt thistle-
down arrow. A pointed arrow shot from
a blowgun will undoubtedly cause the
death of a cat or at least inflict a
severe injury. But I have no ideas along
this line. When bird enemies are to be
wiped out, a gun should be used.

Target shooting much like archery on

the lawn, use on muskies, a make-life-mis-

crable weapon against cats— these are the

uses for the primitive old Cherokee blow-
gun as I have adapted it. Somehow or

nthpr I net a great kick out of it be-

cause it Ts such an elementally simole

old weapon— a tube, an arrow and your

lungs. Also because it has been tucked

away in the beautiful mountain valleys

of the Great Smokies for so many years

-isolated, a part of a vast wlderness

and an Indian tribe's culture— while on

all sides high-power guns, with modern
shot and shell, have been developed to
a startling point of efficiency.

ancK

By SAMUEL G. CAMP

1 \ feclion is slated to wait quite a while.
\Thc reader will, of course, understand
\\2X I am by no means taking exception
xk the rule of selecting the very best fly
rod and other tackle which the purchaser
caiAafford. It is particularly true m fly-
fishiVg for trout that good tackle— the
finest\if possible— greatly enhances the
sport, furthermore, the employment of
tine tackle certainly tends to produce the
much Asired results, if for no other
reason tliyn that the user of a first-class
outfit, derVing no little enjoyment merely
from its iitee in casting, is more apt to
continue against odds than the poorly
equipped fis\ierman who usually needs
tangible encouragement, meaning trout,
in order to k\ep him going.

But a thoroitehly satisfactory oittfit for
trout fly-fishingL cannot be soCured by
merely spending\ioney. Perhajis it would
he going a bit to(Afar to say that fly-cast-
ing for trout is a spbrt of "infinite variety."
Dnt certainly the flange is wide— all the
way from casting fdk the/ix-pounders of

Dry-point by JV. J. Sc

or the weighty steelh
to brook-fishing for.
possibly the Catsk

"nf

the Nipigoi
the Rogu
inche
Berk^hinfs.

Lilieyise there must be taken in

siderapon the two methods of fly-(

wet atd dry, and the fact that for 1

resulta the outfit should be selected

view t\ which method is to be chi

perhapi exclusively, used. Accordi

should DC obvious that something

dition to a comfortable bank ba

namely, \wise selection — is necesj

secure the proper fly-fishing equipn

the specmc purpose which you 1

mind. i i

As above noted, the range oi

fishing isAvery wide. For brevity

and in theiinterest of the greatest

of readeri it will no doubt be

discuss chiefly the right tackle/

most comrkon variety of the spbi

is, small-stJeam fishing. f \

To the great majority of anglei

ing for trott with the fly meaniS w

the small stleams, little rivers fang

from twentyito forty feet in vy'idth

most part aim, except perhapf for

reach here zlnd there, of widable

On such a stneam — really thd typic

stream — a criel of a dozea or s

averaging tern inches constitutes i

day's take, though there is flways a

of a pound fis

Every year ftumb^ of really
trout are takeiA from juit such i
particularly if tkey hold/browns (
bows in addition to thfc Eastern
trout. It might bV addel that mar
anglers are quite Vontett with stn
this character anb hive no asp
toward more prettntAus waters.
Now very likelyVtlie fly rod w
exactly suited to theWeneral run o
stream trout — or, iJ us say, fist
a pound or so in wotht — is not p
the one with whiclvybu would cli
stack up against a/ twee- or f ou
^rown or rainbow/in mst water. 1
in places these sniall ^reams are
develop some fairly straig rapids,
opinion, the logictl ans\^r is as i
Under ordinary/ conditions, big
bass, too — are npre or lels accidei
the small-stream fly-fish«*rnan v
comes a victiny to what iWght hi
the big-fish ohfeession is ^ry mi
of luck. In thjl plainest of langua,
licked before le starts.

TO be sure, every year ^ nut
large tiput are recordol fr
usual sort ofysmall streams. Tie re
by the way,/is to **civilized" Jtrea
wilderness Avaters. But if ydj[i t)
tronble to trace these matters fdo\
will find t^at in most cases flie
was merely estimated, and usually
theory that a ten-inch trout m
pound. Likewise it might be poin
that the lise of trick scales is nd|t
confined to the so-called marts o
Furthermore, careful research will
frequently reveal that a certain
winning brown or rainbow "take
fly," according to the local paper, in
fell for a night-walker about the

^()

SCIENCE NEWS— DEC. 1928

67. SOME CHEROKEE METHODS OF DIVINATION

Frans M. Olbrechts

The Cherokee of North Carolina, living their secluded life
in the Great Smoky Mountains, have kept intact a vast propor-
tion of their beliefs and customs. Belief in divination is very
much alive, and quite a respectable number of methods are
practised to this day.

As well-nigh everywhere, there is a divination '* tout-
court'', used to find out hidden things and future events; and
another kind, which not merely purports to discover, but at the
same time endeavors to influence the course of things, and is
considered a first step towards obtaining the result desired.

A. The first class includes methods to gain information
on: The whereabouts of lost objects; (by using ** brown-stone'',
or tiny fractions of twigs). — The future span of life; (by ex-
amining with beads, by peering into the floating river, by the
'* transparent stone", by eating up to seven doses of a more or
less poisonous plant). — Love; (by examining with beads, by
placing seeds in water, by various plants).

B. In the second series, as stated, the course of future
events is not only looked into, but favorable results are believed
to be obtained by them. They include: Divination in certain
cases of illness. — Machinations against witchcraft by either
smoking or burning *'old" tobacco. — ''Working" against ene-
mies by means of beads, by the transparent stone. — Hunting-
divination by burning **old" tobacco.

C. Finally, there are some methods that are no longer
practised, and that are only known as mentioned in tales and
myths; and there are a couple more that are manifestly impos-
sible, and which, no doubt, have likewise been handed down in
the oral literature of the tribe.

Conclusions: The two main conclusions are that:

1. As a whole, the Cherokee methods of divination confirm
the evidence supplied by linguistic and other data, and which
indicate that the migration of this tribe from the kindred Iro-
quois peoples must have taken place at a very remote period.

2. They have kept their medical and botanical lore, their
beliefs and practices pertaining to divination all but intact from
European influence.

Legends of the Cherokees.

li lleg6 un burro flaco
k tuventana,
trdteibscon carifto,
que es nfN4;etrato ;
a chinita que^
a chinita que no]

Diablo que anda en Castilla,
con vuelillos y golilla,

con vuelillos y golilla,
quidn serd ? qui^n serd ?^
Jesu Cristo ! que fracatiso !
yk estd aquf ; d^jame paso,

dejadle paso.

When a lean donkey
comes to your wmdow,
treat him Ipymgly,
for he i»^y portrait ;
cujiy^aired love, yes,
:urly-haired love, no.

le devil who travels through Spain,
with cu£Es on and ruffled collar,
^th cufiEs on and ruffled collar,

who may he be ?
ByT^s ! what a portent !
Here m^s ! let him go in peace,

let him pass gently.

\lbert S. Gatschet

RMmey rime. The latter spelling of this word, as etynt«4ogically the true
fol^ (see the etymological dictionaries),- is preferred by our coth%k^teury as by
ieveral modern writers. The case seems to be one in which liberljFsQf choice
may reasonably be demanded. — Gen. Ed.

LEGENDS OF THE CHEROKEES.

Among the Western Cherokees, in the Indian Territory, many
ancient songs and legends are still preserved, handed down by ver-
bal tradition, from generation to generation. Many of these tradi-
tions are scarcely known, even in name, to the half breeds, but
among the old full bloods, still attached to the mountains and forests
of their long-lost home, they survive in memory. The subjects of
these songs and legends are generally deeds of heroes, and love.
Others have a religious character.

During the long winter nights, while the Indians are gathered
round the hearth fire of their houses, the voice of the story-teller is
heard until late in the quiet night, for however often he has heard
them related, the Indian is always willing to listen to tales of the

days of yore.

But with the full blood Cherokees, these legends and traditions
will pass away forever, unless they are saved from oblivion by some
lover of Indian folk-lore ; and soon, or it will be too late.

During a visit to the Western Cherokees, in the autumn of 1883,
I obtained a few of these legends. My informant was a prominent
Cherokee of mixed blood, by the name of William Eubanks, at the
time senator at Tahlequah.

journal of American Folk-Lore.

THE STONE-SHIELDS.

In ancient times there lived among the Cherokees two strange
beings, — monsters of human form, resembling Cherokees in appear-
ance. These two monsters, a man and a woman, lived in a cave.
They were called Nayunu!wi (Stone-shields, or Stone-jackets),^ or
Uilata (sharp, pointed), because they had sharp-pointed steel (?)
hands.

These monsters killed children, and sometimes adults. As they
dressed like Cherokees, and spoke their language, it was difficult to
distinguish them from this people.

The man generally killed hunters and other people who were alone
and far from home, by attacking them. The woman used tricks to
procure her victims. She came to the houses, kindly offering her
services, offering to nurse children, and do similar things.

As soon as she had a child in her arms, she ran away with it,
until she was out of hearing, and pierced the brain of the child
with her steel hand, then took the liver from the body and disap-
peared. The Nayunvlwi appear to have lived on the livers of their
victims.

The older Cherokees, long tired of the ravages of these mon-
sters, held a council to determine the best way of killing the Uilata.
At last they resolved to kill them with arrows, not knowing that the
Uilata were stone clad. As soon as they saw an opportunity to at-
tack the woman, they shot their arrows at her with all their might,
but they were very much astonished to see that the arrows did not
take the slightest effect.

Then a topknot-bird, which was perched on the branch of a tree
close by, said to the warriors : " In the heart, in the heart ! "

The Cherokees shot their arrows at the spot where they supposed
the heart to be, but no better than before did they succeed in killing
the monster.

At last a jay appeared, and said to the warriors : " In the hand, in
the hand ! ''

They shot the monster's hand, and it dropped dead. At the mo-
ment it fell its stone jacket broke into pieces. The people gathered
the fragments, and kept them as sacred amulets, for luck in war, in
hunting, and in love.

The man-monster disappeared; according to tradition, it went
north.

^ A tradition of the Tuscarora Indians also speaks of monsters in human form,
man-eaters with a stone-clad skin. They were called Stone giants, (pt-nea-yar^
heh). See E. J ohnsouy Legends, etc, of the Iroquois and History of the Tusca*
rora Indians, Lockport, N. Y., 1881, pp. 55, 56.

Legends of the Cherokees. 5 5

The Cherokees possess also a legend about flying monsters, having
the form of falcons. These caught and killed especially children.
They were slain by a brave man, whose little and only son had been
captured by them. He followed them to their cave, where they kept
their young, and killed the latter. Thereafter the old falcons disap-
peared forever.

THE HORNED SNAKES.

In ancient times there lived great snakes, glittering as the sun,
and having two horns on the head. To see one of these snakes was
certain death. They possessed such power of fascination, that who-
ever tried to make his escape, ran toward the snake and was de-
voured.

Only great hunters who had made medicine especially for this pur-
pose could kill these snakes. It was always necessary to shoot them
in the seventh stripe of their skins.

The last of these snakes was killed by a Shawnee Indian, who was
a prisoner among the Cherokees. They had promised him freedom
if he could find and kill the snake.

He hunted for the snake during several days, in caves, and over
wild mountains, and found it at last high up on the mountains of
Tennessee.

The Shawnee kindled a great fire of pine cones, in the form of a
large circle, and then walked up to the snake.

As soon as it saw the hunter, the snake slowly raised its head, but
the Shawnee shouted, '' Freedom or death ! " and shot his arrow
through the seventh stripe of the snake's skin ; then turning quickly,
he jumped within the circle of the fire, where he was safe. At this
moment a stream of poison poured down from the mouth of the
snake, but the fire stopped it. So the Shawnee had regained his
liberty.

Four days afterwards the Cherokees went to the spot where the
snake had been killed, and gathered fragments of bone and scales of
the snake's skin. These they kept carefully, as they believed the
pieces would bring them good luck in love, the chase, and war.

On the spot where the snake had been killed, a lake formed, the
water of which was black. In the water of this lake the Cherokee
women used to dip the twigs with which they made their baskets.

Dr. H. ten Kate.

Ha^Mr^ ""Vv^Aj

iJ«%x<.l1st.

JAMES E. THOMPSON

WHEN a wilderness wayfarer of the Great
Smokies comes upon a Cherokee Indian medi-
cine man and his squaw gathering herbs in
the deep slopes of these gigantic mountains he does not
thoroughly realize the great preponderance of tradition,
prayer formula, and plant myths in back of the acts of
the two. A fascinating and charming plant lore is existent
here among the intelligent and likable Cherokees and its
creation goes back to the beginning of things.

Great story tellers like Old Swimmer (Ayun'ini),
John Ax (Itagu'nuhi), Suyeta the Chosen One (a Bap-
tist preacher), Ta'gwadihi*
(Old Catawba Killer) of
Cheowa, and Wafford, a cul-
tured mixed blood of Georgia,
reveal the interesting legends
that have grown up around
the beautiful plants that adorn
the Carolina and Tennessee
hills.

According to Old Swimmer
— one of my informants
among the Cherokees — ani-
mals, trees, plants and birds all
existed before man and were
very powerful. Because of
endless persecution by hunters,
the animals had grown very
antagonistic toward man but
plants and trees were very

INDIANS HAD A NAME
They called this

favorable to him and sought to intervene in the age-long
enmity, offering to those who were wise enough to
"understand their talk", the juice and sap of their leaves
and bark to alleviate human suffering. The old-time
Smoky Mountain Indian believed that the souls of trees
and plants would tell man what was good for his most
serious ills if he loved them rightly.

Plants had councils and "townhouses**, similar to
those of the animals, under Kuwa'hi, or Clingman Dome,
the highest peak of the Smokies. They used to mingle
with human kind on equal terms and could talk. Each

plant had a specific mission
to perform. The plants lived
in this underworld, which was
exactly like ours except that
the seasons were the opposite,
— for is not spring water
warm in winter and cold in
summer? Entrance to the
abode was gained only
through prayer and fasting
and by following the proper
trails, which were the crystal
streams plunging down the
rugged moss-covered sides of
the Great Smokies. Only the
Nunnehi, the spirit people,
©jiNNisoN or other underground folk,
, , ... , J ^ „M could lead man to the Plant

plant, our Viola pedata, they ,„, , , , , ... . ,

pull off each other's heads." World and show him Its Sights.

343

344

A SHOWY ORCHID
OF THE SMOKIES

Orchis spectabilis, a
beautiful plant, is one
of the many varieties
found in the Great
Smoky Mountains,
and particularly loved
by the Cherokees

Dine'tlana a'nigwa ("soon after the Creation"),
when plants and animals were first made, they were
instructed to watch and keep awake for seven nights,
just as all devout tribesmen are supposed to do when
praying to their medicine. The reward for this vigil
was to be a power to make good medicine. If they fell
asleep betimes, they were to be punished. Only to the
persistent was exceptional ability fully guaranteed.

During this test only the cedar, the pine, spruce,
balsam, hemlock, holly, laurel, mistletoe, and the spotted
wintergreen stayed awake to the end of the long vigil, so
they were permitted the gift of staying green for-
ever and of being the greatest medicine. To the
others was decreed the penalty of "losing their
hair" every winter. And who has not seen deciduous
trees and plants naked and shivering without their
clothes in the icy blasts?

At first there were only a brother and sister of
each species but later all were allowed to marry
and to have children to grow up around them in
the forests. This was all "in the long ago."

After enduring a similar ordeal the Ani-
mals held an important council at which each
member present was given the privilege of naming
a disease that could be inflicted upon their com-
mon enemy, Man, because of his persecutions. The
Bears, Deer, Fishes, and Reptiles, the Birds, the
Insects and the smaller animals all had grievances.
The Grubworm was selected chief of the council
because he was "unega" or "white."

During the august deliberations of the convention
the little ground squirrel entered a minority report.
He had the temerity to venture a good opinion in
behalf of the common enemy. But he was nearly torn to
pieces for his trouble by the enraged majority and bears
the stripes of his scars to this day! This all happened
when "the animals were the same as men."

Gossip travels fast among Nature folk in the Smokies
and it was not very long before the Trees and Plants
heard of the great evil council. Forthwith they held one
of their own and determined to defeat such drastic

NATURE MAGAZINE FOR JUNE • 1932

measures. In their council each
Plant, Tree, and Shrub offered
to furnish a cure for at least
one of the diseases adopted by
the Animal Convention and
adopted the pledge: "I shall for
one appear to help Man when
he calls upon us in his need."
Thus came about Medicine.

As the luxuriant, flower-
filled slopes of the Great
Smokies contain several hun-
dred species of trees and lesser
plants representing northern as
well as southern conditions, the
country of the Cherokee has
proved to be one vast pharmacy.
^' The Great Smoky Indian is

an exceptionally close observer and many of his plant
names are peculiarly apt. Thus the mistletoe, which never
grows alone but the roots of which are always fixed in the
rough bark of some supporting tree or shrub, is called
uda'li—'it is married", and the violet is known by the
plural name of dinda'skwate'ski ("they pull each other's
heads off"), revealing that the little Cherokee redskins
must have had a game that is familiar to all children.
Rattlesnake master— £f)'w^///w-— with its long slen-
der leaves like diminutive blades of corn was "green snake"
or salikwa'yi, and another plant, known as "Job's Tears"

A SOUTHERN MOUNTAIN MAGNOLIA

The six-inch rule at the left indicates the size
of the blossom and the leaves

on account of its polished, rounded grains, which were
used by the little Indian children for necklaces, was
selutsi', "the mother of the corn." Rudbeckia, our "black-
eyed susan", was deer eye (awi'akta) and the beautiful
lady's slipper {Cypripedium) was poetically named the
partridge moccasin ! The common may-apple. Podophyl-
lum, "wears a hat" {u'niskwetu'gi) and the puff-ball
fungus {fjakwisi'usdi') is "the little star." A common
rock lichen bears a musical, if an unpoetic name, in the
translation of utsale'ta, which means "pot scrapings!"
Other plants whose medicinal value was well

NATURE MAGAZINE FOR JUNE • 1932

345

known to the roaming medi-
cine man were Virginia or
black snakeroot, Unaste'tstiyu*
(very small root), for feverish
headaches or coughs. Chewed,
it was put into tooth cavities
to stop aches or was spat upon
snake bites to counteraa
poison. Wild senna, unegei
("black"), was effective for
poulticing sores, and the grace-
ful vetch or altsa'sti — "a wreath
for the head" — cured dyspepsia
and pains in the back.

The juice of milkweed
(u'ga'atasgi'ski — or "the pus
oozes out") was rubbed on
skin eruptions. Skullcap (gu'-
nigwali'ski — "it becomes red when bruised") was
a tonic. Crowshin (maiden-hair fern) was jfine for
chronic catarrh ; PorteranthustrifoUata is "Indian physic" ;
skw'li (common liverwort), the first thought in coughs;
tassel flower {da'yewu— '"it sews itself up", meaning
that the leaves are supposed to grow together again
when torn) had virtue as a poultice for bruises. The
little fungus Styptkus panus with its mucilaginous secre-
tion offered itself for effectually staunching wounds. The
dried puff-ball fungus was used as a counter-irritant for
pains by placing it upon the skin and lighting it; when

THE BEAUTY OF

THE SPRINGTIME

Rhododendron covers
fhe hillsides in the
Cherokee country with
luscious blooms dur-
ing March and April.
It is one of the "big
medicine" family

WELLS

vKic''-;* ^

w- I'r^,

'>^ '-'^^^b-'-.^rf^-.^

K^ib

TOOTHWORT IN ITS HABITAT ® '''"'"'"'

It is a low woodland plant that is fond of rich, damp soil.
It was a favorite salad flavoring of the Indians

it had burned down to the skin the watering blisters were
opened, "letting out the pain!"

Solomon's seal — utistugi' — was employed as a poul-
tice for carbuncles; amadita'ti — "they draw water"
— ^gained a reputation for bladder trouble cures from the
sole fact that children used the stems as playthings to
suck water through !

Other plants not found in the herb doctor's sack were
named because of their supposed conjunction to animal
economy. Such are the wild rose, labelled tsist-uni'gisti,
"the rabbit eats it", meaning the red seed-hips, and the

shield fern, Aspidium, called yona-yse'stu or "the bear
lies on it."

The names of still other plants hinge upon ceremonial
or domestic uses. Fleabane, Erigeron canadense, became
atsiVsunti, "they make the fire", because its dried stalks
lent themselves very readily to primitive methods of
kindling a blaze by friction from the bushman's fire-
bow and rod. Bugle weeds, Lycopus virginicus, were
"talkers" and if chewed, and the lips and tongue were
anointed with the juice, the experimenter would be
endowed with eloquence. How many of us would like
to ship a quantity of this magic weed to Congress
or to political candidates talking over the radio!
Medicine men of the Big Smoky tribes used
other plants in their sacred prayer formulas. One
of the most important was the familiar "seng" or
ginseng, Panax quinquefolium, sought with so
much avidity by all Smoky Mountaineers. To the
Cherokee it was a'tali-guli\ or "mountain climber",
and was addressed most respectfully by their con-
jurors as Yu77wi Usdi Ada'wahi'yu — "Oh Most
Powerful Magician" — because its odd root resem-
bles the human body. Because this plant is
threatened with extinction at a market price of
$13.00 a pound for export to China the North
Carolina legislature has entirely prohibited its gath-
ering. In collecting it the herb doctor always
passed by the first three plants but plucked the
fourth and in the root cavity deposited a bead as
payment to placate its discouraged spirit.
Two frogs once had a famous duel, using for their
lances the stalks of the prosartes, Disporum lanugino-
sum. The apt Cherokee pronounced it walas-unul'sti, "the
frogs fight with it" ! A town in the Smokies was named
for this event but the resourceful Anglo-Saxon twisted
the name to his own fanciful "Fighting Town". White
clover has an Indian name that means "it follows the
Unega", or white man. It is indeed found in almost every
white man's front yard.

Among the domestic plants, corn or selu holds first
place because it sustains both man and beast. Such an

NATURE MAGAZINE FOR JUNE • 1932

READY FOR THE

CORN DANCE

Standing D««r, full-
blooded Cherokee,
under the tree of
Big Medicine

"^.>*

MASON

important item is it in household economy that the Cher-
okees every year observe a ceremonial called the Green
Corn Dance. It is held under the name of Agaive'la
or *'the Old Woman", who was slain by her dis-
obedient sons and whose blood was supposed to have
colored the red corn.

This dance, preliminary to
eating the first new corn, is
one of the most solemn tribal
functions observed yearly at
the Cherokee Reservation in
North Carolina. It is invoked
also for the propitiation of
sins of the previous year and
a prayer for happiness in the
ensuing one. Formerly it also
provided a general amnesty
for criminals. Only those who
had fasted, prayed and at-
tended purification ceremonies
were eligible to engage in the
celebration.

The usual mystic seven
ears of corn were laid aside
when the dance occurred
in order to encourage the
crop until it was fully rip-
ened. When eating the first
ears the participants were

not allowed to blow upon them for fear of caus-
ing a windstorm to beat down the standing corn in
the field! A well-beaten path was also religiously pre-
served from the field to the house further to encourage
the corn to stay at home and not to wander away.

A SHY DENIZEN

OF THE HILLS

Yellow ladyslipper,
which the Cherokees
called the "partridge's
moccasin"

The priest of the tribe takes up his abode in the
detsunun'li or small flat space in the center of the field
and chants songs of invocation to the corn spirit for
four successive nights; no one is allowed to enter the
field for seven nights. At the end of this time a loud
rustling is heard — if medicine is good — caused by '*the
Old Woman" bringing the corn into the field.

Tobacco, which is of American origin, was used only
as a sacred incense and guarantee of the observance of a
solemn tribal pact. Usually smoked in a pipe it truly
became a "pipe of peace" when dealing with the ever
encroaching white settler who took vast tracts of land for
a mere song. Sometimes tobacco, or tsalu — a name now
lost to the Cherokee — was gravely sprinkled upon the
fire of the townhouse or lodge where the ceremonies oc-
curred. It was never chewed or smoked as a habit of in-
dulgence as initiated by Sir Walter Raleigh. Tsal-agaymi'li

or "old tobacco" was most
desired for tribal functions. A
famous legend of the Cher-
okees reveals *'How They
Brought Back the Tobacco*'
which was stolen by the
Dagulku or 'The White
Fronted Geese." This feat was
accomplished by a famous
magician who changed him-
self into a hummingbird.

The poisonous wild cow-
bane, Oxypolis rigidior, bore a
doubtful reputation among
the Indians. Its odor was vile.
Mixed with the food of the
victim or used in evil in-
cantations it would destroy
his life. Its nauseating smell
was a very good protection
against snake bite if the
spell wielder annointed him-
self with it. If the snake was
angered into fanging the offensive intruder, however,
the cure would prove worse than the disease. Poison
ivy was also well respected by the Smoky Mountain
Indian, who always conciliated it by addressing it as "My
friend" — hi-gi)7ali. But if, for some mysterious reason,

WELLS

TENNESSEE'S STATE FLOWER

The passion flower has played an important

in the Cherokee plant lore

roh

JfA^AzTTTr F O R JUNh • IVii

347

his friend still persisted in poisoning him he applied
the macerated flesh of a crawfish to his hurts and went
*philosphically about his business.

Smilax briar was dinu'ski or "breeder", from the be-
lief that a thorn of it imbedded in the flesh would breed
others in a day or two. Devil's shoe string, cat-gut, or
goat's rue, Cracca vhginiana, was distai'yi or "tough",
and an ointment made of the leaves strengthened the hair
of Smoky Mountain squaws, and toughened the sinews

of ball players.

Even the humble weeds offered their services in "the
long ago" promise to the Plant Council. Important of
these are the Jimson weed, the cockle bur, and the
Spanish needle, all of which came under the Cherokee
generic term of u' nistilun' isti or "stickers".

A ceremony appealing in its poetic meaning applies to
the Japanese clover. Very soon after a child was born
among the old Cherokees this plant was beaten up and
put into crystal clear water taken from a cataraa where
the stream tumbled noisily. It was given to the baby red-
skin for four consecutive days to make him of retentive
memory! The tumult of the cataract was believed to
be the stentorian voice of Yunwi Guanhi'ta, or "Long
Man", the river god, who taught lessons the child could

understand. A similar rite observed for grown-ups was
more intricate and the mind must be kept fixed upon
the ceremony. If other emotions were allowed to
creep in the participator would forever afterward be of
such a quarrelsome disposition that no one could live

with him.

In the chase, to insure the fatness of the quarry,
bruised root of the potato vine, Aplectrum spicatum, must
be crushed into the wound of a slain deer while the
hunter imitates its bleat during the magic process.

Last— but not least— the "rattlesnake's master", Silene
stellata, was called ganUaw^ski because it "disjoints
itself". Eflicacious in snakebite, a piece of it held in the
mouth caused the deadliest serpent to flee in terror.
Certain it is that many tales of the mountains have been
related of famous battles between the rattler and his
inveterate enemies, both the king and the black snake.
The two latter, so legend has it, always raced madly to
nibble of the precious campion when f anged ; then they
have returned to fight to the death. When deprived of
their life-saver— according to reports— they have igno-
miniously curled up and died.

Thus have the plants fulfilled the promise they made
to aid man so many years ago, in the dim beginnings.

CLINSERS BOTH

The »«w-edged tick
trefoil and the
many-hooked ep-

chanter's nigjrt-
shade are yeach
stickers

Bute OF
COMMONbPLANTS

NO. 4 — TICK TREFi^lL
ENCHANTER'S NIGH

BY SALOME COMSTOCK-

AND

.>0<

TICK TREFOIL, the seed-pod of whichif a fa^Uiar bur,
belongs to the pea family. Theje are many Wties
of this species, and all are qoUe similar. It is f^-^"-
nized by its purple or purplis^h blossoms, which look
small sweet peas. Its leaf -is composed of three leal
and its chains of flat, easily detachable pod sections con-

sist of many burs.

In some kinds of tick trefoil the bur, instead of being
triangular, as the one here piaured, is almost round. The
hooks on the bur, which is about three-eighths inches
long, are usually too small to be seen with the naked eye,
so that one wonders by what means they cling. They are
plainly visible under a magnifying glass, however. They
are quite as efleaive in their powers of adhesion as
though they were larger, for their strength lies in num-

bers ratherJffian in size.
This pbllt is commonly
found^n meadows and

/open woods, and along
, , . , ^ ^jiTroadsides.

^ Enchanter's nightshade
grows usually in the
woods. Each of its nu-
merous one- or two-seed-
ed burs is provided with
a rather long individual
stem, and these in turn
are distributed along a
main stalk. The bur,
which is about a quarter
^f an inch long, nearly
jays carries its stem

witfisit when detached from the stalk. The plant is rather
small\id frail; its leaves are undivided and in pairs.
The coSmon species usually grows about a foot or more
in heigh^Another species, called smaller enchanter's
nightshade^grows less than twelve inches high. Enchan-
ter's nightshade is found in many parts of the world,
although not in very great abundance.

Fib. 3, 1912

FOREST AND STREAM

'^•'

147 V-

Croatans generally use shotguns for killing game,

though rifles, old and new pattern, are very ire-'

quent Strange to say, these Croatans have alf

ways used the cross-bow, being the only Indians

so far as known that ever used this weapon.

They got this of course from the English sid^

marshes is the one known as the blue bream, of their race and it is a survival of the days

which is a very bold fish and gives as fine sport of Queen Elizabeth Of course they used the

as the large-mouth black bass. These blue bream long-bow, too, but this has gone ^^2\m

Stream: There yet remam two tribes ot inaians weigh generally from a pound to two pounds and a y^^[; Jj^'^"^^^^^^ ][^^ l^y ' but

in North Carolina, the Cherokees, in the high they are delicious eating. Anglers can go to ^ ^ ^^^

mountain region, and the Croatans, in the south that section from a considerable area. merely lor purposes o ^^^^ ,^^^ extremely

Indian Anglers.

Raleigh, N. C, Jan. 26,^Editor Forest and
Stream: There yet remain two tribes of Indians

central section. I spent

a few days in May
with the Croatans, and

in August with the

Cherokees, and was

brought into tjie most

intimate association

with both tribes.
The streams in that

section are deep and

swift, though the coun-
try is sandy, and in

general quite flat, and

there are extensive

swamps and great

areas of long-leaf pine

timber. The jack or

pike grows very large

and is in much request.

The rivers are entirely

fed by springs and are

bordered by forests of

cypress and juniper

which literally cover

the swamps and which

give the water the

color of light choco-
late in the mass,
though when taken in
a glass it is as clear
as crystal and is ex-
tremely palatable.

The Indians fish with
all sorts of bait, some-
times with worms and
often with what they
call roaches, for black
bass, which they term
trout or chub. The
main stream is the
Lumber River, which
properly is the Lum-
bee. The poles are
long and so are the
lines, and the fishing is
done either from the
banks or froip boats.
The cypress "knees"
stand up thickly, and
the streams run so fast
through the shallows
and the woods as to
make a kind of whis-
pering noise, very peculiar at night. The bot-
tom or the streams is generally covered with a
luxuriant growth of slender green vegetation
which trails like a snake and has stalks some-
times fifteen to twenty feet in length.

One of the most prized, and at the same time
handsome fish in the Lumber River and its
numerous small tributaries and the outlying

JIM TAIL READY FOR FISHING WITH WASP GRUB BAIT.

The Cherokees have exterminated the game
in their high mountain country, and therein are
widely different from the Croatans, for in the
section inhabited by the latter there are yet
many deer, wild turkeys and squirrels, while as
already stated there are no end of fish. The
Croatans show more up-to-date methods in pre-
serving their game than do the Cherokees. The

well made and dupli-
cate the lines of the
once so deadly English
weapon.

The Cherokees, with
the usual Indian im-
providence, have liter-
ally exterminated all
the game in their won-
derful region, which
extends from the top
of the Smoky Moun-
tains, on the Tennes-
see border, down to
the tableland some
sixty miles westward
from Asheville. These
Indians use blow-guns
for killing small game,
and the scarcity of
everything in fur or
feathers is remarkable.
The principal streams
are Oconalufty River,
the Nantahala, the
Soco Creek, etc. The
canoes are all dug-
outs. The Indians
prize the brook trout
most, next to this
ranking the black bass,
which they, too, call
chub, and there are
very handsome yellow-
throat perch of good
size. The streams are
so clear that they look
like quicksilver. For
bait they never use the
fly, but often grass-
hoppers and wasp
grubs, together with
worms and little sala-
manders, which they
find under stones and
logs alongside the
streams. They have
very great skill in tak-
ing fish, coupled with
infinite patience. They
fish by day and by
night. They also "bait"
certain places in the streams, where there are
rather deep holes, by throwing food there from
time to time, so as to accustom the fish to go
to these places.

On one occasion Jim Tail, whose name in
Cherokee is Coneetah, had just come in from a
hard morning's work and was getting ready to
(Continued on paqe t6o )

148

FOREST AND STREAM

Feb. 3, 1912

Published Weekly by the

Forest and Stream Publishing Company,

127 Franklin Street, New York.

Edward C. Locke, President,
Charles B. Reynolds, Secretary,
S. J. Gibson, Treasurer.

game formerly wintered with small loss. The
substitution of barbed wire fences for the old-
time worm fence of split rails, accounts for no
small portion of the loss to-day. These old fence
corners were always perfect shelters for birds
and rabbits, even in cleared fields. Because of
the scarcity of wood, the worm fence has en-
tirely disappeared over much of the country, and
the wire fence which takes its place aflfords no
shelter, as there are no angles grown up to
brush and dense grass, to furnish windhrenks

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ment inserted 13 times in one year; 10 per cent, on 26,
and 20 per cent, on 52 insertions respectively.

Advertisements should be received by Saturday pre-
vious to the issue in which they are to be inserted.

THE OBJECT OF THIS JOURNAL
will be to studiously promote a healthful in-
terest in outdoor recreation, and to cultivate
a refined taste for natural objects.

—Forest and Stream, Aug;. 14, 1873,

E&gle Gun Club.

Tv/f.v,«* Pn Tnn *'>7— Ike Knowles won the weekly
sZrot\L%Ii^. C^'n aub,to-day.^^He^kmed^ every

GROUND-NESTING BIRDS.

Massachusetts sportsmen propose to curb
the wanderings of self-hunting dogs during the
nesting season of quail, grouse and woodcock.
A bill for this purpose is now before the State
Legislature, and excellent reasons why it should
become a law are given in another column.

To the appeal made by Mr. Clark thei
is little that may be added, but we would si
gest that those who now oppose the passaa^of
the bill give careful consideration to thjpfact
that, as more and more land is cleared fdr agri-
cultural purposes, cover for ground-nestiffg birds
decreases, and important agents in thijT situation
are the fires that creep about amonc/the leaves
and grass in autumn. These little ynres are re-
garded as of small importance, hut they destroy
many of the few covers left to thfe birds. When
severe storms and periods of coid come in mid-
winter, the birds find difficulty in securing food
and shelter, and in the nestkfg season they be-
come the prey of every do^ that roams at will,
and of cats as well.

If a portion of the yi^t sums of money now
expended in the purchase of foreign game birds
were devoted to simwe measures for protecting
our native game biMs, the results would not be
so difficult to find /s is the case to-day. It may
properly be regayfled as an innovation to, tie up
the dogs duringycertain periods, and to look after
the welfare of small game in severe weather,
but the necessity for this is evident.

The cold weather of January killed immense
numbers of small game in regions where the

Zettler Rifle Club.

Scores of ;he Zettler Rifle Club ^^ere made as follows
at the regular weekly practice shoot on Jan Z6.

7 T5 , 240 232 239 235 236—1181

A Beg"°^ 2^ 242 242 242 239-1202

'^^ ^^.nn 245 245 248 249 247-1234

Atl^^^i'^^"" 235 235 239 232 240-1181

AtlcRTecking gg ^^^ 237 237 243-1198

love tK^X'" : 247 246 247 248 244-1233

. ^?P« 246 247 244 246 250-1233

mg of thee fr^ 041 248 247 246-1222

coast and eUi ! 247 249 249 249 248—1242

coast ana eiSv ^^^ ^49 248 247 24^1239

if it were possiU '. 234 239 236 236 242—1187

u A ^'i 245 246 243 238 238—1210

tions on board a^:

if such a ship v/j^e pn.

equipped to injiffre the co.Ri«e Shooting League.

of a reasonal^ number^ of ".A^ thejnd^^^^^^^^^^
overcrowding, it is more^Nthan hs Agricultural Coi-

• JT 1^ '^£^oKl -^rd University, 945

enterpriseyWould prove proKtable. defeated Louisi-
ships apl/ity suited to this use^^pr thl??^^^^ ^^^J^.u^^^

adapted^© it with some alterations^ office'j^shjre, 835

#111 1 1 I r ^ I. ^"it ^ro"^
crewsito be had, and no lack of men >^ho wor> to 0.

but usually the deception is di^bvered b.,iore it
is too late, and few hunters ife before ihc gob-
bler is actually seen. In tire Arkansas case the
shooter did not wait tyrnake assuiBnce doubly
sure, and was theref^e guilty of the inexcus-
able carelessness ^|nch has cost so many deer
hunters their livo^in other States. For he fired
into the bush(^and of course did not miss the
other huntei^onccaled there. Such shots rarely
do miss.

It is a/blessing, to say the least, that deer and
Dtv*- Mame of the Northern hunting grounds
^lured by calling or any similar decep-
the fatalities have kept pace with
^ number of persons who go
Mjumn to hunt deer. If
^i^^iMitional excuse for
^J^ ^^^*ne sort, their

*her reck-

TRAP
ANGLERS' CAS

BOYS' CAI

March 1st to 9

MADISON SQl

NEW Y<
International Trap Shooting Touil

S M. VAN ALLEN. General Manager Will

TELEPHONES; 8746-

gladj^ take passage if permitted to ''pla^ sailor ^^^^ ^j^^ 3^^^^ ^^^^ ^^^^ ^^ Sherburne, this
no/ and then, and with them would go .their \^^^^^ Sportsmen, farmers and lovers of game

fifnilies. \

The Atlantic's moods have not changed, but
men have acquired greater skill than was pos-
sessed by the navigators of the old-time clipper
ships, and they are assisted by instruments and
data unknown then, while it is possible now to
so equip ships that living aboard one for a fort-
night will be a pleasure.

CALLING TURKEYS.

The accidental killing of one Arkansas turkey
hunter by another may strike the average person
who has never called a turkey as of the same
brand of carelessness as that which has been
displayed so conspicuously in the woods of the
Northern States. Such unfortunate happenings
are rare in the regions where turkeys may still
be found, and the only explanation that may be
deduced from theory alone is that the man who
fired the shot was not an expert hunter, and
that he was deceived by the imitation of the
turkey hen's plaintive call.

In places where calling is practiced the gob-
blers can be deceived only by an excellent
imitation of the hen's call, but there are very
few veteran hunters who mistake the imitation
for the real call and are thereby placed in per-
sonal danger from a possible shot from the
other hunter's place of concealment. Still, that
such a thing is possible is proved now and then,

bhijis desirous of obtaining allotments of these
birde or eggs for restocking covers may apply
t^ the commission. Upon request blanks will be
sent for the purpose. All applications should
be made before March i. The distribution of
eggs will commence about the middle of April
and continue during May, June and the first part
of July. Pheasants will be ready for distribu-
tion during August, September and October.

Richard Tjader, the big-game hunter, is plan-
ning another expedition, but in this one he will
bag big game of another sort, and lay his plans
for capture in a differijnt way than those made
on his African hunting excursions. Both he and
Mrs. Tjader have long Geeh, interested in mis-
sionary work, and his plans include an extensive
journey by motor car into maiW parts of the
world in the continuance of thisN^ork. While
he is saving souls, perhaps Mr. TjaJkr may also
do a little shooting now and then oroide trips.

Plans are being made in New Rochellei N. Y.,
to secure a fund by popular subscription r^r the
erection of a statue of the late Frederic Rem-
ington on the plaza in that town. Mr. Remii
ton lived in New Rochellc for a great man;
years and his neighbors were very fond of him.
One of the stations of the new railway building
there will be named for him.

ile nru^

ifp^'2f

/ I

C. Hart Meiriam

Papers

BANC MSS

60/13 c

R. V. COLEMAN

NATIONAL BOOK BUYERS' SERVICE
522 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK

•MhH

.i^t»

WE ARE PLEASED
TO ANNOUNCE

the publication, by Yale University Press,
of George Bird Grlnnell's new volume of Cheyenne Indian
stories.

Grlnnell Is unquestionably
authority on the northern plains tribes,
ly on the Cheyennes*

our foremost
and particular

For more than fifty years he has been In
close touch with the Cheyennes and Is one of the few men
who has thoroughly won their confidence and been permit-
ted an Insight Into their traditions •

"By Cheyenne Campflres'' Is a collection of
those stories which for generations have passed from
mouth to mouth among the Indians; they are the stories
that have been told to hushed audiences about the camp-
fires of the wandering tribes.

They tell us much about the things that
have interested the Indian, about his activities, and
the crude mythology which made up a large part of his
religion* There are V?ar Stories, Mystery Stories, Hero
Myths, and many others.

"By Cheyenne Campflres" is a genuine
contribution to our knowledge of a hitherto little
known literature; it is both instructive and enter-
taining - a book which you will find very useful in
your permanent reference library.

The following pages will tell you more in
detail of the book. Doubtless, however, you will wish
to examine it and satisfy yourself of Its importance.
The accompanying service card, filled in and mailed as
a postal, will bring you a copy by return mall or ex-
press, prepaid, on approval.

Very truly yours.

RVC-P

CHEYENNE CAMPFIRES

BY CHEYENNE CAMPFIRES

PARTIAL TABLE OF CONTENTS

Introduction

The Cheyennes and Their Stories

War Stories

The Medicine Arrows and the Sacred
Hat

The White Horse

The Brave Ree

Bear's Foot and Big Foot

Rope Earrings' Arrow-Point

Many Crow Horses

Stories of Mystery
Sees in the Night
The Buffalo Wife
Black Wolf and His Fathers
The Bear Helper
Sand Crane

Hero Myths
Hero Myths *
Stone and His Uncles
Falling Star
The Bad Hearted Man

The Earliest Stories
The Very Earliest Stories
Creation Tale

Culture Hero Stories

Old Woman's Water and the Buffalo

Cap
Sweet Medicine and the Arrows

Wihio Stories
Tales of Wihio
He Loses His Hair
Plums in the Water
A Medicine Man's Arrows

By George Bird Grinnell, Author of "The Cheyenne Indians," Etc.

THE Cheyennes, like all the other Indian tribes, derived their
entertainment largely from social intercourse, such as conver-
sation, story-telling, and speech making. They were great visi-
tors and spent much of their time either in discussing the news of the
camp or in talking of the events that had happened in die past.

Since they had no written characters their history was wholly tra-
ditional, handed down from one generation to another by word of
mouth. The elder, who transmitted these accounts to younger people,
solemnly impressed upon his hearers the importance of repeating the
story just as it had been told to them.

Story-telling was a favorite form of entertainment, and it was a com-
mon practice for hosts at feasts to invite some story-teller to be a guest,
and then, after all had eaten, to relate his stories. Men known as good
story-tellers were in demand, and were popular. The learning of these
stories must have been a fine training for the memory of the young,
who were frequently examined by their elders to see how completely
they had assimilated the tales so often repeated to them.

Some of the stories were short, others were long, sometimes told
in great detail, and even in sections. A short story might be told, and
when it was finished the narrator stopped, and, after a pause, said,
'^I will tie another one to it." Then there was a long pause; the pipe
was perhaps lighted and smoked, and a little conversation had; then
the story-teller began again and told another section of the tale, end-
ing as before.

Of the tales of the past, those narrating the events of the warpath
were perhaps the most popular; by listening to them a fairly clear no-

tion may be had of the methods by which the tribal wars were carried
on. Yet mystery, magic, and the performances of doctors and priests
— men who possessed spiritual power — had their part, often an im-
portant part, in the narratives related by the older men. Sacred stories
were told reverently, and with some ceremony. After the people had
assembled in the lodge the door was closed and tied down and all sat
still; there was no conversation; no one might go in or out; no noise
might be made in or near the lodge during the telling of the story,
lest the lack of reverence should bring misfortune. These sacred stories
were to be told only at night. If related in the daytime the narrator
might become hunchbacked.

This literature of the Cheyennes is very extensive, and, although
interesting on its own account and extremely valuable from the point
of view of ethnology, is little known for the simple reason that the
Indian seldom takes an outsider into his confidence.

Dr. Grinnell, however, through his long association with the Chey-
ennes has been accorded a unique opportunity to become acquainted
with their stories and traditions. In the present volume he has brought
together a representative collection of these stories, many of which
are very old and some of which are comparatively recent.

"By Cheyenne Campfires'is uniform in size and binding with
"The Cheyenne Indians,"-^ published some three or four years ago,
and may be looked upon as supplementary to that work. It is a book
of 323 pages with nine full-page illustrations from photographs. The
price is $4.00.

* "The Cheyenne Indians," by George Bird Grinnell. Two volumes. Illustrated. Large
8vo. Bound in red vellum doth. Price $10.00. Published by Yale University Press.

GEORGE BIRD GRINNELL

was born in Brooklyn, New York,
September 20, 1849. He was gradu-
ated from Yale University in 1870
and for some years thereafter en-
gaged in business in New York. His
intense interest in outdoor life, how-
ever, soon led him into the fields in
which he has spent the greater part of
his life. He accompanied Gen. Cus-
ter's expedition to the Black Hills in
1874 and was with Col. William Lud-
low's reconnaissance to Yellowstone
Park in 1875. Since 1876 he has been
connected, sometimes as editor and
for several years as president, with
Forest and Stream.HehasbcQnkrye^Lrs
prominently associated with the New
York Zoological Society, Hispanic
Society of America, Boone and Croc-
kett Club, and similar organizations.
He is the author of a long list of
books on Indian life, hunting, fish-
ing, and outdoor adventure. He is
editor of a series of books on big
game hunting and conservation is-
sued by the Boone and Crockett
Club. Probably his most lasting and
important publication is "The Chey-
enne Indians," with which the new
book is uniform.

Unique Collection of Authentic Aboriginal Folk Tales by One of Our Greatest Authorities on the American Indian

>l»a

RUNNING THE
SOCKDOLOGER

" On each side were the steep,
ragged granitic walls, with the
tumultuous waters lashing and
pounding against them in a way
that precluded all idea of portage
or let-down. It needed no second
glance to tell us that there was
only oneway of getting below —
We pulled up-stream about a quar-
ter of a mile close to the right-
hand wall, in order that we might
get well into the middle of the
river before making the great
plunge, and then we turned our
bow out and secured the desired

Eosition as speedily as possible,
eading down upon the roaring
enemy — roaring as if it would
surely swallow us at one gulp.

**My back being towards the
fall I could not see it, for I could
not turn round while waiting ev-
ery instant for orders. Nearer and
nearer came the angry tumult ; the
Major shouted * Back water ! ' there
was a sudden droppingaway of all
support; then the mighty waves
smote us. The boat rose to them
well, but we were flying at twenty-
five miles an hour and at every
leap the breakers rolled over us.
* Bail ! ' shouted the Major, — * Bail
for your lives!' and we dropped
the oars to bail, though bailing
was almost useless. The oars could
not get away, for they had rawhide
rings nailed around near the han-
dle to prevent them from slip-
ping through the rowlocks. The
boat rolled and pitched like a ship
in a tornado, and as she flew along
Jack and I, who faced backwards,
could look up under the canopies
of foam pourine over gigantic
black boulders, first on one side,
then on the other. Why we did
not land on top of one of these and
turn over I don't know, unless it
might be that the very fury of the
current causes a recoil. However
that may be, we struck nothing but
the waves, the boats riding finely
and certainly leaping at times al-
most half their length out of wa-
ter, to bury themselves quite as far
at the next lunge."

>IM

A CANYON VOYAGE

The Narrative of the Second Powell Expedition down the Green-
• Colorado River from Wyoming, and the Explorations
on Land, in the Years 1871 and 1872

BY FREDERICK S. DELLENBAUGH

Artist and Assistant Topographer of the Expedition

PRIOR to 1869, the Colorado River country was almost a
complete blank on the maps of the United States. The Can-
yon itself had never been traversed by white men. In this
year, Major Powell made his famous first descent of the Green-
Colorado River from the Union Pacific Railway in Wyoming to
the mouth of the Virgin River in Nevada, a feat of exploration
unsurpassed, perhaps unequalled, on this continent. So far as be-
ing useful in mapping the river, however, the trip was a failure
due to the almost complete loss of the records and photographs
through various mishaps, including the wrecking of the boats
and the massacre of one of the parties by Indians.

It became necessary, therefore, to make a second expedition
and it is this descent of the Canyon which is described by Mr.
Dellenbaugh, who as artist and topographer was one of the ten
men on the expedition of 1871-1872.

Backed by a government commission and under the nominal
direction of the Smithsonian Institution, the expedition started
on April 29, 1871, from the point where the Union Pacific Rail-
way crossed the Green River. For over four months these intrepid
explorers plunged and whirled in their frail boats through can-
yons sometimes so narrow that the sun was not visible for days
at a time while the walls on either side were thousands of feet
high ; through rock strewn rapids where the boats had to be low-
ered by means of ropes or shot at the risk of imminent destruction.

It is now over fifty years since the expedition was made. Mr.
Dellenbaugh's account is and will remain for all time the authen-
tic story of the trip.

Second and Revised Edition. Profusely illustrated with photographs, colored
plates, sketches, and maps made by the members of the expedition. Price $4.00.

•"«'«,

•""nn- T»w.x.»»i. tt^ <i "^c /SttXt***-**^. ^^J^^fi::!^

Putting Up an Indian Lodge.

While in buffalo days some of the wild In-
dians of the plains occupied permanent dwellings
during a part of the year, there were others
who lived wholly in movable lodges.

These were made of buffalo skins tanned white
and sewed together. They were of different
sizes, the poor occupying smaller lodges, while
the wealthy man, he who owned many horses,
very likely had a large family and required a
larger lodge. The size of a man's lodge was
to some extent an indication of his wealth. Two
horses were needed to drag the poles of a large
lodge and one to carry the lodge itself; three
horses for the tfansportation of the .dwelling
alone, to say nothing of the other property and
the different members of the family.

A lodge of moderate size required eleven skins
and eighteen poles were needed to set it up. A
sixteen skin lodge required twenty-two poles.
The larger the lodge the greater was the num-
ber of poles needed. From the fact that they
used an unusual number of poles in setting up
their lodges, it resulted that the Cheyennes had
well stretched, nice looking lodges.

The Northern Cheyennes declare that an odd
number of hides was always, used for the best
lodges, and the number might range from eleven
to twenty-one. The skins were sewed together
with sinew thread. First, of course, the hides
must be tanned ; the hair removed and the skin
softened. Then the Cheyenne woman held a sew-
ing "bee" which was not unlike the "bees" of
our ancestors in the early days of this country.
She invited her friends to come and help her
sew her lodge, and provided them with refresh-
ments. Among them was always one woman
especially skillful in cutting out the lodges, and
she fitted the skins together before the women
began to sew them.

All this is introductory to the story of the
raising of the lodge which is figured in our sup-
plement this week. There we see at work put-
ting up her lodge Stands Out, a tall, handsome,
self-respecting Cheyenne woman, no longer in her
first youth, for she is the mother of grown up
children.

. Before the lodp^e is erected she has carefully
gone over it to see that it is in good order. It
may have been worn against the saddle, or a
lash rope may have cut a hole in it, or it may
have been torn ; and* if there are holes they must
be patched before the lodge is put up, ctther-
\vise it will leak to the discomfort of some one.
If holes are found. Stands Out cuts a piece of hide
of the proper size and with the awl and sinew
mends them. A hole is punched by the keen
awl, the sinew thread, moistened in the mouth,
is pointed and passed through this hole as a
shoemaker passes his waxed end through leather
and the patch is sewn on. So, one by one, all
holes and rents are. repaired until the lodge is
everywhere tight and rain proof.

The first operation of erecting the lodge is
to tie together the three poles which form the
lodge's foundation. These are lashed together
at the proper distance from their butts by one
end of a long rope and the three poles are
erected and the butts spread so as to form a
tripod. The long line, one end* of which lashes
them together, hanps down and several feet of
it rests on the ground. After the three poles
have been properly spread, all the remaining
poles save three are leaned up against the forks
of the first three in such a way that they are
evenly distributed, their butts forming a short
ellipse on the ground. It is generally believed
that the poles form a circle, but this is not true ;
the figure is elliptical and the length of the ellipse
is from windward to leeward.

The poles having been properly arranged,
Stands Out takes hold of the line which hangs

down from the three important pofesf "steps out-
side the circle, of the lodge poles and walks
around them from east to south to west to north,
holding the line in her hand and throwing it up
as she moves, so that it slips up as far as pos-
sible, and tightly holds all the poles at the point
where they cross each other. The result of this
act is that all the poles are strongly bound to-
gether. Then she enters between the poles, pulls
the line as tight as she can, drives a stouf pin
into the ground near the fire, and ties the line
firmly to this, thus anchoring the lodge poles
from the center and relieving the strain on any
set of them in case a hard wind comes up.

Of the whole number of poles to be used in
the lodge three still remain on the ground. One
of these is used to raise the lodge lining. In-
side the lodge lining at the back of the smoke
hole, two stout leather thongs are fastened to
the lodge covering and these are firmly bound to
this pole at just the proper height. By this
means, when the pole with the lodge covering is
raised, and the' pole is laid up in its proper place
against the forks of the other poles, the smoke
hole is at just the right height above the ground
and the border of the lodge covering all about
nearly reaches the ground. The woman now
walks about the poles, and spreads the lodg6
covering over them, shaking it out and flapping
it in the direction she wants it to go, somewhat
as a bed maker flaps a sheet, until its nearly
vertical borders meet in front. These borders
are then pinned together, as high up as she can
reach, by means of little wooden skewers which
pass through holes in tht margin of the lodge
covering. Stands Out cannot reach up as far
as the lower edge of the smoke hole, so she gets
a travois and leaning it up against the lodge
climbs up and stands up on that, and finishes the
pinning. Next comes the final arrangement of
the butts of the poles, so that the lodge covering
shall be evenly supported and stretched on all
sides, and then the driving of the pins into the
ground to hold the lodge covering down. Now
the small ends of the two other poles are passed
into little loops or pockets at the points of the
wings, and these are extended in the proper
direction.

Stands Out now digs a hole in the ground in
the middle of the lodge for her fire, and if pos-
sible she gets a few atones as big as one's fist
and puts them in a circle around the fireplace.
Then she hangs, the door, tying it by its strings
to one of the pins which holds the front of
the lodge together and her house is completed.

It has taken a long time to describe this opera-
tion, but it does not take Stands Out a long time
to perform it. She works briskly, never makes
a false move and wastes no energy. She has
built her house, and when the fire is kindled and
the lining put up, it will be warm and comfort-
able on the coldest winter day.

Quail Drowned Ouj

New Bern, N. C, Jan. iq.
Stream: Every last oi
of calendars I recei
this is the 19th
it. Possibly
corroboratinj
as snow' ai
cury do^
North
had
last
drizj
wii

ETHNOLOGY

By Cheyenne
Camp Fires

By George Bird Grinnell

AutJior of "The Cheyenne Indiant,"
"When Buffalo Ran," etc.

^•*^

This collection of folk tales gathered by one of our greatest authori-
ties on the American Indian is a real contribution to our knowledge of
aboriginal oral literature. The stories show vividly the range of the
Indian's ideas, the things that interested him, the activities of his
life, and the crude mythology which made up a large part of his reli-
gion.

"By Cheyenne Camp Fires" contains: Hero Myths, The Earliest
Stories, Culture Hero Stories, and Wihio Stories. Wihio is the simpleton
who always makes his magic once too often, to his own discomfiture,
and the corresponding delight of his fellows.

Illustrated, Price, $5.00.

The Cheyenne Indians

Their History and Ways of Life

By George Bird Grinnell

**The value of such a work as Mr.
Grinnell has produced can hardly be
overstated. The Indians are a vanish-
ing race, and the remnant that re-
mains is rapidly losing the traditions
which link it with the past. It is
highly important that what can still
be learned about the race be recorded
while there is yet time, and this can
be done through the patient and pains-
taking labors of such devoted students
of Indian lore as George Bird Grin-
nell and a few others like him." — The
New York Times.

Two volumes. With 60 illustra-
tions from photographs and
drawings. Price, $10.00.

When Buffalo Ran

By George Bird Grinnell

"It is hard to classify this book. It
might be called a straightforward
narrative of real adventure in the
fashion of Defoe; it might be called a
book for boys who like to read the
romance of the old west; it might
have been printed as a contribution to
the sociology of the American Indian.
In any case, it is a remarkable story
and as interesting as it is remarkable."
— Literary Review, New York Post.

"This is an exceedingly interesting,
true story of an Indian boy of more
than fifty years ago, written by a
man who started in life as a brave
little Indian, who is now a cultured
American." — Journal of Education.

Illustrated. Price, $2.00.*

FOREST AND STREAM.

[Dec. 26, 1908.

Night crept down. The stars peered out
timidly. Ove'k a shadowy hill in^the east the
moon swung Ukfi a huge jjap^ lantern. The
mist began to riscS4;om 4fie warm river and the
breeze grew chilk My^ companion stirred him-
self, and with the embers of the cooking fire,
started a crackling blaze in a pile of bleached
drift Its heat was pleasant and the leaping

flames charmed our drowsy eyes. And we sat
there late, smo>ii^ talking. From the wood-
land across the riveh^n owl hooted; on the hill
a fox barked twice. - -A^g^nt frog drooned at
the water's edge. The fire felh4Qw. We spread
our blankets and turned in. The moon peeped
into the tent and we slept.

The Fleetness of Crow Chief

By GEORGE BIRD GRINNELL

THIS happened a long time ago, before
. the big fight in 1838 with the Kiowas,
Comanches and Apaches. A war party
of Cheyennes set out. Pushing Ahead, Crooked
Neck and Crow Chief were the ones who carried
the pipe. Besides these there were Gentle Horse,
Omaha, Short Tailed Bull, Man-on-the-Hill,
Medicine Arrow and Angry Man— nine in all.
It was at the last of the winter or the begin-
ning of spring that they left the main camp
near the Black Hills. They were going against
the Kiowas, Comanches and Apaches to take
horses from them. Their leggings and mocca-
sins were made of well smoked lodge skins, and
they used lodge skins for blankets. When the
weather was bad they made little shelters of
willows like a sweat lodge, and when they had
built the frames, they covered them with bark
and long grass. Each man had six or eight
pairs of moccasins which he carried tied by
their strings to the coiled rope that hung over
one shoulder and under the opposite arm, so
that the moccasins lay flat on the back. Each
man had also a rope made of twisted buffalo
forehead hair to use for a bridle.

Crow Chief was the best hunter and fastest
runner of them all, and they usually sent him
ahead to act as scout and to kill game.

When they reached the Smoky Hill River they
camped on Running Creek, a tributary coming
in from the south, and here they determined to
stop and kill and dry meat and to make small
ropes. They took strips of dry buffalo rawhide,
and two of them would climb part way up the
bluff and would draw these strips backward and
forward around points of rock until they be-
came soft. While they were doing these things,
a great herd of buffalo came down and fed all
about their camp. The calves were just being
born and someone proposed that they should
kill a number of calves, and from their skins
make sacks in which to carry their dried meat.
The men had awls and sinew, and they made
the sacks as proposed.

When they had finished this work they started
on again. They did not go near Bent's Fort,
but passed about sixty miles below it. When
they crossed the Arkansas they considered that
they were in the enemy's country. As they went
along, those men who best knew the country
pointed out to the others the way they would
return, showing where the rivers should be
crossed, and the different landmarks by which
the trail might always be found.

From this on they always had a scout out dur-
ing the day to look for danger. The others

would remain behind until this scout had crept
up on the next hill and looked over the coun-
try; then if all was well he would motion them
to come on. When they reached the Cimarron
River they were still more careful. Here the
country is open and level for long distances and
often they would creep from point to point of
the hills, or sometimes would run by twos, one
just behind the other, so that anyone seeing them
from a long way off might suppose the two to
be an elk or a horse. They never stopped all
night in a creek bottom, but after drinking, re-
tired to the head of some ravine and slept there.
One night just as it was getting dark they came
to the South Canadian. When they crossed it.
Crow Chief went first, and the others followed,
each stepping exactly in his foot prints in the
sand. The last man carried a brush of willow
twigs with which he swept away the tracks.
After they had crossed, they went up into the
breaks, where they ate and slept.

The next morning they followed up a ravine
and Crooked Neck went ahead as scout. After
" he had been gone a little while, the others started
on after him. They were now, as they supposed,
in the heart of the enemy's country. They could
see Crooked Neck ahead of them, up on the
side of the hill, looking over the country, while
they themselves were traveling in the bed of

the ravine.

Presently they saw Crooked Neck look, and
then jump into a ravine and run down toward
them, all the time making signs for them to
keep on up the stream. Soon he met them and
said, 'T do not know what it is, but just over
the hill is a bunch of buffalo, and I saw the
bulls begin to run. People must be there, and
we shall have to wait here for a time."

The men all began to put on their light moc-
casins for running. While they were doing this,
one of them looked up a side ravine and saw
a buffalo cow come over the hill, and a man
following it and ranging up alongside to shoot
it with his arrow, and following the man, a
woman. Both were on fast horses. The man
must have shot the buffalo in a good place, for
soon she stopped and stood a moment and then
fell. The man did not at once dismount, but
he and his wife sat on their horses looking all
over the country. Then the man got off his
horse and began to cut off meat, but he handed
the rope to his wife and she sat there on her
horse close to him.

"Now," said Pushing Ahead, "we will creep
up close to those people and kill them." The
Cheyennes slipped down into a side ravine, and

following one behind another, crept up until
they had come within two hundred yards of the
man. They could approach no nearer without
being seen. Pushing Ahead said, "Now, let us
make a rush and kill him before he can get on

his horse."

"No," said Crow Chief, "we cannot do that.
We shall be running up hill, and long before
we can get tq him he will be on his horse and

away."

They crouched there, watching. As fast as
the man cut off pieces of meat he put them on
his own and his wife's saddle.

"It will be better," said Crow Chief, "to watch
these people and see where they go. The vil-
lage must be close at hand." The others thought
that this was good counsel, and said to Crow
Chief, "Now, since you are the fastest runner,
as soon as this man gets over the hill do you
follow him and see where he goes. We will
come after you and will carry your gun and
your other things."

At last the man finished his butchering, and
mounted his horse, and he and his wife rode off.
As soon as he had passed over the crest of the
nearest hill. Crow Chief ran hard after him,
and when he reached the top of the hill he could
see the man, and watched him. He motioned
the others to come on, and waiting until the
Kiowa had passed over the next high hill, he
again ran hard after him. Those who had fol-
lowed Crow Chief, when they peeped over the
hill, saw him on the next hill, signing to them
to come on. When they reached him he said,
"You see that hill over there. It is there that
he passed." Pushing Ahead said, "Now, make
a quick run over there and see what you can
discover." Crow Chief made the run and crept
to the hilltop and soon came back a little' way
down the hill and motioned the others to come
on. They ran across to him as hard as they
could, and when they reached him he said to
them, "Well, I think we have found our friends."
They looked down the valley where he pointed,
and there, on both sides the Washita River, the
hills were covered 'with horses as far as they
could see.

Not far off there was a large buffalo wallow
where the grass grew high. They went there,
hid, and began to get ready— to straighten and
soften their ropes by pulling on them, or by
running them back and forth over the soles of
the feet, and to fill their saddle pads with grass.
This took a long time.

Then they chose partners, saying, "How shall
we go to the camp?" Pushing Ahead and Crook-
ed Neck said that they would go together. Crow
Chief said, "I will go by myself, for I am the
fastest runner, and I do not wish to be obliged
to wait for anyone." Six agreed to go in pairs,
but Crow Chief, Gentle Horse and Omaha were
to start together, but to part before they reached
the camp. At the buffalo wallow they left all
their things except their lariats and their hair
ropes, and it was agreed that they should come
back to this place to meet.

As soon as it grew dark, they started out, run-
ning for the camp. Crow Chief was soon far
ahead. Gentle Horse and Omaha parted com-
pany, and Gentle Horse went on the hills above
the camp. Soon he came upon a bunch of horses
standing close together, as if being herded. When
the horses saw him they put up their heads and
snorted, but he walked around them for a few

Dec. 2^, 1908]

FOREST AND STREAM.

ioo<

cadence that blended into the song of the river
and went on and on down the valley. At in-
tervals, too, the rattling call of a kingfisher, mak-
ing a blue flash across our bow, fell with blatant
notes upon our ears.

As we thus loafed along, the river ran swifter,
the rapids became more sudden and violent, and
eddies swirled in larger circles. For some miles
we had our difficulties and we had to sit erect
and ply the paddles with straightened arms.
Two dilapidated fish dams were run, and at the
second one we almost came to grief on a large
rock close to the surface. Sometimes the gravel
bars extended clear across the river and we ran
aground more than once seeking the narrow
channel that slipped noiselessly over the stones.
And sometimes the channel divided into narrow
chutes choked with drift. In one of these we
had to step out into the current and drag the
canoe over a half-submerged log.

These obstructions, however, served to keep
us aware of ourselves and key us up for the
chief obstacle of the day. A great tree had
fallen across a narrow part of the river just

tance between us and. the devouring spirit of
the water, we plied the paddles vigorously for

a time.

But soon we forgave the river for its greed
and relapsed into our former golden state of
mind, at peace with all the universe. Toward
noon we got fairly drunken with the sunshine
and the breeze. The current was now much
slower, spreading out in a deep wide channel,
and paddling had become merely a listless dip-
ping, now on this side, now on that. The canoe
began to grow too small for us; we must get
out and stretch ourselves on shore.

In a leafy nook between two tall chimney
rocks that rose against a bluff, we bestowed
ourselves, lunched, smoked and proclaimed all
things good; especially tobacco and a lively
river. It was a pleasant hour of the day, and
we lay there dreamily, conscious of the sun at
the height of its circuit, the slumbering wood-
land, the soft breathing of the wind and the
running water that never stopped even for the
noon hour.

We embarked again when we had been roused

the gravel bars. Cows came down from the
meadows and stood knee deep in the cool water,
lazily lashing clustered flies with wetted tails.
A farmer boy perched upon a clay bank above
an eddy and fished. His salutation barely gained
a response from the dull beings floating past.

So on we went, until the rays of the sun
reached up under our hat brims. Then we re-
membered the necessity of making camp for
the night stealthily approaching. We were run-
ning through a wide stretch of the valley with
low, heavily wooded banks. There were no
open places where the breezes could keep us
free from the night mists and the insects. So
we selected a wide gravel bar that divided the
current just above an abrupt turn of the river.

We made camp deliberately. The little brown
tent was hung from a dried willow pole, the
cooking rods set up, driftwood gathered in a
handy pile. Then we slipped into swimming
suits and plunged into the river. The swift
current of the narrow chute west of the camp
quickly carried us down to its junction with the
broad part of the river, and there we essayed

OUR CAMP ON THE GRAVEL BAR.

around a sharp turn. We pounced down upon
it so suddenly that our most strenuous strokes
failed to carry us full into the free water at
the end, and the stern, wherein I sat, was swept
broadside into the branches. We hung there,
half capsized, with the current sucking and bub-
bling among the twigs and piling up against the
canoe. The river seemed hungry for us and
our thoughts were of a grave and somber char-
acter as we struggled with tree and current. We
were in a ticklish position, but we managed to
keep our wits, and by main strength we cheated
the ambuscade and suddenly shot clear, and on

down stream.

This attempt of the river on our persons left
us with a sense of injustice after our close
brotherhood with nature, and some of the hollow
notes of Pan's music were heard in the little
valley. And just as if we must put a great dis-

by the distant shout of a plowman starting his
horses to their afternoon's plodding in the loam.
On down the river we floated, leaf-like on the
current. The sun had warmed the breeze until
it seemed to be the exhalation of some scented
anesthetic of nature, and our drowse grew more

intense.

Screwing up our eyes against the glittering
sparkle of the water we hazily glimpsed the fat
green landscape streaming by. The river vyas
turned hither and thither by the close-gathering
hills. The rock faces of the bluffs were painted
in various and beautiful shades by ages of min-
eral seepage. In the moist clefts, ferns and
fragile grasses clung, accentuating the browns
and reds and blacks exuded by the hidden veins.
Little streams fell into the river here and there
and added each its small volume to the current.
Willows, wherein young herons skulked, covered

to swim up stream. It was a strenuous task
and shook us from our open-air lethargy.

We started supper eagerly. Bacon was
crisped, an omelet was stirred up and the tea
water boiled. There were twelve strips of
bacon, eight eggs in the omelet, eight slices of
bread, a pot of jam and much tea when we
began. There was nothing left when we had
done. Hunger had kept us from noticing the
setting of the sun and the fall of dusk. As
the shadows deepened across the bar we lit our
pipes and stretched out on the boat rug, thrown
on a patch of soft sand. A breeze drifted over
from the south bank. And as the atmosphere
was cooled we could feel a pleasant warmth rise
from the gravel. It was very comfortable there
in the dusk after the long day on the water.
With full stomachs and pipes alight, a measure-
less content fell upon us.

Dec. 26, 1908.]
^ — •c*^

FOREST AND STREAM-

lOII

moments, and then caught one with his rope and
mounted and began to drive them oflF.

Now these horses were being herded by a
captive Mexican boy who must have been lying
down on his horse, for he was not seen. When
the horses started, he must have slipped off his
horse and a horse must have stepped on him,
for Gentle Horse heard behind him a boy cry;
out as if in pain. Gentle Horse always declared
that he made a great mistake when he did not
go back and get the boy and make him help
drive the horses. •

When Gentle Horse got to the meeting place
all were there except Crow Chief and Man-on-
the-Hill, and there were horses all about. They
waited a little while for the two who were miss-
ing, and then Pushing Ahead said, "We cannot
wait longer for our friends. Something may
have happened to them and we cannot risk the
lives of others by remaining here.*' They started
and drove all night. During the night there came
up a great rain which washed out their tracks.

At daylight, as they were going along, they
looked down the river and saw two men, each
driving a bunch of horses. When these two
men saw the others they changed their course

a little so as to join them. The different
bunches of horses were still being driven sepa-
rately, so that each man might know his own
horses when they were bunched up. Crow Chief
and Man-on-the-Hill did not go to the meeting
place at the buffalo wallow, but went to where
the trail would cross the river.

After they had come together the horses were
bunched and driven faster. A man with a good
horse was always left behind on a hill to watch
the back trail. All that day they pushed hard
and crossed the Arkansas at night, and there
they stopped and rested the horses. When they
had crossed the river they were all very tired.
They went up on the divide above the river and
spent the night there, and the leaders told each
man to catch a fast horse and tie it up closr

to him.

At daylight the next morning Crow Chief
awoke them and said, "Come on. Let us go"
He advised them to walk for a while until they
got limbered up, for they were very sore. About
noon Crow Chief caught a horse and went on
ahead and killed two buffalo. He and Man-on-
the-Hill, who had not gone back to the meet-
ing place, had lost their riding pads. They took

off the hides from the shoulders of the buffalo,
where the hair is thickest, and made riding pads
from these and made stirrups of the rawhide.
That night they stopped and camped here for
a few days, doctoring themselves and greasing
their sores and chafed spots with buffalo tallow.

When they started again, most of the men still
walked, but Crow Chief rode, for he was tire-
less. He went ahead and killed two antelope,
and giving one of them to Man-on-the-Hill, told
him to spread it over his buffalo pad, and he
would really have an easy saddle. They kept
on north to the head of the Republican River,
intending to wait there for a while.

When they had left the Black Hills, the
Cheyennes were intending to move south, cross-
ing both the North Platte and South Platte
rivers. One day, when Gentle Horse was out
from the camp, he saw from the point of a hill
two persons coming. He rode around among
the hills closer to where he could get a better
view, and after a little he saw that these two
people were a Cheyenne man and woman, and
from them he learned that the big camp was
close at hand. So the war party reached the
camp with their horses.

I012

FOREST AND STREAM.

[Dec. 26, 1908.

Cave Dwellings in Arizona.

San Carlos, Ariz., Dec. 19.— Editor Forest
and Stream: I say cave dwelling because it
looked more like that than like a cliff dwelling.
We were riding over the mesas beyond Hack-
berry Spring, looking for springs that might be
developed into water holes for Indian stock.

I had with me two line riders, one of whom
was an Apache Indian. The Indian called my
attention to a covey of white or silver-crested
quail near by. These were the first I had seen
or heard of. The California black topknot quail
fairly swarm on all parts of the reservation, but
I had not known of any other variety.

Far off, more than two miles away, bands of
wild horses were speeding for the breaks and
cedar gulches. They were as wild as though
they had never before seen humans. The line
rider showed me where, between two wide
breaks with precipitous walls, they held a band

cement. Only about a foot of the walls re-
mained, the floor being covered with a mass of
debris and impalpable dust.

The grass shoes were not in evidence. We
had nothing to dig with but a pointed stick, but
I put the Indian to work and he seemed to be
as interested as I was. Presently he exhumed
some old discarded shoes, bits of ancient pot- .
tery and bones. Now he found a shoe in a
good state of preservation, but showing wear
as though it might have been worn a day or two
before. The marks of the wearer's foot were *
still on it. Next came a bit of corn husk that
was fresh as the day it was torn off.

You will see for yourself, as I send these
articles with this paper. Evidently this cave
had never been disturbed since it was abandoned
by the inhabitants. Pieces of mescal that had
been chewed were found, also bones and corn-
cobs.

All of this stuff was dug up a foot under the

could not be removed. One picture represented
lightning or a river. The figures were rude and
evidently represented a family group.

What became of these people? Human bones
are found in many of these dwellings. It seems
to me that necessity and the encroachment of the
enemy made them cannibals, and thus they dis-
appeared. Luther S. Kelly.

The Audubon Societies at Boston.

The National Association of Audubon Socie-
ties will be represented by an exhibit at the
Sportsmen's Show of the New England Forest,
Fish and Game Association, to be held in the
Mechanics Building in Boston, commencing Dec.
24, 1908, and closing Jan. 5, 1909- The exhibit
will be under the charge of Prof. Edward Howe
Forbush, State Ornithologist, and the New Eng-
land agent for the Audubon Association. One

.'<«

'.i'.,ih\i'M

'"^mM

r'if:^

m^'^^

[Oct. 10, 1908.

TftTft^stT^^^^TTocK- ^^TToTnTTT

Indian Camp-Fire Tales

11. — A Sntpper on tht War Path.

In 1850 a war party of Cheyennes had started
out on foot to take horses and had got as far
south as Black Butte Creek — perhaps Big Creek
of the whites — which runs into the Smoky Hill
River from the north, near where Fort Larned
afterward stood.

They had come to the banks of this stream
and were sitting there resting, some of them
drinking water, others lying down in the grass
and sleeping. As they sat there one of the men
saw coming over the prairie a coyote, slowly
trotting toward the stream. It acted as if it
smelt something.

Now, it is the law that when people are on
the war path they must not kill or injure either
wolf or coyote, so no one thought of harming
this animal, and the men sat there and looked
at it, and one said to the others, "Sit still, now;
do not frighten it; let us see what it will
do."

The coyote trotted along slowly until it had
come to a sand bank at the edge of the water,
and there, after smelling about a little, it began
to dig, and presently had partly uncovered the
eggs of a snapping turtle and was beginning
to eat them. But close by, lying on the sand,
was a big snapping turtle, the mother that had
laid these eggs. She saw the coyote and com-
menced slowly to walk toward him. The coyote
had his head down in the hole busily devour-

ing the eggs and saw and heard nothing, and
in a moment or two the turtle was close to it,
and darting out its long neck seized him by the
cheek and the ear, closing her jaws on him with
a grip that nothing could loosen. The coyote
yelled dismally and tried to pull away, but could
not. The turtle was big and strong, and she
began to back slowly toward the stream. The
coyote, howling with pain, pulled back as hard
as he could and struggled desperately, trying
to shake himself free, hut the turtle held on
and marched steadily backward until she got
into the water and dragged the miserable coyote
after her. Gradually the water got deeper and
deeper, until it had reached the coyote's body,
and then presently his head disappeared, and the
last the Indians saw of him was his tail and
his hind legs waving in the air.

For some time the Indians sat there looking
at the water and talking over what had hap-
pened, and at length they saw the body of the
coyote rise to the surface and float away down
the stream.

So the old turtle protected her young ones.

Ill —The Buffalo Bull and the Coyote

Man.

The Indians believe that the bear and the
buffalo are two of the most powerful animals
found on the prairie or the mountains. They
are not only two of the largest and strongest,

but they possess also great medicine power, are
able to accomplish many marvelous things, and
especially have the power of healing and curing
themselves or those whom they favor when
wounded. Often a part of the operation of heal-
ing is said to consist in blowing out from the
nostrils dust of various colors, or in disgorging
earth of different colors. Here is a story of
the curing of a wounded cow by a buffalo bull,
told in absolute good faith by Two Crows, a
man now over sixty, and so old enough to have
taken part in many of the fightings of forty
years ago.

Two Crows was in Tall Bull's camp at the
time when General Carr captured it, and killed
so many of the Dog Soldiers, breaking forever
the power of that stern and headstrong organi-
zation.

Two. Crows said: 'Tt was in the summer
many years ago (summer of 1872) that I came
back from the North. I was traveling south
with several young men who had left the North-
ern Cheyenne. The Southern Cheyenne were
camped on the Cimmaron River. We met a
young Southern Cheyenne who told us where
the camp was.

**When we were about ready to start one morn-
ing, I said to my friends that I would go on
ahead, and I picked up a gun and powder horn
belonging to one of the party and walked off.
On my way I saw a herd of buffalo close to
the bank of a deep ravine and went around and
into the ravine and shot a buffalo cow that was
very close to me. She ran a little way and fell
down.

'T walked up to the cow to take some meat
from her and the other buffalo ran off. One
young bull stopped about fifty yards off and
looked at me. Just as I had reached the cow,
the bull started back and charged me. There
was a littld cottonwood tree standing nearby. I
dropped my gun and ran for the tree and jumped
up into it. As I did so the bull struck the stem
of the tree and nearly knocked me out of the
tree. I sat down on a branch.

"The buffalo bull went back to where the cow
was lying, walked around her, pawed the ground
and bellowed. Then he lifted the cow off the
ground with his horns. Then the cow and the
bull walked off together. It was the greatest
mystery I ever saw.

'T waited in the tree a long time before I went
back for my gun again, and then started back
to where I had left my party, walking along
the edge of the ravine where I had shot the cow.

"At the head of the ravine there was some
tall grass, and I looked down in it and saw there
a little old man lying on the ground, smoking.
He had an old robe about him and his old flint
and steel bag in front of him. I watched him
for a long time, but he never looked up; just
kept on smoking quietly. All at once he got up
suddenly and made a jump for the bank. As
he did so, he turned into a coyote and stood
on the bank looking at me. I have always been
sorry that I did not put out my hands to him
to thank him for showing himself to me.

"V/hen I got back to the camp everyone said
I should have thanked the coyote man, for his
letting me see him showed me I would live
to be an old man.

"This is a true story. I am getting old now
and it would not do for me to tell a lie."

Geo Bird Grinneix.

A Bloodless Coup

By GEORGE B. GRINNELL

ALONG time ago, a war party made up
half of Arapahoes and half of Chey-
ennes started from their camp in the
mountains near the Laramie River to go to war
against the Utes. Red Bull, the head chief of
the Arapahoes, was the leader. Most of the war
party were traveling on horseback, but a few

were on foot.

It was in the winter time that they started,
and the weather was cold. For many days they
traveled south along the Wind River mountains.
They found no enemies, and nothing happened.
One day, as was their custom, they sent scouts
out from the camp to go ahead of the party and
see what they could discover. The men had
been gone but a short time, when they came
l)ack and told the leader that they had seen a
camp of Utes. When the leader of the war
party heard the news, he determined to go that
night to the Ute camp, and to take as many
horses as they could. Some of the young men
were to look over the prairie and gather
the loose horse§ they found outside the camp,
while others should creep into the village and
cut loose the better horses that were tied up
dose to the lodges.

During the day they made themselves ready,
and as soon as it was dark all started for the
camp, which was close to them. Those who had
horses took them part way to the camp, and then

horse that was tied in front of a lodge, the Ute
that owned it heard him, threw back the lodge
door, and shot at him. Then all the men of the
war party ran, and l)egan to call to each other
that the Utes had shot a man and were after
them, and they all jumped on the horses that
they had taken and rode off as fast as they could
in the direction of their home.

All did this except Red Bull, the leader. He
was one of the bravest men in the camp, and

YOU.

QUESTION SIGN.

tied them up, so that if there was an alarm
they could get them quickly. From this place
all went on foot, and a part of the men went
into the village, while a part looked over the
prairie. It was a terrible night, very cold, and
blowing and snowing so hard that one could see

but a little way.

While one of the men was cuttmg loose a

one of the wisest. When he saw all the others
riding away north he thought it would be bet-
ter if he went by himself another way, and in-
stead of going toward the Cheyenne camp, he
rode in the opposite direction, south. He rode
that night in the storm until he came to a stream
on which some timber grew. He was freezing,
and it was so cold and the storiu was so bad
that he determined to stop there in the timber
until he could warm himself. It was away in
the niiddle of the night when Red Bull reached
the timber. He stopped, dismounted, and tied
his horse ; then he began to look about for some
shelter from the storm— some place where he
could be out of the wind and the snow. At first
he could find none, but at last, not far from his
horse, he walked against a high cut wall of rock,
and as he felt along this wall he came to a hoUs
and crawled in there to get out of the wind and
snow. He found the hole deep, and soon got in
and sat down.

For a little while Red Bull sat there in this
cave, shivering but glad that he had got in out
of the wind, and then he began to feel about
with his hands to find a good place to lie down.
As he was doing this he put his hands on a

man's knee.

''Ha!" Red Bull was surprised. He covered

his mouth with his hand.

After a Httle he felt along and put his hand
on an arm, and a breast, and found that it was
really a man— a live man sitting by him. He
said to himself, "Why here is a Cheyenne or an
Arapahoe who has got here ahead of me," and
he wondered who it could be. Pretty soon the
other man put out his hand and began to feel of

Red Bull, and felt of him all over. Neither
spoke. Presently Red Bull took hold of
the man's hand and raised it, holding it before
his own breast, and shook it and then touched
the man's breast with his finger; thus making
the sign "Who are you?" He let fall the hand,
and the other man took hold of Red Bull's hand
and asked him in signs, **Who are you?" Then
he put Red Bull's open hand close to his face
and rubbed the l)ack of the hand with his own
fingers— ''black'' (Ute), and then he touched
his own breast with Red Bull's hand. Then he
closed all Red Bull's fingers except the first,
touched his own breast with it, moved it before
him in a wide circle, then pointed it upward,
raised it high, bent it over, and brought it down,
pointing toward the ground; thus saying, "Of
all people about here I am the Chief."

Now they changed hands, and Red Bull took
the Ute chief's hand, drew all the fingers to-
gether to a point, and with them tapped his own
right breast, saying in signs— Arapahoe— tattooed
on the breast. Then by the same signs that the
Ute had used he said to him, '*Of all the Arapa-
hoes about here I am the Chief."

Now the Ute took Red Bull's hand, brought it
close to him, and shut down all the fingers ex-
cept two which he left extended side by side and
touching each other, and then pushed it outward.

CHIEF.

signifying "We have met together and are here
side by side like friends." Then he took Red
Bull's hand, closed all the fingers except the in-
dex, pushed with the forefinger his own body
and' Red Bull's body, and then, holding Red
Bull's hand in his own, pushed it sharply down
and snapped his own fingers out as if suddenly
letting go of or throwing something away. This

Marcu 28, 1908.]

MARCU

FOREST AND STREAM.

489

meant *To pierce (kill) each other would be
bad;* With one hand, he pushed Red Bull's
hand toward the entrance of the cave (outside) ;
and then shook it as if shivering (it is cold) ;
tapped the back of Red Bull's hand with the tips
of his own half spread fingers (it is snowing).
He made the question sign ; and taking Red

ARAPAHOE. ,

Bull's forefinger, bent it up at the second joint,
then he struck the tip of the finger with the palm
of his open hand (a pipe filled) ; then put Red
Bull's closed hand close to his forehead and
lowered it (do you own or possess?); then he
drew the hand back and toward his own mouth,
and moved it out nearly the length of his arm
and back toward his mouth and out again
(smoking).

Now Red Bull took the Ute's hand, closed it,
and brought it to his own forehead, and moved
it outward and downward (I have one).
Then he let the hand go, and reached around to
his fire bag, took out his pipe from its case,
filled and lit it, and handed it to the Ute chief,
and he smoked, and they both smoked. When
the pipe was smoked out he placed it on the
ground.

Again he took the Ute by the hand, and
brought it over and touched his own breast, and
then touched the Ute's breast, and made the
sign for smoking; (you and I have smoked).
Then he made the sign for cutting (a knife),
touched the Ute and himself, and made the sign
for putting down and for sleeping (**let us put
away our knives and sleep"). They slept there
together all through the night.

When they awoke and looked out, it was day
and clear weather. They got up and went out
side, and the Ute said to Red Bull by signs :

"My friend, I have a good horse tied down
there; he is very fast; a fine horse. I give him
to you."

Red Bull said, "My friend, I have a horse
picketed down here; he is a good horse. I give
him to you."

Red Bull was wearing his war shirt, hand-
somely ornamented and fringed with scalps, and
with a bundle of medicine tied on the shoulder.
He pulled this off and said, "My friend, I give
you that shirt." Across his scalp-lock he wore
an eagle feather tied to it. He untied this and
handed it to the Ute and said, "I give you that.
Tie that in your head, and when any one shoots
at you he will not be able to hit you."

The Ute also wore a fine shirt, and he pulled
it off and said to Red Bull, "My friend, I give
you my shirt. There is no medicine on it, for I
am not a medicine man, I am only the head
chief." He had a gun and a how, and a quiver
full of arrows, and these he gave to Red Bull,
saying, "I give you these." He wore a fine pan*
of buckskin leggings and a fine robe, and he
took off the leggings and gave them and the robe
to Red Bull, saying, "My friend, I give you

these." He took off his knife and said, "I give
you that."

Red Bull had a fine robe worked with porcu-
pine quills, and he gave tkis and his gun to the
Ute, and also his leggings and his knife. So
these two exchanged clothing, arms and horses.
Then the Ute said, "I have some meat here. We
will make a fire and cook it and eat." They did
this. Then Red Bull said, "Let us go and get
our horses," and they went down to where the
horses were. They were tied right close to-
gether— side by side. Red Bull had no saddle on
his horse, and the Ute had one. So he said to Red
Bull, "My friend, you have to ride a long dis-
tance, and I have only a short way to go; you
take my saddle. Also, since you have a long way
to go and you may perhaps meet some enemy,
I will give you my balls and my powder for
your gun. I have more at home in my camp."
Then the Ute gathered up a big lock of hair
over his temple, and said, "My friend, take your
knife and cut this off and take it home with
you, and when you get to your camp, blacken

FILLING A PIPE.

your face and dance, and tell them that you
have counted a coup on the head chief of the
Utes."

Then Red Bull gathered up a lock of his hair
and said, "My friend, take your knife and cur
this oft*, and when you get home, blacken your
face and dance, and tell them that you have
counted a coup on the head chief of the Arapa-
hoes." Each cut the hair off the other.

The Ute said, "My friend, I would like to
take you to my camp with me, but perhaps your
party have been fighting with the Utes, and if
they have news of it in my village they will kill
us both if I take you to the camp. But if my
people should come on us now while we are to-

gether, I will fight by your side and die with
you, fighting my own people."

Then the Ute said, "What is your namc?'|
Red Bull answered, "My name is Red Bull.''
Red Bull asked the Ute, "What is your name?"
The Ute said, "My name is He Who Walks in
the Air." Then said the Ute, "Let us exchange
names. I will give you my name, and you give
me your name." They did so. Then Red Bull
put his arms around the Ute and hugged him,

SIDE BY SIDE.

and the Ute did the same with Red Bull. The
Ute said to his friend, "Now we part. You go
and I will go." So they parted, and each went
his way.

The Utes chased the Cheyenne and Arapaho
war party, and in the morning at daylight caught
them, and they had a big fight. Two of Red
Bull's party were killed, and the Cheyennes and
Arapahoes killed three Utes. Neither party ran
br pursued. After these men were killed, both
parties drew off and went home. One night
after the Cheyennes and Arapahoes had reached
home, Red Bull came to the camp and told his
story, and they danced.

About two years after this the Arapahoes
made a peace with the Snakes. Then the Snakes
went with them to the Utes, and there also
they made a peace. Red Bull and He Who
W^alks in the Air met^ and became great friends.

i^ll this happened many years ago, but in the
year 1893, White Bull, a chief of the Cheyennes,
went to the Snake and Arapaho agency at Fort
Washakie, and there met a very old white-
haired man, a Ute, whom he asked if . he re-
membered anything about these men. The
old man said that he remembered them, and
added, "We have now in our tribe a chief named
Red Bull. Although this happened long ago this
name still remains among our people, and is
handed down from chief to chief."

The Passing of Pussir Tom

EDMUND F. L.

••

IXTY-EIGHT lambs from forty 5he

ain't so bad. I guess them sheej,^<^wi
clip near six pounds of wop4* right
straight through. Them five or six oKlest lambs
will be ready to ship in two we#4^' time; and
they say good lambs are Vortlv-'Hiree and a half
each. Wool's worth twentyyfive cents a pound,
cash, and those two bajpren ewes I mean to
stall-feed and sell." J

So spoke Hiram H^fwkins as he leaned on the
fence of the two-acre paddock close to his house.
The sheep were freshly washed. In a day they

NNER

would be dry enough to shear. The lambs
vvaried from sturdy youngsters, almost fit for
t'hK.piarket, to weak, wabbling babies only a
coupr^ilf days old. Abraham Lincoln, the im-
ported ra^ had already been sheared. The
scales record^^d* the fact that his fleece weighed
fifteen pounds o^^ punces.

Mr. Hawkins was engaged in mixed farming.
It was his great ambition to become the owner
of a hundred sheep. Starting on a capital of
nothing at all, he had saved enough to buy a
backwoods clearing. That was twenty odd years

330

FOREST AND STREAM.

[Feb. 26, 1 910.

Winter War Stories

By GEORGE BIRD GRINNELL

Amohc the Indians in olden times people were occasionally found who believed that th,v h,A .
spmtual power.' which enabled them to foretell coming events. Some of them could also cau'?:spirU, from !"h!
va«y deep." and those spirits, when summoned, conversed with them, told them about event, th ' J .u

happen. This foreknowledge came to those who possessed this mysterious power and whom we can "M,l

cme Men someUmes, while they »lept-i„ dreams-at other times they saw visions whi"e Twak^ or ZL

b.rd or «,me animal might call out to them and they would understand its cries just a, Tfit had ^nlv'"""'

thin^^Z^n^Z!!^"^ * ^''i ^'".^ literature; that is to say. they have a multitude of stories dealing with
tWnrs.^^^.T^'™' T"u ^^ P^^^^««- ^^^y °f their tales purport to give the history of the orfgi^ of
^^tl" of w^s. In Tt'he T^ ^'.t'' '"'"' ''^' ""^^^ '"^ P"^P^^" °^ entertainment, and stories about the
TeTe Lmir wiJh in the to^ % mysterious appears from time to time, miraculous happenings whch
antij;;:^'^^^^^^^^ ^- ^^ ^^ose of sacred history or of ^classical

..oXu"h^"e:iing":^tL^^^^^^ ttr IJ ?J''T "^?^^"^ ^^ ^^^^^^^^^^ ^^-^ ^-^ ^^-^ ^^^ t^- -ty years

off^ here as iot^errutg^t frtL fact^ w"^^^^^^ TT"" '"r! '^T"^^ ^' ^'^ "^^*^"^^"»' *"^ -«

the mind of primitive men facts which they contain, and for what they show of the working of

The Prophecy of Bear Man.

IN the winter of 1856-57 a part of the Chey-
cnncs were camped for the winter on Run-
ning Creek. Three clans of them were
there, the Wuh' ta piu, O i'vi hianah' and Hev'a-
taniu. One day a medicine man called Bear
Man, after coming out of a sweat house where
many old men were taking a sweat, stopped by
some men who were sitting, smoking near the
pile of earth where the buffalo skull faces the
sweat house, and said to them: "While my
fnends there were all singing inside the sweat
house, I saw something."

"What is it," said the others ; "tell us about it."
^^ "As we were sitting there," said Bear Man,
"praying and sweating, it came into my mind
strongly that it will be good for us to keep close
and tie up aU our gentle horses, for in my mind
I saw coming toward our camp on foot a war
party of Pawnees. The leader was carrying in
his arms somethmg wrapped up in a cloth."

When Bear Man had finished speaking, Bear
Tongue rose to his feet and went through the
camp, crying out and telling all the people what
Bear Man had seen in his vision.

As the sun drew to the west, all the people
drove up their horses and all the gentle ones
were tied up. Some young men went out a little
way from the camp and watched during the
night for the Pawnees. Two nights passed and
nothmg happened. On the third day people be-
gan to say that Bear Man must have been mis-
taken in his vision, and that night they did not
tie up their horses, and on this third night every-
thmg was quiet. Nobody now thought anything
of Bear Man's vision.

Early in the morning after the fourth night
a young man came running into the camp, call-
ing out that the Pawnees had stolen horses. He
held m his hand a Pawnee arrow that had'drop-
ped out of a Pawnee quiver while its owner was
getting on a horse. The man's tracks showed
where he had mounted a Cheyenne horse. All
the men now ran out to see if their horses were
taken. When the women went down to the
stream for water they found a blanket that a
Pawnee had lost. Those who were out hunt-
ing for their horses came to a place on the hill
below the camp where the Pawnees had sat in

a row and made prayers before taking the
horses. On the ground they had marked horse
tracks leading toward the Pawnee country. They
had left their sacks just as they had set them
in a row, with corn and dried meat in the sacks
and also some moccasins. They had driven the
horses by this place and taken a few of their
things, for their tracks showed where they had
dismounted.

Thus it was seen that Bear Man's vision had
come true. His prophecy was fulfilled. The
Cheyennes came back to the camp and told what
they had seeh, and now men began to saddle up
their horses to follow the trail. As the men
were beginning to start, Bear Tongue cried out,
"Follow them slowly, for the Pawnees have not
taken very many good horses." The best horses
were above the camp, but the Pawnees coming
up the stream had taken the horses below the
camp and mainly from the camp of the Hev'a-
taniu. The clans Wuh' ta piu and O I'vi manah
were camped further up the creek and had their
horses above the camp.

As fast as the men got saddled up they started
on the trail. It was very plain and led toward
Solomon Forks. In the evening the pursuers
stopped on a small stream that runs into those
creeks. The trail was now very fresh.

Black Kettle had been chosen as the leader
on this trip. He was a young chief and had
married into the Wuh' ta piu clan. When they
stopped that evening he said to the young men :
"Now we are getting dose to the Pawnees. All
those of you who have good horses must saddle
them and leave your poor horses here. Those
of you who are riding slow horses stay here
with these horses." A good many of the men
were riding common horses and leading their
war horses, but some people who were riding
poor horses were those who had had their good
horses stolen. Buffalo were all about them, and
Black Kettle told those who were going to stay
here not to go away from this place, but
to go out and kill some fat cows, so that when
his party returned they might have plenty to
eat. He told them also to keep up a good fire
during the night, for he and his party would come
back as soon as they had overtaken the Pawnees.
Black Kettle and his party started on the trail
and when they got , near the Solomon River

Black Kettle told his men to form in line and
all to get off their horses. They did so and all
the men stood in line in ffont of their horses.
Then Black Kettle took an arrow from his
quiver and stepped ahead of his men and held
the arrow as if he were going to shoot; then
he drew the arrow back and came to his men
and said to them: "Do you see the point of
that hill over there ? Right under it the Pawnees
are resting and eating." All mounted their horses
and charged for this point, and when they
reached it they found that the Pawnees had
just left it. The fire was still burning. They
had killed a buffalo and had been roasting meat.
The Cheyennes had started down this creek and
had not gone very far when they saw the
Pawnees rounding up the horses and trying to
catch the fast horses to get away on. But the
Cheyennes were all on good horses and they
were too quick for the Pawnees. Two Pawnees
caught fast horses, one a white horse that be-
longed to Thin Face and one a gray horse that
belonged to Lump, Nose. These two were noted
• horses. Thin Face and Lump Nose had stayed
back with those that had the slow horses and
were left as leaders of that party. In their
younger days both had been great warriors

Five Pawnees ran to the timber nearby and
got among the willows and cottonwood trees,
but the Cheyennes got all around them, and it
did not take them long to kill all five. The two
on fast horses got away. The Cheyennes knew
that they could not catch them, so they let them
go. Antelope was the first man to count a coup.
They had recovered all their horses except the
two that the Pawnees had ridden off and nine
more that were still missing These nine were
eight unbroken mares and a very old mule that
had been broken to ride.

It was night when they turned back. On the
way they stopped to rest, and next day early
started on, though their horses were getting very
tired. Black Kettle said: "Let us stop on the
creek and dress the scalps," and they did so and
rested for a time. They all said: "We must
not show the scalps to the other party until we
get near them and then we can shake the scalps
in their faces." This was the custom in those
days. '

The party that had been left behind got up
on the hill to watch those who were approach-
ing to see whether anyone had been hurt or
killed, but those who were coming made no
signal. When Black Kettle and others got close
to those who had stayed behind and were just
about to shake the Pawnee scalps at them, Thin
Face, who was Black Kettle's brother-in-law,
ran up to Black Kettle and pulled out a scalp
from under his robe and waved it in front of
Black Kettle's face. Black Kettle and his party
were surprised at this. Thin Face pointed down
the creek and said to them: "You will find his
carcass there." He meant that they had killed
the Pawnee there.

When those that were left behind went out to
kill buffalo, they saw a man driving eight head
of horses and riding a mule. This Pawnee was
unlucky. The horses he had taken were all un-
broken mares. Only the old mule was gentle and
could be ridden. In the darkness these wild
mares looked fat to the Pawnee, and he thought
he was getting a fine herd, but in the morning
he found his mistake, for he had nothing to ride
but this very old mule.

Feb. a^, i<^io.]
r-

FOREST AND STREAM.

331

The Chcyennes say that this man must have
been crazy. When they charged toward him he
jumped off the mule and ran down the creek.
He came to a coyote hole and spread his buf-
falo robe over the hole and pulled his moccasins
off and placed them on the ground in such a way
that it looked as if he were lying down there.
At first the Cheyennes thought he was lying in
the hole, and when they charged him the first
man struck the robe with his bow and then saw
that there was no Pawnee there. They ran fur-
ther down the creek, searching everywhere, and
at length found him hiding in the bed of the
stream. When he saw that he was discovered,
he jumped up, holding his bow and a handful
of arrows. He pointed to the sun and made
signs that he was like the sun and that it would
be a great thing for them if they should kill
him that day. The Cheyennes say that whether
he was crazy or not he made a good fight Twice
he came very near catching Thin Face, and they
say that if he had been on a horse he would
have killed a number of them. Thin Face fought
on foot and the Pawnee kept running after him.
Big Nose had a gun and got off his. horse to
shoot at him, and when the Pawnee saw that
Big Nose was off his horse he made a dash for
him. Big Nose got behind his horse to shoot,
but the Pawnee did not turn back but kept rush-
ing toward him, and when he got very close. Big
Nose shot him and he fell. For a long time .the
Cheyennes were afraid to go close to him. Once
before he had lain on Ae ground and pretended
that he was shot, and when they went near to
him he had jumped up and run after them.
They thought he was playing this trick again.
After loading his gun. Big Nose walked up to
the Pawnee and he was dead. They say he
was a fine looking young man.

This time the Cheyennes got six scalps and
got back all their horses except two that the
Pawnees had ridden off. For the rest of the
winter the Cheyennes held big scalp dances.

Later in the winter Bear Man, although it
was winter, made fresh cherries and plums to
grow while he was doctoring Sand Hill. Sand
Hill was very sick — so low that he could not
eat anything, and Bear Man made this fruit for
him to eat. Bear Man took twigs of cherry and
plum brush and stuck them in the ground and
threw a buffalo robe over them and shook his
rattle and prayed over it a few times, and when
he took the robe off there were wild cherries
and plums on these bushes. The medicine men
were sitting inside the lodge and saw Bear Man
do this.

The Strange Adventures of a Kiowa

War Party.

A long time ago a war party of Kiowas and
Comanches started to go to Mexico to see what
they could do. After they had gone some dis-
tance the back of one of their horses became
very sore; it was so bad that the horse could
no longer be ridden. When they saw how sore
the pony's back was, they thought it best to
leave it behind, for it would be no use to them
on the rest of the trip, and when they came back
they could find it and take it home with them.
While they were talking about this a middle
aged man said: "It will be good to take the
insides of the wild gourds that grow here on
the prairie and plaster them on this sore. This
will keep the flies off, and at the same time will

help to heal the wound." Some of the young
men hobbled the pony, and getting some of the
gourds they broke them open and took out the
seeds and the pulp and spread this over the sore
until it was all covered. Then they left the
horse and went on their way.

There was a young man who went along as
a servant who rode a small black pony, whose
ears and tail had been cut off. It was a thick
short-legged animal and, when at a little dis-
tance, looked a good deal like a black bear. The
party traveled on, and when they reached the
mountains they came to a place where bears

CLIMBING THE MOUNTAIN.

were very plenty and very tame, so that any-
one could ride right close to them and they
would pay no attention to the men. Game of all
kinds was plenty and the war party had an
abundance of food. They did not trouble the
bears because it is against the Kiowa medicine
to hurt a bear, for the great medicine of the
Kiowas — that which they used in their medicine
lodge, and to which they offered presents to
bring them good luck— are stones that look just
like bear kidneys and they call them stone bear
kidneys.

The night they camped here someone gave the
alarm that enemies were coming, and all were
frightened. The young men that were guard-
ing the horses ran them into camp, and every-
body was in a great hurry to saddle up and move
to another place. The night was very dark. The
young man who had the black bobtaikd pony
saddled it and at length the whole party moved
off together. During the night, while they were
traveling, if any man rode near to this young

servant who had the small bobtailed horse, the
rider's horse would shy away from the young
man. To some of the men riiis happened more
than once, and they thought it was queer and
did not understand it, but when daylight was
coming on they saw the reason why their horses
shied away from this young man on his black
bobtailed pony. When the horses had been
driven into the camp a black bear had come
with them, and this young man had saddled up
the black bear in the darkness, taking the bear
for his horse.

When the Kiowas saw what had happened
they all laughed a great deal and asked the
young man why it was that he had not found
out that he was riding a bear. The young man
said: *T was so sleepy that I did not know
what I was doing ; so I rode the bear."

The bobtail pony was running with a loose
herd of horses, so the young man got off the
bear and took off his saddle and bridle and the
others caught his pony and brought it to him
and they left the bear behind them.

The war party went on to Mexico, raided the
settlement there, took some Mexican captives
and got many horses. On the way back they
came to a very large and deep stream. They
sent the Mexican captives to ride into it in the
lead, and drove the loose horses after them, so
that the herds followed them. When the horses
reached the middle of the stream they began
to plunge for the other side as fast as they could
swim, but one gray mare hung back and was
slow in making for the shore and in climbing
the bank. The other horses had all got out on
the bank, and some began to feed and some to
roll in the grass when they saw this mare com-
ing up on to the bank, and all of them stam-
peded, running away from her. She had some-
thing hanging to her tail, but when she got up
on to the level ground she began to kick and
plunge and the thing dropped off.

When the Kiowas rode up to it, it was an old
man. It had a tail like a fish, no legs and was
very wrinkled all over. It had eyes and mouth
and ears, but no nose; The head was perfect
except for the nose. The eyes were large and
round; they were like fishes eyes. It had very
long finger nails like the claws of the snapping
turtle. It could not sit upright on account of
its fishes' tail. The Kiowas all ran from this
little old man.

After a time they got back to the place where
they had left the sore-backed horse. When they
had almost reached the place the owner of the
horse went ahead to search for it. He climbed
up on a hill to look around to see if he could
see the horse down the stream, and when he
looked down the valley he saw a small green
mound, and while he looked at it, it moved. He
motioned to his party to come on quick and they
did so, and joined him, and at last they all rode
up to the mound and found that it was the sore-
backed horse that they had left. Long vines
had grown from the seed put upon his sore and
hung down to the ground all about, covering the

horse.

The Kiowas held a council to determine
whether they should take this' horse with them
or leave him, and after it had all been talked
over they thought it best to leave him where
he was. They say. that now there is a big mound
there covered with these gourds and they call
it the Horse Mound. At this place big herds of

333

FOREST AND STREAM.

[Feb.^26, 191a

-»«•

wild horses roam and the Kiowa medicine men
used to go there to dig up the roots of these
gourds for medicine. They say that these roots
were stronger medicine than those that grew in
other places. All the Indians use these roots
for medicine. When dry they are sweet tasting.
The war party came on toward home. As
is the custom with war parties, one or two men
were always out ahead hunting, to get food for
the party. One day a hunter who was ahead
saw a big herd of wild horses coming out of a
creek, and in the lead of this herd of horses he
saw a person walking. For a long time he did
not know what to do. He knew that these were
wild horses, and yet they were following a per-
son and this seemed mysterious. He did not
know whether to ride up to the person or not.
The hunter rode back to his party and told him
what he had seen. He was a chief and they
all believed in him. They decided that the next
day they would try to capture this person when
the wild horses came back for water. That
night one of the medicine men dreamed that this
person was a woman who some years ago had

gone back to look for a colt that had been left
behind, and who had been lost and never could
be found or traced.

The next morning all the men caught up their
best horses in order to chase this person and to
capture him if they could. They waited behind
a big hill, and in the middle of the day they
saw the herd coming for water. When the
horses went into the creek, the Kiowas made a
rush for them and some made for the hills in
the direction they thought the wild horses would
run. Those that charged directly on the wild
horses got very close to them before they ran
up out of the creek. The person who was with
them took the. lead of all the horses and outran
them all. A yearling colt was running with it
and a big stallion kept close behind it. The big
stallion fought hard for it, but the Kiowas closed
in, and after a long chase caught it with their
ropes. When they caught it, it fought hard. It
had long finger nails and had long hair all over
its body even on its face. The yearling colt
kept coming back.

After the Kiowas had their lariats thrown on

it from all sides so that it was firmly held, they
could look closely at this person, and they found
that it was the woman that had been lost years
before. One of her rela\^ions was with this
party, and he said it was better to let her go,
for she would be of no use to them, as she had
turned wild. So they loosened*, the ropes and
let her take them off, and when she got loose
she made for the wild horses — she and the year-
ling colt. The wild horses stood off a short dis-
tance waiting for her. In years after that she
was often seen with the wild horses, but she was
never afterward troubled nor was the herd she
ran with ever chased, for in council the Kiowas
agreed not to chase this herd; they always
avoided it or went around it.

When they reached the village they told all
about this woman's running wild with the wild
horses, and how she acted when they caught
her, and how she fought to get loose, and that
it was no use to try to tame her.

This is the story as told to me by Man Going
Down Hill. He is still alive and one of the oldest
Kiowas now living. What do you think of it?

Concerning Black Bears.

Until very recently I have always had the
greatest unconcern in connection with meeting
common black bears; an unconcern founded on
the belief that they invariably got out of the
way for people who were not afraid of them.
I have had to alter my opinions radically.

As a boy I used to spend my summers in a
region of Canada where bears were fairly
numerous, and later when I adopted lumber-
ing, my business often took me into the big
woods in the summer and fall. In this way I
met many bears and made their more intimate
acquaintance; sometimes when they were on
their depredations at the lonely farm houses,
which stood in little clearings on the edge of
the wilderness, and sometimes in the tangled
and trackless wilderness itself.

Once in a great while we would surprise a
bear close enough to see him sneaking off with
his head turned over his shoulder, and watch-
ing us out of his wicked little eyes; or perhaps
he would disappear with a heavy awkward-
looking lope, without giving us even a backward
glance.

The woodsman undoubtedly passes many bears
in summer without any intimation of their prox-
imity, but in such cases it is seldom that bruin
himself is not either watching or getting out of
the way, for like all other wild creatures he has
the advantage over human beings in the matter
of keenness of scent as well as in the exercise
of other organs of sense. Of this I have had
two striking illustrations told in detail by that
invaluable publicity bureau of the forest, the
newly fallen snow.

In late September and early October in the

Northern Canadian woods, five or ten minutes'
snow flurries are of frequent occurrence. These
flurries hardly cover the brown carpet of the
fallen leaves **under the shade of melancholy
boughs" in the autumn woods, and the snow
disappears almost as quickly as it has fallen,
but during its short stay furnishes a perfect
record of the near passage of any of the forest
inhabitants.

One of the illustrations I mentioned will be
sufficient. Three of us were walking through
the virgin woods, following more or less the
course of a river. We were discussing in rather
loud voices the advisability of certain lumber-
ing operations, when the first little snow flurry
of the day came sifting through the evergreens
and birches, calling our attention to the near
approach of winter.

A few moments later when the snow had made
a partial covering for the ground, we came on
two bear tracks, a large and a small one, made
undoubtedly while we were within rifle shot of
the bears. They had been coming toward us
and the snow showed plainly where they had
halted at the sound of our voices. They must
have stood for a moment to ascertain the nature
of the noise, but in that moment came the knowl-
edge of the presence of human beings and — in
consequence of the recognition of danger — a di-
gression from their original course; a digression
which took them to the river and across it, for
they did not seem to mind the swim in the icy
water so long as they evaded us. The river was
narrow and we were too late to catch a glimpse
of them. There must be many like occurrences
when there is no newly fallen snow to tell the
story.

Most of the settlers in the forest fringe I

have mentioned either had traps or made dead-
falls, and some years they were very successful
in their war against the thieving bears.

There was one French-Canadian called Isidor
something or other, who lived in a particularly
lonely place, and with whom we often made our
headquarters. This Isidor was greatly bothered
by bears and had lost many sheep, one heifer
and a pig during his residence on the farm.
I have never seen a bear catch a sheep, but
Isidor has told me of the depredator's manner
of proceeding. Dusk is the hour when they
usually operate. They approach cautiously till
the sheep notice them, and sheep-like scamper
off in affright. Then the bear lies perfectly flat
and quiet, and the natural curiosity of the sheep
brings them back to investigate. Nearer and
nearer they come till bruin has a chance to grab
one in a few short springs.

His method of departure, Isidor said, was al-
ways on the hind legs with the sheep or even
a heifer clasped in his front paws. Once Isidor
met a bear walking off thus erect, with a creamer
full of milk clasped by the edge in one of his
front paws and held out in front of him.

The last summer I had the pleasure of friend-
ly intercourse with Isidor he had determined on
a new policy to protect his live stock. He had
sold three sheep, and with the proceeds was hav-
ing masses said for various of his deceased rela-
tives, hoping thus to secure their spiritual inter-
vention in the matter of protection for the sheep
and confusion to the bears. Unfortunately I
left the region before the result of the experi-
ment could be ascertained, and as I did not
again see or hear from Isidor, I cannot say
whether his tactics were successful.

I sometimes made the round of the traps and

iiiiiirmiiiii

An Indian War Bonnet

THE accompanying illustration re-
presents an eagle-feather head-
dress in the writer's collection of
Indian relics at Saint Williams, Ontario.
This bonnet formerly belonged to Man-
in-the-Clouds, a chief of the Southern

cost was heavy. In the days of the
bison a pony was the price of each mra,
and as tail-feathers only were used, three
eagles usually had to be secured. W""®
plumes with black ends were considered
superior to barred specimens, but the

Indian war bonnet

Cheyennes of Oklahoma, and is the type
worn ^y^prairie tribes of Canada as well
as of the United States.

The seventeen large feathers of the
upper part are securely fastened to the
buckskin scull-cap and beaded peak.
The twenty-four on the flap are strung
along a core laced through it, by means
of their bases being ingeniously pointed
and bent back into the cylinders. They
are kept in a horizontal position by a
string suspended from the cap and
threaded through the bone midway.
All the quills are bound with red flannel,
which goes well with the red and blue
cloth of the flap and which is em-
bellished with inserted down. The wo
cords hanging from the peak are for ad-
justment. The two yellow strips belt w
(the tassels only being visible in the
picture) are for tying around the chest,
keeping the tail m position and at the
same time relieving the wearer's head of

its weifiht.

A war bonnet of this kind was highly
prized. As exceptional skill is required
to kill or capture an eagle, the initial

latter were not all rejected, as can be
seen in the photo. Originally no feathers
were worn below the waist, as indeed is
yet the custom to a great extent. But
with the introduction of horses, the long
flaps became popular.

A chief was allowed a feather for each
man killed by himself and his band. If
the victim lost his scalp, a tip of red
down was attached. On the example
shown there were forty such tips, but
one has been lost. The notched orna-
mental plume extending from the back
of the cap is tufted with white.

In actual warfare, bonnets were often
found to be cumbersome, and were cast
aside. There is a story of an Omaha
chief, who in assisting to ward off an
enemy attack on his village, felt hii
head-dress to be in the way. He sent
Jt back to the tepee by a lad, who put it
on and amused the squaws by strutting
about and pretending to be a victorious
warrior. However, the boy's action
was really a symbol of victory, for shortly
afterv^ards the braves returned in
triumph laden with scalps.

The Indian's Gift.

Anna Hauser, Cheyenne.

|NCE upon a time an Indian started on a long jour-
ney, and as was the custom in those days he walked.
The only thing which he carried was a large buf-
falo robe. It was very hot, as it was in midsummer
when he started on his journey.
As he was nearing a river bank he saw a fox sit-
ting there. When he reached the river he began to talk to the fox
for quite a while, and then he again started on his journey.

When he was quite a distance from the river he came to a large
rock, and he began to talk to the rock. The rays of the sun were
beating on the rock and the Indian thought he would give the robe
to the rock as a present to protect it from the scorching rays of the
summer sun. He gave the robe to the rock and he again resumed

his journey.

He had not gone very far from the rock when he agam met the
same fox and began talking to him. In the distance could be seen
black, heavy clouds and he knew that there was going to be a severe
storm. He wished for his robe to protect him from the storm and
he finally made up his mind to take it back from the rock.

He told the fox to go after it and the fox did so. The rock
was very unwilling to give up the present given to him by the In-
dian. The fox took the robe in spite of the rock's protests and

carried it to the Indian.

The Indian could see off in the distance that something black
was coming. He thought it was a cloud and did not hurry but

took his time.

The next time he looked back he saw that it was the rock which
was following him. He looked around for a hiding place and saw
a cave where the fox lived. He ran into the hole, but it was too
late as the rock had seen him. The rock rolled up to the mouth
of the cave and the man was suffocated.

This should teach us a lesson that whatever we give away we
should not take back and be "an Indian giver," as they say.

ANTHROPOLOGIC MISCELLANEA 213

km. Kxx\VTt)Vo\ociV&^.V«>V.\»^.Ho.\,3a.«-maroVv WB

manent structure of society. Mr A. R. Brown followed with an account
of the varieties of totemism in Australia, his classification covering several
new types re'bently discovered by himself in Northern Territory, or by
Mrs Bates in th$ Eucla district. In the afternoon the section repaired
to the museum, \^ere local experts provided a full program. Mr R.
Etheridge commented on various ethnological exhibits from Australia
and New Guinea, being part of the rich collection over which he presides.
Mr S. A. Smith dealt with various anatomical peculiarities of the Austra-
lian aborigines. Messrs Flashman, Hedley, Enright, and Elmore were
also to thank for interesting contributions and exhibits, while a great
debt is due to Prof. J. T. Wilson, who, despite the severe duties of military
censor, managed to arrange for st^strongly supported and well-organized
a sectional meeting as that of the Anthropologists at Sydney.

It has proved quite impossible todo justice here to the multitudinous
experiences which, altogether apart fk)m the formal proceedings of the
section, have served to make the AustraHan visit of the Association,
and of the anthropologists in particular, a^t once pleasant and profitable
in a quite unique way. The unfailing kindness and hospitality shown by
our over seas brethren one and all make it a too invidious task to assign,
special thanks, and it must sufifice, by way of showing due gratitude, to-
see to it that, in the way of science, Australia's myriad wonders and*
excellences are henceforth rated at their proper worth. As for the an-
thropologists in particular, they cannot be accused of having neglected!
Australia, since it has ever been the happy hunting-ground of the theorist
seeking to reconstitute the life of primitive man; but at any rate it is
likely that henceforth the study of Australian problems will proceed
more intensfvely, inasmuch as the astonishing wealth of the Australian
museums has been realized from near at hand. Moreover, we come away
feeling that we have left on the spot plenty of men capable of carrying out
the best kind of anthropological work, if only those in control of ways
. and means can be induced to make proper provision for a branch of study
in which Australia might well aspire to lead the world.— Nature, London.
October 22.

A Cheyenne Dictionary,— The veteran Mennonitc missionary,
Reverend Rodolphe Fetter, who has spent twenty-three years with the
Cheyenne of Oklahoma, and is without question the best authority on
the language and general ethnology of the tribe, announces as nearly ready
for publication his "English-Cheyenne Dictionary," a monumental work
which has engaged much of his study time for a number of years. Mr

214

AMERICAN ANTHROPOLOGIST

[n. s.. 17. 1915

Petter is of Switzerland, the country which has given to American eth-
nology Gallatin. Gatschet, and Bandelier. After graduating in theology
and receiving ordination at home, he volunteered for the Indian mission
work, having as an equipment, besides a practical knowledge of agri-
culture and mechanics, a ready acquaintance with the classical languages
French. German, and medicine, to which he afterward added English
on arriving in this country. In 1891 he was assigned to the Cheyenne
mission at Cantonment, Oklahoma, where he has since resided unti
within the last year, being now on temporary furlough for the purpose of
arranging his linguistic material. On coming to the tribe Mr Petter at
once devoted himself to an earnest study of the language, which he
mastered so thoroughly that for years he has used it entirely in all his
communication with the Indians, both in church and in camp. His
English also is nearly perfect, and he preaches as occasion demands in
any one of four languages with almost equal fluency. A manuscript
English-Cheyenne dictionary which he prepared some years ago has been
several times laboriously duplicated for the use of other missionaries in
the tribe both in Oklahoma and Montana, and forms the basis of the
present work. He has also published in the same language a Cheyenne
Reading Book (1895). the first book ever published in Cheyenne; trans-
lations of the gospels of Luke and John; the Pilgrim's Progress; several
compilations of hymns; and a considerable volume of extracts from the
Old and New Testaments {IIosz Maheo Heeszistoz, 1913)- His "Sketch
of the Cheyenne Grammar" was published in Volume I of the Memoirs
of the American Anthropological Association in 1907. He has also a
Cheyenne-English Dictionary and a Cheyenne Grammar still in manu-
script. , , , I

As originally planned, the present dictionary would make nearly 1000
printed pages of large size, in two volumes, and embodying, besides
etymologies and definitions, a great amount of ethnologic material relating
to botany, medicine, geography, ritual, and daily home life. The price
is necessarily high, the edition being limited to about fifty copies, and
the printing being done upon the Gammeter multigraph, by his son,
Valdo Petter, who was born with the tribe and knows the language
thoroughly. Should the work receive sufficient encouragement it will
be followed by a Cheyenne-English Dictionary and a Cheyenne Grammar.
Further information and specimen sheets may be obtained by addressing
the author. Rev. Rodolphe Petter, Kettle Falls, Washington.

James Mooney

.x;.

Repairing the Lodge Covering

Tying the Poles

Setting the First Three Poles

cAdding the Supporting Poles

Binding the Lodge Poles

Raising the Lodge Covering

Photographs by John Jay White, Jr. J

Pinning the Front
CHEYENNE WOMEN SETTING UP tA LODGE

The Completed Lodge

CJil

■pp

CiMO^

iM'^i

'^.

C. Hart Meniam

Papers

BANCMSS

8(V18c

¥^55m^ or TinE CsmrrEWd

^U. ist^.

Angus Hay

IN the autumn of 1834 three birch-
bark canoes, loaded with a mis-
sionary's limited household effects,
landed on the north shore of Lake Poke-
gama near Pine City, Minnesota. Two
persons remained on the bank when the
canoes were again paddled out into the
lake. These were the Rev. Mr. Bout-
well and his wife.

At the landing they established the
second Protestant mission in Minnesota.
For years they carried on their work of
Christianity among the Indians. Once
during their residence in the heart of the
great forest they were warned by a
rumor from Fort Snelling that the Sioux
were chanting their war songs and that
the Chippewas, whose hunting ground
the missionaries occupied, and the mis-
sion, would be attacked.

Rev. Mr. Boutwell and the Chippewa
chiefs held a council of war and dis-
pritched runners to Mille Lacs Lake to
seek aid. The Sioux poured in on their
enemies, and the battle was fought be-
tween Mission Island and what is now
called Mission Farm. The Chippewas
were victorious and retained their hunt-
ing ground.

The missionaries carried on their work
for several years after the decisive battle
which ended the warfare between the old
tribes. Advancing civilization at last
relieved Rev. Mr. Boutwell of his toil,
and the pioneers of the white race blazed
the way for their weaker brothers to
follow.

Three years ago, the government is-
sued orders to have the remaining Chip-
pewas, who still eked out an existence
in the region, removed to White Earth
reservation at Mille Lacs Lake. All the
old chiefs and a major portion of the
tribe were persuaded to move. Before
leaving they followed the Indian custom
of holding a farewell ceremony, which
comparatively few white persons have
ever witnessed. In order to have the
desired large attendance, the Indians for
miles around were notified of the con-

(90)

templated pow-wow, and a hundred or
more responded to the invitation. The
exercises were scheduled to begin in the
afternoon, just before sunset.

At the appointed time canoes noise-
lessly slid up on to the sandy beach at
the spot where the missionaries' canoes
had landed years before. The reception
of the visitors was cordial, according to
the custom of the people. A small fire
was burning on a high point of land
overlooking the surrounding country
and the lake. Around the blazing pile
the Indians gathered in a large circle, the
chiefs on the inside. After squatting
there in silence several minutes, the pipes
were passed. Those who smoked knew
it was the last time the pipe would be
h; nded around among the remnants of
the once mighty band. Not a word was
spoken till the oldest chief of the tribe,
Kaga-docia, arose to deliver his farewell
address to his people. He wrapped his
blanket more closely about him as he
surveyed the old hunting grounds and
his faithful band. His words were in the
tongue of the Chippewas. He said :

*The father speaks to his children for
the last time, and he sees the night com-
ing when he shall see his people together
no more. The lodge fire dies tonight ; it
will burn again in another hunting
ground. My braves show the scars of
battle; we fought to save our land from
the hands of the Sioux. My people won
their fight. They decked their wigwams
with the scalps of their enemies. The
Great Father afar off owns all the hunt-
ing grounds. He gives some to his
faithful children. We go there to live
with our tribe. When the sun shines
again our wigwams shall be gone. Our
canoes will take us away. The paleface
wuU live on the Chippewas' grounds.
The spirits of our warriors who sleep
shall no more hear the music of their
people's voices. We go to the new land.
We obey the Great Father. It is well
for my people. I have spoken."

At the conclusion of the old warrior's

THE DUCK GROUNDS OF SOUTH DAKOTA

There were duck^enough on Lake Pres-
ton at one time last fall to restock the
world in five years\ but you may silence
every gun in the \vorld and ducks will
not breed in a cornfield or closely crop-
ped pasture.

For years the draining of sloughs,
lakes and marshes and\turning them into
fields and pasture has\ been going on.
This would seem a laudable enterprise
until we come to reflect that the in-
creased acreage has perh^s added only
one bushel of grain to the yutput where
consequent drought has shortened it ten ;
then its beneficence is not ^o evident.

There has been a strong \ prejudice
manifested in certain quarter^ against
clubs owning large tracts of marsh lands
and fencing out the public. Yet\f every
acre of marsh lands in Illinois, \v any
other state, had fifty years ago falleVi into
the hands of clubs or others who would
have kept them in their primeval condi-
tion, it would have been a great gis)od

to the State. The poor shooter with-
out a preserve would have been/bene-
fitted, as he could have got a fow birds
from the overflow. Now he^can get
none. There are none to spesrx of. The
owners of the arable lands/would have
been benefitted, as the presence of large
marshes and lakes woum have secured
them immunity ivory droughts, from
which they now sufifor. The clubs that
buy up marsh lands/and return them to
their natural state^ should receive the
support of sport/men of all classes as
well as of own/rs of farm lands. The
State should Viave held control of her
swamp landsyln the first place and made
preserves of/them.

Restore yxhe marshes and lakes in
Illinois, ydnd there are not shooters
enough within her borders to keep down
the bircas that would breed there. While
the cmisequent summer showers would
restore the value of the land held out of
every two years.

miElNl TIHII

Written for Field and Stream

nobj

When the nob/e elk, with his antlered head

partingyrtie alders green,
Comes crashing on toward the tangled wood

where/the watcher stands unseen;
When the /trusty rifle, with piercing crack,

sends its missive swift and true.
And the/green hillside hands the echo back

the smoke has cleared from view;
When tfie hounds rush in, and the beast at bay

;tands up in his stalwart might —
Who/ but the huntsman, can paint the scene

of the thrilling finish-fight? \

proud man may boast of his cSpnquests

in commerce and love and art, \
lut he's only a huntsman for humah game

and playing a little part.
Give us the cry of the stalwart hounds

and the rush of noble game.
Let the puny theorist bend the knee

at the fickle altar of fame;
For there is a joy when the game's afoot

that only the huntsman knows.
And he'll find it as long as the fir tree wav<

and the babbling river flows.

PASSING OF THE CHIPPEWAS

9»

-A. A. Bartow

address the squaws assembled on a rising
knoll a few rods from the fire. The
braves remained as they were when their
chief addressed them. At a signal from
one of the young chiefs the squaws be-
gan a low chanting of a weird song.
Their voices were pitched in a tone
which a white singer has seldom been
able to imitate. Their mournful chant
continued several minutes, and before it
ended there was but one old, wrinkled
woman singing the strangely sad refrain.
The other squaws were bent over, their
faces on the ground, and their shawls
wrapped about their heads. It was not
for them to see the last campfire die out.
They were squaws, and were weak. None
but the Indian braves could watch the
dying embers of the last campfire. Then
there was a silence lasting several min-

utes, during which all the people remain-
ed in the same positions as that assumed
when the chant was ended. When the
blaze had flickered and died, the old chief
commenced the wild battle song of the
tribe. His comrades joined him in the
peculiar half cry, half shout, of the song.
When the black robes of night had fallen
on that picturesque spot, the wild melody
was stilled, and save the swish of the
waves on the lake shore there was no
sound to disturb the stillness of the night.
With the cessation of the peculiar
ceremonies the Indians gave their atten-
tion to their embarkation. The canoes
were loaded with the traps belonging to
the band, and their last departure from
the favorite old camping ground was
noiseless. They disappeared in the dark-
ness of night — and were gone forever.

PHOTO BY JAMES FULCERTOM

A SHEEP HERDER AND HIS OUTFIT

S^UiUovAKV^ * ciiM» U^n,

CHIPPEWA INTERPRETATIONS OF
NATURAL PHENOMENA

By Sister M. INEZ HILGER, O.S.B.

ST. MAEY'S academy, ALTOONA, WISCONSIN

The following notes on the interpreta-
tions of natural phenomena by the Chip-
pewa were gathered on the Red Lake
Reservation of Minnesota in the summers
of 1932 and 1933 and on the Lac Courte
Orielle, the Lac du Flambeau and the
La Pointe Reservations of Wisconsin and
the L'Anse Reservation of Michigan in
the summer of 1935.

* 'No one kept account of years in early
days. ' ' Months were recorded by moons
and were known by natural events which
occurred from new moon to new moon.
Days were counted by nights.

The sun, when eclipsed, was either
dying or dead, or being hid by some one.
Men shot arrows toward the sun until it
reappeared, believing that thereby bad
luck was killed. No explanation was
known for eclipses of the moon.

The sun and moon represented per-
sons. The moon at one time was a man
who had gone to fetch some water and
was taken up into the air. Hence, in
the full moon one sees a man with a
bucket. Stars were not personified.

Thunder and lightning are caused by
Nemikig, the thunder bird. Nemikig
flashes lightning when he looks about
him to see in what direction he wishes
to fly. Immediately after he has taken
a glance, he flaps wings and tail, pro-
ceeds on his journey and so causes the
thunder. When a thunder-storm rumbles
through the skies, an old Chippewa may
ojffier tobacco on the fire, smoke his pipe,
step out-of-doors, raise his hands toward
heaven, and say to the thunder: ''Don't
scare the children! Keep quiet! Go
back!" The storm invariably passes
over. ''Not every one can do this effec-
tively; only those who have dreamed of
thunder. ' '

The power of the thunder bird is
shown in the following story:

A long time ago before the whites came, an
old Indian was hunting beaver. The Indians
at this time tempered copper into spearheads.
Beaver were speared by means of these copper
spearheads. This man had a blanket over his
head to see where the beavers were. A bird
picked up the old man with the blanket and took
him up among the clouds. He was afraid to
open his blanket to peek cmt; when he did, he
saw the blue sky. The thunder bird had picked
him up. He was gone for four years. When he
returned to earth the lightning was so strong
near him that he couldn't stay near his own
people^ >

An old theory is that the thunder bird
also causes northern lights. Other ex-
planations are that they are light
reflected from water or ice or that they
are caused by an electric storm raging in
the far north, or that winds are ' ' blowing
furiously high up in the air." Strong
winds or severe storms invariably follow
two or three days after the appearance
of northern lights.

The rainbow, nagw^'^b, is the color of
the sleeves of Magegekwa, a woman who
raises her arms over the sky so that her
fingers interlock. The appearance of the
rainbow is a sign that the rain has ended
and that good weather will follow.

One informant said that one night,
when he was a little boy, the sky became
red and then white (from a comet).
' ' The stones were red from the reflection.
It was night but it seemed like daylight.
This thing had a long tail which was
lighted!'' His mother predicted some
catastrophe, and soon there was war
between the North and the South. His
father went away and did not return for
three years.

The sun marked the directions by day ;
the north star, by night. Chippewa
Indians following a trail marked a turn
toward the setting sun by fastening to a
tree a piece of birch bark containing a
+ sign. A — sign indicated a turn

178

INTERPEETATIONS OF NATURAL PHENOMENA 179

toward the rising sun. Sundials were at
times used in finding directions. More
often, however, they indicated the time
of the day.

Sundials, to-day, are used primarily
when camping away from home and are
still made in the same manner as in the
early days. On a clear night a man will
stake a stick, about a yard high, and
lying flat on the ground move about until
the stick and the north star are in line.
A second stick of about the same length
will then be laid to the south of the first
and in line with it and the north star,
and be staked about a yard from the
first. (An informant on the Lac Courte
Orielle Reservation did not stake a
second stick but simply drew a straight
line north and south through the first
stick). In the morning a line is drawn
through the base of the south stick at
right angles to the line of the two sticks.
When the shadow of the south stick falls
on the westerly line it is about six o 'clock
in the morning ; when it falls in line with
the north stick, it is noonday; when on
the easterly line it is nearly six o 'clock in
the evening. The remaining hours of
the day are only approximately read.

The method used by an old Indian at
Red Lake varies somewhat from the
above. Two sticks are staked as described
above. In the morning, a third one is
staked to the south and in line with the
first two. A semi-circle is then drawn
through the third stick, convex to the
southward. When the shadow of the
third stick falls west and tangent to the
circle, it is approximately six in the
morning; when it falls in line with the
two sticks to the north, it is noonday;
when, to the east and tangent to the
circle, it is approximately six in the

evening.

The old Chippewa, too, have ways of
foretelling weather. Rain may be ex-
pected when birds abruptly end their

songs and leave them unfinished. When
small lizards that live in decayed wood
whistle notes not unlike those of an ordi-
nary human whistle, heavy rainfall and
storm are on their way. The singing
of tree toads also predicts rainfall. A
rainbow in the west predicts more rain ;
in the east, clear weather. A small circle
about the moon never fails to forecast
bad weather; a large circle indicates
warm weather. Northern lights, as noted
before, forecast a storm. Some women
can predict weather at maple-sugar mak-
ing time by the way stars and clouds
hang in the heavens. Sundogs in the fall
predict heavy snowfalls for the winter.

Throwing a rabbit skin into fire will
cause a snowstorm or bring a north wind.
Any one wishing the wind to blow in a
certain direction must shoot arrows in
that direction. Swinging one's hand
back and forth in the water while rowing
to places may produce a storm.

Drowning dogs or cats in Keweenaw
Bay invariably brings a storm. The
water will not tolerate decayed matter,
and hence produces a prevailing wind in
any direction until the dead animal has
been landed on shore. One day, two men,
hoping to have a favorable wind for a
fishing expedition, threw a cat into the
bay. They were not disappointed; the
wind blew favorably for three days. In
early June of 1935, an informant accom-
panied by two men went out to fish. He
noticed a bag near one man and said,
^ ' What have you there ? ' '

**A cat that I'm going to drown," the
other answered.

*' Don't put that cat into the bay or
you '11 have a wind ! ' '

While they were rowing, a storm sud-
denly came up.

Our informant inquired, ''What did
you do with that cat ? "

I threw it into the bay. ' '
Well, there is your storm ! "

< i

CWvypeys/g.

THE INDIAN'S SUPERNATURAL POWER

By Simon Needham. Chippewa,
The story which I am about to tell
to the dear reader may be more or
, less interesting because it explains
how the Indian obtains his supernat-
ural power of becoming a medicine
man. This knowledge has been in
existence many centuries among the
Indians.
I From my own experience among
my own tribe of Chippewas of the
North, I have seen many wonderful
i performances done by the medicine
men among the Indians. One instance
I occurred not so very long ago, where
a certain Indian medicine man was ar-
j rested for some disorderly conduct
and was put in jail. He then predict-
ed to the authorities that they could
not keep him in there very long.

His power rested in the 'Thunder
and Lightning' ' in which some Indians
believe that it is the Great Spirit that
makes the roaring sound as the storm
goes by. That night a great storm
arose, the lightning flashed and the
thunder roared; the next morning the
keeper found the cell empty and the
iron doors wide open and partly bent
and broken— the Indian was gone and
never was bothered again.

The way the Chippewas obtain their
power as I was told is that the Indian
has a trial which is not very easy.
The aborigine is compelled to fast for
four days and nights without food or
drink out in some lonely spot in the
forest with hardly any cover, and dur-
ing these four days and nights he will
hear all kinds of spirits and dream of
all kinds of creatures, and at the end
of four nights he will dream of a cer-
tain creature or object, and whatever
that creature is, that will be the one
that is going to help him perform his
miracles, in medicine, danger, or in
time of war.
, I have seen many of these perf orm-
j ances among my tribe, and many sto-
ries concerning this mystery can be
heard from the old Indians of the
north.

■.*■''■

' i:

..V ■ ^-a^j

V ,, , ■ -.' ,■ ■ r

Science News Letter for December 5, 1931

365

ETHNOLOGY

NOT A PAPER DOLL

But an example of the lost Indian art of
biting designs in hirxh hark* Here is an
Indian woman dancing* She is an old
woman, it appears, for her shoulders
droop and her knees take the bending
step without any lively spring.

^']Bje antirachitic activity of calciferol
is the highest yet recorded in known
units; for any preparation."

Cakiferol has more of this anti-
rachitic potency than the crystalline
preparation of vitamin D recently re-
ported* by the German Nobel Prize win-
ner, rtof. Adolf Windaus of Goettin-
gcn, Crermany, the British investigators
state ii their report to Nature.

Prof. Windaus has two vitamin D
substances which he calls vitamin Di
and vitamin D2. Calciferol is not the
same is Di, but is much like vitamin D2
in su^ physical properties as have been
described. Prof. Windaus' vitamin D2,
howei ^r, has approximately the same ac-
tivity*^ igainst rickets as Di. In this it
differs! from calciferol, which has much
greater antirachitic activity than Di, the
Britisll scientists found. Consequently,
they dpncluded that the two substances,
calciferol and D2, are not identical.

Cakiferol has been proved by them to
be a airect product of the irradiation of
ergosterol, known for some time as the
parent substance of vitamin D. It has
the same elements in the same relative
proportion as ergosterol, although the
structure of its molecule may be differ-
ent from that of ergosterol.

Science News Letter, December 5, 19S1

Biting Birch Bark Designs
Was Indians Lost Art

Museum Gets Specimens Covered With Delicate Patterns
Which Cannot Be Duplicated by Chippewa Women Today

EVIDENCE of a real "lost art" which
once flourished among Chippewa
Indians around Lake Superior has been
brought to the Smithsonian Institution
by Frances Densmore, collaborator for
the Institution. Miss Densmore, who
has studied the customs of the Chip-
pewas on their reservations, has collected
about 170 specimens of the lost art. The
U. S. National Museum has just ac-
quired a portion of the collection.

The specimens are small pieces of
birch bark covered with delicate pat-
terns. They were made by Chippewa
women, who took birch bark as soft
and pliable as tissue paper and folded
it and bit the designs with their teeth.
Some of the outlines represent rows of
dancing Indians, rather like the rows
ot paper dolls, all alike, that children
cut out of folded paper. Other pieces
of bark are marked with geometric pat-
terns, like the lace mats that can be cut
out of a square of paper folded again
and again. When held to the light the
bark pictures make attractive trans-
parencies.

This trick of biting a design with lit-
tle, neat, precise cuts is one that the
younger generations of Chippewas can-
not achieve, declares Miss Densmore. It
is truly a lost art. Nor can the young
Chippewa women keep in mind an
elaborate pattern that is to be produced.
That fine art of clear thinking, too, is
lost. A woman of older Chippewa gen-
erations could think out a design of but-
terflies, leaves, beavers, or other nature
forms, and then fold the bark — even
as many as 24 folds — and without hesi-
tation transfer the mental picture to the
folded bark, perfect. When a young
Chippewa today tries a hand at the old
art, she "nibbles'* the bark, leaving a
heavy, patchy line, which betokens her
mental uncertainty as much as her lack
of dental skill.

The lost art of biting pictures in bark
died out at least 50 years ago, Miss
Densmore estimates. How long ago the
pictures were first made is uncertain.
When the Chippewa women brought
out samples of the old art to show to

Miss Densmore, they told how they
thought the art began.

Some woman was sitting on the
ground by a wigwam or campfire, they
said. She picked up a broad leaf or
piece of soft bark and idly folded it
and bit a few lines into it. She looked
at it and showed the others. So, other
women tried it, and competition arose.
The art flourished especially in the su-
gar camps, early in spring, when birch
tree bark is suitably pliant.

Miss Densmore points out that the
Indian has sometimes been called lack-
ing in purely aesthetic art. It has been
asserted that Indian art was employed
to make useful things beautiful. But
the transparencies are evidence that the
Indian could and did produce art for
art's sake. The little transparencies, like
water-color sketches, were handed about
and displayed in the firelight of the
wigwams at night, and were treasured
for years by the owners, merely because
it was pleasant just to look at them.

Science News Letter^ December S, 19S1

METEOROLOGY

Trees Will Die Unless
Heavy Rains Fall

WHILE the drought of 1930, the
severest on record, has been ofli-
cially "broken," the rains have been in-
sufiicient to replenish the sub-soil mois-
ture necessary to the life of deep-rooted
trees. Unless the rains this winter are
especially heavy next year will see in-
creasingly large numbers of dead and
dying trees. Already many of those
which line the driveways in and around
Washington, D. C, have succumbed to
the lack of moisture.

Latest reports from the U. S. Weath-
er Bureau show that southeastern
United States, from Maryland down to
northern Florida, is at present experi-
encing very dry conditions. South Caro-
lina, Georgia, and eastern Alabama are
especially hard hit. Tennessee, Ken-
tucky, northern Arkansas, and parts of
Illinois, however, have had good rains.

Science News Letter, December S, 19S1

MRS. ROSA LA FLESCHE,
Chippewa Woman Who Says She Is Deserted by Her Omaha Husband.

^•'**" -»

*^v^"ia

........... ....^

*./-^'^'S<»«<,0«>Ow<

.<■■'.

'*■■**•>;.

i^**^

"^•^.*.

For the first time the courts of the
District of Columbia will have to deal
with a suit for maintenance Instituted

by a full-blooded Indian woman against {
her husband, also an Indian.

Mrs. Rosa La Flesche, who, as pub-
lished. In The Times, filed suit on Mon-
day ajfalnst her husband, Francis La
Flesche, a clerk in the Indian Bureau
here, was married a little more than
a year ago. Mrs. I^a Flesche Is a Chip-
pewa, while her husband Is of the Oma-
ha tribe, of which his father was chief
and of 'tvhlch he might have been head

had he cs^red to give up his associations
in the East and live among his people.
Mr. La Flesche Is a writer of some dis-
tinction, a graduate of the National
University Law School, of this city, and

a member of the Anthropqloglcal Spd-

ety.

No reason is given for the alleged de-
sertion of his wife, who Is now living
in a boarding house In H street north-
^vest

Mrs. La Flesche Is a well-educated
woman. In her suit she has asked the
courts to restrain her husband from
disposing of his property, either by sale
or transfer, and to make known the
exact amount and character of the
property. The husband receives a sal-
ary of $1,400 from the Government and
owns considerable property In the
West.

w L

Wu-* 01^^

.'l/w-^ ^v- /ti^ki*^

42d Congress, ^ HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES.
3d Session. )

( Ex. Doc.

) No. 77.

EXPENSES OF SALE OF CHIPPEWA LANDS IN WISCONSIN.

LETTER

FROM THE

ACTING SECRETARY OF THE INTERIOR,

TRANSMITTING

An estimate of appropriation to defray the expenses connected with the ap-
praisal and sale of the tract of land in the State of Wisconsin set apart
for the Chippetva Indians of LaJce Superior,

January 9, 1873. — Referred to the Committee ou Appropriations and ordered to be

printed.

Department of the Interior,
Washington, D. C.j January 7, 1873.

Sir : I have the honor to transmit herewith a copy of a letter of the
6th instant, together with an estimate, therein referred to, of appropri-
ation required to defray the expenses connected with the appraisal and
sale of the tract of land in the State of Wisconsin which was, by the
terms of the second article of the treaty with the Chippewa Indians of
Lake Superior and of the Mississippi, set apart for the Fond du Lac
band of Chippewas, the appraisement and sale of said land having been
provided for by the eighth section of the Indian appropriation act of May
29, 1872.

The favorable consideration of Congress is invited to the subject.
The amount asked for is $3,000.

I am, sir, very respectfully, vour obedient servant,

B. K. COWEN,
Acting Secretary.
Hon. James G. Blaine,

Speaker of the Souse of Representatives.

Department of the Interior,

Office of Indian Affairs,

Washington, D. C, January G, 1873.

Sir : Eeferring to the third and fourth clauses of the second article of
the treaty with the Chippewa Indians of Lake Superior and the Missis-

2 EXPENSES OF SALE OF CHIPPEWA LANDS IN WISCONSIN.

sippi, conclnded September 30, 1854, (St., vol. 10, p. 1110,) by which cer-
tain tracts of lands were set apart for the Lac de Flambeau and Fond dii
Lac bands of the Chippewas of Lake Superior, and to the eighth section
of the Indian appropriation act of May 20, 1872, (St., vol. 17, pp. 100, 101,)
providing for the appraisal and sale of said lands, I have the honor here-
with to present an estimate for the sum of $3,000, or so much thereof
as may be required, to defray the expenses of said appraisement and
sale so far as pertains to the tract of land assigned to the Chippewas of
the Fond du Lac band, who have consented to the sale of the same in
accordance with the provisions contained in the third clause of the
eighth section of the act last referred to.

I respectfully request that Congress be asked to appropriate the
amount called for.

Very respectfully, your obedient servant,

H. E. CLUM,
Acting Commissioner.

The Hon. Secretary of the Interior.

Estimate of ajyjyropriatlon required to defray the expenses connected with the appraisal and
sale of certain lands in the State of Wisconsin set apart for Chippewa Indians of Lake Su-

per tor.

For this amount, or so niucli thereof as may be Decessary, to defray the ex-
penses connected with the apiiraisal and sale of the tract of land in the State
of Wisconsin which was, by the terms of the second article of the treaty with the
Chippewa Indians of Lake Superior and of the Mississippi, set apart for the
Fond du Lac band of Chippewas, the appraisement and sale of said land hav-
ing been provided for by the eighth section of the Indian appropriation act of
May 29,1872 I-^OOO

C^U^ C "M

i^iL)

l^fi€-iZ

C. Hart Merriam

Papers

BANC MSS

80/16 c

How the Choctaws Keep Their Word.

By William R. Draper, of Wichita, Kansas.

t^"^ ^^y^ uT'^^'' aL^^^ "Kansas City Star" staff astonishes British readers with an account of

n.on.?cl .V. I If ^^^^/,^^^ executions among the Choctaw people. A condemned redskin gives his

promise that he will come along and be shot a year hence ! In the meantime he may marry or go

to the ends of the eai .h ! But a broken promise is all but unknown among them.

HERE is the American or English-
man who would desert his happy
home and go back to a place several
thousand miles distant to be shot
to death, simply because he had
promised he would return to his own execution ?
Would he not rather
shrink from death and
break his promise? But
there is one race of people
who would not. The
Choctaw Indian, when con-
victed and sentenced to
death, never fails to keep
his promise to come back
to the execution ground on
a fixed day and meet his
fate. He leaves everything
behind to go alone to his
death, rather than break
his sacred word. Choctaw
honour is something mar-
vellous—a veritable revela-
tion to the ordinary hum-
drum person.

It is generally supposed
that the Indian is degen-
erate, with no principle ;
but the custom I am writing
about has prevailed among
the Choctaws for the last
half - century, and is one
which sharply challenges
the assertion that Choctaws
are an irresponsible race
of redskins. When they
give their promise it is con-
sidered absolutely binding.
That Choctaw honour is
sacred was proven clearly on
July 13th last, when William
Going, a Choctaw murderer,
returned from Cuba, leaving behind him his bride
and riches, to fulfil a promise he had made to
return and be shot to death. He went to
Cuba, under no bond or guard, and with the
sentence of death hanging over him. And
when a brief note came that July 13th had been
selected as his execution day, he left all and

WILLIAM GOING WENT TO CUBA AFIEK
BEIN{; SENTENCED TO DEATH. HE FOUGHT
IN THE WAR AND THEN MARRIED AM)
SETTLED DOWN. HUT HE LEFT ALL AND
CAME HOME TO BE SHOT.

From a Photo.

hastened home to his native land and the grave.
Is it not amazing ? Does it not sound fantastic?
No matter. It is known to be a solid fact.
There was no necessity for the throwing away of
this life ; it was merely to fulfil a promise. And
Going's case is only one instance. There are

liundreds. Romances and
tragedy fill every one ; the
details being the recital of
brave deeds — of men who
are under a strong senti-
ment that a promise is
sacred. There is no deny-
ing that the Choctaw Indian
will steal and murder ; but
he has the good trait of
keeping a promise, though it
costs him life itself. It is
true that if a Choctaw
murderer escapes before he
has been sentenced there will
be little chance of capturing
him. But once tried and
convicted, he may be turned
loose and allowed to go any-
where alone. If alive on
his execution day . he will
come back to his death.
Sometimes this strange
system is faulty. While thus
liberated pending death, the
condemned man occasion-
ally gets careless or wilful,
and shoots men for mere
sport. "Why shouldn't
I?" he says to himself
" They can only execute me
once." These instances are
few, however.

Whenever an Indian is sen-
tenced he hastens away from
his native country and lives
where little is known about him. Sometimes the
condemned men are shot within three months
after the sentence is passed, but in most cases
the execution day is fixed at six months after the
sentence. In many cases appeals are taken,
and a great number of condemned men have
gone free for as long as two years, pending a

502

THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE.

HOW THE CHOCTAWS KEEP THEIR WORD.

503

THIS l.S IHC^iMA.S WATSON, THE CHOCTAW SHERIFF, WHO HAS
J'fVma] LEGALLY SHOT THHiTY-TWO INDIANS. [PhotO.

final hearing of their case. People wonder

where such a country is situated, where the

honour of one's word is so carefully observed.
The Choctaw nation lies in the south-east

corner of the Indian Territory of the United

States. The surface is mountainous and covered

with heavy timber. At present the population

is 43,800. Of this

number 10,117 are

Choctaws. There are

1,040 Indians of

various other tribes,

and 4,406 negroes,

whilst the remainder

are white people who

have settled among
the Choctaws by con-
sent of the United
States ( i o v e r n m c n t .
The laws of the Choc-
taw nation have been
lax. This tribe came
to their present home
from Alabama half a
century ago. The
Indians then estab-
lished a national
council, the members
being elected by the

Choctaw citizens. This body makes all the laws.
A principal chief enforces these laws, while under
his supervision are a number of judges. The
laws are poorly constructed, and there is much
fraud practised by the shrewder element of the
population. There are few towns of importance
in the Choctaw nation. No roads except the
cattle trails, and only two railways traverse the
interior.

I'he Choctaw full-blood is indolent and lazy,
while the half-breeds are progressive, and are
now learning more to follow modern customs.
The full-blood is scrupulously honest, but a half-
breed will worst you, if possible, in the matter of
trading. The promise of any of them, however,
can be accepted in good faith. These Indians
possess a fair degree of good sense, but their
mind is sluggish, and not quick to gras;) r.n
idea. The quarter-blood of to-day is intelligent
and shrewd. The Choctaw is of a dark brownish
colour, and, as a rule, tall and straight. The
full-bloods wear trousers, but no shirts, leaving
the upper portion of the body bare. The
women dress as do the poorer class of whites,
but when they have a fine dress it is always a
gaudy red. Among the better class of this tribe,
however, there is nearly everything to be found
worn and used by a white man. And this is
the race who would die rather than break a
promise.

Half a century ago the Choctaws were just
getting comfortably settled in their present
home. After a long march they were glad to
enjoy a quiet life. The council had been
formed, and chiefs and judges elected. About
this time Chinnuble Harjo, a full-blood with a
bad reputation, killed his sister for a trifling

♦

THE INDIAN COURT OFFICERS —

CLERK, JUUtiE JAMES, DLSTKICT ATTORNEY, AND SHERIFF WATSON.

From a I'lioto.

disobedience. This was the first murder among
the tribe since they had come West, so they
were determined to make an example of Harjo.
The principal chief called his council together,
and they passed laws making murder and stealing
high crimes and punishable by death. Harjo
was duly arrested and sentenced to die. The
law-makers, however, had inserted a clause in
the new law allowing a condemned man three
months of life after he had been sentenced to
death. After Harjo was sentenced, he demanded
the three months' stay, and of course it had to
be granted. But now the thing was, what to do
with the prisoner in the meantime?

** Put him in gaol," said the chief.

'* We have no gaol," the old judge replied.

" Well, then, employ a guard for him."

" But where is the money to pay a guard ?
The treasury happens to
be empty," replied the wise
old judge.

This staggered the chief,
and he did not know what
was the use of passing the
law. He wanted to repeal
it. But the judge had an
idea. He called the
prisoner before him and
said : —

*' Young man, you are
to die in three months
from this date. In the
meantime you are free.
If you do not return to
your execution your
parents will be for ever
disgraced."

The judge's action
created no little excite-
ment, yet all believed that
Harjo would return. He did
come back, and met death
bravely. The tribe thought
so well of the custom that
they adopted it, and agreed that thereafter all
condemned men should be treated likewise.
After this the Choctaws frequently had occasion
to commit their fellows for murder, and two or
three times every year some murderer or robber
was shot to death. Until ten years ago there
was no such thing as a reprieve, and whenever
an Indian was sentenced he was sure to die on
the day appointed. The executions soon became
a matter of common interest to travellers —
particularly as the news of how a Choctaw
valued his honour became current. As a rule,
the Indians left the nation after they had been
sentenced and lived with the whites until the
day of their execution. It seems that they

desired to conceal the fact that they were living
under such a fearful cloud. There is only one
instance where an Indian failed to keep his
promise, and so great was the disgrace to his
parents that they committed suicide. In some
cases the condemned men left the United States
altogether while their sentence was pending, but
they invariably returned to die. Details of a
few of these weird executions cannot help but
be of interest to readers of The Wide World.

Fifteen years ago the Interior Department, or
Union Agency, at Muskogee, I.T., was in need
of a Choctaw Indian clerk, to assist in revising
the census rolls. They sent word to the Choctaw
chief and asked that he might send an educated
Choctaw to assist the white clerks. Albert Red
Bird was the name of the Choctaw who appeared
in a few days to fill the place. He was a quarter-
blood — tall, lithe, and
handsome. His black
eyes glistened with intelli-
gence, and his toilet was
immaculate. Red Bird
was a graduate of the
Indian college at Carlyle,
Pennsylvania. The young
Indian's bearing was dig-
nified, and his address
cultivated. The Indian
agent soon recognised in
his Choctaw clerk a man
of business, and he offered
the young Indian a per-
manent place in the office.
Red Bird accepted, but
only on the understanding
that he could resign at very
short fiotice.

In a little while he
became a social favorite

RED BIRD, THE QUARTER-BLOOD CHOCTAW, WHO
BADE HIS SWEETHEART A DRAMATIC FAREWELL

From d\ in the ballroom. [Photo.

a
among the wives and

daughters of the military
men at Fort Gibson, near
the agency ; and presently
it was rumoured that he was engaged to
a stylish and dashing young woman of the fort.
A wedding was predicted to occur soon. Thus
events progressed until the grand ball of the
season was held, early in August. Every member
of the local high society was present and made
merry. It was early dawn when the last strains
of music died away in the ballroom. Red Bird,
handsome, as usual, but with his dark skin a
trifle pale, was with his sweetheart. Suddenly
the young Indian turned gently from his partner
and called aloud to the crowd of dancers as they
were disappearing : "Friends, hear me." Every-
one stopped instantly. The silence was intense
— even painful. Then Red Bird continued ; —

504

THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE.

HOW THE CHOCTAWS KEEP THEIR WORD.

505

** When I came among you, no one knew me ;
but you all had the kindness to believe I was
well-behaved. I have never told you my story.
Just one year ago I killed a fellow-Indian, while
crazed with drink (?/«-romantic this). To-
morrow I must die for the crime. I feel like
a thief for having deceived you, but a little
pleasure seemed sweet. This morning I leave
you and go to die. I go alone, so, friends,

farewell."

The speaker turned and gave his hand to the
girl, who fainted immediately after. Friends
crowded around and urged the young Indian
not to go, but he told them he had given his
word and must go alone to die. And so he
strode out from among the crowd and went on
his way alone. An effort was made to follow
him, but he soon baffled his pursuers in the
brush. Precisely at three o'clock on the after-
noon of the appointed day
he was executed. In the
cemetery at* Fort Gibson
to-day anyone who cares
may see the monument to
his memory. It is told that
Red Bird's pale-face sweet-
heart has never married,
so great was her sorrow.

Among every class of
men, however, there are
traitors. This is even so
among the Choctaws. But
only once can it be
learned that an Indian
broke his promise and
failed to appear at his own
execution. That was eight
years ago. The Indian in
question killed a friend
and robbed him. The
murderer was a full-blood
named Going Snake. The judge sentenced
him to die on July 15th, 1891. The yicious-
ness of his crime had excited much interest
among the natives, and a great crowd came to
the execution ground on the date set for him
to die. A big feast was given by the Indians
at noon, and at two o'clock the condemned
man was expected to arrive and be shot. As
the sun commenced to sink in the West and
the Indian did not appear, the guests became
anxious. They remained on the ground until
dark, but the Indian did not appear. Going
Snake had proved a traitor— the first one they
ever knew in the tribe. Had he been found,
the Indians were prepared to scalp him. A
month later the Choctaws were called to assemble
once more at the execution ground. The sheriff
refused to tell them who was to be shot, and

r.OING SNAKE, THE ONLY CHOCTAW WHO EVER

FAILED TO PRESENT HIMSELF FOR EXECUTION.

THE DISGRACE WAS SO GREAT THAT HIS FATHER

AND MOTHER GAVE UP THEIR LIVES INSTEAD.

From a Sketch by John Noble.

they supposed that the traitor had been caught
and was to die. The crowd was even larger
than before. At the appointed time the door
was swung open; but instead of the young
traitor, an old man and woman tottered
out. They were the father and mother of
the young traitor. The old Indian's voice
quivered as he told how keenly they felt the
disgrace. It was due to the tribe, he said, that
they should die by their own hand, and such
was their intention. Although they had pre-
viously been well loved, Indian nature cried out
for revenge, and the redskins shouted : —

"Yes, it must be done. Choctaw honour
cannot be sacrificed."

And there, before the multitude, the old man
shot his wife and then himself.

Several years ago a full-blood slew his whole
family. He was sentenced to die six months

later. During that time he
joined a circus and ivent to
England, but quitted every-
thing in good time and
came home alone to his
death.

A case which was cele-
brated everywhere, and
which called forth letters
of sympathy even from
England, was that of Walla
Tonka, the Choctaw base-
ball player. Tonka was a
half-blood (something of
a rarity) and a beautiful
specimen of manhood. Be-
fore dying by the sheriff's
bullet he was in his prime
— twenty-eight years ot age,
6ft. high, straight as an arrow
when on parade — although
Indian laziness gave him a
slight stoop when in repose. He weighed
i8olb., and every pound of it was sinew and
muscle. Prior to his national notoriety he was
known among the Indian tribes for his flect-
ness of foot and accurate marksmanship.

Walla Tonka committed, first of all, the
offence of falling in love with a white girl
named Tookah Ingamore. * She loved him, but
another claimed some of her attention too.
He w\as a quarter-breed named Coulter, and as
skilful with a gun as his rival. 'I'hat was three
years ago. Although Miss Ingamore had given
her promise to marry Tonka, she was a great
flirt. I must admit, however, that she was
ignorant of the serious trouble brewing. One
night in May there was a green corn dance near
Eufaula. Miss Ingamore came in late, and the
artful Coulter made it his business to step in at

f V

WALLA TONKA, 1 HE CHAMPION CHOCTAW BASEBALL

PLAYER, FELL IN LOVE WITH A WHITE GIRL, SHOT HIS

RIVAL, WAS SENTENCED TO DEATH, BUT TOURED

ALL OVER THE STATES BP:F0KE HIS EXECUTION.

From a Photo,

the door immediately behind her, so that
the fiery Tonka should surmise he came
along with her. As Tonka came up to
meet his sweetheart. Coulter stepped from
behind the girl and drew his revolver. He was
not quick enough. There were two shots in
quick succession, and Coulter lay dead. Next

day the judge sentenced Tonka to die in
November. Upon the same date William
Going (who later secured a reprieve and was
not shot until July 13th) w^as to be executed.
Immediately following the passing of the death
sentence upon Tonka he and the white girl 7vere
married! Then Tonka received an offer from
a baseball team to join them in a tour all over
the United States. Seeing the opportunity to
make some money, he went with them. No
guard went along, and the story preceded him
everywhere. Naturally Tonka was a feature,
and thousands went to see him. His stoicism
regarding his impending fate and his enthusiasm
in playing ball were in the most striking con-
trast. Tonka played ball up to within a
week of the execution day, when he returned

•

' ''i^^^'^SkLr • ^ ''■*''"

^ *]&.'"^'ui *^ \ "»-feL^^ ;,■ '■■ • . ^ ^

imd^'^itSmikm^

'-' ''^^^^^l^^^^^^^;'."

-^v

NO.

1.— WILLIAM GOINt; IS MARCMEO OUT K)K KXECUTION. IN l HE
BACKGROUND IS THE GUARD-HOUSE WHERE HE GAVE HIMSELF

From a] UP TO the sheriff. [Photo.

Vol. iv.-52.

NO. 2. — INDIAN GUARDS STANDING WITH THEIR BACKS lO GOING,
WHO IS KNEELING. SHERIFF WATSON, ALSO KNEELING,

From a] is resting his rifle on a box. [Photo,

to his wife. They spent the few days he
had to live in the little hut alone, and
on the morning of his execution day Tonka
bade his wife farewell for ever and
set out alone to the court-house.
Although the scene of execution was
forty miles inland, and whites were
forbidden to attend, several hundred
went and saw the shooting of a
brave man. After Tonka's death, his
wife received hundreds of proposals of
marriage, but she scorned them all,
and continued to live among her
husband's people.

The execution of William Going, on
July 13th, 1899, is probably the last
Choctaw execution that will ever occur.
The United States had recently as-
sumed charge of the criminal business
of the Choctaw courts, and Going was
the last murderer convicted under the
old tribal laws. The man had killed
his uncle, a deputy sheriff, three

So6

THE WIDE WORLD MAGAZINE.

years ago. He was sentenced to die at the
same time as Walla Tonka, but, as I have
said, he was granted a reprieve. Afte; the
Maine disaster at Havana the condemned man
went to Cuba and joined the insurgents under
Garcia. After the war he married a Cuban
girl and settled down on a tobacco plantation
near Havana City. There he remained until a
friend wrote to him saying that July 13th was
the date appointed for him to die. Going then
bade his Cuban wife farewell, returned to the
Choctaw nation alone, hunted up Sheriff Watson,
and went off to the Alikchi court-house, there
to wait for his execution day.

The hour of his execution was set for 2 p.m.

This was the last exhibition one will ever see
of the extraordinary and romantic Choctaw
honour; but the strange custom will live in
history.

Just a few words about the last three photos,
reproduced, I must explain in the first place
that no white man is allowed to witness these
executions; and as I greatly desired some
unique snap-shots of the weird ceremonial, I
engaged an Indian official named J. M. White,
and provided him with a camera for that purpose.
That he was no expert is evident from the snap-
shots themselves, which, though unique in kind,
are poor enough as pictures.

No. I shows the Indian officers on their way

From d\

NO. 3.— THE SHOT HAS JUST BEEN MKED.

\rhoio.

Shortly before that time two Choctaw ministers
visited his room. A short prayer service was
held, and the condemned man joined in the
singing in a clear, strong voice. Then a guard
of twenty-four deputies formed a line on each
side of the doorway, and Going, supported on
either side by friends, stepped out. As he
passed near the crowd of spectators he recog-
nised several, and spoke to them. He sat on a
blanket spread upon the ground, and his eyes
were bandaged by the sheriff. A piece of white
paper was pinned on his shirt over the heart.
The sheriff stepped back a few paces, rested his
AVinchester on a box, and fired. The Indian
at once fell dead on the blanket !

from the guard-house, where Going came and
gave himself up to the sheriff, to the execution
ground. Four other Choctaws, bearing the
coffin, preceded this procession by a few minutes.
In No. 2 the sheriff, wearing a big hat, may be
discerned kneeling near a box, and posing his
Winchester rifle thereupon. Between the two
lines of Indian guards, who, you will notice,
stand with their backs to the execution, as a
mark of respect to the doomed man, is Going
himself, kneeling to be shot.

The third snap-shot was taken just a moment
after the shot was fired, when Going fell over
dying. These are positively the only photos,
ever taken of an Indian execution.

MAY 19, 1927

259

Peninsula, Abbtrtt 14. Haina, Faris 39, 159. Sdnchez, Rose, Fitch &
Russell 4352. Without locality, Wrighty Parry & Brummel

This is the common sensitive plant of tropical America, so called because
it responds to irritation by a rapid drooping of the petioles and folding to-
gether of opposed leaflets. The plants are often found in this ''sleeping''
condition in the early morning, but gradually expand as warmed by the rising
sun. Under cultivation the plant often becomes robust and assumes an erect
position. Its common name in the Dominican Republic is morir-vivir; in
northern Haiti it is caljed ront6.

7. Mimosa ii^isa Mart. Herb. Fl. Bras. 121. 1837

Schrankia brachycarpa Berith. Journ. Bot. Hook. 2 : 130. 1840.

Mimosa diplotricha Wright ih^Sauv. PI. Cub. 34. 1873.

A herbaceous clambering vin^ 1 to 2 m. long, the branches angled with
numerous reflexed prickles, pilose' when young; pinnae 4 to 8 pairs; leaflets
many pairs, oblong-linear, 3 to 4 riim. long, glabrous on both sides, ciliate;
flowers in dense heads; calyx and corolla^glabrous; stamens twice as many as
the petals, purpUsh; pods linear-oblong, 1 to 2 cm. long, setose on the valves
and margin, more or less pubescent.

Type locality: Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. \

Distribution : Brazil, north to Mexico and the West Indies.

Specimen examined: /

Haiti: In meadow at sea-level, near Port Margot, Nash 303.

The type of M. invisa from Brazil has not been examined. It is possible
that the common North American plant which has long passed under this
name is specifically distinct. \

EXCLUDED SPECIES

Mimosa angustifolia Lam. Encycl. 1: 12. 1783

Erect tree; bark brown or grayish; wood white and very strong; leaves
with 4 or 5 pairs of pinnae each bearing from 30 to 50 pairs of narrow leaflets,
these green above and pale beneath; flowers racemose; pods 10 to 13 cm.
long, 6 to 8 mm. broad, appressed, yellowish; seeds small, orbicular, usually 12

in each pod.

Type locality: Santo Domingo.

Plant not seen. The racemose inflorescence and long, nonjointed pods are

charaeteristie of the genus Acacia, to which this species, probably, should be

referred.

ARCBEOLOGY.— Potsherds from Choctaw village sites in Mississippi.^
Henry B. Collins, Jr., U. S. National Museum. (Communi-
cated by D. I. BusHNELL, Jr.)

Archeological research in the southeastern states can probably never
reach the point of exactness that it has in the Southwest. There are

» Published by permission of the Bureau of American Ethnology, Smithsonian In-
stitution. Received April 12, 1927.

260 JOURNAL OF THE WASHINGTON ACADEMY OF SCIENCES VOL. 17, NO. 10

no stone ruins, and barring a few exceptional kitchen-middens along
the coasts, no extensive refuse heaps showing successive culture layers.
The climate, furthermore, is not such as to preserve textiles, basketry,
wood-work or other perishable objects so that about all that is now
left of the once high material culture of the Southern tribes is the
pottery and the ornaments and implements of stone, shell, and bone.
It is very desirable, therefore, to seize upon every available source of
tribal identification of the cultures represented, and to accomplish this
end there is probably no safer beginning than to locate the historic
Indian village sites and to study their type of cultural remains for
comparison with other sites of unknown age. This method was
followed during the past two simimers when for several months the
writer carried on preliminary archeological work in Mississippi for
the Bureau of American Ethnology in cooperation with the Mississippi
Department of Archives and History, represented by Mr. H. H.
Knoblock.2

The region chosen for investigation was the east central section of
the state, the former home of the Choctaw. A brief reconnoissance
of this area was first made and a number of mounds and Choctaw
village sites were located and later explored. Wherever possible,
surface collections of potsherds, flint artifacts, etc., were made. It is
to such collections of potsherds that attention is here called, for these
seem to indicate that there was a definite type of historic Choctaw
pottery, entirely distinct from that of any other region.

In the accompanying plate are shown examples of this type of
pottery from the sites of two old Choctaw villages, Chickachae in the
northeastern part of Clarke County, and Ponta (Coosa) in northern
Lauderdale County. According to Prof. H. S. Halbert, who worked
for many years among the Choctaw in Mississippi, Ponta was occu-
pied as late as 1846.^ The time of the abandonment of Chickachae
is not definitely known but it probably took place between 1810 and
1834, during which period the greater part of the Choctaw lands were
signed away and their former owners forced to migrate west of the
Mississippi River. The first reference to Ponta and Chickachae is
found in the manuscript journal of R^gis du RouUet, the French army
officer, who in 1729 made the first oflficial exploration of the Choctaw
country. -* The two villages again appear on the map and in the

* Archeological and anthropometrical work in Mississippi, Smithsonian Misc. Coll.
78 (1). 1926.

8 Bernard Romans' map of 177^. Publ. Miss. Hist. Soc. 6: 415-439.

* In Mississippi Department of Archives and History and in Manuscript Division of
the Library of Congress.

MAY 19, 1927

COLLINS: POTSHERDS

261

, ) c

Figs. 1-7. Potsherds from site of Chickachae, old Choctaw village in northeastern
Clarke Co., Miss. Figs. 8-16. Potsherds from site of Ponta, Northern Lauderdale Co.,
Miss.

262 JOURNAL OF THE WASHINGTON ACADEMY OF SCIENCES VOL. 17, NO. 10

accompanying report of Capt. Bernard Romans, dated 1772, based
on his exploration of the Choctaw country for the English colonial
government during the preceding year. It was principally by means
of the Romans map that Prof. Halbert, with his intimate knowledge
of the geography and early history of the region, was able to locate
the sites of many of the old Choctaw villages.

The pottery from these two sites, of which typical decorated pieces
are shown ih the plate, is of a hard uniform texture and is usually
tempered with sand so fine that it can hardly be detected by the
unaided eye. Both inner and outer surfaces are smooth and some-
times rather highly polished. In color the sherds range from light
red and buff through gray into black, the largest proportion being
buff or light gray. The color was usually produced by polishing the
surface, merely intensifying the shade to which the firing had brought
the clay. A few sherds, however, most of them from Chickachae,
have received a slip of light brick red on both surfaces.

Little can be learned from the sherds as to the original form of the
vessels except that most of them appear to have been bowls of medium
depth.

The preponderance of decorated rims and the corresponding scarcity
of rims among the many plain pieces suggests that the decoration was
largely confined to the upper part of the vessel. As may be seen from
the plate, this decoration, which is the most important and character-
istic feature of the pottery, consists of straight or curved bands made
of finely incised parallel lines. These bands, formed usually by five or
six lines, range in width from about 5 to 10 millimeters. The uniform
distance between the lines, as well as their uniform depth, shows that
they were made by trailing a fine, comb-like implement across the
surface of the vessel while it was still soft. Among the 118 decorated
sherds of this type from Ponta, there are fewer than half a dozen in
which the lines seem to have been drawn free hand. The lot of 67
similar sherds from Chickachae shows a slightly larger proportion on
which the lines are somewhat irregular. The bands on the majority
of sherds from Chickachae are also a little broader than those from
Ponta, the average width being between 8 and 9 millimeters as com-
pared with about 6 millimeters for the Ponta pieces, and the lines
composing them are likewise somewhat deeper. With these sUght
variations, however, the ware from the two sites is identical.

No other well defined ceramic type is represented in the potsherds
from Ponta and Chickachae. Less than 20 sherds from these two

f\\

« >

MAY 19, 1927

COLLINS: POTSHERDS

233

sites bear decorations other than of the type described : these few are
of cruder ware and are meagerly ornamented with irregular incised
lines. There is, in addition, comparatively little undecorated ware
of a cruder type; the greater part of the plain sherds, of which there
are many, are of the same smooth compact ware as the decorated
pieces.

The potsherds from Chickachae and Ponta represent the only ade-
quate samples that were obtained. Very scanty collections of sherds
were picked up on the sites of Yowanne in Wayne County, Okhata
talaya in Newton County, and Halunlawasha in Neshoba County,
and yet among the handful of sherds thus obtained one or more of
the banded type was found at each of the three places.

The presence of this single type of decorated ware from such widely
separated Choctaw settlements, covering the entire area known to
have been occupied by that tribe, suggests very strongly that it was
the prevailing type of pottery in use at some period of their history.
It may safely be regarded as historic, in the sense that it is found thus
far only at Choctaw sites known to have been occupied as late as the
19th century, but further than this its age cannot at present be
determined.

In texture and color this Choctaw pottery is similar to a widespread
type from the mounds in western and central Mississippi and in parts
of Arkansas and Louisiana. It is strikingly different, however, from
the prevailing type of mound pottery from eastern Mississippi. The
pottery from the mounds of this section is usually rough and crumbly
and contains rather coarse tempering material. The decorations most
often found are produced either by ''brushing'' or by impressing cords
or coarse fabrics on the soft surface. Sometimes there is an ornamenta-
tion consisting of carelessly incised lines or punctations, and, infre-
quently, of the stamped curvilinear designs so common in Georgia
and Florida.

It is too early to speculate, on the basis of this ceramic distribution,
as to whether this Choctaw pottery developed locally or whether it
had its origin to the west. Consideration of this question, as well as
that of a possible earlier occupancy of the Choctaw territory by some
other tribe, must be deferred until more complete information is
available. It would be very desirable, for this purpose, to have
additional collections of potsherds from other known Choctaw village
sites and from the little known mounds and unidentified sites of
central and western Mississippi. _ 7~ >

222 Courtship and Marriage among the Choctaws. . '[March,

..e <.her. but beyond a .Ud protest no action -^^^^^^^^^^
Afte\ sufficient number of fish had been stowe^^^^^^

by-EWd-and the natives, he '^^.^'^^^^^^^
ju'sticeXhree-quarters ^^^^^Tw^,^:^^^^^ P^^^
sails were\t and we sped "^^^^^^^^^^^ reached. Wet,
over the da^ng boat until Anally the sl^^ ^^rt-

not hungry, t^ng to look cheerful. ^"Vff ^^^^^^^^^^ „oon.

load of fish to%^k for ^^l^^lf^f^ ^^h undertaking, for

Strange as it -^^V^^' '^^^^^^^^ fish " within hearing of

some time to comdyto mentionynyi»s

three certain sportsm>j^. / particu-

Barbados has becom^apro/nenthea^^^^ ^^P ^^^^

years the island ^^%^'';}X Bridgetown, a suburb, Hastings, is
endemic diseases. foutVoN^^^^ ,ool air can

located, -j^- f °;^;!tl^3^^^^^ anystimu-

be enjoyed. The chmifte is neces^^ y ^ ^ planters

lant if such character a welcomWge. Manyj P^.^^^^^

and merchants ha/ traveled « ^^^^^^ ..i^ny

i„ foreign countr>6s have ^o^"^ f-^j\^ ^^^nd boatmen must

Once more f. ^^JllTZ^^^^ off shore. Laden
be run. as Jh/southward^^^^^^^^ ^^^ ^^,^^ ,^,,,y

with troph/s from the '^land, wim ^ ^^^

bulky saovenirs. the traveler finds himself reSl^
rary fluting home, and . \

/^ li The ship drove past * \,

fl ,, And southward aye we ftftd^

BY H. S. HALBERT.

A rhnrtaws Still living in their ancestral homes
mHE two thousand Choctaws stmivg ^^ ^^^

1 in Mississippi, retain, in all ^^^'-^ P"f "" \|, 'methods em-
usages of their ancestors. ^"-"S f f-^a^ f e

ployed in conducting ^ ^^'^l^J^TZL. countyf sees
When a young Choc aw of ^^e^^P^/ opportunity until

. a maiden who pleases his J^^^'^^^^^^tr within a few yards of
he finds her alone. He then ^o^^^^^^^^ w ,^ ^^^^ ^^

her and gently casts a pebble towards her.

A^^>-»j»N-c^ v^^x.

1 882.]

Barbados.

higher, and within the first hour we were all comfortably df^efiched
.This p<irt Y the programme seemed in keeping with th/expedi-
tion, and Wfe silently congratulated ourselves upon so Zspicious
a begmmng\ Before long, however, the sea contin^bd making
efforts to stoWawaya portion of its surplus wate/in our boat,
and all hands Were requested to " bail out." By mfans of hollow
calabashes thi^ feat was accomplished. After i^aving gone out
to sea about tw)dve miles sails were lowered ind we lay tossine
about and waitin^for fish. All around us w/^uld see the bright
bodies of flying fi^ flash out from the cre/of a wave, pass with
great rapidity for ^me distance over tj^ water, and then drop
down agam. Even^ally a few curious/ndividuals arrived, appa-
rently to inspect the ^des of our boat/During their examination
they encountered sunJlry hooks, qu/tly opened their capacious
mouths and allowed th^ to float/. One or two " flops " when
brought on board, and tKey settl^ down, seemingly resigned, in
the water at the bottom oKthe /at. This sport was surely grow-
mg excitmg-but slowly. X-Dfanks to the outward trip and the
constant mbtion of our boatjf thanks, too, to our elaborate break-
fast, which had consisted /fV glass of water-we four ancient
manners were beginning/o eWrience a feeling which a novice
on board of a ship migWl desigW as " faint." An inexplicable
want of energy, a certafn absent-^iiindedness as to the fascinations
of fishing, and a de/ded disinclination to attack our lunch bas-
kets, became painfu^y noticeable. \ order to revive our sunken
spirits somewhat 6^e will generouslyVccord him the benefit of-a
lingering doubtVthis august individifal ordered the bait to be
brought out. f. was brought out. A Vsket of loose workman-
ship ^vas fiUecTwith fragments of flying'fish. which might have
been alive t((vo weeks before ; at the tiAie, however, they were
very dead. /This basket .was hung over the\side of the boat into
the watey Evidently the fish appreciated th^perfume which thus
was spread far and wide, for they came in large numbers within
easy reafch of our nets. Whether it was the overpowering joy pro-
ducedAy our success, or whether it was grief at'the sudden end-
ing qI so many fish lives, full of youth and full ^f promise we
muj^ allow posterity to decide. It is enough to say that " Nova
^Tf { "^^f^""^ " ^«d '• America " ignominiously collapsed
ane the further proceedings interested them no more" Occa
sfonallv a cold, wet fish would alight on the pale face of one or

1 882.] Courtship and Marriage among the Choctaws. 223

her feet. He may have to do this two or three times before he
attracts the maiden's attention. If this pebble throwing is agree-
able, she soon makes it manifest; if otherwise, a scornful look
and a deeded "ekwah " indicate that his suit is in vain. Some-
times mstead of throwing pebbles the suitor enters the woman's
cabm and lays his hat or handkerchief on her bed. This action
IS interpreted as a desire on his part that she should be the sharer
of his couch. If the man's suit is acceptable the woman permits
the hat to remain ; but if she is unwilling to become his bride it
IS removed instantly. The rejected suitor, in either method em-
ployed, knows that it is useless to press his suit and beats as
graceful a retreat as possible.

When a marriage is agreed upon, the lovers appoint a time and
place for the ceremony. On the marriage day the friends and
relatives of the prospective couple meet at their respective houses
or villages, and thence march' towards each other. When they
arrive near the marriage ground-generally an intermediate space
between the two villages— they halt within about a hundred yards
of each other. The brothers of the woman then go across to the
opposite party and bring forward the man and seat him on a
blanket spread upon the marriage ground. The man's sisters
then do likewise by going over and bringing forward the woman
and seating her by the side of the man. Sometimes, to furnish
a little merriment for the occasion, the woman is expected to
break loose and run. Of course she is pursued, captured and
brought back. All parties now assemble around the expectant
couple. A bag of bread is brought forward by the woman's rela-
tives and deposited near her. In like manner the man's relatives
bring forward a bag of meat and deposit it near him. These bags
of provisions are lingering symbols of the primitive days when
the man was the hunter to provide the household with game and
the woman was to raise corn for the bread and hominy. 'The '
man's friends and relatives now begin to throw presents upon the
head and shoulders of the woman. These presents are of any
kind that the donors choose to give, as articles of clothing, money
trinkets, ribbons, etc. As soon as thrown they are quickly
snatched off by the woman's relatives and distributed among
themselves. During all this time the couple sit very quietly and
demurely, not a word spoken by either. When all the presen \
have been thrown and distributed, the couple, now man and wife

Oxv^. Wxir. Collar /v\o. 3.

224 Editors' 'Table.

[March,

arise, the provisions from the bags are spread, and, just a^ in civ-
ilized life, the ceremony is rounded off with a festival. The festi-
val over, the company disperse, and the gallant groom conducts
his bride to his home, where they enter upon the toils and respon-
sibilities of the future.

•:o:-

EDITORS' TABLE.

EDITORS : A. S. PACKARD, JR., AND E. D. COPE.

le utterances of Professor E. DuBois Raym6nd,.at the

recent celec^ration of the birthday of Leibnitz, in Berlin,^ should
have a clearW effect on the intellectual atmosph/efre of the evo-
lutionists. Professor Raymond exhibits in a nrarked degree the
invaluable qualiW of intellectual self-control, yone which is some-
times wanting to Brilliant thinkers. It is perfectly natural for the
pioneer, in penetratiW a new and unexploced region, to advance
with too great celeritW and without giving himself the requisite
time to discover the obs^cles that majj/lie in his course. Some-
times it has happened, th^, bringing/up at the edge of an unex-
pected precipice, he has nikde the/most astounding leaps, and
has been compelled to lay to. and^^ repair damages for sometime
thereafter.

A good many evolutionists^ h^e been floored by a serious
interruption to the continuity/of their "high priori*' road, and not
a few of them do not yet know just Vhat has hurt them. That
such an evanescent and uFlsubstantial condition as consciousness
should have the gravity ilecessary to thrW a triumphant army of
advance into confusiofi, could hardly beXsuspected. Does not
one of the leaders sjiy that consciousness f!^ to the progress of
evolution, what thoAvhistle is to the engine,Nthat makes a good
deal of noise but rfoes none of the work ? Anovanother says, " If
the ' will ' of man and the higher animals seems tb be free in con-
trast with the }4ixed' will oT the atoms, that is a delt^sion provoked
by the contrast between the extremely complicated voluntary
movements^of the former and the extremely simpite voluntary
movements of the latter!" A slight difference of opinido, indeed !
One aumority tells us that consciousness does nothing,\ and the
other will have it that it does everything, rising even to th^ auto-
nomic dignity of a *' will" for atoms! They agree in believing

lee translation in Popular Science Monthly for February, 1882.

DISCUSSION AND CORRESPONDENCE

Choctaw Moieties

Our information regarding these two ancient and long obsolete divisions of the
Choctaw Indians is so scanty that any new light upon them is most welcome. In
my recently published bulletin entitled "Source Material for the Social and Cere-
monial Life of the Choctaw Indians," pages 76 to 79, 1 assembled all of the data
known to me when it was compiled. Quite recently, however. Prof. A. G. Sanders,
who isediting for publication material contained in the Mississippi State Department
of Archives and History at Jackson, has brought to my attention a brief mention of
them which throws some important additional light upon their organization and
position. This is in a letter by the ordonnateur Salmon, dated Feb. 8, 1733. In report-
ing an estimate of Choctaw warriors furnished him by the Jesuit missionary Beau-
douin, hesays:

a pretend que son Calcul est juste sur le f ondement que tous les Tchactas sortent de deux
races principalles, Sfavoir des Inoulakta qui est la plus nombreuse et la plus noble et des
Eukatatlap€, qui est moins Considerable et moins distingu6e. il dit, que la premiere race est
partag6e en sept classes differentes et la seconde en cinq ce qui forme douze partis differents
et quayant consult^ des hommes de ces differentes races, chacun en particulier luy a dit a peu
pres le nombre d'hommes portant armes de sa Race, et que ce n'est que par ce moyen qu'il
a pu en faire le denombrement; il ajoute quechacune de ces races a unchef particulier

The alleged social inferiority of the Eukatatlape seems to be confirmed by this
word itself which is used by no other writer known to me. It consists of yuka, cap-
tive prisoner, slave, and tathlapi, five, the whole meaning apparently ' ' the five captive,
or slave groups." By other writers this is called the Imoklasha, "their own people,"
or "friends," or the Kashapa oUa, "divided people." From the wording in another
eariy letter it seems that it was the official Peace party among the Choctaw, the
I»holahta being the War party. The apparent emphasis here placed on slavery and
war jars rather rudely with the seeming internal unity of the Choctaw in historic
times and their reputation as lovers of peace, and it is possible that the terms em-
ployed were ceremonial and had no reference to the origin of the groups called
inferior. Moreover, the Shakchi humma okla, "red crawfish people," who probably
represented an incorporated tribe, belonged to the I"holahta who are supposed to
have been superior. The alleged inequality in numbers between the moieties may
mean that in Beaudouin's time they were not altogether exogamous. The assertion

that each moiety had a head chief also stands by itself.

John R. Swanton

Some Algonqijian Kinship Terms*

The terms for "sister's daughter" (male speaker), and "brother's daughter"
(female speaker) among various Algonquian languages present a difficult phonetic

* Printed by courtesy of the Smithsonian Institution.

357

COVCL^

(Mil

friUfL

)r TTle^;^^

C. H-irt Mcrri;-.m

Pccsrs

80/i8c

S^ok

T KUD

SAN BERNARDINO, Sept. 14.— Out on
the desert at the little town of Manvel,
where ninety Cocopah and seventy-five
Piute Indians comprise the larger part
of the population, a flash of the old
fighting spirit of the red man has
shown and the tribal relations of the
two branches have been rudely shaken.

John Cocopah, chief of his tribe, was
shot in the head last night by John
Snyder, who enjoys the title of "Chief
of the Piutes." Chief Cocopah isdan-
gerously wounded and jiiay die, while
Chief%Snyder is being chased over the
desert by fifty Cocopah braves, Who
swear vengeance. In turn the Cdcopahs
are being followed by the Piiite "war-
riors," who say they will protect Chief
Snyder at the risk of their lives. The

, has .wa.kened -the
as nothing has for

miniature warfare
"blanket" Indians
a long time.

Dean Nicholson,
deavored to make

a white man, en-
peace between the
warring tribes, last night an^ for hi*
pains was severely beaten. The Cocq)-
pah "medicine man," wjio is attending
his chief, is undecided . whether ., Chief
John will recover.

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buB tnomn-ievos UBoizeM 9rii ot iBOimlnl y
betin'J orii Oi oiBisime oi auoixnB 9d ot
oi ameoa buoooO iBnoiaBOOO nA .aoiBirf
o) huR ebia nBoi-iomA erit oi boaaoio 9VBd

8 3SBW 10 OiBl lerisid -IUO b9V:»09T OTOrii eVi d

lof.l nl .'lovlia nBoii-.mA ^jt^'^'^^'^.Q ,^,^.^ ^.
'lot TMvl{>. uBoiz^l/L ym oT^nBrioxe ot bBft 1
airit -lui 'ijiino-il orii oi bnoa oi ^^^^J^iJJJ^

.uooT 'iIoilT liiifT aInoO toH q I Aoi*l

-ydq onii lo yllBienes 9tb BBqoooO eriT*'
I .iaudo'i bnB IlBi eiB nem 9dT .eupia
xia bnBia oi miri bnuol bnB eno boTuaBom
v^^dT .>lTBb OTB anijia Ti9dT .99idi i99l
ioBl orii 'lol oldBion .ioel 9^tbI yiev 9yBd
edi vIdBiiBvni o-iB a9oi elbbim orii iBrii
-aB jm I moriw wollol igid 9rii wBa I -^^^f^^]
qTBda lo ri'jtBq B lovo beiooleiBd nui boniJ

■i^i^n IfBt-tBo erit lo BjIlBta yd ilol oldduia
bli// ^^niJiiuri aBW ell .Uviud need bBd riolriw

erit ni tiud ion eiew teel eld bnB aaort

-^m^

1 .^h

V#>'

V«fc.''-

(

^ ^

/4v:^C/--t :^

Pick 1 I, Hot Coals IVItli Their Toe».

"The Cocopas are generally of fine phy-
sique. The men are tall and robust. I
fioasurod one and found him to stand six
,feet three. Their skins are dark. They
,>iave very large feet, notable for the fact
that the middle toes are invariably the
longest. I saw the big fellow whom I meas-
ured run barefooted over a patch of sharp
«t"bble left by stalks of the cat-tail flag.
N jv'hich had been burnt. He was hunting wild
*cffs and ^ta feet^ere not hurt in the

' coml' \}\. "^^^ common to see the men
• wl^h their n«t"?'?'^ ^"^ ^^^ke the coals
^ thus burif nn^^^ »!?®^: ^""^ /^^^«w had
though h?^ flL^^ ^^^ ^^^ "^*^« ^lack. al-
Th- t^P« VCf .1^^^ ^^''^ otherwise uninjured,
on account of'fh ^.^^^1" l\^ remarkable also
man mck „n n^ '^ nimbleness. I saw c e
to liffhf \^a^ ^^ ''^'^ ^^^ ^^^^ with his foot
along a rnnH ^If:^'* ^^- ^^^^^^^^ walking
he wanted tn n« "f ^^"tched a stick which
to his h«mi "^^ ^'''' ?' ^^"^- He raised it
gavel ohni '"'J^ continued on his way. I

bSr^hViJirl^bVre^s 'ciS'Jt'ln'/^b^^'" '^
It to his hand. caught It and brought

NhTni^^n''''^ *^ K^^ '^^'^^^ P^^P^e are dimin-
ishing in numbers with unusual raoiditv

ad for wearing white men's clc.tl nrwhlch
^ simply smothering out their livef ' Vhey

^'ULuing. iy\^ corn crop on eaoh ntn^

he"- mnTf ^.'7r^^ °^ e^arly"oa'h'seaio^
beini lT,I,f..^ ' """ ••'^ma'nder of the year
The v!h f ''',,«iuashe3 and grass seeds
tne \alu.xl olothins Is not removed when
.he men work about the river and get ^oak"

anen"?.''';?' ^" f""t. Pneumonia .ufd dea^h
niieii rpv,,ilt from this careles.-^nesti The

'•Tl»>lr L '"''^''•' "^'"y- I'l'f 'n vain,
inelr houses are simple little structnrea

?«::"y I>'-^->'ected from the rain Some have
ha e w u-,oh"1-, , ^"?^ ^'•^ Wind-proof. AH

"uTl^ °? frTe-tehfr^ ^-^ mere^^w'^'^^

I*'

}**

- . f{^v\^

i .i /

BRAND-NEW SAVAGES

fitraage Tales Told by Travelers in
the Mexican Desert.

THE COCOPASMD THEIR QUEER WAYS

White Men's Clothes Are Rapidly
Diminishing Race.

"ttriEY PAINT AND TATTOO

IVVrltten for The QreniBflr Star.

The Cacopas, a very queer people, living in
the valley of the Colorado river— partly in
Lower California and partly in Mexico— have
Just been brought to light by Prof. W. J.
McGee, the well-known ethnologist of this
city. He had just returned from an inter-
esting visit among them when he chatted
with me a day or two ago. "He is the first
scientific man to have studied them and to
have noted their remarkable customs.

"We left Washington October 9," said
Prof. McGee, "and went by rail to Phoenix,
Arizona, where we , outfitted. With four
mule wagons, three extra saddle animals
and three months' provisions we proceeded
down the banks of the Salt and Gila rivers
to Gila Bend and then south across a des-
«*rt, fifty miles of whose dry sand offered
us no water. Resting at Ajo, a copper
mimns town of Arizona we continued
Rnuthward to the ancient Papago village of
^oml'^^nS,"^'^' .'^1"^^ ^^ the'^Mexican^cus-
oflPPr n?fS \\ ^i^''^^ Domingo. Here an
^v.hn L ,^ ^^^ Mexican treasury department,
Hn?aI^.H ^^^°"^Pa?ied us from Phoenix, fa^
outfit ''"'' crossing the frontier with our

t^'SJ'^^^^^^ *^® Mexican boundary at Santo
Domingo, we struck out as directlv n^

ie^w ""^Z?'. '^" ^?^^^ country."r5o'^lles
Deiow. ihe next water was Qultobac a Pa

PaRo village thirty-five miles distant and

Hre we found warm mineral springs Th"r-

l,v miles further southward we found Co-

zon, another village of the Paplgoes Then

h" ^TrtuV° ^ I'l'''' stamp-mill, know"
as j.as rajltas, and from there to Caborca
-the westernmost town on the river of
northern Sonora, .known as Rio sIn Tgna-
olo, or Rio Altar. At Caborca five y?a?s
ago I had learned that the Tepoca indfans

■wvprp.stiu extant, eighty m^ilea down on tne

.m^t ot the. Gulf of California; sS I now

r'fonr i"""'"? !"*° "'«"• ^"*^''<' country by

their liuts and some accumulations of shells

?hat ^ITt^^V- ^ "^^ "-""Shly estlilated
that the Tepokas must have been extinct
or have departed ten years as-n ta'» tV?
returned to Santo DomTngof ^ ^® *^®"

Three Succesaire Dry Coiiip..

^"We next struck yestward along the boun-

c.c-nt highway of communlcaUon between

tTz r,f T'r'^- ^'^ "-.« -- "-^ i

■t^r^^ J ^*.""' '^'"'°"' « «P0' Which of-
fered water. A half the distance was over
exceedingly heavy sand and a quarter was
over volcanic flows. We had three s^!

»ryter--'Lrk"rtef^i

I^?o^?T.'mt"it%r''^S,ut^ce4\Sff f

va ley of the fr^wJ^J f "" took in the
line-to the gulf Th„n»L''5'" ^^"^ boundary

<'^!r^V^;^e'^e"rS'£%S^'V?-"-
times ■swimS%'h:'hVieTaftfr''ourb"o*a7
Jng'^^ ?ea?'\;^[^f 'Lif Pf-«» -"• "v':
<^our.se, that thev wpf» .i J, «"P»>osed. of ^

■found them%&a'^lTagrlcul!ur^ar'''n\ ^
.were cultivatlnir V-V^ir. v '"'^^'- They

/fequa.hes were 1iarve,Hn^*^S^' »^^» *n^

Ikliuls of 'grasses foTS"feeds''^ tT'?"^

Jor-aiod their lltflo fai-^f ^•,. "^^ ^"^^d

•reprice of the flon/f Ji"* according to the

^ h f^t si t?Hp« - bTS"g! I

p-'

COCOPAH INDIAN FEU-fl.

Mortal Strife Belpraen the Members of
Different Families.

THE iCHIEF IS AFRAID OF WITCHCRAFT.

OrdeHng the Death of a Medicine Manr^
Relaiives of the Bereased rrotnptly Kill
Two of the Chief '8 Fatnily—More Trouble
X'edredr-^Fighting the Apaehee.

[Special to the EXaminkb.1

:Yuma (A. T.), Mai-ch 10— Indian run-
ners bring the news of several murders
along the Colorado river, in LowepCalif or-
nia, among the CJocopah Indians.

Old Chief Colorow died three weeks ago,
and the new chief, believing that 'the medi'
cine man was guilty of witchcraft, caused
his murder.

Thereupon the relatives of the medicine
man killed two of the slayers, and now the
chief, with the balance of the tribe, assert
that theywiU kill all the medicine man»s
male relatives, including his sons.

WHOLESALE MURDER FEARED.

Considerable excitement prevails among
the Indians, who believe that the feud will
result in the death of many additional Co-
copahs. The tribe lives on Mexican terri-
tory, a short distance below the interna-
tional line, and they have been one of the
most famous of tribes in the ^^outhern part
of the country, and under old Colorow they
lived very peaceably.

Not • ICiM'nIittinff

•nny Tatj.

, ^^ - Sentini.'l. ■ „ , ,^
associa^e^T^ress disps-^h n-om
this place was sent March 9ili purport-
ing to be authentic in stating that a
bloody war had broken out between
two factions of the Cocopah tribe. The
press dispatch turther stated that the
trouble was caused by the election of a
new chief to till the place made vacant
by the death of the old captain, Colo-
row. Since the dispatch reierred to first
appeared some San Diego correspond-
ent has been drawing upon his imagi-
nation and continues to shed blood

Cocopah gore— in dailv aispatches to
the San Francisco press. The Sentinel
thinks the time has come to stop this
silly gossip and presents the followin

true and uncontradicted statement
facts in regard to the matter.
I In the first place Colorow, the old
chief of the Cocopahs, died over fifteen
i years ago, and not a single member of
his family has been alive for the past
ten years. After Colorow's death
Rock-a-row wat elected chief, and dur-
ing his incumbency became a great
friend of Jerry Shine, who kept a store
on the Colorado river in the Cocopah
country. Some years ago Young Joe,
an Indian belonging to a family known
as Ha-o-se, planned a raid to murder
old Shine and rob his store. Another
Indian whose name was Kenney-head
threatened Young Joe with death if
he carried out his plans, and after
quarreling ended up by severely beat-
ing the would-be murderer.

Young Joe never forgave Kenney-
head, and on various occasions de-
nounced him as a sorcerer, but failed
to injure the man until lately. Rock-
a-row died early in March and Am-a-
pie was chosen chief. The new chief
was a warm friend of Young Joe, who
lost no time In again accusing Kenney-
head of being an evil spirit and blaihi
mghim for th- sickness which then
prevailed among the Cocopahs with
atal results— la grippe. The sentence
of death was passed on Kenney-head,
and Young Joe, with two companions,
soon dispatched him. A relative of
Kenney-head immediately waylaid
Young Joe and another of the execu-
tioners, killing them, and came here
reporting the matter to Ekla-wam. a
Cocopah Indian well known in these
parts and a cousin of Kenney-head.
Ekla-wam wasted no time and soon i
reached the Cocopah country, and by I
sunset of the day of his arrival the *
third and last of Kennev-head's execu-
tioners had bitten the dust.

This is a full, authentic and com-
plete account of the great and
bloody Cocopah war. Four Indiana/
^jlied according to the Indian
Idea of *• evening up" matters. Aa
a matter of fact the Cocopah In-
dians, as a rule, are honest, in-
dustrious and well disposed toward
strangers, and especially white men.
And altliough the region inhabited by
them IS far distant from this section
and m Mexican territory, the Sentinel
does not wish to have the people of
the country believe that the Cocopahi
are on the warpath when there is ab-
solutely np truth in the rumor.

uteiy np
indj/Zei

THE COCOPA INDIANS.

Successful Agriculture With only a Stick

to Work with.

To the Kditcr ot The Transcript: .

The Cocopa Indians live on the west
side of the Colorado river, Sonora, Mexi-
co, 57 miles south south west of Yuma,
\ Arizona. I visited their camps June 2nd,
ites. They occupy lands up and down
Colorado river for miles. They cultivate
the lands about the villages. The first
thing that meets the eye on entering their
fields at this winter season is the un-
gathered beans, mellons and pumpkins
I lying permiscuously about, while many
j of the finest water mellons yet sound as
ever, lay in piles, with only a slight cover-
, ing of corn stalks or dead grass; they are
not saleable at ten cents each so great ia
. the supply on hand. This is a dry dim.
ate or mellons would not keep so long.
- 1 saw good sound ones near the end of
^February. Pumpkins are more abun-
rdantly piled up, as they are cut into
slices and dried, mainly as food for sum-
mer. The horses and dogs eat pumpkin
with as much avidity as the Indian.
Numerous sacks of beans cleaned were
seen in their houses. On the tops of the
houses much corn was stored while a
good deal remained in piles below. In
the dwellings was seen sacks of every
kind of seeds, fruit, and roots of indigi-
uous plants dried for food. This supply
wao obtained with great labor. There
was an especially good supply of grass
. seeds which, when parched and reduced
(to flour, makes bread not unlike bread
prepared from yellow corn. These edi-
ble grasses are not eradicated from their
fields as the weeds, but they are often
planted as a crop.

Their camps presented a mixed appear-
ance; Q& it was a chilly day the fires
were patronlssed; some were roasting
pumpkins or eating them, Tylnlo many
were scooping out the 11 sides of water.-
Ujrjellons with their fingers and devouring
them; others were feaiitiug on boiled
ijkian.s; mn^y ,.^vC'h^"^' P'^^^ ^vere in op-
p<?rjiiiio.n. The Cp^^opii Irjclians eat much
of tlK'.ir food id'U>s it ja Diuvhfut TJi^ fe-
njilos fill ovyij nn att'dm} ^jjj?] of a i^itlmr
oval Hhapo, in which is put whatever is to .
be parched, then hot wood coals are ^ (

;

pli<.cd ,u«ado and vigorously shaken toal
and fro until the parching is complet^'
when the coals are removed. This is the
bes method of parching any thing; the '
itotmg IS gradual and regular, while it '
the vessel was placed over the fire it
would not be so easily attended, nor like-
jy so evenly cooked. Pumpkin and
watermellon seeds were thus being parch-
ed, ot which I tasted; they possessed a
flavor ot pea-nuts. These Indians save
all the mellon, pumpk'n, and squash
seeds for food.

Some men were mak'ng arrows with
wooden points to kill small animals with
Several females were on their knees grind-
ing or rubbing into flour between two
stones, either corn or grass seed? while
others stooped by the side of wooden
mortars and with long stone pestles
I pounded mesquit beans into flour; as the
; beans contained a good deal of sugar the
I P°^ded mass readily forms a compact
•substance without water. The females
wear a small conical shaped hat which
they sometimes use by putting in the i
pounded mesquit beans, press the ma^s |*
brmly, then stick the sharp end of the l>at i
in d^rt which covers their house, w!,en '
the sun bakes the bread. The SmitI -
soaian has a loaf of bread which I saw
made and baked in this manner and it is
now ia the hat bake-pan. Several were
sitting around with their long hair all
rolled up on the top of their heads, with
mud plastered all over. This remains
two or three days when water is liberally
applied to the head to wash off the mud.
rhis.is to kUl the free boarders which had

• become so large and burdensome that the

||remedy-atb--ck coating of mud-had to

• be applied .

Indians study economy sometimes, for
they use as an article of food these free
tenents Under some circumstances
civilized beings do the same.

Seeing a peculiar basket hanging by
one of the houses I asked its use, t'le re-
ply was, "it's to collect eggs in." 'I'lie
i Cocopa Indians during May and Jnne
gather up all kinds of wild birds ecrgs
along the Colorado river in order to have
numerous feasts. They boil the e-.rs
without caring if freah laid or if they are

ready to hatch; the~ cooked young ones
are discarded, but what is left in the
shell is eaten with as much avidity as the
fresh laid eggs. As the Indiana have
hens, any of the eggs that do no^. hatch
are boiled and eaten. As uGiial I was
looking among the people for articles to
be sent to the Smithsonian; this created
merriment among the females and chil-
dren especially, who asked all sorts of
questions as to what waa^s^anted with
their things. An elderly gentleman from
San Francisco visited these Indians; he
had long white hair which attracted the
attention of the elderly ladies among the
Oovjopa Indians, who flocked around,
scanned the gentleman closely, and ask-
ed to see his teeth.

The section occupied by these Indians
is a dry, barren, inhospitable waste.
The overflow of the Colorado river in the
latter paili of May and June waters a
narrow strip of land along the river, but
the same time deposithig a thick ' sedi-
ment over the surface. The Indians re
move out of tl'e reach of the overflow,
retu'-ning to their fields as scon as the
water subsides and the soil is sufficiently
dry to admit of being planted. As thiw is
a dry, barren, hot coritry, not far frv/Ui
Yuma, where a man died, it is said, and
went to the other hot world, buj; quickly
returned to Yuma for his blankets. This
being the condition of the climate and
the soil sandy, plows and harrows are
useless, for if the soil is turned up the
scorching heat of the sun soon dries up
the plants and there is no harvest.

The Indians by long practice have sue
ceeded even in tliis hot land in obtaining

from the soil a good lining. ^ soon as
th^ land is sufficiently dry, he lakes the
only tool necessary, a long stick, one end
wedge shape, made of hard wood; this
jihey thrust in the ground prying it up;
then scratch out about six inches of earth
squatting d'3wn to place the seed below
the soil in the hole. Thus everything is
planted in bunches, and without any con-
dition as to regular rows; this is a slow
process when many acres are to be plant-
ed, but as there is many to do the work
and time of not much value to them, they
caii afford to us^this process; besides, no
othej will serve. By even this slow pro-
cess of planting with this stick, by con-
stant work the crop is planted and a
large field with a varied crop all in
bunches is an interesting sight. The
reason why the Indians pursue this meth-
od of planting, is this:— when planted
below the surface in the holes made by
theiae sticks, the roots of the plants run
under the unbroken surface which is

covered with the sediment left by over-
flowing water, wb^'ch shades the surface
of the fields, preventing evaporation, the
plants grow rapidly. The weeds that do
not produce seeds suitable for food are
exterminated; the servicible plants are
allowed to remain and form part of the
crop. It is surprising how prolific this
soil is thus planted by a stick when
shaded by the sediment left by the over-
flow. Some white settlers have tried the
plow and general mode of planting in this
soil, but they have failed. Irrigation has
been a failure owing to . the changablo
character of the river which sometime,'?
carries away land and all on it, often
what land is cultivated one year may be
in the river next. Indian and white mafu
must change with the river, and 6ach
must cultivate with a stick. E. P. .
^'

*-^v^^i^

■tA-N^

n^^

GEOLOGY AND PALEONTOLOGY,

B.—Beneath snowy-white; nape pure white; forehead wholly white in
"^^^ummer; feet black or red; tarsus 60 or less; culmen, 1-25 or

Bin deep black; feet deep black. Wing, 9*60; tail, 6r00;
V d4,^pth of fork, 2-60; culraen, M5^<3epth of bill. -25;

tardus, -65 ; middle toe, -60.

\
Bill dusky Xeddish ; feet red
N^ culmen, \^\ tarsus, ^S

S. PORTLANDICA.

Wing, 900; tirtl, 5*50;

4i, PiKEL

S. longipennis agrees veryN^sely with both S. hir^ndo and S.
macroura in the main poin^iN^oloration, having /^he same de-
cided grayish tinge .to theTlower p>H;ts and nape, a/d the forehead
black. The specimen/bmpared, however, differskfrom both these
species in having ^e white terminal b6i;ders W the longer scapu-
lars, tertials an^nn^r primaries much I^S/ distinct ; the outer
surface of the/{irimari€i$ is more silvery, and/tt^ black of the nape
appears to^tend farther down, terminat^g at^about 3-00 from
the basp^ the culmen instead of at le«s than 2>5^ Whether
this i^ feature depends upon the "n^ke'' of the skilKis uncer-

[n. — Robert Ridgway.

GEOLOGY AND PALEONTOLOGY.

New forms of Elasmosaurio^ —Professor H. G. Seeley has
recently examined the structure of the reptiles found in the Eng-
lish formations referred by author^ to the old genus Plesiosaurus.
He finds that the modifications in tlie structure of the scapular
arch are such as to reqirfre their reference to two families, the
Plesiosauridse and Elasnu^sauridae. The former embraces only the
gepus Plesiosaurus ; the latter includes Elasmosaurus and three
new genera, namely, llretmosaurus, Colym^saurus and Murseno-
saurus. The characters distinguishing thesy genera are princi-
pally discoverable /In the scapular arch. — E. D\\C.

/ * ""

American Ttpes in the Cretaceous of Nstv Zealand. — Mr.

Hector, the paleontologist of New Zealand, has otrtained and de-
cribed the re;nains of numerous extinct reptiles which present va-
rious point^ of resemblance to those disclosed by explorations in
Kansas, aiid described in Dr. Hayden's annual reports, ^hus he
finds a species of Polycotylus and a form which he states to be
allied to Elasmosaurus, called Tanivasaurus. He adds a number

ANTHROPOLOGY.

of species of Pythonomorpha, among which are a Liodon, with a
conic muzzle, and a new genus allied to Clidaste3^/0ther species
are referred to the true Plesiosaurus. — E. D. ^

A New Mastodon.— The Mastodon ofthe Santa Fe marls turns
out to be distinct fi-om the M. Chap^anii of the East, and the M.
Shepardii of California, and is«med to the M. longirostris of Eu-
rope. It has been named Xi>''0<^«<'<ms Cope. The presence of
the genera of Mammalia^iharacteristic of the Pliocene formations
of Nebraska and Colorado refers these beds to the same horizon.
A report on th>paleontology of the formation is just issued by the
Chief of Engineers, Washington. — E. D. C. .

ANTHROPOLOGT.

. Cremation among North American Indians.^— The object of
the present note is merely to record the fact, that among the many
different methods of paying the last tribute of respect to deceased
members of the tribe, which are now practised by the native races
of North America, cremation is not entirely omitted.

In December, 1850, while enjoying the hospitality of the detach-
ment of the 2nd U. S. Infantiy, which at that time established
Fort Yuma, the military post at the junction of the Colorado and
Gila Rivers in California, I availed myself of the kind offer of
Mr. Jordan, one of the owners of the ferry near the post, to make
with him an exploration of the river below the junction.

Starting in a small flat boat, which he generously sacrificed for
the purpose, with a Yuma Indian, who had a feeble knowledge of
Spanish, as guide and interpreter, we floated down with the cur-
rent of the river, making, by the aid of a solar compass, a rough
survey. On the afternoon of the third day we arrived at the
lowest village of the Cocopa Indians, who are the next tribe south
of the Yumas. Below that village we were told that the spring
tides widely overflowed the bank* of the river, and that if we
went farther, the softness of the mud might seriously hinder our

return. ,, u j

The next day I learned from the guide that an old man had

died in a village near the east bank of the river, and that the

body was to be burned. •

» Read at Uie Hartford Meeting Amer. Aesoo. Adv. Sol.

Never having heard before that this custom existed in North
America, we eagerly availed ourselves of the opportunity of seeing
the interesting ceremony. Crossing the stream in our flat boat,
we arrived, after a walk of a couple of miles over the river bottom
and adjoining desert, at the late residence of the deceased.

A short distance from the collection of thatched huts which
composed the village, a shallow trench had been dug in the desert,
in which were laid logs of the mesquite (Prosopis, and Strombo-
carpus), hard and dense wood, which makes, as all western cam-
paigners know, a very hot fire, with little flame, or smoke. After
a short time the body was brought firom the village, surrounded by
the family and other inhabitants, and laid on the logs in the trench.
The relatives, as is usual with Indians, haxJ their faces disfigured
with black paint, and the females as is the custom with other sav-
ages made very loud exclamations of grief, mingled with what
might be supposed to be funeral songs. Some smaller faggots
were then placed on top, a few of the personal effects of the dead
man added, and fire applied. After a time, a dense mass of dark
colored smoke arose, and the burning of the body, which was much
emaciated, proceeded rapidly. I began to be rather tired of the
spectacle, and was about to go away, when one of the Indians, in
a few words of Spanish, told me to remain, that there was yet

something to be seen. .iu i

An old man then advanced from the assemblage, with a long
pointed stick in his hand. Going near to the burning body he
removed the eyes holding them successively on the point of the
stick, in the direction of the sun, with his face turned towards
that luminary, repeating at the same time some words, which 1
understood from our guide was a prayer for the happiness of the
soul of the deceased. After this more faggots were heaped on
the fire which was kept up for perhaps three or four hours longer.
I did not remain, as there was nothing more of interest, but l
learned on inquiry, that after the fire was burnt out, it was the
custom to collect the fragments of bone which remained, and put
them in a terra cotta vase, which was kept under the care of the

* The ceremony of taking out the eyes, and offering them to the
Sun, seems to indicate a feeble remnant of the widely diffused
Sun worship of former times, but when introduced, or whence de-
rived, I could not learn. The subject appears to me an important

ANTHROPOLOGY.

one, and to deserve attention from those who are so situated as to
procure further information.

None of the Cocopas whom I met had sufficient knowledge of
Spanish to enable me to communicate easily with them, so that I
learned little of their history or habits, during the two days that I
remained among them. I however wrote down their numerals and
a few other words, which were sufficient to confirm the information
I afterwards obtained.

On a subsequent journey along the Gila to Tucson and other
towns, then belonging to t o- Mexican state of Sonora, I passed
through the .villages of the Coco-maricopas who, as is well known
to all of my hearers, live in a semi-civilized condition, in close
bonds of union with the Pimos, on the banks of the Gila.

I was led by the similarity of language, as well as by the re-
semblance in name, to suspect that this tribe was related to the
Cocopas of the lower Colorado. On enquiring, I was told by one
of the chiefs, Francisco Duk, that they still preserved a tradition
of the former connection of the two tribes. Many years ago, in
search of more extensive lands, the Cocopas had separated from
them, and gone westward, settling on the banks of the Colorado,
below the confluence of the Gila. Visits were occasionally made
to their villages by their kinsmen from the Colorado, and in fact,
•I had met on my journey a small party of Cocopas returning from

the Maricopa villages.

The Maricopas are now completely identified in interests and
habits with the Pimos, and if they practised cremation when they
first entered the Gila valley, the usage has long since become ob-

solete.

Commercial intercourse between the Indians of these interior
valleys and those of the Californian Gulf must have also taken
place centuries ago, when a higher form of semi-civilization existed
along the Gila. For not many days afterwards while examining
the famous Casas Grandes or Casas Blancas, as they are more
usually called, I found shells of the genera Oliva and Conus, which
had been brought from the Gulf. Small ornaments of turquoise,
similar to the variety found near Santa Fe, New Mexico, occasion-
ally occur and are greatly prized by the Indians.

QjtOr-i^^J>^

^ tkUxlst^tJid Hm^

M/t

A/*

-i!?^

• «

Q/rt ^ I^Cl ^.p^jUJtA^

\. .

f^.< ^ -J^^^^ V y •'- .vtf^

0-V *.. V \ s

CPCORA. \.7-oT^/^Kr M AIDING b:k.i:ap

'", V

C/rtA-K^ c/^K^^"'*^

{J/rt^/'Jh- (/^J^"^"^

:-PROFE<^SQK MC&BE TxTTTH g.OCOT»A MAKT. AA70KAiy«»CHIg)

CAiyrW^ J^ili^

\ HER. t^j^TlE

War TbreAtened at Yam a*

San Diego Union.

There Is a speck of war tioverine on the
eattem horizon of San Dieso County. Some
time ago, so the report sees, thert was a se-'
ceBSlou in the Goeopab ludlan tribe, in
Lower Caltforaia* which resulted, iu the
4eath of the chief and the woundioR of his
son, Jose. The latter gathered his ad-

, 1

liercnts and crosssd the line into the United
States, settling east of Ymna. The Yuinas
and Mohaves have always been deadly ene-
mies of the Pimns, liXericopas nnd Coco-,
pahs, and siuce the advent of the latter iDtol|
their territory the yunLis have been en-'}
gaged In attempting, to inforce their return '
to Mexican territory. The Cocopahs r^-
fused to go, saving they would be killed,
and the Runouucemeut of their intenticn to
go to work on the Mohawk canal is likely
tj produce trouble. * , /(

«»—

»9k-

U^jCifiiAW

RUINED BY TROUSEftS.

LmMt Remnant of tbe Coeopah InAlaik

Tribe of Colorado Haa GoBO

to Mexico.

V-

Reduced by disease and famine to
the mere remnant of a tribe, two-
«core Cocopah Indians, with their
squaws and 50 puny, suffering chil-
dren, crossed the Mexican side of
the international line below Yuma, a
Bhort time ago. With no land to
call their own, the little band had
practically been driven from the civ-
ilization that had ruined them.

L^ss is known of the Cocopahs
than of any other tribe in North
America. In 1689 Father Rodriguez
visited them and described the men
as being of extraordinary size. They
have always persisted in keeping to
themselves. For a long time thejr
tribe has been growing smaller and
their physical proportions have been
diminishing.

The Cocopahs attribute their ret-
rogression to the assumption of
clothing. Before they learned the
ways of the white man, and donned
trousers and shirts, they knew no
illness. Since then disease has rav-
aged the tribe. Last winter many of
them died of pneumonia and two
months ago smallpox broke out
among them. Scores of the Indians
have died of the disease.

For weeks an armed guard kept the
Cocopahs away from Yuma, their
sole source of supplies. As a re-
stJlt the Indians suffered from lack
of food and other supplies, while
they had no medicine except their
own concoctions.

> ^H Atn>^

^fV-^'f

Old Cliary, Ckief of the Cocopos,

Grabs Boy and Rushes From

Hospital.

FRIGHTEIIED BY THE KNIFE.

Bed Brave From Mexico Scorns
"White Medicine Man'' and Es-
tablishes Sprinting Record
in Leaving Institution.

<<^

White medicine man no good; very hKd
man/*

This is the explanation given by Old
Chary, Chief of the Cocopos, for the spec-
tacular escape he made with his 5-year-old
son yesterday afternoon from the Emer-
gency Hospital at the World's Fkir.

Old Chary, by snatching his son from
the operating table just at the point whw
the surgeon made his appearance with the
knife and hastening away with * Ws
precious charge through the rear door of
the hospital, voiced the contempt and dis-
approval of his people for civilised med-
ical treatment.

He is backed up In his opinion by the
sentiments expressed by the members of
his tribe, who told Mr. Cushman, in charge
of Cocopos, that the Indian medicine m&n
was good enough for them.

Old Chary's boy. as the Cocopos speak .
of him, for the boy, they say, never had
any other name, has been suffering frpm
an abscess, which threatened fatal re-
suite unleaip some immediate and drastic
steps wfere taken to check the disease.

Doctor Walbridge of the hospital waa
consulted, and with another physician,
who had been attending the boy, ad-
vised an operation. Through the Interpre-
ter the parents were told that In order
to cave the boy's life he must be taken
to the hospital. Explanation of the methn
od of treatment pursued at the hospital
was either misunderstood or not madd
clear to the Cocopos. The white man'a^v
medicine lodge, theV found, was quit* %
departure from their own in Mexico.

They regarded the doctor's explanation
of new medical treatment in the' hospital
witl^ su«plcion. but finally decided to take
chances on Mr. . Cushman's indorsement
of the plan. The Cocopos hsfve the Ut-
most confidence In MH Cualiman. who
went to Mexico and brought them here,
and at hl9 suggesti<?n they consented to-
the boy being taken to the hospital for
medical assistance. . ■

MAKES QUICK ESCAPE.
The father of the boy aocomD|anled him
to the hospital In the ambulance. Old
Chary would not consent to sit In the re-
ception-^-oom while his son was being
cared for, but Insisted on following hlia
to the operating room to watch the pro^,
ceedings. The boy wag laid' on the oper-
ating table, while physicians and niKsej
bustled about in white caps and aprons
making preparations for the operation.

In strange comparison to the aajnty
surroundings of the room was the i^ctur-
esque figure of Old Chary t^if long, bUUJl^
coarse hair falling over his l>r«^^l^Jg^
Jacket of red-flowered ce^ioo. .When the
surgeon entered the room with r he op-
erating knife the climax Y*s reached.

When Old Chary esiried the gUttermg
piece of steel he made a J*^W^or the
table, caught his ^boy in his arms Md
made for %he bajk door ^J^^^^^J^'t
feet could carry him. and that Is exceeo-
inlly quick, for the Cocopos are known as
the Indian sprtnters. „„,,^^ tro^Ua

Over cobble stone and railroad track;.
splashing through the mud and water,,
end Chary went like a streak of ^ehtnli^.
Those who watched his progress s-V that
he never paused after leaving the jjospltal
until l^ feached the camp of Indians at

'^^Whln'oi'? C&aW. with the boy. reached
camp and told of his narr/^ e«^Pe /ro''*
helnsr scalped by the wh*te men. he re-
^ivfd^Siismg^ ovation from his people.
'They laid the sick boy on a bed of
straw in the little brush hut, and wel-
comed him back with Singing and danc-
ing. LAst evening until a late hour t^ey
ku4d their own methods of restoring the
* Client to health, t)y dancing about M^
bed and in chants and .singing, Inn^orlng
his safety from the evil spirts

"The Cocopos, living an isolated ure.
and knowing little of the w^i^^.^^^fn"^?
ways," said Mr. Cushman, are l^clinea
to be suspicious. However, w^ are d o mg
everything we can for the boy^F recovery
and hope that we can brmg him out «U

"what la worrying the Exposition oN
fioials now Is the fact that should the bov
me the T^ocopos will Insfet upon going
home for if anv such misfortune should
ITm their pe"6ple, th^ would suspect

that the strange coun«^ TT^ oon^^der» -
with evil spirits and under no cons^d^^^

lion could they be P^rs^a<^^lo^n?d2& end
Cocopos represent one of the oldest ena
?malFe5 tribes of Mexican J^dlans^' and
wpre brought to St. Louis at considera-
ble Ixpensf to the Bxposition. The mar^
agement would not now like to lose thtm
ffom the big aivl interesting eoVect on of
Indians that make up a part of tne
ethnological exhibit. ^_^

^*".^

i
I

0--

I— ■»»»■

HEAD OF THE GULF OF CALIFOKNIA.

Three days were spent at Lerdo, Mexico. This locality is 60 miles
south-southwest from Yuma, latitude 31o 46' 10'^ and louiritude ll^'^
43'3(y'.

The most interesting thing obtained here was Ammohroma^ which for
the first time has been collected in good quantity.

956. Nasturtium palustre D. C.

955. Achyronlchia Cooperl T. & G. Places in river bottoms. Lerdo, Mexico.

934. Dalea Bmoryl Gray. In the deserte of southeast California and western

Arizona, and south to Los Angeles Bay. One of the two hosts of Ammo-

broma,

941. CEnothera scapoidea Nutt. Var. Stems 4 to 8 inches high, much branched at
base, lateral leaflets very small, or none ; calyx dark red within, petals less
than 2 lines long, light yeUow. Hemsley does not mention this plant as
growing in Mexico in Biol. Cent. Amer.

933. Pranseria dumosa Gray. Also collected here by Dr. Edward Palmer in
1885. This species is common in the desert regions of south Utah, Arizona
southeast California, and extending as far south as Los Angeles B^y, Lower
California. This is one of the two species upon which Ammohroma Sonorw is
found, and its wide distribution leads us to expect that other stations of that
parasite will yet be found.

957. GnaphaUum Sprengelll H. & A. Dry places in river-bottoms.

940. Palafozia linearis Lag. On the dry sand-hills.

Ammobroma SonoreB Torr. This was first discovered in 1854 by Col. A. B. Grav
in charge of a railroad exploring party, at the head of the Gulf of Califor-
nia. At this time a short notice of the discovery was published by Col A
B. Gray in Memoirs of the American Academy of Science, but it was not
until 1867 that a description of the genus was published by Dr. John Torrev
in the Annals of Lye. Nat. Hist. N. Y. Vol. VIII, p. 51, together with a good
figure. So far as we can learn the plant was not collected again until
Schuchard got it in Arizona. And now Dr. Palmer collected it in largo
quantities at Lerdo, Mexico. Until the present season its host plant has
been unknown but Dr. Palmer has carefully examined into this, and col-
lected two common plants of this arid region npon which it grows. These are
Franseria dumosa and Dalea Emoryi, Dr. Palmer wrote that the plant grows
in deep sand, the deeper the sand the larger and juicier the plants. The
Cocopa Indians gather them for food, which they relish under all circum-
stances. They eat it raw, boiled, or roasted. The plant is full of moisture
and whites and Indians alike resort to it in traveling, as a valuable
substitute for water. It has a pleasant taste, much resembling the sweet

potato. The'Btoms are 2i leet louj; aud i to 4 inches iudiaiMeter, but aluiubt
buried, only tlie peculiar white tops ajipearinj; above the sjuid. The Coeopa
Indians call it '*Oyutch." Colonel Gray gave much the same report of this
phiut. He says the Papago Indiaus dry the stems aud grind them with the
niesquit beans, forming what they call '* pinale."

937. Aphylloii Cooperi Gray. Parasitic on Franscria ilumom. Tlie Co(;opa In-

dians also use this plant tor food. It is very bitter, but this is mostly re-
moved by boiling. They call it *'nep-chaga." It grows in the sand.

938. This is the same. Parasitic on Ephedra,

953. Amaranthus Palmeri Wat. Var. A peculiar ca^spitose form, forming great
mats, some stems with slender ascending or erect stems 4 to 10 inches long.
At Lerdo, Sonora, Mexico, April 24 to 2(), 1889. Grows in river-bottom, iu
rather dry places.

958. Probably the sterile of the same. Stems much branched at base aud slender,
> Sagittaria variabilis Eugl. The bulbs of this plant are much used by the Coeopa

/ Indians either raw or roasted. Lerdo, Sonora.

Ruppia maritima, Linn. Lerdo, Sonora. Hemsley says that this species had not
been collected in Mexico, although it might be expected.

931, ScirpuB maritimus, Linn, fide F. V. Coville.

924-931. Uniola Palmeri Vasey. This grass was collected 35 miles south of Lerdo
and about 15 miles from the mouth of the Colorado River. It grows abun-
dantly on the tidal lands and forms almost the principal food-plant of the
Coeopa Indians. A full account of this plant, with plate, appears in the
Garden and Forest for August, 1889.

948. Panicum colouum Linn. An annual grass of which the seeds are used for
food by the Indians. .•

947. Panicum capillare Linn. var. miliaceum, V. A peculiar variety with a
drooping panicle, of the habit of P, miliaceum but with smaller spikelets.
This is also used as food by the Indians, who sow the seeds in the rainy
season.

946. Lolium temulentum Linn. Introduced.

945. Diplachne imbricata Scrib. This extends into Arizona and southern Cali-
fornia.

THE AMMOHOMA.

Another plant of economic value to
the same Indians is the Ammohoma
sonorae, Torrey, called by the Indians
the ^/sand-food," because it is found
growing out of the soil in very sandv
places. It is really parasitic on the roote
ot other plants, with the fleshy roots
sinking twelve to eighteen inches deep
into the sand, where it draws its nourish-
ment from the straggling root of some
plant or bush that may be con-
s derably removed from where it shows
above the ground. The Ammobrerna is
about the size of another plant (Pholisma
Arcuarmm) which is found in San Diego.

Ihe fleshy plant is watery and for this
reason is especially sought for by the
Indians in the desert regions, and eaten
raw with avidity Dr. Palmer describes
the taste as closely resembling the heart
of a cabbage plant.

The same plant is eaten by the Papa^o
Indians in Sonora after roasting or drv-
ing in the sun. Col. A. B. Gray, the first
discoverer describes the fresh plant
when cooked as "luscious, resembling
the sweet potato in taste, only more deli-
cate. ,

* /

/■

Thetr Marrluse Cnmtoms.

"These people are ostensibly monogramous.
Of their polygamy, in which state they for-
TAerly lived openly, there are yet traces,
kept in the background out of deference to
the Mexican law. . v ^

"They have lirescrlbed a strange ordeal
which must be undergone by every Cocopa
girl before she can be considered to be mar-
riageable. When she is ready to take a
husband a hole U dug in the ground and in
It is built a fire, kept burning until the sur-
roun^lngr earth has been thoroughly
warmfid. TJie fire Ig. then extinguished antr
the brtde-elect placed in the pit. She ta
buried to her neck and in this condition li
left standlnit over night. After beipg dug
out, the nekt n^orning, she is ready for the
connubial state.

"Each Cocopa family Is bound by a strict
law pertaining to property rights. Strictly
domestic property belongs to the women;
farmstead property to the men. For the
purpose of bujing some articles for tiif col-
lection. I visited one hut while tiie husband
happened to be away. The wife was willing
to sell me her pottery, her squash vessel?,
her mill or the grain which she. had ready
for grinding in the latter. Butfin the ab-
sence of her husband she had no authority
to sell me the grain In the granary or the
granary itsell

"During my stay among them, the Coco-
pas had a great feast, out in the extreme
northwestern part of their territory, at a
point seventy-tlve miles from Coionia l^erdo.
I contemplated attending this joUiflcation,
but changed my mind, and later had reason
to be thankful that I had thus reconsidered.
One of the tribe committed a depredation
for which three d-f the Mexican rural police
undertook to arrest him. His companions
rescued him arid tore the police utterly to
pieces. The Mexicans will of course punish
the Cocapas for this, although the latter
are many hundreds of miles distant from
civilization. The penalty for their crime will
probably be the further reduction eft their
number by from a dozen to a score of
souls."

JOHN EIjFRETH WATKINS, Jr.

•I

cu^ f"^ /) ^1

• i'

^*f\UtAu^

The Dead Cvemated in Their HOiiseM.

**The burial' customs of the Cocopas ar«
very interesting. Upon the death of one
of the tribe his kinsmen all cut their long
hair to a shortness proportionate to the
relatlonsililp of each to the deceased. If the
dead was possessed oC property it is given
away to the dlflerent members of the tribe,
but never to his relatives. That is a clever
device to prevent a family depute as to
ownership of any of the properly. Many
primitive people have taken such procau-
ion against the possible division of a house-
hold against itself, as for instance the
mother-in-law taboo of certain Indian
tribes. This prevents any exchange of
words and any association whatever be-
tween mother-in-law and child-in-law.

*'That this general distribution of the
property of the dead is to occur is an- ;
nounced Ijy mesyengers sent from settlement
to ^settlement. The ho.use of the deceased
having been deprived of all valuables the
corpse is allowed to remain w4thiii while
fuel Is colleotod about the habitation and a
Ore is kindled beneath it. "I'hus. the hut of
each Cocopa becomes his funeral pyre. The
destruction of the body is almost always
complete. I saw a few heaps of earth
thrown up to cover a few remnants of
bones which had not completely crumbled
Into ashes.

"These funoral fires occayionally wipe ooit
a whole settlement, the wind carrying the
flames from the hut of the dead to the habi- i
tations of his neb?hbors. V.'hen a subchlef
of the tribe die? all huts in the group over j
which he ruled must be boi'nt, out of re- 1
spect, and all property belonging to his .
people must be given away.

"The principal weapon of the Cocopa Is a
long, wooden var club, which looks like a
large potato-mashes, sharpened at the small
end. The heavy end Is for beating the vic-
tim over the head, the sharp end for prick-
ing him. They also have a spear, combin-
ing the funtJtlons of the flag-standard and
the lance. It is feathered from end to end, j
and, strange to say, the point Is held in ]
the hand of the bearer. A Cocopa canpot
go to war unless he wear a large tag, made
of shell, attached to his nose. The cartl-
lege between the nostrils of all grown men
Is pierced to hold this appendage.

•'All of the Cocopas paint tholr faces and
are more or less tatooed. The foreheads of
the men are tatooed with circles or zigzag
marks. Upon marrying, the women must
be tatooed with varfous designs.

/•

lA^ i-U^Dbj

^ »

liailrond tci Gold .>ilni$b.

The party struck out across the desert
from Caborca and landed at Quito vl
Quito, which Is one of the oldest Indian
settlements in the country, and supposed
to be the last outpost settlement beforo |
one strikes the mouth of the Colorado I

River where it enters the Gulf of Call- !
fornia. What was tho surprise of the
party, therefore, when they found a rail-
road runnlngr west from this desolate In-
dian settlement. To be sure, it was only a
narrow gaugfe railroad, some seventeen
miles in length, but its traffic is, perhaps,
the most remarkable of any tallroad in
the country. It was built solely to cai*ry
water to a Mexican gold mine In the hills,
and Incidentally to bring back the prod-
uct of the stamp mill, which is located
In this inaccessible and unheard of moun-
talr eerie. The mine is known as the Pl-
cada, and lies in a region which a decade
from now may witness a rush of gold-
seekers almost as impetuous as that
which has flowed to the Klondyke in the
last two seasons. It Is a region of rotten
quartz ledges, beaNng gold in good pay-
ing quantities, but one Which has never
felt the stimulus of AmeHcan enterprise
and capital. The washing from, these j
mountain ledges carried down by the
storm water every year has created
gre&t placer fields all along the west
coast, Which are worked Ih a primitive
way by the Mexicans, and which ard due
In time to be much more thoroughly ex-
ploited and developed by capital from the
States.

ff-ijr^

MUD voiGiiiiOEs mi:

WE FLEES

BRAWIiEY. Cal., March 16.— Imperial
Valley, once sceae of raging floods from
broken levees of the Colorado river,
ground for the contest^ of settlers and
claim jumpers, vale of wondrous tales
of productiveness In crops and stock— a
section of Southern California which
always has managed to keeit) in the
spotlight since the wonderful project
of turnluji? the Colorado's waters into
tho desert was conceived ar.d carried
out, less than a decade ago— now has
another mild sehsatlon.

Frpm the five towns of the valley peor
pie each. night are watching the south-
ern skies to witness vthe lurid effects of
light which comes from the district
known as "mud volcanoes,'* about thirty
miles below the International boundary
line, south of MexicalL

The unusual activity, of the mud vol-
canoes began about two weeks ago and
has constantly increased. The Cocopah
Indians, whose pueblo, Posa Vincento,
is within tw<) mile* ^ctf, theP -volcanoes,
were startled ' nights - bJT nmibll iigs in
the ea^t h . And then to^lawed geysers
of steamhig mud thrown to a, iioight of
from thirty to fifty f eet. '. : , ^

'•Indian Carlos," of Chief Borego, an
aged Cocopah, who says helms passed
his 100th year, declares that a^i his
life he has lived beside these mud vol-
canoes but never before were they So
active. At his command the Indians be-
gan their weird religious dances a fort-
night ago to appease the evil spirits
supposed to have created the dlsturb-^
arice, but a« the oubten-anean rumblings
grew louder and the lurid lights played
higher In the sky they dropped their
ceremonies and fled to Mexioall and Ca-
le^lco, whV^re they are now encamped.

At Bawley, seventy-flve miles distant
from the volcano district, the smoke or
steam from the place is plainly vlslblfe,
while at nights the play of lights on the
southern *ky Is brilliant and beautiful:
I«^om six distinct centers the lights rise
and spread out heavenward.

Speci

All Of

Laundry Qoo

Special Sale of A.A; P Borax
Lavndnr Soap

A & P Borax Laun- (\C(^
dry Soap, 8 cakes for..,APV

Regular price 4c a cake.
No better soap made.

Ball Blue, impound <bf.r
box. ....-,.• ..^*.C^ "^

Regular price^Qj^. Qj

Washingr S^a, aX | ^ •
pound. ..A*^ .^... *^

Regular price fQt^ 'Be.

Pearl^ a p"^- ^/»

a^c • f ^^ . . '.^K* •••••••••^^

17^6 VV^Ing Row- flf^
u^r • • • 4S^^ •••••••••'•••if ^ ^

Hegil|Mprice 3c.

IXL Laundry Q/i JE» 7/»
Starch.... Jt Ct /V

JF^efifular i^rice 5 and ^c,

Atlantic Soap Jf,

Polish .,,. •..••>•,• ft V

Regijlar price lOq.

Fresh Eggi

The Great Atl

7 f

Bnrtal (or Brldea.

The weirdest and most unique marrlafie
, celebration In the world b»a Just 'been
, discovered by Prof. W J McQee, the well-
known ethnologist of this city, among
the Cocopahs, a queer people MVlng In
i ^TiV* Ca"f<»'nla. who has reiurned from
an Interesting visit among them. Ho is

them «n^ ", *k """ '"^'* *° ♦>*^« studied

Sm^ ""^^ *•'*"' '■^^a'-kable

I m^^J^^^l" ?'-\«»t«n8Jbly monoga-
mona. said Prof. Mctiee. "Of their
poo^gamy. m which state they formerly
1^ fh« ""h "'?:' *''^''* "*> y«t traces, kept
iSe M^e^e^t^TaT "' *" '^'^^^'^^ *''

WWch* mw V^*'!"'*'' * «*■•*"«« ordeal
wnich must be undergone by every Co.

copah girl befor* she can J consTder^ '

i anvg avKrs »«

Strictly domestic i&roperty belongs to th-
women, farmstead property to the men
For the purpose .of buying some art?J^?P«
f«r ^y collectiorv I vlsited°one huf whill
the husband happened to be away The
wife was willing to sell' me her notterv
5^;'*i l'^"l«^ vesseis, her mHl. or the irrain

hor.^ v l^^J" ^^ absence of her hus-
gr in in"* th^.^ ''^ authority to sell me the
felf.- granary or the granary it-

rf^

rty.

/f^t

^„w*^^

^plumes of the egret This 1^
a heron, about the size of a half-
Krown rooster, and its feathers are

said these plumes are at their best during
JH ^''?;f^^»« season, and are found be-
tween the wuiM and taii. Tnev are Ji^hf
extremely light, and their mirket rflue
is $26 an ouQoe^ An entire ekin fAtehii.
about *2 60. The birds traye? in g?eaT?o^S!
nies, and if a man is in luck he ^ill fall
Intpqu te a nice little sum of money." ^

no. rne Indians oan never be made
to understand business. They wiuld
rather work for 50 cents a day and uSfir
food than hare |«K) in prospect. If ISt-r
devoted thehr energies to the chase they
wquld make money, for there U
fu ^^I^ .}^ Yunia who buys all
toe leathers and pays cash for

♦ it?iu^A\*'? ^i »>o"*iv«iy no risk. I am
told that their feathers are used oh hats.
The egret is common on the Atlantic
seaboard, but the best feathers come from
tfee Colorado's mouth."

^^L 4

"KU^/^

l^dtZii^ ^t-fi^ A-/^

A^^-1^

/^^.^.^•^iyJjit^ ^ J^rt^t^^ (/^i^i<JU

Vt^uvu r..

^^'iMJAJy.lj, S4<^ L^/yUjuL ytTiyO^tiiJy JhaJt-^cIu^

UyAnAAMA

AAT'Ml/

0(An/3j /

OtriAjU^ /y^A/Jy M^/y^ ^tvOy^^M-

Shy AAamJjA(J/> cdT)AJr^trUJAAA^

clUyd.,

nJjJUy. V TtAo^^

/ A^/j^yi^

'. yiyirC^bUyivaJy-

' UyirOV^yty,

. of , iho / n i/iy /i(yiy' At uuc ^ cf.i^u/uY

yi^iMy /lyirtUlJ

^'yLtr\M^

ti^

^'^'■^ Q//uJ^L.z

//2

^/\jiyr/nA

y€Uj oyyy^^jJ/ yCln<^ /r/iy(^ ^^>^ iiyy/iyu

Caxa^

C, Hart Merriam

Papers

BANC MSS

8(yi8c

l^2\-2<f

NO. 6

SMITHSONIAN EXPLORATIONS, I92O d III

eaiitUiftg^ beneath 4he4ep-8oil-4^iiiains whic]x might dift'cr-4a-gengral
character from those on the surface. There being iio^^ifflFerence
between remains belonging to the historic period and-ritdse superficially
showing evidence of greai^g€^4tis logii:al-tcrconclude that when that
branch of the Polynesian ra^:erH[TBwS«iQwn as Hawaiians, left their
home in the distant^^Scftim Seas and migrafed tp these islands, they
found the tei:j;kt5fy without inhabitants ; and there is 'na4:eason what-
ever foi>stipposing that any people culturally different froitNthe his-
tom^^Hawamn^-had-evei picviuusly lived on the islands -^

FIELD-WORK AMONG THE FOX AND PLAINS CREE INDIANS

Dr. Michelson, ethnologist of the Bureau of American Ethnology,
began field-work among the Fox Indians at Tama, Iowa, about the

Fig. 125. — The dwelling in which the White Buffalo Dance of the Fox In-
dians is held. The building is the typical '' bark " house used by the Fox in
the summer and early fall.

middle of June. His main purpose was to restore phonetically a text
containing the autobiography of an Indian woman written in the cur-
rent syllabary which he had obtained in the summer of 1918, to correct
the translation where there was need, to elucidate some ethnological
references contained in the text, to clear up some grammatical ob-
scurities, and to work out the verbal stems so far as was feasible in
the field. All this was successfully accomplished, and Dr. Michelson
left for Saskatchewan in the latter part of July for a preliminary
investigation of the Plains Cree. The results of this investiga-
tion show that the Plains Cree are tall and have a cephalic index

112

SMITHSONIAN MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTIONS VOL. 72

NO. 6

SMITHSONIAN EXPLORATIONS, I92O

113

Fig. 126. — An aged Plains Cree (File
Hills Agency).

Fig. 127. — Tipi of the Plains Cree (File Hills Agency)

of about 79, and evidently are the same type as the one which
formerly occupied the Mississippi Valley, thus confirming the results
of Dr. Boas, announced in 1895. The general grammatical prin-
ciples which have been worked out for Fox apply also to Cree.
In some respects Cree is more archaic than Fox, in others less so.
Ethnologically the Plains Cree are about half way between more
typical Indians of the Plains, such as the Blackfeet, and the Central
Algonquins. An analysis of the myths and tales which cluster around
the culture hero shows that we practically have the myths and tales of
the culture heroes of the Blackfeet and Ojibwa combined. All this
is just what one would expect from the geographical position of the
Plains Cree.

ARCHEOLOGICAL EXPLORATIONS IN TENNESSEE

Mr. W. E. Myer, of Nashville, Tenn., spent September and
October, 1920, making explorations for the Bureau of American
Ethnology in the Cumberland Valley around Nashville. He dis-
covered on the H. L. Gordon farm, one mile northeast of Brentwood,
in Davidson County, the remains of an ancient Indian walled town.
These were situated in a woodland and had never been disturbed by
the plow. Their partial exploration brought to light some new and
interesting details of the life of the inhabitants. Traces of 87 house
circles and faint indications of several more could be made out. This
town covered 11.2 acres and was surrounded by an earthen embank-
ment which formerly supported a palisaded wall, equipped with
circular towers every 55 feet.

The ancient inhabitants, for some unknown reason, had deserted
this village and the site had never afterward been occupied or dis-
tur])ed. The deserted structures had gradually fallen down and the
remains slowly buried under from 10 to 14 inches of earthmold. In
some of these circles portions of beautiful, smooth, hard-packed,
glossy-black floors were found. In the centers were the ancient fire-
bowls, yet filled with the ashes of the last fires kindled in these homes
before their owners left them forever. Near these fire-bowls often
could be seen the metates, mullers and other household utensils, just
as left the last time used. Underneath the floors were the stone slab
graves of the little children, one of which is shown in figures 128
and 129.

A level open space was found near the center of the town and on
the western side of this plaza was a low flat-top mound that had
originally supported some important building. Adjoining this mound

114

SMITHSONIAN MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTIONS VOL. 72

on the west was an earth circle which probably outlined the ruins of
the town house. At the center of this sacred structure, on the unique
black glossy floor, an ancient ahar (fig. 130) was found. It was still
filled with the pure white ashes of what had once beeit the sacred fire.

Fig. 128. — Child's grave after removal of infiltrated soil,
before disturbing mortuary vessels.

This altar was carefully preserved and is now in the Bureau of
Ethnology. The Gordon site is of much interest because here we
have an ancient Indian village just as the original inhabitants left it.

The Fewkes Group
Mr. Myer also partially explored an unnamed Indian village group
at Boiling Spring Academy in Williamson County, Tenn. At the

Cree Indien Languege Syllabary

Who Can Read This?

Editor Outdoor Life: — While hunting in
Northern Ontario last fall, in making a port-
age, I found a large, fresh blaze on a tree
with what our guide told us was Indian
writing, but we saw no one in that section
of the country who could read it. This was
on the Oba River near the mouth, where it
empties into Kabinagkami Lake. I am hop-
ing that some of the readers of Outdoor Life
will be able to translate it for us.

Ore. * DjviGHT Misner.

Theie is little doubt but that the inscription
is written in the Cree syllabary, and it is pos-
sible that some reader of Outdooi' Life who is
familiar with this form of writing will be able
to read it. In connection with the history of
this language it will be interesting to quote Geo.
Bird Grinnell, who has this to say:

The Cree syllabary is a written language
invented eighty or ninety years ago by a
I Wesleyan missionary stationed in Canada.
The first edition, as I believe, was published
in New York in 1837. It consists of some-
thing more than forty-four characters, each
one of which represents a syllable, and
and hence no spelling is required. A great
deal has been written about these characters,
which are widely known in the. North, but,
perhaps, not at all in the United States.
Father Lacombe of Canada wrote a prayer
book in them, and so did a French priest
named Father Thibault.

The system has been adapted to other na-
tive languages and books printed in these
characters have appeared in the Eskimo lan-
guage and certain dialects of Athapascan

dLsrvs

LP?y

tribes. Among these last Father A. G. Mo-
rice has modified
them for use among
the western Dene.

Much has been
written about this
syllabary, and one
or two men have ap-
parently tried to
claim the credit
which belongs to the
Rev. James Evans. I
think, however, there
is no question as lo
where this credit be-
longs.

Mr. Evans invent-
ed these characters
with the idea that
Indians who could
not learn English
and the art of read-
ing might readily learn these signs for sylla-
bles. He whittled out his first types with his
own jack knife from wood and subsequently
.devised molds for type made from the lead
furnished him by the Hudson's Bay Com-
pany's empty tea chests. His first ink was
made from the soot of the chimney; his first
paper was birch bark, and he made his own
printing press. Later, after the usefulness of
the type had been demonstrated the Wesle-
yan Missionary Society furnished him type,
paper and a press, and contributed money to-
ward the erection of a printing house. So far
as printing goes the syllabary seems to have
been used altogether for religious purposes.
On the other hand, the Crees write letters in
this syllabary, and also write public notices
in the same way. Geo. Bird Grinnell.
, N. Y.

Outdoor Life, p.l50/Peb. 19E5

I __^ii ■ I III _ » ""^1 * ^ M — »m.^^»>.

In the Wardroom Mess of the Survey Ship
"Acadia" the hydrographers were once more gathered
after the evening meal. The good ship was somewhat
off its beaten track, having come round from the
"home port" of Halifax to spend a month working
on the swiftly-flowing Saguenay.

A day's sounding and charting, sweeping the
channel ranges, was over, the supper board was
cleared, and pipes, and fags were glowing. Collins
was asked to again take the yarnster's chair and en-
tertain his messmates with further tales of experiences
on charting the shores of the Hudson Bay, and of his
friends amongst the Swampy Crees.

Scene: The Wardroom of a Survey Ship, at anchor
in Ha Ha Bay of the Saguenay.

Time: A June evening of the present year. The
dying breeze idly drifting down from the sur-
rounding hills carries the chill of Old Winter's
lingering snow banks, that still lay hidden in the
woods of Northern Quebec. But in cabin and
wardroom all is warmth and good fellowship.

Cast: Collins, once again tale-bearer for the "watch
below." Others are the rest of the "Wardroom
gang."

Reminiscent

Swampy

THAT picture of the stately, dig-
nified Indian in his native haunts,
which we saw tonight, is to my
mind a bit off colour, far-fetched. At
any rate it is not the redman of my
acquaintance, which I must confess is
not so varied or wide but mainly con-
fined to some odd years of wandering
about the mud flats and hinterland
hunted over by that scattered tribe,
the Swampy Crees. I attempted some
time ago to tell of a few of their char-
acteristics—the finer side of their
childlike natures, their astonishing
stamina and endurance in the face of
tiial and hardship. Time did not per-
mit of branching out onto other in-
teresting side trails,— tales of "debt,"
the old factors' and traders' bugbear,
the Indian's solution of high finance
in times of stress and ill luck on the
trapping grounds.

Nor of hunting episodes. I did not
have the time to dwell fully on our
favorite character among this tribe —
the Utchekat, William, head hunter of
the Nelson.

No doubt there are outstanding fig-
ures among the northern Indians of
the type depicted in the movies and
the moving picture directors' wish is
father to the thought. For that matter,
so is the wish of the public. To them
the copper-skinned son of the plains
and forest is still the picturesque
brave of legend and romance, clad in
buckskin and eagle feathers, and they
have nurtured since childhood the
story book picture of what the Indian
must be and woe be to the artist who
depicts them otherwise.

As I said, the picture was good,
and interesting— as a picture, as a

piece of photo-
graphic art — and
the scenes, green
woods and shim-
mering, sunlit
streams, the time-
worn trading
store, shuffling,
shy-eyed shawl-
enshrouded squaws and bearded Hud-
son Bay barterers of fur, recalled to
me the James Bay and Nelson river
countries, from tidewater on the Har-
ricanaw to Southampton island in the
Arctic, Rupert House to Chesterfield
Inlet, the last vanishing frontier of the
Canadian northland, habitat of beaver,
moose, fox and polar bear, hunting
grounds of the scattered Swampy Crees,
isolated Chippewyan, and blubber-eat-
ing Eskimo, a land, for two centuries
under the sole dominant sway of the
Scotch traders, re-awakened by the
march of progress — twin ribbons of
steel, flotillas of freight-laden craft
from southern ports, the ubiquitous
aeroplane, heralding the birth of indus-
try. The native Cree, now more than
ever, becomes a hewer of wood and
drawer of water, a sophisticated re-
tainer of the miner, lumberman and
engineer.

But, thanks to art and imaginative
minds, and to the natural clinging
aversion of city-bred folk to believe the
real instead of the fanciful, and the in-
born tendency to still think of the dis-
tant spaces beyond the height of land
as the "changeless" North, the movie
fan continues to carry away with him
the story book picture of the aboriginal
redskin.

The traders, "barterers of fur," with
a lifetime spent in intimate acquaint-
anceship with the native, have their
own expressed opinions of the cinema's
"silenc, dignified brave," quite at vari-
ance with that of the casual tourist,
traveller or chance sojourner amongst
the natives of the Northland wilds.
Long since they removed the rose
coloured glasses and at times, in trad-
ing store and messroom, I have listened

Robert

to diatribes fervently voiced in single-
meaning words. I remember chatting
with the factor at Rupert House, the
oldest of the Great Company's strong-
holds in America, and under discussion
was the ever-pressing subject of "debt."
There came a low tap at the door and
through the glass panels I could see
the brown, beardless face of a Cree. The
factor did not trouble to raise his head
but merely called out "Come!"

The native stepped inside, removed
his hat and waited in silence for per-
haps a minute. Then the factor
glanced up, turned halfway round in
his chair, and coolly surveyed the
other. Finally he spoke.

"Well, Sam, what is it today — a silk
dress or a bicycle?"

Samuel smiled his appreciation of
the jest, just as though he under-
stood the terms. Factor George might
just as well have said "harem skirt"
or "aeroplane." The Indian moved
from one moccasined foot to the other,
took off and put on his mitts, while
his shifting gaze betrayed the nervous
embarrassment of the native when in
the presence of his white master.

"Sugar," he said, as the factor
reached across the desk and secured a
writing pad.

"Yes, how much? Two beaver?"

"Uh. Socks — one beaver."

"Yes," repeated the factor, taking
down the order, "What else, Sam?"

"Shot gun," was Sam's next request.

"A shot gun!" exclaimed the other,
in surprise. "Haven't you a shot gun?"

"Uh, no good! All winter under the
snow." We learnt, on later enquiry,
that, like many of his kind, Samuel,
with the coming of winter, had stood
the gun against a tree and made no
effort to recover it until the spring-
time melting of the snow. Factor
George sighed, resignedly.

"All right, I'll give you one. But
you'll have to pay for it out of your
voyaging debt. You understand?"

"Uh," agreed the Indian. The

» f.

.#•

gge^ions

T IS a far cry from Arizona to Can-
ada. Still were an observation
made of the inhabitants of those re-
spective regions one might find little
difference in their make-up. Genus
homo runs fairly true to form every-
where, their general likes and dislikes
are about the same. In a like manner
we find little difference between the
timber wolves of Canada, and their
cousins, the lobos, of the Southwest.
All belong to the canine family and
have decided dog-like habits. Things
that interest our lobo, will prove at-
tractive to the wolf of Canada. Trap-
ping methods that are successful in
this region will be equally practical in
Canada.

I spent the greater portion of my
time since April 1, 1923, in the service
of the U. S. Bureau of Biological Sur-
vey. Most of my time I devoted to the
trapping of wolves. In 1926 I was de-
tailed in Illinois for a period of fou;--
teen months to organize a force of wolf
trappers there. I found that methods
used with success in Arizona were
equally effective on wolves 1800 miles
removed from there. Snow trapping
and wet weather proved a greater
problem, but the wolf instinct re-
mained the same. They "bit" on the
same old chestnuts we employed on
their Arizona relatives.

During the early period of the U. S.
Government's work on wolves, we had
conditions quite similar to those in
Canada today. Our big game did not
suffer the losses felt in Canada, but
our cattle and sheep were slaughtered
by the hundreds. Today the wolves
within the borders of our state can be
counted upon one hand. The timber
wolf has been practically exterminated
within the period of but a few years.
I firmly believe that with similar
methods of control, Canada can make
the occurrence of a wolf- a rare thing
within ten years time.

Naturally the U. S. Government does
not favor the bounty system. It has
proven a failure in nearly all states
that have heretofore tried it. Chances
of graft by bounty hunters and of-
ficials themselves were too easy to be
passed up. The bounty system died
a dismal death and thousands of dol-
lars were paid for dog ears, manu-
factured scalps and the like. Many
coyote and wolf hides had bounty col-
lected on them several times. Indivi-
dual counties sometimes paid bounties
and it was no uncommon thing for a
wolf hide to make the rounds of sev-
eral county seats before being punched

# )V

anaaa s

elves

C. E. Gillham

full of holes, and sold to a fur buyer.

It is not my intention to discuss the
merits of bounty system vs. paid
hunters. Both have their good talk-
ing points. I think bounty can be
paid and the animals exterminated by
that method. It calls for careful
hiuidling however to avoid the raising
of Wolves, buying of pelts from other
districts, and general darned cussed-
ness ofv a few individuals. It is my
plan to outline methods of control I
have foundv^to be most successful with
me in the t^ing of wolves. With the
infestation of^^ wolves Canada is re-
puted as haviii^, it seems to me the
trapper would have little trouble in
making a killing ^t forty dollars per
head. Even fifteeh dollars would be
good wages irj/a weH stocked district.
Pups shoul4' be classe"^ as wolves and
an amount paid for th^ equal to tho
bounty paid on adult anunals.

Most' fur trappers rely\ipon meat
for Jjait in the taking of carnivorous
animals. This practice is "probably
well and good on anything except
wolves. Possibly in extreme weather
meat bait is practical in wolf trapping;
however, a trapper is really working
under the most adverse conditions m
selecting winter months for this work.
During the open months of warm
weather, especially the whelping
months, wolves can most easily be
taken. For this reason trappers should
get as much bounty for pups as for
adult wolves. They should be encour-
aged to trap at this time, though the
fur be of no market value. The trap-
per can be a year round worker in a
bounty paying country and probably
make more money during his summer
operations, than in the winter trap-
ping of small fur.

There is no mysterious fetish con-
nected with wolf trapping. The pub-
lic conception that one must be closely
allied with Houdini, Sir Conan Doyle
and Daniel Boone to catch wolves, is
all bosh. Man has a brain with the
power of reasoning far superior to
that of an animal. He has the bene-
fit of the experience of others. The
poor wolf really has no chance against
him when he makes an honest effort
to exterminate him.

The methods of trapping I am about
to describe work very well on wolves,
coyotes and foxes. They all belong to

the dog family, and have traits quite
similar to those of tlie domestic canine
It is due to this dog-like instinct that
most wolves are caught. If you will
notice a dog you will find that he is
constantly on the lookout for any place
where arjother dog has urinated. He
will hunt clumps of weeds or grass,
a small bush, posts, old bone piles, or
any other place a dog has been before
him. His nose is very leen and ever
alert for this particular scent. The
wolf (especially the male) does quite
the same as a dog in this respect. He
will turn out of his way to investigate
any place another wolf or dog has been
before him. I like to take a dog with
me on the trap line, he will find
places for me to set that possibly I
will not find. Any little clump of
weeds or bush that he is interested in,
will in all probability be a good loca-
tion for a trap.

The best bait to use that I have
found in wolf trapping, is dog urine.
Most trappers refer to it simply as
scent bait. I know of nothing equal
to it in luring wolves to the trap. To
procure this scent is not a difficult
matter. Tie the dog close to his bed
in the evening, with a rope say two
feet in length. In the morning take
him out on Teash. With a tin cup or
some container it is very easy to col-
lect the bait. Place the scent in a
clean bottle and try to get a surplus
ahead so that in winter months it will
not be necessary to keep your dog
tied. A female or young dog is easiest
to train for a bait dog. Do not keep the
dog tied all the time. When he gives
up the bait, release him. He will soon
learn to do this to gain his freedom.

Some trappers have wolves in cap-
tivity, they keep them in pens with
tin bottoms and drains. They use this
wolf scent instead of that of the dog,
but personally I have never been able
to see any difference in results with
the different scents. Either works
equally well. Some trappers use the
droppings of the wolf or dog mixed
in with the scent. Also the anal glands
and the oviduct canals of female
wolves are put in with the scent and
allowed to rot. This additional stuff
does give the bait more body, prevents
rapid evaporation and will be winded
further by the wolf. I think such an
addition to the bait is beneficial, but
not entirely necessary to make it good.

Many fur buying houses sell a com-
mercial wolf bait. It will no doubt
catch some wolves. One objection to

(Continued on page 714)

.!
a

Sketches or me
Crees

the Wardroom Mess

James

matter of payment seemed a trivial
consideration so long as he got the
nevf gun.

"Well, what else? Powder?"

"No. Shot."

"Yes, anything else?"

"No."

'Very well. It's enough for you,
Sam."

The factor handed a slip of paper
across the desk to the storekeeper.

"Give him these, Mac," he said, and
Mac, with Sam shuffling along behind,
opened the rear door and passed into
the store.

"Sixty-five dollars worth," an-
nounced the factor as he closed the
book. "And that fellow can't pay for
a cent of it. I told him that I would
have to take it out of his voyaging
debt — the wages that he will earn in
the summer time, packing our freight
to the inland posts."

"You mean that it is too late in
the season for him to get fur enough
to pay for that debt?"

"No, it is not too late yet. Plenty
of fur can be taken — this is the best
time for otter, right from now on.
But Sam is not a good enough trap-
per."

"There you have an example of the
<Jetestable debt system of trading that
we are tied down to, hand and foot,"
continued the fur company's represent-
ative at Rupert House. "I get heartily
disgusted with it at times!"

The factor was getting warmed up
to his subject.

"The poor, ill-treated savage of the
story books, in this section of the coun-
try at least is an extinct species. Why,
these fellows practically own this post
— get whatever they ask for, and never
pay for the half of it! Only last week,
this same Sammy came in and got over
eighty dollars worth of rations and
finery for his squaws, and here he is
back again for more. They all want
Mebt,' and want it all the time. Even
when one of them gets a good catch of
fur that would enable him to pay off

his fall hunting
debt and perhaps
have something
over as well, does
he do it? He must
trade all of his fur
for a further out-
fit and completely
ignores what he al-
ready owes the

company. He'll lie around until all of
that is used up, and then, after several
months of loafing, he begins to think
seriously of going off to hunt again.
In he comes for another debt!

"Ill-treated Indians, rot, pure rot!"
The factor's tone betokened his feel-
ings of disgust at the world's opinion
of the trader's treatment of the native.
With a gesture of impatience he con-
tinued :

"Why, these dirty loafers live like
princes; they are often far better off
than we ourselves. And some of these
bucks like nothing better than to be
able to cheat a white man in a deal.
You have heard it said that the trader
does not give the Indian the face value
of his money. They say that to a
native a dollar is worth only fifty
cents. As you know, we still use hdte,
as a medium of exchange, the old
'made beaver,' or just *beaver,' a pure-
ly nominal term. The ancient brass
tokens, or coins, themselves are now but
rarely used, except with the Inlanders,
most of whom are still as primitive in
their bartering as in the earliest days.
Very few have been educated to dollars
and cents.

"Well, to tell the truth, the *beaver'
is worth neither a dollar nor yet fifty
cents. The value of the 'beaver' — you
hear it more commonly called a *skin'
— differs at different posts, and can be
arrived at only by reckoning the cost
of upkeep of a post and the profits it
turns in. I figured out the whole
thing for this place last fall and the
average value I found to be about
sixty-eight cents. You see, it is only
a trade value.

Two little swampy Crees

"Now, if an Indian takes out, say
eight hundred dollars debt, and brings
in only four hundred dollars fur, ac-
cording to our present tariff we are
losers to the extent of four hundred
dollars. In reality, we break about
even."

"Are there any Indians here who
ever pay off what they owe the com-
pany?" I asked. I had in mind our
friend Utchekat, and the exemplary
Wasteesecoots of the Nelson River
country.

"Not many. Of course, there are a
few. Some of the best trappers take
out only a few hundred dollars debt
at a time and bring in, perhaps, a
thousand dollars worth of fur. We
have a few here who very seldom have
anything carried against them from
one year to the next. But, such are
very few."

"Is it not the custom to clear them
all free of debt at the beginning of
each year — to wipe the slate clean, and
fit them ;ut afresh?"

"Well, not exactly that. We keep
an account of what each hunter owes
us — some of them are down as low as
four thousand dollars. But we don't
carry it on our books. It would have
to be shown as an asset, when we are
darn certain that it is a dead loss.

"I've argued with these fellows,
time and again, trying to show them
how much better off they would be if
they paid off their debt when they
could, instead of asking for new ones.
One chap, a good trapper, too, took two
hundred dollars debt last fall. He re-
turned at Christmas time with four
hundred dollars worth of fur. I looked

■ I iwi WW >> >^ wm«.,

vj;'«i

Rod and Gun and Canadian Silver Fox News

Rod and Gun and Canadian Silver Fox Xe

\vs

Clay banks of the Nelson

the lot over and told him it was worth
that. That was good value, too, ac-
cording to our revised tariff here,
which gives the Indian about double
what he used to get a few years ago.
" *Now, Ottereyes,' I said to him,
*here is what I advise you to do. You
got two hundred dollars debt in the
fall and have four hundred dollars fur.
That pays off your debt and leaves
you two hundred dollars to the good.
Instead of taking out a debt now, use
that two hundred for an outfit, and
then whatever you bring in in the
spring will be clear profit.'

"Of course, I had to put it into
simpler terms than thM, talking
^beavers' instead of 'dollars.' But that
was the substance of it. He listened
patiently, and apparently got the idea
through his head.

" *Now, Ottereyes,' I said, 'come into
the store and get what you want.'

"He started off on a long list of
stuff, till soon the two hundred was
spent, and I turned to fix up the next
chap. When I was finished with him
I found Old ottereyes waiting for me
in the office here.

"'What is it, boy?' I enquired.
'Something you forgot?'

" 'Uh. Want debt now.'

"Wouldn't that floor you? You
can't make these fellows see an inch
in front of their noses."

The factor crossed the room and
dropped several sticks into the big
barrel stove; then he returned to his
chair and relit his pipe.

"You know," he continued, "the
Swampy Crees here have a supersti-
tion, handed down from father to son,
from the time when the company first
began giving debt, to this effect: That
if a hunter goes away from the store
without taking any debt with him he

is certain to have ill-luck in his hunt-
ing. And, believe you me, not one of
them ever dares to try to break the

spell.

"We were in hopes when the 'Oppo-
sition' settled here that they would
stick to straight barter with the
Indians, and then we could begin to
abolish debt. But no such luck!
Amongst a few of the company's
methods which they adopted they in-
cluded that particular one, and now,
more than ever, we are forced to re-
tain it.

"But straight barter would certainly
be the most business-like and most
profitable for us."

Factor George's illuminating yarns
recalled to me an oft-repeated tale
which I had first heard at Fort Albany
across the bay. There lived the good
old Archdeacon of Moosonee, true
friend of Indian and white. One Sun-
day, before a group of the local Crees,
he preached on the subject of thrift
and the savine: of money.

"See how the white men do," he
said. "They don't spend all they earn.

They put some away in the bank for
a rainy day. Then, when they have
become too old to work— as some day
you will become too old to trap — they
have something to lean upon. That is
the way you ought to do."

The next morning old man Caverhill
— he was in charge of Fort Albany
then — had scarcely been seated in his
chair when in came old Solomon, chief
of the Albany Crees. Unfortunately,
the factor had not been at the Arch-
deacon's service the day before.

"What do you want, Solomon?" he
asked of the chief.

"One hundred dollars — cash," was
the astounding answer.

An Indian seldom asked for cash in
those days. In fact, there was very
little of it seen about a post. Cer-
tainly, to Caverhill's knowledge, one
had never asked for such a large
amount as that.

"Cash!" exclaimed the old man, sit-
ting bolt upright in his chair. "One
hundred cash! What for? I'll have to
know what you want that for."

"Uh, cash," repeated the stolid-
faced hunter. " 'Put in bank for rainy
day.'"

Caverhill collapsed!

"Trucking with natives is the same
the world over," remarked Snape, then
in charge of Moose Factory, as we
two sat at the long dining table in the
"Big House," whilst from outside came
the roar of the spring freshet hurling
the winter's mantle of ice downward
to the sea.

"I have friends in various parts
who are trading for different outfits,
and they are nearly all slaves to the
'debt' system. Last year I was out
on a furlough, and, arriving home in
London, found that a brother ol mine,
who had been trading in Sierre Leone,
had also come back, just previous to
my arrival. The malaria had fixed
him.

'I'll long remember his greeting as

<<Tn

A isolated trading post

«w

he burst into the room, a few minutes
after I had entered the house.

"'Hullo!' he cried, 'You back, too?
Well, well, another bloody Empire-
builder, what! How much debt have
you with you?' "

On occasions when we found it neces-
sary to employ native labour, as
guides, hunters or canoemen, we almost
invariably dealt through the officers
of a neighboring trading post. We had
our indebtedness charged to an ac-
count with the company, which in turn
paid the Indians in goods. Cash was
not familiar to them and we seldom
had the articles to spare which the
Crees usually demanded of us in pay-
ment. If provisions filled their require-
ments, well and good. But nine times
out of ten they would ask for blankets,
ammunition, shawls, etc., and these
had to be obtained from the traders.
It also served our purpose in other
ways to have a stern, hard-fisted com-
pany factor select for us guides and
canoemen, for some were not reliable
and might take advantage of the
stranger, deserting him on the river
when sudden mood or fanciful excuse,
bred of some trivial grievance, was
sufficient reason for the redskin to
turn about and take the trail back
home.

On one rare occasion a buck asked
for cash. He with a companion had
performed some light service for us, to
the value of a dollar. A one dollar
bill was handed to him and it was in-
timated by signs that half the amount
was to be turned over to his mate.
Ere we could prevent it, he tore the
bill in two, pocketed one half, and
passed the other piece to his com-
panion.

It is a far cry from the mouth of
the Rupert to the Nelson River country

Husky Dogs tethered to the "horse lines"

but the one as much as the other is a
part of the land of the Swampy Crees.
On the Nelson's banks we first became
acquainted with the head of the house
of Utchekat. William had his home
there, a substantial frame building,
and until we erected our own winter
shack it was the only dwelling on the
site of Port Nelson. We landed from
our schooner one summer's day and
visited him. It was a Sunday morn-
ing and this exemplary Cree was dis-
covered in the act of administ?ring
the weekly scrubbing to his young off-
spring. Squaw's work it was, but to
this outstanding specimen of a one-
time noble aboriginal race of men this
domestic duty was not "infra dig."

Though we were total strangers to
him and had dropped out of the blue,
unannounced and unbidden, he smiled
a dignified greeting and murmured
the time-worn customary greeting,
"Wha tehee!" Then got on about his
ablutionary tasks. These finished, he

On the little wharf at York Factory

gathered his family about him for
service. We sat about on the floor
while he read unintelligible passages
from a Cree bible and brought the
service to a close with a prayer. What
refreshment he had he proffered us —
a "dip in" with a tin mug from the
family teapail. Beyond the first words
of greeting and response, no further
conversation took place, and the Utche-
kat family gave us no further atten-
tion nor, outwardly at least, showed in-
terest or curiosity in our mission or
ourselves. Later we were to learn,
through similar experiences in this
great lone land, that this was quite
characteristic of the tribe. Our sud-
den, unexpected "barging in," in a land
where the stranger's approach might
be looked upon as an advent of por-
tentiousness, even concern, was — to our
surprise, nay, more, it touched our
sense of self-importance — not hailed as
any great event in the life of a
Swampy Cree. We were travellers on
their homeland trails who had stopped
at William's tent, that was all. With-
out question, and certainly not just
because we were "whitemen," we had
been offered the hospitality of hearth,
table and bed. We had been accepted.
So far as our business was concerned
it was no affair of Utchekat's until
such time as we were pleased to state
it. That was the native custom.

Later that same year, in February,
on an eight hundred mile long snow
trail terminating at the end of steel
near Winnipeg, six of us, sailors all
and novices at northern winter travel-
ling, found refuge at times, with our
guides and Indians, in other trailside
homes of William's more inland tribes-
men. If not outwardly enthusiastic,
the welcomes were assuredly sincere,
and the cramped and limited shelters
of rude log cabins or cone-shaped
winter tepees were ours without ques-
(Continned on page 717)

;r-
id
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Rod and Gun and Canadian Silver Fox News

717

Ringneck (Semipalmated Plover) and Whiterumped Sandpipers

Checking g±lt Shorebird Census

Along Nova Scotia's Beac

At Close Quarters With the Mighty Migration for Ten Years

HALF A SCORE of years ago one
of my editors approached me
in Ontario with the proposal
that I take my men and expedition and
outfit and go to the Maritimes and
study there and send them a share of
the work along the Natural history
sportsmen's line. Since then, in storm
and shine, summer and winter, we have
patrolled the beaches of these long,
narrow, eastern provinces, worked along
the wild animal trails, fished the rivers,
hunted and pictured the big game
animals and more especially have we
taken a census of the shorebird migra-
tion.

When we arrived here in August,
1919, we found the big plover and the
curlew about as follows: There wa§'at
least one large flock of Hudsonian
Curlew, the greatest shorebird left us
now (the Long-billed was almost ex-
tinct even then). But there were some
175 of these birds, as big as barnyard
fowl, with an extent of 17 inches, along
one sandy beach. I saw at once that
unless they were intensively protected
they would soon be slaughtered as we
could sit down and call these big foolish
curlew and they would come right over
our heads within close gunshot, answer-
ing back with sweet, loud swelling calls;
The Willet we found well distributed, a
16-inch extent bird, and as they nest
in the hay fields and the fishermen's
boys with the old shotgun cannot often
get within range, there is, even as I
write this in 1928 a fair chance that
they may not be exterminated. Then
there were the magnificent rufous
breasted Hudsonian Godwits, a 15-inch
extent shore bird, a big fat, fully de-

V
Bonnycastle Dale

veloped bird. They, alas, were almost
done when we got here in 1922 and
the three we saw lost two in the next
mile. The Marbled Godwit we did
not see here but there were then large
numbers of Greater Yellowlegs, that
big wader with the stilt-like legs. We
saw them everywhere and in fair to
large flocks; also the Lesser Yellow-
legs, they too were to some extent,
holding their own. The exquisitely
marked Black-bellied Plover were in
many large flocks in many places and
it did look then as if they might sur-
yvive. The Golden Plover were doomed
even then, although we used to see as
many as a dozen in a year. Both these
silly birds are annually killed off by any
of the illegal shooters who parade these
many wild beaches unhindered. The
Jacksnipe especially were then in fair
numbers. Luckily they do not always
live along beaches but are found in

Whiterumps and Turnstones on Nova
Scotia's beaches

hummocky, drowned lands and savan-
nahs and swamps far back but still most
generally along the ocean shores, or
along some river that pours into it.
They were so excellently clothed with
protective colours that we did not fear
the unlawful shooting as much as we
would in shore beach walking migrants.
These "jacks," once they are alarmed,
cower down and in their shades of
brown resemble the clumps of mud
made by the tidal runs. In fact you can
stare at one for many minutes and just
as long as he seems to know you are
on the watch just so long will he re-
main still. The Woodcock do not use
the beaches proper, nor did we find
them much below the estuaries of the
rivers, so we may rest assured they can-
not be swiftly exterminated.

The Turnstones, the Piping, the
Semipalmated Plovers, the Spotted,
the Sanderling, the Red-backed, the
Least, Baird's, the Whiterumped, the
Pectoral, the Purple Sandpipers, the
Knots, the Dowitchers, are now de-
creased badly. All go into the pots
of the hunters under the name of
**peeps," and with them go the last few
remaining of the big, rare plovers and
curlews, all un-named, unhonoured and
most certainly unsung, as very very
few of their destroyers know any save
local names for them, rarely their
proper names.

These mighty beaches extend from
the Valley of Annapolis, all along the
"South Shore" and away up into Hali-
fax County and smaller ones along
Cape Breton. A huge territory to
patrol and a territory on which the
larger wildfowl of Canada (Eastern)

Checking the Shorebird
Census

(Continued from page 699)

seen a flock cut in half by striking a set
of wires, bounding back m great n^m-
ber^, wingless, body wounded, heu'l-
lesl in cases, handfuls of them dead on
thfc grass. As to why they migrate
wi think the theory of the recession oF
tht Glacial Icecap and the birds follow-
ing it lip to the now lonely Arctic
latitudes is most worthy of belief. There
seqns to be little doubt that before
thel Glacial Period these now migrat-
ing ihosts nested then in what we now
call I Canada. Then the ice advanced,
puslled them south for ages (it may
have! been a million years) ik)w it has
rececled and they have followed on.
It miy be right when, you students say
that Ihe love of the birthplace attracts
the migrating hosts back. Yes! but
they ftiust have followed the ice north-
wards|as it meUed, for it once covered
all thtt is now Canada and the most
of thelpart now Called U.S.A. We do
not yqt know the northern confines of
the nesting grotmds, for the ^'farthest
North iCaptainsf enter in their logs,
"Geese, still going north." Many must
cross iyto Asi^.

We «id work hard in our stories in
Canada^ newspapers and magazines
for fiveiyearjfe to get the Golden Plover,
and theJ Black-bellied put on the pro-
tected lit but what was the use? The
first arcjarinost extinct and the few re-
mainingllflack-bellied plover are shot at
by gunnfet-s along many a lonely beach
every ylar. Poor things, they still
flock, WSat is left of them, and readily
come YJJ*hin thirty yards of plover de-
coys. yTlhe migration starts northward
in Sonthj America in January. (They
leave/ hei^ in July to September and
folloifr summer down to Patagonia and
then/the c^ld weather drives them north
agam in fenuary and February.) Most
of them linger until May in South or
C(yitral America and then hasten as far
north as t^ey can go. The others take
a/ dilatory ; daily progression right up
from Chile *.to Hudson Bay. You might
p.y the return southbound migration
from the i\rctic starts just as soon as
Ihe young jean fly. The geese have
/been seen walking seaward with their
^ goslings behind them along the south'
j of James Bajy. Mostly all the birds we
/ study migrate at night, leaving just at
/ dusk before (a nor' west wind. Alas!
1 if it gets too iieavy all the smaller one
I perish as the isea captains bear witne^.
Ducks and gepse fly until about da«rk
then they usually rest for the niafht.
We think that it is all governecj by
the amounts of food obtainable If
they are well :^ed, all but the .larger
species of them migrate at niyht, do-
ing from 30 to 40 miles an /hour, so
far as observed, then when /'the next
good feeding ground is rea^ched many
flocks rest for many days*^ When we
get further along in theyoird-banding
game we can lea^i moite about this
flight work. I see Wetmore makes the
same remark that wa-'did years ago.
"The migration looky like a gigantic
game of leap-frog,'? the later flocks
overlapping the first-comers. We have
for years seen many flocks of shore-
birds launch out every night in August,
September and October too, up to the
middle of the month, so that at last the

List of the larger so-called "Shorcbirds"

\ As first seen or estimated
before 1922.

FIuS

Hudsonian Curlew, big flocks

Willet Fair distribution

Hudsotiian Godwits

Marble^i Godwits

Greater \Yellowlegs, Great

distribution

Lesser YeUowlegs, Great

distributfon

Golden Plovdr, about a dozen

^^^** . . • • . .^ • '.•••

Black-bellied f^over, big

flocks

Dowitchef

Least, Spotted, White-romped,
Semipalmated, SandpipWs . . .
Piping Plovers, Semipabnated
Plover ^

Sanderlings, Knots

Pectoral Sandpipers \

As recorded in 1922.

Fair distribution.

6,222?— actually
about 1,000 birds a^^
some flocks were re-
counted and add^d
to total.
943

As recorded in 1928.

Big flocks/
Huge flecks num-
bered pf estimated
on our^^records.
Huge/ flocks num-
berQjfl or estimated
on/)ur records.
Many birds.
XU totalled some
y200,000.

16
Fair distribution.

295 Dowitcher.

It is a fair state-
ment to say that all
the smaller shorebirds
are represented by
about a fifth of the
numbers there were
in 1922 or to get to
figures some 44,000
in 1928 against
200,000 in 1922.

beaches of Nova Scotia 'N^uld be
cleared of all the migration/ save the
injured, the aged and the (J^ing. The
hawks and the black-backod gulls soon
clear these off. We hsi'^e taken the
poor perishing things from in under
frozen herbage, sealed,- to the spot by
the blades of coarse, grass frozen to
their feathers, everf then they were
pugnacious toward/ us. Alas! they
had never met a'friend in all their
wanderings.

I hear the Department at Ottawa
had men out along the North Shore
of the St. Lawrence observing this
summer, if' they compare with our
notes they can learn how many go
through /the gauntlet of dangers
safely as far as the south end of Nova
Scotia./ I know how lonely and how
isolate'd some of these mighty beaches
are Jbut none are so lonely that we do
noV'hear the reports of guns as early
a/Aug.us1

.£UI

land are any better off, as geese being
unprotected all the year long there
offer a chance for the shore-shooter?

\ The game laws in Nova Scotia are
remarkable. Ducks cannot be killed
uiTdl Oct. 15th. By that time all the
black ducks, the only ones that breed
in ntunbers in Nova Scotia have left
the uj>per rivers and are on the sea-
shores, ^o none of the sportsmen can
take a sh^ at any duck. At the same
time in Cajje Breton one can kill geese
before he caH^ kill ducks. We are old-
time duck hunters across the continent
and when I telKyou we never taste a
wild duck here yb^ will see that the
laws have been coits^ucted in favour
of one class of men,\^ poor man as
usual getting no show7\All the har-
bours here are frozen upH<jng before
the duckshooting law expires^^^o every
man who wants a duck must perforce
be a lawbreaker. Duck shooting
should open on or about September
l^th.

Reminiscent Sketches of the
Swampy Crees

(Continued from page 697)

tion. One howling night the six of us
and our seven Indians, after a tortur-
ing day on the snowshoes breaking a
virgin trail for the struggling, harness-
galled dogs, stumbled onto a tiny shack
at dusk, fifty miles west of Oxford
Lake. In the lee of the cabin we
boiled the kettles and hurriedly con-
sumed our bacon and bannock. Dogs
were tethered to the surrounding trees
to crunch their ration of frozen fish
and snarl defiance at the prowling,
scraggy, mongrel brutes belonginj^ to
the owner of the camp as the latter
circled about the new arrivals, fangs
bared, or hungrily licking slavering
jaws, watching for an opportunity to

rush in and snap up a mor.sel of fish
from under the forepaw of some un-
wary or unsuspecting member of our
husky teams. Our scant and unap-
petizing supper over, the guides in-
timated that the courtesy of the t'ail
made us welcome to the warmth and
shelter of the Indian's cabin foi as
many of us as could find sleeping
space. Gratefully we entered, with
blankets and dunnage bags. The head
of the house, with squaw and chil-
dren— how many of the latter there
were we never fathomed — were found
huddled into the one and only bunk,
the sole piece of furniture on the
premises. It was a bitter night, forty
to fifty below, and the crude clay fire-
place emitted a flickering light, but
little heat. In one dim corner what
looked like a bundle of discarded rags
stirred at our entrance and from it
protruded a skinny arm, and a

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718

Rod and Gun and Canadian Silver Fox News

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f.

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It

g
>^
ti

b
e;

wrinkled piece of parchment pierced
by a pair of jet black eyes resolved
itself into the face of an aged squaw,
the old grrandmother of the house.

The usual greetings were exchanged
and without further ado we proceeded
to turn in for the night. Crowded?
Well, rather! Some stood that others
might squat atop their bags and strip
from blistered and tortured feet the
damp moccasins and duffle and hang
them on the peeled poles overhead to
dry as best they could before the
morning. Then we rolled up in bags
and blankets and laid ourselves down,
side by side. By nudging one's neigh-
bor over an inch or two and holding
one's breath, the last man was just
able to squeeze into his "wee sma'
corner" and st .etch out for the night.

There had been some quiet, stealthy
manoeuvring on our part to obtain
berths on the "guest side" of the house,
that most remote from "Grannie's"
corner. It was like a game of musical
chairs and when the music ceased and
but one vacant six by two space re-
mained, Allan Moss, one of the New-
foundland seamen, found himself on
the end of the line, and had to squeeze
in beside the old lady.

A drowsiness, engendered by the long
day s tramping in the bitter cold, and
considerably abetted by the lack of
ventilation in the overcrowded shack,
quickly brought on slumber. But not
for long! Hardly had aching limbs
been stretched on the hard clay floor
when we were rudely awakened. A
match had flared in the corner where
stood the family bunk and the Indian
host lighted a sputtering candle. Those
of us who had actually fallen asleep
fervently cursed the shortness of the
night. Was it really next morning and
time to turn out again? Consulting
watches, we found we had slept but a
quarter of an hour, and then one drew
attention to the old Cree in the bunk
who was extracting a bible from a
chink in the log wall. Without any in-
troductory preamble he proceeded to
read the evening scriptures and fol-
lowed it up with prayers. The other
occupants of the bed disentangled
themselves from the huddled heap and
with him rose onto their knees. In
"Grannie's" corner the old hag shed
part of her ragged coverings, elbowing
the disgusted Moss aside, and crawled
slowly to her feet. We lay as we had
fallen, and did our bit of praying,
too, but to no avail. For, with one
concerted action, our Indian guides and
dog drivers, good converts all, forced
their way to the surface from between
our pain-wracked bodies, and joined in
the evening devotions. With indigna-
tion, unrighteous, maybe, and, happily,
tempered with admiration for the de-
vout response which these uncultured
dark-skinned wanderers of the woods
made to the teaching of t.elf-sacrificing
missionaries, we remained silent and
listened to the guttural intonation of
the native prayer. Then, service over
and the sputtering light blown out, we
squeezed and nudged and wedged our-
selves back into our respective allotted
spaces and without further disturbance
slept loggily through until the early
call of morn.

We found it ever thus on a north-
land trail — the quiet, unostentatious
hospitality of the Swampy Cree. A
frozen whitefish might be the only

family dish; at times there were
nothing more than the entrails of a
deer, a little tea and flour. Were
moose or caribou meat, a brace of rab-
bits or a succulent beaver tail on the
menu, the repast would be likened onto
a feast. But, whatever the fare, scant
or bountiful, there was always a share
for the newcomer, an extra handful of
tea thrown into the family pail that
simmered in the ashes, and a side or
corner of the tepee vacated and of-
fered to the transient guest. And never
with an apology. The Indian partook
of the good things on the table of our
shack at such times as he was invited.
Partook gratefully and expressed his
joy in ways more eloquent than mere
words could have told. Once enter-
tained they trumped up all manner of
excuses to repeat the call and waited
patiently until the bread and jam and
tea appeared. They expected it, even
as we found throughout the breadth
and length of their domain they
treated the stranger within their gate;
in times of privation or of bountiful
harvest, a share of their substance,
without reservation, was proffered
free to all.

And, even when at times the dish we
were silently bidden to share was
nothing more appetizing than offal
(our sailor lads persisted in calling
caribou entrails "awful," which they
were), stewed and plentifully sprin-
kled with salt, the only seasoning
known to the natives, we valiantly
forced ourselves to withhold our repug-
nance, and though at times I have had
to make a hasty exit from some such
hospitable board and fight off an at-
tack of nausea behind a friendly
sheltering tree, we partook of the of-
fering in the spirit in which it was
made.

I am reminded of an occasion when
one December day a member of our
party espied an Indian family travel-
ling up river past our shack, bound
with their dog team for the midwinter
trading and Christmas festivities at
York Factory. He waylaid them to
beg permission to accompany them to
the post. The Indian was an old friend
of ours, the one-armed Noah Thomas.
With his squaw, a half -grown boy and
a papoose, he stopped long enough ^o
accept of our more bounteous table
and to receive a side of bacon in token
of good will and payment for taking
our sailor under his wing. Then they
went on up river.

That evening when camp was made
and the fire lighted, the squaw pre-
pared the infant for the night. It is
the custom in a climate of such sever-
ity to swathe the year-old tots in a
layer of tender, sun-dried moss, gath-
ered in the autumn from the muskegs.
Before the warmth of the fire Noah's
squaw removed the child's outer wraps
until only the moss remained. From
a bag she drew a fresh supply, kneaded
and smoothed it into a comfortable
pad — with our companion seated close
by toasting himself by the fire and
interestedly observing the novel, prim-
itive toilet. Soiled portions of the
mossy swathing were thrown away,
but what was only damp and consid-
ered worthy of salvage was carefully
spread out in the family frying pan,
dried and warmed over the fire, and
put back on the infant.

Amusedly, the sailor looked on and

smiled his approbation. "I must make
a mental note of this," thought he.
"There is plenty of moss in Newfound-
land. Besides, this is the first evi-
dence I've seen of these {)eople prac-
tising economy and conservation."

But his approval quickly turned to
horror and dismay when, the child,
once more comfortably dressed and
protected from the frost, was gently
laid aside on the green bough and the
squaw turned to the preparation of the
supper. She reached out for the pan,
banged it once over a stick of fire-
wood, and, replacing it on the fire,
tossed into the same dish the evening's
meal of bacon.

As he remarked so often on later
occasions, when our own cook would be
preparing a similar dish, that even
considering that the "canned willie"
and plum and apple jam (concoctions
of an effete southern civilization) to
which we for months had grown ac-
customed, may have sated our palates
and caused us to spurn the simpler
fare of greasy, half-cooked bacon,
still the culinary habits of Mrs. Noah
were "a bit too thick" for him and he
made his excuses and went to bed
hungry.

Hearken to another sample of native
Cree hospitality, the subject matter of
which might be turned to good account
in the making of a movie romance of
the "wide open spaces." On a tribu-
tary of the Moose river, in the late
fall of the year, one of us, on explora-
tion bent, was overtaken by the sud-
den shutting down of night. A storm
was brewing, the sailor's weary feet
had covered many a mile of uncleared,
windfall-cluttered trails, the pack-
straps had galled his shoulders. Just
at dusk he sighted wood-fire smoke
rising from a clump of spruce. "Camp
ho!" he cried. "A shelter for the
night!"

He took a fresh hitch on the pack,
straightened his aching shoulders, and
lengthened out his stride. The trail
opened up and in a little clearing he
came upon a lonely, smoke- stained tent.
Hailing it as a refuge from the im-
pending spell of dirty weather, he ap-
proached and lifted the flap. There
was only one occupant, and. to his dis-
may, it was a squaw, young and come-
ly, and in his own words, "deuced
easy to look upon." The interior of
the tepee was most inviting, a cheery
fire ablaze on a sand pile in the middle
of the floor, fresh green spruce boughs
carpeting the remainder. "What was
most surprising," he remarked, "the
little Indian princess actually appeared
to be clean!"

But, on enquiry, he discovered that
she was quite alone, and might be so
for quite some time. Her father was
absent on a journey to the trading
post. He would not return that night.
"I felt I couldn't stop there," he told
us. "She seemed too darn respectable,
and I didn't think of her as only a
squaw."

Disheartened at the prospect of a
night under the trees, drenched and
chilled and sleepless, he muttered some
apologies as he backed towards the
doorway. Then she smiled a welcome,
and from a pot by the fire ladled out
a portion of tempting, steaming rab-
bit stew. "That I could not resist,"
he said. "I at least might eat before
I beat it."

Rod and )x News

•1

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Eagerly he devoured the meal, in
silence, except when he insisted upon
her accepting biscuit and bacon from
his pack and the contents of his tea
and sugar bags. Then, with a sigh
that with some would have spelt con-
tentment, but with our mate was only
a regret, he rose painfully to his feet,
picked up the heavy pack and started
for the outside, his every movement
unconsciously betraying tne fatigue of
mind and body.

The tent flap was about to fall back
into place behind him and shut out
the warmth and radiance of the fire,
when she spoke. "No," called the
youthful hostess, clearly. ("No

tempting siren, mind you," he told us.
"To me it was like an angel's voice
out of the night.")

"No. No go. Much tired. Too
much rain. If my father here, he say
'sleep.' My father not here, but this
my father's tepee. So, sleep here."
And she pointed to the far side of the
tent from where she knelt by the fire,
and our weary comrade, versed in the
free camaraderie of the wilds, relieved
and satisfied that by remaining as he
had thus been graciously bidden to do
he would be breaking faith with no
one, sighed once more, this time con-
tentedly, shot a glance of gratitude
across the crackling embers, and drop-
ped his pack upon the inviting boughs.

"This girl," said the mission priest
at Moose River Post, "is a blood re-
lation of a famous hunter on the Nel-
son. No doubt you'll run across him
there when you journey up that way."

And that takes us back to this great
river of the north. At York Factory,
the old Hudson Bay post on the Hayes,
just south of the Nelson, an old half-
breed retainer, George Gibeault, or
"Geordie," as he was more commonly
called, who was also a relative, a
brother-in-law, of the full-blooded
hunter, Utchekat, spun for us many a
tale of the prowess of the champion
hunter and trapper of the Nelson;
stories of endurance in the face of
hardship, hand to hand encounters
wit*h Polars, the running down on the
broad Gargantuan hunting snowshoes
of the Swampy Cree of moose hamp-
ered by the deep snow, and of pur-
suing Arctic foxes until the animals
paused from sheer exhaustion and fell
before a charge of goose shot. I was
not a little proud when one day I
managed to duplicate this latter feat,
bagging a white fox on the shore of
the river. I had glimpsed him trotting
upriver past our shack, after he had
successfully negotiated the barrage of
traps and deadfalls we had stretched
for several miles along the coast. I
hurriedly took down a shot gun and
followed in pursuit. After a time,
winded, I paused for breath, and the
fox a few hundred yards ahead, did
likewise. When I started ahead he
broke into an easy trot, keeping his
distance, just out of range. Forced to
halt again, I whistled, as to a dog, and
he stopped, turned enquiringly, and
settled on his haunches. He sat thus
until I had cut the intervening dis-
tance in half; then taking fright, went
on, and disappeared behind a hum-
mock of ice. He did not reappear and
I worked my way ahead more cautious-
ly until well within gunshot range of
the particular heap of heaved-up tidal
(Continued on Page 726)

Reminiscent Sketches of the
Swampy Crees [}S.c>

(Continued from Page 719)

ice behind which he apparently had
taken refuge. I halted again and
whistled as before. Up came his head.
"Bang!" I had shot him.

As I said, we had heard much of
William Utchekat's prowess as a
hunter, of big game and small, as a
trapper of great repute, and as a run-
ner and traveller of almost unbeliev-
able endurance. He held the unique
record of having shot and killed more
Polar bears on the Hudson Bay coast
between the Churchill and the Nelson
than any other hunter in that section.
During a period of twenty-five years
he had accounted for sixty of these
animals, an average of two and a half
bears a year — if one can be said to
have killed half a bear. Some of those
which William only "half killed" made
very ugly customers to deal with, when
one considers that for years the hunter
had only the old style muzzle-loading
trade rifle with which to pursue his
calling.

William was a crank on rifles. His
shack housed a veritable arsenal of
small arms. I had attempted to strike
up a trade with him offering him a
gun for some furs to which I had taken
a fancy. He was going off at the time
to hunt caribou for us and asked to
be permitted to take the gun along
and try^it out. If satisfied with its
performance he would gladly pay my
price. None of us had ever gotten any
satisfaction out of the arm. No matter
how one juggled with the sights it al-
ways seemed to fire a foot high. With
the loan of the rifle I gave Utchekat a
box of shells and told him to give the
gun a fair trial.

In five days he was back. He
brought one small caribou and a Polar
bear skin, all the game he had seen.
And his ammunition pouch was
empty !

When three days out he had bagged
the caribou — six shots at very close
range. Returning down the coast, he
had espied the Polar out on the mud
flats grubbing for food. The bear,
r at the first crack of the rifle, instead
of making for the water, bolted for
the woods. Like a scared rabbit he
galloped past within fifty yards of
the Indian who for a moment thought
himself about to be attacked. Even at
that short range the soft nose slugs
flew harmlessly over the animal'sback
I and he got inside the tree line.

"Gun dam' bad!" exclaimed William,
in disgust. He dropped his pack on
i the beach and took up the chase. The
Indian was no slouch on his feet and
the Polar never got out of sight or
range, with William stopping occasion-
ally to blaze away, and then plunging
on through the soft muskegs on the
white bear's trail. At each miss he
grew more disgusted with the gun, but
more than ever determined to get that
bear. He stopped and threw away his
coat, for running in the woods was
warm work. Then he threw away his
vest and sweater, and each time that
he halted to refill the magazine he
cursed the gun anew.

When the barrel of the rifle had be-
come too hot for comfort he ceased

THE
t HANDS

ant

akcr (Established 1830)
ernational Exhibitions)

t -
r

nd
th

Dry by the most
. Used by lead-
Selous, Kirby, Newman,

If ACTUAL VALUES

ended than can be found
i enclose 10c in stamps

93, Vancouver, Canada.

chapters of practical wildcr-
es, beaver, lynx, marten and
or traps, firearms, etc 226
anadians purchasing it will
odstock, Ont.

718

■Tfc

Rod and Gun and Canadian Silver Fox News

727

Conservation Progresses in Que

Quebec Association for Protection of Fish and Game Holds
One of Largest Sportsmen's Dinners in Canada

in Honor of Hon. J. E. Perrault.

A REAL encouragement to conser-
vationists throughout the Domin-
ion of Canada and an event which
greatly stimulated public interest m
the perpetuation of sport in the Out-
doors was the outstanding success of a
banquet of the Quebec Association fpr
the Protection of Fish and Game t^
Montreal on December 8. The dinn^,
which was given in honor of Hon. J. E.
Perrault, minister of Colonization,
Mines and Fisheries for the Province
of Quebec, was one of the largest
sportsmen's gatherings ever held in
Canada. Over five hundred hunters
and fishermen, all keen conservation-
ists, from all sections of the province
sat down together at a gathering which
at least showed the provincial govern-
ment, the great number and influence
of the men interested in the saving of
fish and game.

The education of the public as to the
importance of fish and game and out-
door recreation as a national asset,
morally and financially, and the neces-
sity for conserving them was very
strongly stressed by Mr. Perrault in a
lengthy address, which was heard with
the keenest interest by his audience.
He also outlined protective methods
which the government intended to pur-
sue, particularly in stricter enforce-
ment of the game laws and the exten-
sion of game refuges and fish hatcher-
ies and invited the co-operation of the
sportsmen in educating the public in
these matters.

Mr. Perrault said that the Govern-
ment of today is more than ever deter-
mined to insure the permanence of the
fish and game, and to that end co-oper-
ation was necessary from all sides. He
talked of the hunting and fishing game
reserves which he intends to create
north of Montreal, of the project for
hatchery improvements, questioned
whether the time had not come when
huntsmen in the Laurentide National
Park should change their rifles for ko-
daks, spoke of the creation of a fur
animal experimental farm, and ended
with a declaration of merciless warfare
against poachers who dynamite the
lakes.

dent; J. W. McConnell, W. A. Ber-
thiaume, W. C. Hodgson, Aime Geof-
frion, K.C., W. H. Coverdale, Dr. C. F.
Martin, Hon. Frank Carrel, Hon. Ath-
anase David, Hon. Honore Mercier,
Hon. John Hall Kelly, Gordon W. Mc-
Dougall, K.C., Hon. A. Leduc, Hon. J.
H. Dillon, Col. D. B. Papineau, .Henri
Kieffer and J. A. Belisle.

Beyond a few remarks by the chair-
man, the only speaker was Hon. Mr.
Perrault, hence formal proceedings
Vere over early in the evening, and the
balance of the time was given up to
entertainment, much of it in the hands

tion of 5,000 souls have sinalarly
sprung up from the heart of a distant
forest The same thing has happened
fn the Lake St. John and Chicoutimi
districts, the Gatineau, the North
Shore aAd o/ the South Shore down to
the Gaspe.4eninsula. Our immense
industrial/development has everywhere
driven back the frontiers of our forests.
"This achievement is the sign of
progress, of a progress of ^hich we
have Reason to be P^oud and from which
theintire country is benefiting. But
th/price of this progress which we
wTve at heart is the migration of game

r" . __ j;_j. 4. .n/l n-Pto-n less

entertainment, much of it in the hands f»^^ »"' "I" distant and often less

of Ghas. Marchaud, "the Bytown troub^T'^^'^fw^ territories or perhaps its
adoiir"; Hickey's Melodeonists, eJ/ favorable, territoms or p^^^

Redder, the raconteur and movmg ji^- "?«f « °F ^^f //™ t the disappearance

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bi
e:

The minister spoke to an apprecia-
tive audience which filled the Windsor
Hall, and embraced leaders in all walks
of life from all parts of the province
and from beyond the provincial borders.
John S. Hall, president of the associa-
tion, had at his right hand Hon. Nar-
cisse Perodeau, Lieutenant-Governor of
Quebec, the mention of whose name by
Mr. Perrault brought such applause as
to oblige His Honor to rise to acknowl-
edge it. Others at the head table were
Sir Charles Gordon, W. D. Robb, Grant
Hall, Rt. Rev. Dr. J. C. Farthing, Bish-
op of Montreal; Rev. Canon Sylvestre,
J. B. Harkin, Senator J. P. B. Cas-
grain. Senator Donat Raymond, Sena-
tor W. L. McDougald, Senator Smeaton
White, J. 0. Tetreault, honorary presi-

tures (tf hunting and fishing sce^s

The ibenquet amply testified/to the
great interest which is tak^ in the
conservatioji of fish and gawTe, said the
minister, ait4 he was delighted with the
prospects when he saw so many prona-
inent citizens "present to manifest their
desire that yetSmore efforts should be
put forth to conserve and protect a
great national asaet.

The problem of conservation existed
in every country, liresenting itself in
different ways, but all over the world
interest is keen, mora study is being
given to the matter dx^d more strict
and more arbitrary legislation has
been imposed, said the minister.

"Fortunately, in the i^rovince of
Quebec," Hon. Mr. Perrault \said, "the
problem which faces our generation is
merely that of conservation and protec-
tion—whilst our fish and game is not
what it used to be because certain spe-
cies have entirely disappeared, while
many of our rivers and lakes have lost
the value which the presence of salmon,
trout and bass once gave them, it is
none the less true that we are yet very
fortunate. We still have a great wealth
of fish and game and we may well be
satisfied to live in a country where such
a healthy and agreeable sport as fish-
ing and hunting is not an empty word.
But as neither our forests, nor our
rivers, nor our lakes are inexhaustible,
we must not think only selfishly of our
own pleasure, but must equally think
of the pleasure and the needs of those
who are to come after us.

"In what situation do we find our-
selves? We live in a province which is
developing with remarkable rapidity,
and we sincerely rejoice in this. We
constantly open new territories to the
activity of our settlers, of our farmers,
of our manufacturers, of our capital-
ists and of our traders. Out of the
heart of the forest, beyond the Lauren-
tian Mountains, a country has sprung
up in fifteen years which is now inhab-
ited by a hard-working and contented
population of over 20,000 souls scat-
tered among 23 healthy agricultural
parishes; I mean the Abitibi. In less
than three years two twin towns, Rouyn
and Noranda, inhabited by a popula-

Certainly, we regret the disappearance
of the moose from the immense forests
of the northwest of Quebec, where he
reigned as monarch for centuries, but
on the other hand, we welcome also
the birth and development of towns, ot
villages, of parishes and of mining
camps, where are being worked out the
destinies of our province and of our
country.

"The opening of new fields to the
activity of a people vibrating with ac-
tion is not the only obstacle to the con-
servation of wild life. Good roads, so
necessary to a well-ordered economic
life, lead above all to centres which only
yesterday appeared to be forever inac-
cessible. In the few hours of rapid,
easy and often agreeable travel, fish-
ermen and hunters are able to obtain
all the satisfaction of their favorite
sport The sportsman no longer needs
to be armed with courage and patience
to face the great difficulties and fa-
tigue required to reach his ardently de-
sired fishing and hunting territory.

"And now that travelling is so easy
and agreeable, the number of people
who look to hunting and fishing for the
rest, the amusement and the relaxation
thev require is considerably increased.
Consider now the facility of travel and
the increased taste for sports more
particularly those of fishing and hunt-
ing; consider also the remarkable in-
ciease in private wealth and in the
leisure that this wealth provides to
individuals; consider also the unin-
terrupted flow of tourists who are at-
tracted to our province each year, and
you will see immediately the dangers
which threaten our fish and game.

"The number of Americans who oc-
cupy part of their leisure every year in
fishing or hunting is estimated at 10,-
000,000. This is approximately 12 per
cent, of the population of the United
States. If the same proportion existed
in the Province of Quebec there would
be 300,000 persons who, at a certain
period of their holidays, would have
no other occupation than to amuse
themselves by depopulating our forests,
our rivers and our lakes withm the
limits permitted by the law.

"Should not this cause us to reflect?

■ •':.>A
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■■<!

firing and erimly settled down to run
the bear to earth. He did it, too! Not
until the beast turned and faced him
did he fire again. Then, within five
yards of his quarry, the Indian pump-
ed as many shots through head and
body and ended the long, hot chase.

"One bear, thirty-seven shots," said
William, as he tossed the skin at our
feet, and handed me back the much
abused rifle.

"Gun no good. No wantem."
One year, late in the fall, William
was hunting on the coast near Owl
River, fifty miles south of the Church-
ill. For some days there had been
little doing and so when he came
across the tracks on the beach of three
white bears he decided that their
skins would be worth going after. The
trail led inland and was not more than
two days old. The Indian's keen
eyes read the signs of the wild which
told him the bears were starving.
That meant a dangerous hunt for one
man but the Cree had taken such
chances before. Although already the
owner of several magazine rifles, Wil-
liam still at times had, not exactly a
preference, but rather a sentimental
fondness for the old single barrel
muzzle loader. On this occasion he
was carrying this arm and, with it, a
small bag of food and his blankets on
his back, he took up the trail of three.
One day's tramp brought him
through the woods that fringed the
coast and onto the open muskeg plain
of the interior. Scattered clumps of
sickly-looking juniper and stunted
spruce were spread about on the Dar-
rens and the intervening stretches
were dotted with small ice-covered
ponds. It was near the end of the
second day when he espied the bears
—the three of them sporting in the
centre of one of the tiny lakes on
which they had broken all of the thin
ice sheeting.

No sooner had he emerged from be-
hind a grove of junipers than the ani-
mals' sharp eyes spotted the Indian.
They started through the water to-
wards him, one wellin advance of his

TY19.t6S

"I must get them one at a time,"
thought William, "and each with a
single shot. If they come along one
well behind the other I can do it, for
that will give me time to reload. ^^If
they come in a bunch I'm done for.

There was not a tree for miles
arlund thi? would, bear the. hunter J
wpiffht Thus William explained how
he had laid out his plan of campaign
As bear Number One scrambled
for'^th from the water he 7i««<^i^J-,^f

""^ d' hif mateT T^e ndian° loS te
and nis.™.t„ • f his eun and waited

^''^^nv^" He cou d not^a?f ord to take
coolly, tie coum ^^^

t, =«w that it was the dog who led

ticipation «; the feast w ^^^^ ^^^^

slavering f'^o™.^ !, ^r™ ' ^ds of the
loped up to withm h^^^^ J^^^ ^^^^^^^

£':^isra:dMn"awayforall

J liiiiifli!!

mJH

Wherever theTrail may lead!

THE trapper who carries Klim
in his dunnage is never
without the warming, cheering in-
fluence of flapjacks, bannocks, tea,
coffee, etc. For Klim is milk--
fresh whole milk from which
nothing but the water has been re-
moved. Replacing that water
gives you fresh liquid milk again-
wholesome, nourishing, always
sweet— cannot freeze— and ready
for use the moment it is required.
Klim is light and compact. A 5- b.
tin makes nearly 16 quarts of milk.

Send ua your name and address
for copy of free hook called Camp
Cookinar Written by five weU
kno^vn woodsmen. FuU of hints .
on camp eats, wood lore, outdoor
life, etc.

CANADIAN MILK PRODUCTS

Limited

115 George Street —Toronto.

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and all for $35.00. Game guns $16.00 to *^h-

stock, as
pull

$28.25. .^

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LEFEVER ARMS CO.

ITHACA, N.Y. BOX 14

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EWFOUNDLAND

A Country of Fish and Game.

Ideal Canoe Trips

A Paradise for the Camper and Angler.

. «,c^^ u,T the Newfoundland Railway is exceedingly
The country traversed by the f^^^ ounu Railway are

rich in all kinds of SirSALMONind TROUT fi^^^^^^ Americans who
S'SLi^S^^aVd^ui^^^^^^ - --rand

"^th^uch Ta^a " n"N?wfo°unTaid'^tflr^m\' i^^^^ with illustrated

Booklet'andFoWer cheerfully forwarded upon application to

M^wi^OtlNDLAND RAILWAY. ST. JOHN'S. NEWFOUNDLAND

WHY OPERATE?

Use HEPATOLA, the Great System Cleanser

FOR

Stomach and Liver Trouble

Mrs. GEO. S. ALMAS. Sole Manufacturer

Deot. W. Box 1073, Saskatoon, Sask.
Price $6.50 "*P^- ^'

■J-.- Jl > — - .« - «

728

Rod and Gun and Canadian Silver Fox News

729

1
1

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that he was worth, reloading as he
went. As he had hoped, the mother
bear and the third one, a large cub,
stopped for a moment to sniff at the
fallen one. That permitted the Indian
a space of time in which to halt and
carefully prime his gun. Then he was
ready for Number Two.

He turned about to see, with great
dismay, the two come on together, the
cub a yard ahead of its mother, which
was now enraged at the death of her
mate. How could he get the one and
hope to escape from the other? Would
the old one stop again if he managed
to kill her cub, or would she come right
on for him? William had little time
in which to worry over his chances of
escape and for a moment he thought
of trying a long range shot. He raised
his gun to the shoulder. But no, that
was too risky; close range was the
surest and he would take a chance on
the last of the brutes. He ripped open
his vest and disengaged one arm — his
coat, with pack and blankets had been
dropped when he first sighted the ani-
mals—cleared the deck tor action, so
to speak. Then the two were almost
upon him. Carefully, as before, he
fired, and the cub dropped m its
tracks. The Indian needed not to look
back to know that the old she bear was
right on his heels. Her roar of rage
and the crashing of the bracken
warned him of his peril. It was dif-
ficult to reload, for he did not dare
to slacken for a moment and he was
now running at the top of his speed.
Quickly the bear gained upon him and
the sudden snarl at his very heels
warned him of her leap. He sprang
aside, just in time, and the clumsy
brute— for your Polar is very slow in
turning— plunged on for several yards
before she could check her way and
come about. This gave William the
opportunity he had prayed for. He
paused just a second to tear the vest
off his arm and fling it behind him,
then he raced on as before. It was his
last hope of escape.

The Polar, furious . at missing her
prey, stopped at the bait thrown back
to her. She paused only long enough
to slap one huge paw viciously upon
the garment and with an upward fling
of her head ripped it to pieces; then
she plunged on in pursuit. But that
pause was enough for the hunter. He
halted, rammed his load home, and
flung the rod from him. With shaking
fingers he pressed the primer down,
and William was ready for Number
Three.

Scarcely had he turned about when
she was upon him, open-mouthed and
fearful to look upon.

"No time for aim — no time raise
gun," said the old hunter, as he told
the story. "Just push muzzle into her
mouth, pull trigger and jump aside."

Here he showed me the second finger
of his right hand, gnarled and dis-
torted. "Gun no on shoulder," he ex-
plained. "Kick bad, break finger.
Bear just slap gun once and break it.
Then roll over and lie dead."

"Gun over there," he added, and
pointed to the corner of his shack
where an old muzzle-loader lay, the
barrel rounded out like the frame of
a snowshoe, and, as I examined the
wreck, I fully realized that only the
saving grace of a split second had

saved the tough old Cree from sure
destruction.

His winter trapping grounds were
some sixty miles north of the Nelson,
on the Owl river, up Churchill way.
Most of the York Factory tribe trekked
southward or inland to their fur trails,
choosing the lines of least resistance
up the tributary streams. They left
the post in the autumn, journeying by
canoe. To the majority, ease of travel
was more attractive than success along
the trap lines. They were satisfied to
bring back just enough fur to warrant
the issue of another "debt" and, though
game was less plentiful in their chosen
territory, they would take a long
chance on starvation, rather than ex-
plore more virgin trails.

Not so with the Utchekat. He went
north, to the borders of the less thick-
ly populated Chippewyan country, bag
and baggage, family and dogs, tramp-
ing the frozen muskegs or on snow-
shoes through the woods. When travel-
ling en famille, William spared his
dogs, set his own pace to suit the weak-
est member of the party. On these
occasions time and distance were not
the main considerations. But, if alone
and unencumbered, some specific ob-
jective ahead, a run on the shoes of
fifty to sixty miles was common prac-
tice in his trade, nor seemed to tax his
remarkable staying powers. By so do-
ing, making the extra striving, spurn-
ing the canoe and choosing instead the
more trying trail of snow, he reached
hunting grounds where caribou were
plentiful, food for dogs and family was
assured, and the fur-bearing animals
comparatively unmolested. He was
unhampered by competition. In con-
sequence, to the gratification of the
traders and the enrichment of the
Utchekat family, William would return
each season from Owl river with the
biggest catch of the tribe and was al-
most independent of the white traders'
bounty and the detestable system of
"debt."

I have told how he arrived at our
place one winter's day, mid-afternoon,
when the early setting northern sun
was sinking behind the western
spruces. Come all the way since the
morning fire from that sixty-mile dis-
tant Owl river camp, carrying nothing
but the snowshoes hanging on his back.
And, after a mug of scalding tea and
a raisin-studded bannock, jogged on
to his own cold, lonely house, a mile
farther up the river. And how, rest-
ing there only overnight, he had, hours
before daybreak, taken up the back
trail and rejoined his family before
the second nightfall. One hundred
and twenty miles in the two days,
through bush and across barrens, only,
to the best of our knowledge, to pro-
cure some little household gadget, left
behind when the family first hiked

north.

His long, narrow trippers' snow-
shoes, the juniper frames fashioned by
himself with the aid of no other tools
than an awl and the native crooked
knife, and the mesh of caribou thongs
netted by his nimble-fingered squaw,
annihilated distance. He dropped in,
again, some weeks later, this time ac-
companied by his twelve year son,
Peter. He had again made the same
little jaunt from the Owl, but this
trip had brought dogs and toboggan
along. As before, he was heading for
his "house."

"When are you going to get us some
more meat, William?" we asked, as he
picked up his mittens and prepared to
leave.

"Me go deer tomorrow," he an-
swered.

"Where are you going to get them?"
I asked. "Owl river?"

"No, not go back Owl river tomor-
row. This time no plenty deer at Owl
river. Go back there, me, this time,
and he swung his mittened hand away
from the Nelson, back in the direction
of the frozen muskegs. I had long
wanted to get away after the caribou
with this celebrated hunter of the dis-
trict. Here seemed to be my longed-
for opportunity. It was bitter cold, —
I knew it. Late December, and our
thermometer registering fifty below.
But shack life had grown monotonous,
we needed fresh venison, and my Win-
chester had long been idle.

"I want to go after deer with you,
William," I finally said, and eagerly
awaited his answer. The Cree looked
around at the faces of our little as-
semblage, to see if my statement were
to be taken in good faith. He appeared
to doubt my earnestness.

"I mean it. I'll go tomorrow with
you. Are you going far? How many
miles?"

"Neestanoo,— twenty," was the an-
swer.

J*Twenty? That's easy! Ten miles
there, and ten miles back."

"No, twenty miles deer, twenty miles
home. Go deer tomorrow, come back
next day,— one camp."

The hunter watched me with twink-
ling eyes as I let the significance of his
answer sink home. Forty miles in two
days, and the days were short at that
season — sunrise at nine, sunset at four!
That would be fair travelling for a
greenhorn on the shoes, especially so
with a night out at forty degrees be-
low. If I only had a decent pair of
Cree snowshoes, instead of the broad
packers we wore for travelling along
the shore. William likened them to
shovels; he said they were fine for
clearing the snow out of an open camp.
Still I was anxious to go.

"You better take me along. You'll
get paid for the trip and all the meat
we bring back."

"Uh, huh ! All right ! You come morn-
ing."

He drew out his big trade gold watch
and pointed to the hour.

"All right, William, I'll be at your
shack at six in the morning. Are you
off now? Very well. Good bye."

It was five o'clock by the old "buz-
zer" on the cook's shelf when I turned
out of my blankets. B-r-r-r ! The shack
was cold! Every nail head in the
rafters showed white with the night's
accumulated frost. The water in the
wash bucket was a solid frozen mass.
So was that in the kettle. I put a
lighted match to the kindling in the
big barrel stove and, pulling on some
clothes, went outside for a snow bath.
It was yet pitch dark and starry over-
head. "Number nine" was coming up
the river, its distant roar awakening
the stillness of the wintry morn. This
we had grown to call the bay ice, which
on each incoming tide crashed and tore
its way upstream, making a roar for
all the world like the rumbling of a

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(PERRY DAVIS)

spraIn^&bruises

heavy freight train tearing along over
a resonant roadbed. The frosty air
quickly drove me in again and a stiff
rub with a coarse towel hardened by
its laundering in ice water soon restor-
ed warmth and circulation.

A pot of tea and some bacon and
bpnnock sufficed to warm the inner
man and I gathered my dunnage to-
gether for the trip. It was a simple
outfit— an eiderdown quilt crammed
into its bag, two extra pairs of socks
and duffle, a little tea and sugar tied
up in cotton handkerchiefs, in real Cree
fashion, half a dozen frozen bannocks,
some cooked venison, a mug and a
spoon. I filled the pockets of my sheep-
skin coat with cartridges and, slinging
the bag on my back picked up snow-
shoes and rifle and took the river trail
for William's.

Within a quarter mile of his house
the tinkling of bells and the howling of
the wolf dogs warned me that the In-
dian's preparations were also under
way. Arrived upon the ground I found
him harnessing the last stubborn
huskie to the long toboggan, bare ex-
cept for its canvas wrapper and the
bags of William and his son. Only
then did I learn that the latter was to
accompany us. My dunnage and rifle
were quickly lashed to the sled. This
is always a hurried task as the raw-
hide thongs, kinked and stubborn with
the frost, bite and burn into numbed
fingers and one cannot long leave his
hands exposed. We three hastily re-
paired to the house and swallowed a
last mouthful of strong tea, then, pull-
ing down our caps and slipping our
hands into the deerskin mitts, we left
the warmth of the shack.

Peter struck out ahead on the hard
wood trail that led into the spruce bush
behind the clearing. A few well de-
livered kicks aroused the half-stupid
huskies, the toboggan with a jerk
creaked free from its frost anchor-
age, and, with William and me swing-
ing into line behind, the dogs took up
the trail.

For two miles at a dog trot, snow-
shoes under our arms, we followed the
well-beaten roadlike surface. When
the top crust grew weaker and the
runner's feet broke through Peter
stopped to don his shoes. We did like-
wise, then, falling into the long snow-
shoer's stride, the tramp commenced
in earnest.

The woods became more open, the
stunted growth of spruce and juniper
grouping into clumps. We were enter-
ing upon the frozen muskegs. As we
proceeded farther north, the clumps
became more isolated, resembling is-
lands on a lake. In the deeper snow
my broad shoes overlapped the tobog-
gan trail and at times I travelled with
one foot in the rut, the other on the
bank, an ordeal that soon became most
fatiguing. William and Peter wore
the long narrow trapper's shoe, which
fitted exactly to the trail, and the older
Cree, aware of the difficulties I was
experiencing, broadened his stride and
made tramping in his wake much easier
for me.

At nine o'clock we "boiled the ket-
tle." A little fire was built and a few
boughs spread to stand upon. A mug
of tea and a bannock was the fare.
Peter complained of the cold on his
arms and body, and the old man fasten-

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ed a blanket into the form of a capote,
cloak and hood, and fitted it about the
lad — he was really but a youngster.
From time to time the father had asked
me if I were tired or cold. My violent
efforts along the way to keep swinging
one "snow shovel" ahead of the other
had kept me sufficiently warm. I had
my suspicions, though, that had the
two Indians been alone, there would
have been no fire built at that stage
of the trip.

Little time was spent in filling our
pipes, when the journey was resumed.
The only indications of a trail that I
now could see were an occasional broken
twig or a lopped sapling, but they
seemed sufficient landmarks for our
guide. He never erred, and seldom
hesitated.

Until noon the grind was kept up,
when another halt, this time for lunch,
was called. William informed me that
a ten mile treeless plain was ahead of
us and he chose this spot to stop, as
there was no wood farther on until
that night's camp should be reached.
A more pretentious fire was kindled
this time and some of my cooked veni-
son was added to the meal. Peter still
complained of the cold and of pains
in his body and spent the few minutes
that we rested, crouching over the
blaze. I pitied the lad with all my
heart and yet I knew that such hard-
ships were more common than not, in
the daily round of the Indian's life.

Lashing grub bag and kettle onto
the sled, the dogs were once more rous-
ed. Their last meal had been that of
the previous evening. Feed them once
a day, — that was the custom — after the
day's work was done.

In a quarter of an hour we came to
the edge of the scrubby timber and the
barren plain stretched away ahead of
us. Far to the northward I could just
make out the tree line, our destination,
as William pointed out to me. The
whole section of the country between
the Nelson and the Churchill, border-
ing on the sea coast, one hundred and
forty miles in extent, is but a succes-
sion of such bleak, wind-swept areas
as I now looked forth upon, compris-
ing alternate strips of timber and plain,
the latter sometimes thirty miles in
breadth, treeless and shelterless. It
is these treacherous blizzard-swept
muskegs that make the York to Chur-
chill winter trail one of the toughest
and most dangerous in the country. It
might be noted here that it was Wil-
liam the Utchekat who established the
record time on this same trail, which
by actual measurement from post to
post is one hundred and eighty two
miles. He covered it in four and a half
days.

No marks, whatever, indicative of a
road, were visible on the hard beaten
snow. The old Cree now took the lead
and, tightening up his sash, struck out
ahead at a much faster pace. I real-
ized that speed was urgent for, in
midwinter time in the North, darkness
creeps upon the traveller unawares.
The dogs with the light toboggan had
little difficulty in keeping on the heels
of the master trail-finder, who often
(Oh, so often!) broke into a long,
swinging trot. Young Peter, now ap-
parently in better spirits, ran alongside
of the sled, hurling his hatchet at the
leading huskie, time and again just
missing the startled brute. I soon fell

far behind. With my large, clumsy
shoes it was a hopeless task to keep the
pace set by the Indian. He, from time
to time, slackened up a little evidently
to encourage me. For him it was a
mere pleasure jaunt — he, who for a
mere trinket would travel that same
distance and farther without even
turning a hair.

The distance between the toboggan
and myself gradually lengthened. Oc-
casionally William would look back,
but as long as my person was visible
above the horizon he kept on.

It was just dusk when the Indians
reached the woods, and men and dogs
disappeared within its borders. When
I finally arrived at the timber line I
had little difficulty in picking up the
trail, for in the shelter of the bush the
snow was soft and deep again. A few
minutes later I stumbled on the party,
engaged in making camp. Spruce
boughs were lopped off and spread on
a cleared space, — they comprised the
carpet and couch. To windward a low
shelter of felled trees was built and
similar windbreaks were laid across
the end. In front, forming the fourth
side of the little quadrangle, a long
fire was built, and the "brush" camp
was complete. I helped as best I could
to gather firewood, but was handicapped
by not possessing an axe. As soon as
the fire was well lit I crept within the
radius of its warmth, and, stretching
out on the boughs, exposed my stiff-
ening limbs to the heat of the welcome
blaze.

After considerable quantities of fire-
wood had been piled close by, William
and Peter, with the team, mysterious-
ly disappeared, leaving me alone, sole
occupant of the little camp. But pre-
sently my ear caught the tinkle of a
bell, a sharp yelp or two, and an oc-
casional muffled word. In ten minutes
the Indian returned within the glare
of the fire, the dogs behind straining
with a heavy load. I painfully rose to
my feet and inspected the toboggan.
It was heaped up with venison! So!
This was the deer hunt in which to
participate I had tramped those twenty
miserable miles! It had never dawned
on me before that William might be
going for only a load of cached meat,
the result of his last hunting expedi-
tion. What a disappointment! Still
my chagrin was not so great as it would
have been had I been still fresh and
keen after the sport. The chase would
need to be exceptionally exciting that
would have lured me from the fire. I
was quite content with its warmth and
companionship and the contemplation
of the dreaded return "mush" on the
morrow.

The dogs were tied up and each given
a huge chunk of the coarser portion of
the deer. Then William prepared our
supper. I was too stiff and tired to
do anything but stretch out on the
spruce "feathers" and watch the oper-
ation. He chopped up part of the
flanks of one of the deer, broke up the
ribs with his hatchet, and, putting
them into the pail, with some snow,
set it on the fire. Twenty minutes of
stewing on that blazing pile was
enough, when he passed me the lid of
the pail, heaped up with the steaming
meat. A piece of bannock that had
thawed out in front of the fire and was
nicely brovsmed, and a mug of strong
tea, with no sugar, accompanied the

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venison. Then we fairly gorged our-
selves. I have yet to have set before
me a dish that will be more tasty than
those stewed venison ribs. With the
smattering of Cree I owned, I did my
best to tell William that I had never
eaten anything to equal it. He only
grunted and grinned.

The supper was over. The pipes
were filled. But there was little solace
in the soothing weed for me that even-
ing. A quart of liniment and a trained
masseur would have brought more re-
lief and contentment. Slumber for me
that night was fitful. Aching limbs,
and the mercury at thirty-eight de-
grees below precluded peaceful rest.
Each time I woke William was either
crouched over the fire, or back of the
camp replenishing the stock of fire-
wood. It was an unusual thing, I
thought, to keep the fire going all night.
But I pondered but little on the subject,
and towards morning exhaustion over-
came the cold and I slept.

At half-past four it seemed to me
that I had fallen to sleep only a few
minutes before I was aroused by the
sound of the old Cree's axe biting into
the iron-like, frozen spruce. It was
rising time! But not until the crack-
ling fire had begun to scatter the
sparks across my couch, did I gather
courage enough to crawl out of the
quilt, and face the penetrating frosty
air of the early morning.

Getting onto my feet was a most
painful exertion, the over- worked mus-
cles and cold-tautened cords bitter-
ly complaining. But, once erect and
close to the blaze, the warmth had an
easing effect, and cramped limbs soon
became more supple. A huddled heap
of blanket and rabbitskin showed
where Peter still slumbered. William
was cutting up more meat for the
breakfast pot. This done, he tucked
the coverings about the lad and sat
down to watch the simmering pail.
Then I learned the reason for the all
night firfe.

"Peter sick, all night. No sleep me,
too cold. Sit up me, all night, watch
fire."

Peter had taken ill shortly after I
turned in, and the father, wrapping
him up in the lad's blanket, had put
over him, as well, his ovm rabbitskin
quilt. That left no covering for him-
self, so, to keep from freezing to death,
he had spent the long, cold night mov-
ing about the camp, and tending to the
fire. How such a twelve hours* vigil,
in the cold and dark, a day's work al-
ready to his credit, would have told on
a white man!

"Are you sleepy or tired, William?"

"No, no sleepy me," was the quiet
answer. His lean, brown face broke
into a smile that as much as said that
what he had done was nothing unus-
ual for a Swampy Cree. If the thought
of the day's grind back to the river,
after a night devoid of rest, at all
troubled him, the stoical Indian fea-
tures betrayed it not.

When breakfast was ready Peter
was roused and he seemed to be much
better. After the meal, which was a
repetition of the evening one, the hus-
kies were dragged to their harness and
the back trail to the Nelson taken up.
Peter led while William drove the team,
assisting the struggling dogs through
the deeper places by the aid of a "gee

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pole," with which he pushed on the
rear of the load. Naturally, our pro-
gress across the plain was not so
speedy as on the previous day. There
was close on four hundred pounds of
meat on the sled and the dogs were
taxed to their utmost. Progress,
though slower, was, however, steadier,
and we stopped only once to boil the
kettle. That was within a quarter of
a mile of the stop where we had lunch-
ed the noon before. After my stiffened
sinews had been well limbered up, I
managed to hold my own, keeping close
on the heels of William's shoes. About
five o'clock, an hour after dark, we
came onto the hard surface of the wood
trail.

Off came the shoes, and Peter start-
ed forward on the run. With a yelp,
the leading huskie sprang to his feet,
his team mates following and the whole
party, men and dogs, struck out with
lightened spirits and an added vim.
We covered the last two miles to the

river bank as we had travelled it the
day before, — on the run. Breaking out
of the woods into a little clearing, the
dark silhouette of Utchekat's cabin
loomed before us. A minute later we
were at the door.

"I'm going home to eat and go to
bed," I said to William, as he turned
loose the lashings of the load. "Bring
the meat to the camp in the morning."

"All right. Good bye!" he answered
and gave me another of those fathom-
less smiles — it took the place of a white
man's laugh, but not at my discomfit-
ure. I paid little heed to it, but gath-
ered my bag and rifie from the tobog-
gan. There were exactly the same
number of shells in the magazine as
when, confidently expectant and eager
for the chase, I had started out the
morning before. Slinging the outfit,
with my "snow shovel" shoes, onto my
back, I trudged the short distance down
the shore to home.

\Si

Letters to the Editor

Suggests a Buck Law

Editor Ro\and Gun.

In the irvterests of our Northern
Country and \n justice to those sports-
men who willNjot shoot a female deer,
I am enclosingWou an article written
by Mr. George Shiras and published in
the National Ge^raphic Magazine of
August, 1921. \

Having hunted d^r for many years
and being familiar wf^h their habits and
intensely interested in*<^heir preservation
I make this appeal to \he huntsmen of
Ontario on their behalf.\

Those of us who know^the deer will
not dispute the fact that ^hey are be-

a buck law to protect the fejifiales and
fawns in every State containing any
antlered animal. Just let/Tt be under-
stood that when a bucX^is shot the
number for the followi^ng year is les-
sened by only one,/Whereas he who
kills a young doe destroys, by a single
shot, potentially/151 bucks and 151
does. For it/nas been shown, upon
a strictly scielitific basis and by accur-
ate matheijmtical calculation, that a
doe and hrer descendants in a period
of ten y^rs, not counting out the
natura/ casualties, will produce a total
of SQi deer, and by the death of this
anceistral mother the link is broken,
wi<1i the irrevocable loss stated.

nr^ry^i^rrr^^^^ o^^.-^^ « « 'i^ ' J .t_ / Tho Same proportion holds true with
sfChir nf "Hn«" 7. I ^'' l""* M^ ''a larger number, for ten does and their
firl/if L^L LZ T.h "'"^'^■' descendants wili produce 1,510 bucks
judgment, the ma.n cause ofvtheir de.' ^^^ j 510 ^oes, showing that when the

pletion. \^ /

I have reason to believe that ^ur
present Government will likely taWthis
matter up before long, but in the^^vent
that they do not pass this law/ before
our hunting season opens on Nbvemfcier
5th, I make this appeal to all/buntsmV
in Ontario:

Protect our does.

Refuse positively to aljbw one to be
shot in your camp.

This will do more f^br your territory
than anything else .can do, and will
tend to preserve the hunting of deer for
many future days. /

•A. F. Zimmerman.
Hamilton, Ont;

The article referred to follows:

PARAGRAPH REGARDING THE
"KILLING OF DOES"— Page 146

"Ten Does will have 1,510 descend-
ants in 10 years.

The white-tail is the one big-game
animal whose perpetuation means
more to the sportsmen of the entire
country than any other animal.

The first and foremost necessity is

female is protected more deer can be
killed each year, besides leaving an in-
creased number in the woods.

Such a result is not, after all, mys-
terious, if we keep in mind the methods
of reproduction applicable to domestic
animals; for if a farmer had as many
^ bulls as cows, as many roosters as hens,
\^ and killed them indiscriminately of sex,
\J^e would, of course, be classed as de-
niented.

(Just because our wild animals bear
they- young in remote thickets, we seem
to tf;iink their maintenance is based
upon % different method, and go on kill-
ing thKfemales year in and out under
the blinu assumption that it can make
no particular difference in the future
supply, w^^ereas, it represents the dif-
ference be'^ween extinction and per-
petuation." \

The Deer Season

Editor Rod and Gun.

I would like a little space in your
valuable paper to express my views on
the season for shooting deer.

C/uik

C. Hart Merriam

Papers

BANCMSS

80/18 c

/<f jT J -/^^^

32d Congress,
1st Session.

[SENATE.]

Ex. Doc.

N«. 82.

REPORT

THE SECRETARY OF THE INTERIOR,

r r>

IN' RELATION

To a liqtcldated balance due the Creek Indians for losses durlnq: the last

war with Great Britain,

June 19. 1852.

liaid upon the tal>le, and ordered to be printed.

Department oi- the Interior,
"^ June 18, 1852.

Sir : 1 have the honor to communicate to the Senate herewith, a letter
from the Commissioner of Indian Affairs dated the 17th instant, enclosing
explanations in regard to the item of ^110,417 90, which w\as emhraced
in the estimates from this department, for '' liquidated balance found due
the Creek Indians for losses sustained during the last war w^ith Great

Britain."

I am, sir, very respectfully^ your obedient servant,

•^ ALEX. H. H. STUART.

Secretary/.

Hon. William R. King,

President of the Senate, pro tempore.

Department of the Interior,

Office Indian Affairs,

June 17, 1852.

Sir : The last annual estimates of the department embraced an item of
$110,417 90 for payment of balance of a liquidated claim for losses suf-
fered 'in 1813-'14 by the friendly Creek Indians, who acted as the allies of
the United States during the difficulties with a portion of that tribe known

as the " Red Stick War."

From the proceedings in Congress upon this claim, further information
in relation to it seems to be important, in order that its merits and the
obligations of the government in respect to it may be clearly understood.
I therefore submit a full and lucid statement on the subject furnished me by
the agent for the Creeks, and respectfully suggest its transmission for the
information of Congress.

Very respectfully, your obedient servant,

L. LEA. Commissioner.

Hon. A. H. H. Stuart,

Secretary of the Interior.

[82]

Claims of certain Creek Indians for spoliations and losses during the
hostilities with a portion of that tribe in 1813 and 1814, commonlv
known as the ** red-stick war,^^ '

These claims, ihougli of long standing, are shown by the published re-
cords of the government and by unquestionable facts, to be valid and just.
They rest upon explicit promises, and upon the strongest principles of right
and justice. A portion of them have long since been paid, and the balance
remain as unliquidated and valid demands against the government. They
have never been abandoned, but, on the contrary, have been repeateclly
urged and their payment insisted on by the Indians. The Executive De-
partment of the government recognizes their justice ; and their non-pay-
ment IS only to be accounted for by the fact that they have never, until
recently, been properly explained and submitted to Congress. This was
done for the first time in the report of the head of the Indian bureau to
the Senate committee on Indian affairs, dated May 10, 1850. (See annual
report of the Commissioner of Indian Affairs for 1851, page 311.) That
report, though conclusive as to the justice of the claims and the obligation
to pay them, does not, however, fully set forth their merits and the facts
and circumstances upon which they rest.

The sanguinary hostilities with a portion of the Creek Indians in the
years 1813 and 1814, and the causes which led thereto, form a part of the
published history of the country. (See Pickett's History of Alabama, vol.
u. chap. 31, ami American State Papers on Indian Affairs, vol. i. pages 836
to 860.) Considering the provocations and the influences operating upon
the Indians, it is only remarkable that the whole tribe did not combine and
engage in hostilities against the United States. But fortunately for the
government, then engaged in a war with a foreign power, and for the peo-
ple in that section of the country, a large portion maintained their allegiance
to the United States and remained friendly. They did all in their power
to restrain aad control their disaffected brethren, and when this could not
be done, they joined the forces of the United States and fought gallantly
against their own people, and were greatly instrumental in subduing and
bringing them to terms. In consequence of the course which they thus
pursued, they were greatly harassed and injured by the hostile Indians.
Their houses, fences and crops were burnt and destroyed, and their cattle
and other stock killed and driven off. Whole towns and settlements were
swept off and destroyed by their infuriated brethren; while they also" suf-
fered injury to some extent by portions of their property being taken for
the use of the troops. Notwithstanding all this they preserved their good
faith, fully participated in all the dangers and sacrifices of the war, and
freely shed their blood in battle along with their white brethren. For the
losses which they sustained by the depredations and spoliations committed
upon their property by the hostile Indians, they were promised indemnity
by the authorities of the government.

The Secretary of War, m a letter of March 17, 1814, to General Pinck-
ney, commanding the troops operating against the hostile Creeks, instruct-
ing him in relation to the terms upon which peace would be granted to
them, prescribed among other things that they should be required to relin-
quish to the United States as much of their portion of (he Creek territory

[82]

as would be an equivalent for the expenses of the war, &c. In further in-
tstructions of the 20th of the same month to same officer, he stated : ^^ That
the proposed treaty with the Creeks should take a form altogether military,
and be in the nature of a capitulation; in which case the whole authority
of making and concluding the terms will rest with you exclusively. In
this transaction, should it take place. Colonel Hawkins, as agent, may be
usefully employed.'^
> Accordingly, General Pinckney employed Colonel Hawkins, the govern-

ment agent for the Creeks, to make known to them the terms upon which
peace would be granted; among which was, that "the United States will
W retain so much of the conquered territory as may appear to the government
thereof to be a just indemnity for the expenses of the war, and as a restitu-
tion for the injuries sustained by its citizens, and the friendly Creek In-
dians.'' He was instructed to "communicate these terms to the friendly
Indians, and enjoin them, in the prosecuti(m of the war against such as may
continue hostile, to abstain carefully from injuring those who may be
returning with the intention of making their submission. You may like-
wise inform them that the United States will not forget their fidelity, but
in the arrangement which may be made of the lands to be retained as
indemnity, their claim will be respected ; and such of their chiefs as have dis- .
tinguished themselves by their exertions and valor in the common tause
will also receive a remuneration in the ceded lands, in such manner as the
government may direct." Colonel Hawkins, in a report to the Secretary
of War of August 1, 1815, states : " That as soon as the terms of peace were
offered, as expressed in the letter referred to, [General Pinckney's letter to
him, above quoted,] I took measures to explain them literally to the friendly
Indians, and through them and the prisoners in our possession to the hos-
tiles, who had fled or were flying to Pensacola." , • i

The United States thus clearly and unequivocally, through its authorized
officers, promised the friendly Creek Indians: , .', . c

1st. That their losses should be included as a part of the indemnity tor
which lands would be taken from the hostile Indians; and,

2d. That in selecting or taking those lands, the territorial claims, or
rights of the friendly Indians, should be respected. , ^. ,

. In the mean time General Jackson succeeded General Pinckey in com-
tnand, and was instructed to consummate the arrangements committed to

that officer. . , . ^ t^ . x i r a

The war ended with the treaty or capitulation of Fort Jackson, of Au-
gust 9, 1814, the terms of which were dictated by General Jackson, and
which 'both the friendly and hostile Indians were required to sign.

Though acting under the instructions given to General Pinckney, a copy
of which had been furnished him by the War Department, General Jackson,
from supposed want of authority, did not make any provision m the above
^ instrument for the losses sustained by the friendly Indians ; nor did he re-
t si>ect their territorial rights. Besides taking all or nearly all of the lands
of the hostile Indians, amounting to from seven to nine millions of acres, he
included also about eight millions of the territory of the friendly Indians,
for which they have never received any compensation whatever.

As to the extent of territory taken from the friendly Indians, and the in-
justice thereby done to them, (see report of Colonel Hawkins to the Secre-
tary of War, of August 18, 1915 ; State Papers, Indian Affairs, vol. u. page
493.

[82] 4

They remonstrated against the arrangement thus required of them, and
urged the recognition of the promises made by General Pinckney ; but, as
stated. General Jackson refused to do this in the treaty or capitulation,
claiming that these promises should constitute part and parcel of the treaty.
1 he friendly Indians finally consented to sign it, only on condition that an
authenticated copy of General Pinckney's letter containing the promises,
should be sent on therewith to the President of the United States, saying.

We rely on the justice of the United States to cause justice to be done to

US.

General Jackson complied with that condition as follows :

"The follownig is a transcript of a letter from General Thomas Pinckney
to Colonel Benjamin Hawkins which, pursuant to the requisition of the
chiefs and warriors of the Creek nation, I direct to he sent to the President
of the United States, duly certified, upon the suggestion to the said chiefs
that my powers do not extend to embrace, by treaty or capitulation, the
promises contained therein.

"^ANDREW JACKSON,

" Major General Commanding. ^^

The treaty or capitulation was ratified February 16, 1815, and on the
12th July following, the Secretary of War wrote to the agent for the Creeks,
Col. Hawkins, as follows :

" I am directed by the President to request that you will report to this
department, as soon as practicable, your opinions on the following points :.

"1. As to the nature and extent of the indemnity which the friendly
chiefs claim, in consequence of the letter addressed by General Pincknev
on the 23d April, 1814. ^ ^

" 2. How far the government ought, from motives of justice or policy,
to yield to their claims.

"3. Whether indemnity ought to bo made to them by restoring a part of
the ceded land, or by an additional annuity, or by giving them a certain
fixed sum in money or goods.

"4. Whether these compensations (of whatever nature they may be)
should be confined entirely to the fiiendly chiefs."

Colonel Hawkins reported August 18th, that he had no data upon which
to calculate as to the extent of the claims for the individual losses ; part of
the vouchers having been taken by General Jackson's secretary, and the
remainder had been " given to the assistant agent at Coweta." In regard
to the claim on account of the lands of the friendly Indians, included in the
cession exacted by the treaty, he expressed the opinion that " at the time
of drawing the lines for the treaty, sixty thousand dollars would have been
received as an equivalent." He further stated that justice was on the side
of the Indians ; that policy required '^ a strict fulfillment of the expectations
of the chiefs ;" and he gave his opinion as to the manner in which the claims-
should be adjusted and settled. On the 9th of the same month, the Secre-
tary of War instructed him that it was the wish of the President that he
should proceed to the liquidation of the claims of the friendly Indians, on
the principles of General Pinckney's letter and his own. On the 1st of
April, ] 8 16, Colonel Hawkins accordingly transmitted a report ^^on the
claims of the friendly Indians, for losses sustained by them in their civil
war, agreeably to the terms of peace offered by Major General Pinckney,
23d April, 1814, and the preliminaries of the treaty of Fort Jackson, of

^ f

5 [82}

\utrust following." He stated that from the peculiar situation of affairs,
the report was imperfect ; and could not be otherwise till all the hunters
came in. The aggregate of the claims presented, up to that time, was
«108 415 \2\' The amount favorably reported upon was !S»7»,.Jt>u /Oj^
He estimated that the whole amount of the just claims would not exceed
one hundred thousand dollars. Upon this partial and incomplete report,
Congress, on the 3d March, 1817, appropriated eighty- five thousand dollars
to be paid to the friendly Creek Indians, whose property was destroyed by
the hostile Creek Indians in the late war, in fair and just proportion to the
losses which they have severally sustained from said Indians. Colonel
Hawkins having died, David B. Mitchell was appointed m his p ace.

In the Secretary of War's instructions to him of March 20, 1817, respect-
ing the payment of this money, he .was told that it would be proper to pay
the claimants mentioned in Col. Hawkins' estimate, " only a portion ot
their claims at present, as it is probable there may be other claimants en-
titled to the benefits of the law who are not mentioned in the list furnished
by Col. Hawkins, therefore a final distribution of the money should not
take place until the whole amount of claims are ascertained. Accord-
indv, Mr. Mitchell proceeded to complete the investigation of the claims,
ami paid over the amount appropriated by Congress to the several claim-
ants pro rata, according to his instructions. He made a detailed report,
showing the names of the claimants, the amount of their claims as ascer-
tained and liquidated, and what was paid thereon. From this report it
appears that the amount received by each claimant was only about two-
fifths of that ascertained to be due to him. A concise statement was also
furnished by Agent Mitchell, showing the general result of the investigation
and payment, as follows : •

Amounts liquidated for upper towns at Fort

Hawkins, in July, 1817... - i>7 ,o72 oO

Deduct this amount, paid at the same time .31, U^ J w _^^ ^^

Amounts liquidated for Lower towns, at Fort

Hawkins, in July, 1817 ; 29, /75 00

Deduct this amount, paid at the same time 11, JJU u» ^^__ ^

Miscellaneous claims liquidated at Fort Hawkins, , „ ^„

in July, 1817 : 'f7,157 00

Deduct this amount, paid at the same time 10, 8b^ UU ^^ ^^_ ^

Amount liquidated at the agency, 1818 f S' S ?n

Deduct this amount, paid to these claims 1J,»W bu ^^ ^^^ ^^

„,. , ., .„ 110,417 90

Whole balance due - '

After a careful investigation, as shown by the report of the Commissioner
of Indian Affairs before referred to, the executive branch of the govern-
ment has acknowledged the justice of these claims, and, in its estimates,
asked an appropriation of the above amount to enable it to meet the con-
tinued and pressing demands of the Indians for their payment. Every con-

[^2] 6

sideration of equity, justice and good faith, requires that the appropriation

be made without further delay. The facts and circumstances upon which

. the claims rest as shown by the documents on file in the Indian Deparfment

folfows P"^'*'^*'^ "'^"'^' ""^ Congress, may be briefly summed up a.,

+1,3 "TTl-^rftfl^' ^"'^'^1'^ ""'^^ remained friendly, and acted as the allies of
the United States m the contest referred to, were promised restitution or

by trhidl^M^^^^^^^ *''^ "^*""^' '' ^'^^ '"^^"^"°" °^ **^- p-p-*.v

♦ 1?* f ^'» jn<^«™n»ty was to be, and was secured by the quantity of lands
taken by the government from the hostile Creeks. ^

♦k:V . ^"g'' General Jackson refused to incorporate the above promise in
the treaty or capitulation, the Indians Considered it part and parcel thereof
and agreed to sign that instrument only on comlilion of the letter of Gen-

♦J! P ?"?' Tl^'?,"'^ ^^^ promise, being sent on with the treaty to
the President, which General Jackson had done. ^

fn . ?i! ^'^f'!^"* becoming satisfied of the obligation of the government

thJ'Z r ffP '^"'''' ^^'. 'S«"*' ^°'«"«' Hawkins, to be instructed by
the Secretary of War to investigate and liquidate them. ^

« J/I f?r ^ P'''*f ^- ""u^ if o'nplete report of said agent. Congress appropri-
t^lXT «f ^'ghty-five thousand dollars in part payment of the claims
which the Secretary of War directed to be paid"^ prorlta to the cTaimaSs:
.tr.nl ffu^'^^f tf'''"S died, his successor, in accordance with in-
3S / IWK ^^'. ^^' ^T'"*"'"*' ^«™Pleted the investigation and liqui-
jktjon of all the claims, and paid the eighty-five thousand dollars acco^rd-

whnlplt.^"^/ 'fT* ''f • ^^^ ^S"''* '^^'^'^ *^^* ^^^^ ««» fell short of the
whole amount of the claims as ascertained and liquidated, $110 417 90

Aside irom their manifest justice and equity, additional obligatiof upon
follfSgtcTs : ^'^ '" ''"™' without further delay, are^found inT

1. Contrary to the clear and definite understanding with the friendly In-
dians, about eight millions of acres of their territofy, besdes what was
taken from he hostile Indians, was wrested from them by the treaTy of Fort
Jackson, without any compensation whatever. ^

2. In the treaty with the Creeks of January, 1821, the United States
required them to agree to pay two hundred an.l fifty thousand dollars out of
the consideration a lowed them for the lands thereby ceded, on account of
the claims of the citizens of Georgia for depredations and injuries commi?-
t^.uVK ^J-^'^ ^r' *" '^' «*^t «f 1S02 regulating trade TdTnterZrs;

which was unsatisfactory to the majority of the tribe. Serious dfecuhS
ensued ; Mcintosh was killed, and loss a/d injury sustained by £ s followers
The United States was compelled to abrogate the treaty, and in considera-
tion of the losses sustained by the Mcintosh party in consequSice of th rir
having been instrumental in making it, the United^States agreed to pay the
sum of one hundred thousand dollars. ^ ^^

The government haying acknowledged the obligation to pay those who
thus suffered, and having compelled tTie Creeks to make good all the de-

" [82]

?^m iiXTj'oEl""?";!!'''', ''>' ""^ "" *l'"« f"'"''' ">"e would

PHILIP H. RAIFORD,
Washington City, June 15, 1852.^" ^' '^''^^"" ^^ ^'''^ ^"*''"*-

^ r

42d Congress, )
3d Session. ]

SENATE.

Mis, Doc.
No. 17.

L E T T E R

FROM THE

ACTING SECRETARY OF THE INTERIOR,

TIIAXSMITTING

Copy of a communication from the Commissioner of Indian Affairs, rela-
tive to a survey of the line dividing the Creek ceded lands from the Creek
reservation^ and recommending legislation to autliorize negotiations with
the Creek Indians for the cession of a portion of their reservation occu-
pied by friendly Indians,

Decembeij 18, 1872.— Ordered to be printed, to acconij)any bill S. 1274.

Department of the Interior,

Washington, D. C, December 17, 1872.

Sir: I have the honor to transmit herewith a copy of a conimunica-
tion, dated the 7th instant, from the Commissioner of Indian Affairs,
inviting the attention of this Department to a recent survey of the
line dividing the Creek ceded lands, Upon which the Sac and Fox and
the Seminole Indians have reservations, from the Creek reservation, as
provided for by the eighth article of the treaty with the Creeks of 14th
June, 1866, (Stats., vol. 14, p. 785.)

An examination of the field-notes and plats of said survey, which
has been approved, discloses the fact that the line above referred to
divides the reservations of theSeminoles and the Sacs and Foxes, leav-
ing extensive improvements east of said line, and, consequently, within
the Creek country.

In view of the facts stated, it is recommended that legislation be had
authorizing negotiations with the Creek Indians for the purchase of that
portion of the reservations of the Seminoles and Sacs and Foxes
thrown, by the survey, into the Creek reserve.

I have tlierefore prepared, and herewith transmit, a draught of an act
to authorize the Secretary of the Interior to negotiate with the Creek
Indians for the cession of a portion of their reservation occupied by
friendly Indians, and respectfully commend it to the favorable consid-
eration of Congress, to the end that the Government may be enabled
to execute the existing treaty stipulations with the Indians interested.

I have the honor to be, very respectfully, your obedient servant,

B. R. COWEN,
Acting Secretary.

The Chairman

Committee on Indian Affairs, United States Senate.

CESSION OF INDIAN RESERVATION.

Department of the Interior,

Office of Indian Affairs,
Washington^ D. C, December 7, 1872.

Sir : I have the honor to invite the attention of the Department to
the following, viz :

By the third article of the treaty conclnded with the Creek Indians
June 14, 18GG, (U. S. Stats, at Large, vol. 14, p. 785,) said Indians cede
to the United States for the settlement of friendly Indians and freed-
men the west half of their entire doinaki, to be divided by a line run-
ning north and south.

In consideration of the cession made by the third article of the treaty
concluded with the Seminole Indians March 21, 1866, (U. S. Stats, at
Large, vol. 14, p. 755,) the United States, hy said article, granted to
said Indians, out of the Creek ceded Uinds, a reservation containing
200,000 acres.

In consideration of the improvements upon the reservation of the
Sacs and Foxes of the Mississippi tribe of Indians, ceded by the first arti-
cle of the treaty concluded Avith said Indians February 18, 1867, (U. S.
Stats, at Large, vol. 15, p. 495,) the United States, by the sixth article
of said treaty, granted to these Indians a reservation out of the Creek
ceded lands, containing about 750 square miles.

The Seminoles and the Sacs and Foxes have settled upon their respect-
ive reservations and have made improvement thereoU, not expecting to
be disturbed by the survey of the line dividing the Creek ceded lands from
the Creek reservation, as provided for by the eighth article of the Creek
treaty of 1866, hereinbefore referred to. However, the survey has sub-
sequently been completed, and approved by the honorable Secretary of
the Interior, under date of the 5th of February last. Upon an examin-
ation of the plats and field-notes of said survey, it is found that the
dividing line cuts through a portion of the reservations above referred
to for the use of the Seminole and Sac and Fox Indians, leaving exten-
sive improvements east of said line, and consequently within the Creek
country.

In view of the foregoing I respectfully recommend that the matter be
laid before Congress, with the request for legislation authorizing the
Department to negotiate with the Creek Indians for the purchase of the
lands thus thrown into the Creek reserve, to the end that the tribes
who have settled down in good faith, and entered into agricultural pur-
suits, may not be deprived of the fruits of their industry through no
fault of theirs, and, further, that the Government may be enabled there-
by to carry out existing treaty-stii)ulations with the Indians interested.
Very respectfully,. your obedient servant,

F. A. WALKEE,

Commissioner.
The Hon. Secretary op the Interior.

7)-- ^r

SCIENCE— SUPPLEMENT

SCIENCE NEWS

Science Service

The boiling-point of carbon is estimaya at about
8,700 degrees Fahrenheit in a recent *port to the
French^l^ademy of Sciences. This extreme temperature
is consideri^ly higher than figures hithei^accepted, and
is the resultSof determinations of the/^^por pressure of
carbon at varWis stages of white h

Nobody has e%er seen liquid esLTjfoid. When the sub-
stance is heated Intensely, it sublh/es out in the form
of soot long bef ori it could m^y If it were humanly
possible to imprisonV mass ofokrhon in a closed space
at ultra-white heat, A doubt/^fluid state would result.
However, if the recent\stinfe((e is correct, there is little
chance of melting carboitfj^a^ur powerful tool the direct-
current electric arc itseli^l^oes not exceed 6,500 degrees
Fahrenheit even at the
Some scientists ha
vaporize at all. In
glass of an old ca

r of the positive carbon.

ed that carbon does not

s, the black smut on the

incaiVl^cent lamp was supposed

her

out

the white hot filament.

to be merely dustJWown
The new. experimCnts now sho\v^ fbat this smut is finely
crystalline, a;iy resembles the filament no more than
snow resemble/the ocean, its original source. Thus the
carbon mustJnave evaporated and beeW redeposited.

There msifhe a planet somewhere in tfte universe where
water haythe same aversion to the liqiHd state which
carbon has on earth. In a world whose ^osphere is
rare enough to exert a pressure of only oneV^unce per
square/inch instead of fifteen pounds, liquid water is out
of the question. There might be snow^ hail, ice,Yr even
"ihg^'M the wealher-^burriever a liqu^

THE BOUNDARY LINES OF THE CREEK

CONFEDERATION

Science Service

The Bureau of American Ethnology has set for itself
the task of digging up the far flung boundaries of a
vanished nation— one of the most mysterious in history.
This is the Creek Confederation which, in the opinion of
Dr. J. Walter Fewkes, director, once embraced the terri-
tory of Florida, Georgia, Mississippi, Alabama, Arkansas,
Louisiana, and possibly East Texas.

Dr. Fewkes plans to follow the trail of the ill-fated
Spanish explorer, De Soto, discoverer of the Mississippi.
Records left by followers of De Soto who finally escaped
from the deadly tangles of the southern swamps tell of
a large number of palisaded towns inhabited by a tribe
with a high degree of culture. There is a possibility.
Dr. Fewkes believes, that most of the trail led through
the territory of the confederation.

They were mound builders and sun worshippers. Some
of their pottery which has been taken from the mounds
indicates an artistic and cultural development higher
than any other in North America previous to the coming
of the white men. Little is known of the political system

which bound the great confederation of allied tribes.
Equally mysterious is their origin and their final fate.
There is every indication that the confederation was in
its last stages when it came under the observation of De
Soto and his men.

The carvings left by the various tribes indicate a pos-
sible relationship with the Aztecs and some scholars of
pre-Columbian history have jumped to the conclusion
that they were a closely related people. Dr. Fewkes
states that this is questionable. Even should it prove
to be the case, it is doubtful whether they had attained
the same degree of culture as their Mexican brethren
who had the advantage of contact with the Mayas.
There is evidence, however, that they were a superior
people to the Six Nations. They were aggressive and
warlike, as De Soto found to his sorrow.

Discoveries nearly every year indicate that the terri-
tory of the confederation was very extensive. Recent
excavations in central Tennessee have brought to light
the palisaded towns and sun palaces of either the same
or a very similar people, constructed with a remarkable
degree of engineering accuracy.

Dr. Fewkes plans to organize expeditions to dig at
selected points along the supposed boundaries of the
state in an effort to bear out his theory. He himself
intends to return soon to the western coast of Florida
where he will conduct further excavations. Gerard
Fowkes, a special collaborator of the bureau, is now
excavating near the site of Wilson Dam in northern
Alabama. Other workers will be given directions in the
near future. There is thus a possibility of unraveling
one of the most mysterious chapters in American history.

ZERO ^ZT'"''*''^^

^jVeriiV'Servide ' ""/

Is 419 degrees below zero Fahrenheit the V6ttom of
the thennometer scale? This question lias l^een raised
by recenkcalculations of Drs. Benne/^it^ and Simon,
physicists Itt the University of BeBlin.^ The peculiar
habits of hydrogen atWery low tem/era^ures lead to the
belief here thW the substance ma/j/ve a little energy
left even whenfteduced ^o the so^ajfed ''absolute zero,''
which is 459 deSrees below z^o/Fahrenheit. The re-
markably low meMng-pointM hydrogen, 434 degrees
below zero Fahrenh^ poilit/^ this conclusion. If such

energy exists, there ^ay ^ heat, and so the logical
possibility of a still loW? temperature.

Refractory gases like JldrOgen and helium contract on
cooling at a rate that iM^ Wke them reach a volume
of zero at 459 degr^ bel\^ Wo Fahrenheit, provided
they did not liquef W6n the wVijown. Thus the absolute
zero has been tlj^ght by 80iA\to be the point where
all heat energy^^nd motion diiiftpear. This view re-
ceives some support in the remark^e experiments of the
noted low-^^perature investigator^amarlingh Onnes,
of Leydeil^f Holland. After prolonge^^fforts, Onnes has
come Tjithin about one degree of thell^bsolute zero, but
seemy^^to be close to a positive limif^ However, no

Cmc

/f/^'ii

C. Hart Merriam

Papers

BANC MSS

80/18 c

A Crow Victory.

There has recently come into our hands a

The Sioux ran, and at dark the trail was lost,
and about three-quarters of the Crows — 300 in

number — returned to camp. The other one hun-

letter which possesses so much interest as a tired camped on a mountain side and sent out

reminder of old times in the West, that it seems
worth reprinting for present day readers, less
perhaps for those resident in the East, than for
those who live in the prosperous and growing
State of Montana.

The letter was written by a young man, who
was accompanying an exploring expedition as
naturalist, to his younger brothers just out of
college back in the East. While lacking in de-
tail, it yet paints a picture of incidents that in
those days happened in the West not very un-
commonly. The Charley Reynolds spoken of in
the letter is that celebrated scout and gentleman
— sometimes known as Lonesome Charley — who
for some years was chief of scouts at Ft. Lin-
coln, Neb., and who less than a year after the
date of this letter was killed by the Sioux and
Cheyennes on the banks of the Little Big Horn
River, when Custer's command was wiped out
of existence, and Reno's suffered so severely.
At the time this letter was written Camp
Baker and Fort Lewis were military posts, each
garrisoned by a single company of soldiers.
They are now, the one a flourishing town on
Big Trout Creek, a fork of the Judith River;
and the other a military reservation about forty
miles east of Helena, Montana.

The letter, dated at Camp Baker, Aug. i,
1875, reads as follows:

"While you have been slaying the woodcock
right and left, and now while you are loading
cartridges for the rail, I have not been idle. I
have had my first regular grouse shooting. The
young sharp-tailed grouse are about as large as
banties, the young sage grouse as large as com-
mon hens and the young blue or dusky grouse
about the size of partridges. All of them are
delicious eating, and I have done what I could
to keep the camp supplied with them. I sup-
pose that in all I have killed between 75 and
100 of them, and of these not six have been shot
on the ground. Of course I have missed a great
deal, but on the whole, with a properly loaded
gun, I think I can stop them three times out
of five. I have not taken many birds as yet,
owing to lack of time. I have, however, man-
aged to take two specimens of the rare Neocorys
spragueii and two or three of JEgialitis asiaticus
var. mpnianus, Coues. Almost all my grouse
have been killed with cartridges loaded for small
birds, and I can assure you it seems somewhat
absurd to see a full grown sage grouse at
twenty-five yards fall to a half ounce of dust.
I killed my first dusky a week or so ago. Have
only got three or four skins.

'The day before we got to Camp Lewis a
small party of Sioux came to that post in the
evening before sunset and tried to run off the
herd. Now, it so happened that there were
camped near Lewis about 250 lodges of the
Mountain Crows, a tribe friendly to the whites
and bitterly hostile to the Sioux. As soon as
they saw the hostiles they started after them.

scouts on the highest hills to watch for the
enemy. Next morning the scouts reported that
the Sioux, thinking all the Crows had gone back,
were returning to make another attempt on the
post, and before long the main body of the
Crows could see the enemy coming directly to-
ward them. The unlucky Sioux came right up
to where the Crows were ambushed and the
latter fired and killed five, and then charging,
killed two more before they could get into the
timber. The Crows lost one man, but he was
a great chief; in fact, one of their principal war
chiefs. He was named Long Horse. A Sioux
shot him in the side just below the ribs, the
ball passing just in front of the spine and com-
ing out at the other side. Long Horse fell, but
managed to raise up again' and to shoot dead
the Indian that had wounded him; then he died.
"We had been about an hour in camp and
Charley Reynolds and I were taking a bath in
Trout Creek near the post, when we heard sev-
eral shots and whoops, and as three men had
been killed a few days before within a quarter
of a mile where we were swimming, we crawled
up the bank and looked about. We saw four
Indians riding down the bluffs singing and yelp-
ing and occasionally firing a shot. Three of
them were nicely dressed and had war bonnets
trimmed with the tail feathers of the golden
eagle; the fourth was naked and carried in
one hand a pole, at the end of which dangled
a bunch of long black hair. We had heard about
the chase after the Sioux and saw that this must
be the Crow party returning. We hurried into
our clothes and soon saw the women and chil-
dren coming out to meet the party. Pretty
soon the procession came down the hill all
dressed out in the finest war costume. They
were all in black paint, and some of them had
splendid bonnets reaching from their head away
down to their horses' flanks. Some of them
had only shirts on and their naked legs looked
rather absurdly. Every now and then a warrior
would pass holding a scalp on a pole and around
him would be ten or a dozen others shouting
and singing and firing shots in the air. The
same demonstrations of triumph were indulged
in when one of the captured ponies was driven
by, or when one of the captured guns was held
up to view. One old fellow had saved the whole
head of his Sioux and had spread it out and
dried it so that it was as big as a dinner plate.
As he rode along he slowly twirled his pole so
that the long black waving hair and the bright
red fleshy side alternately appeared and disap-
peared.

"After all the warriors had passed and quiet
had settled down on the camp, we heard from
up the valley sounds of mourning, and soon
saw a boy about fifteen years old leading a mule
on which was the body of Long Horse wrapped
in a green blanket. Behind him rode a squaw,
and behind her a buck, and they alternately sang

dirges as they moved slowly along. When they
reached the trading post both dismounted, and
walking up to a wagon standing near, each laid
one finger on the wheel, and drawing out their
butcher knives, chopped them off and then re-
mounting rode off. As they went off the squaw
gashed her head with her knife agam and again.
Later in the day another relative chopped off
two fingers at the trading post."

k'-^*^,.

Am^ AnthropologJat _ ^
Voh ab; fioT 1? March 1933

9.107

A CROW INDIAN MEDICINE

The Crow Indians constantly refer to a root, ise, used for incense and as a cure
for various ailments (see, e.g., R. H. Lowie, The Tobacco Society of the Crow
Indians, AMNH-AP 21: 141, 1920). Some interpreters refer to it as "bear-root."
Specimens of the root have been collected and deposited in the American Museum
of Natural History and the Museum of Anthropology of the University of Cali-
fornia, but did not prove sufficient for identification. Accordingly, I asked my in-
terpreter to collect complete specimens of the plant at the proper season. Through
the kindness of Dr. Frank Thone of Science Service, one of these was examined at
the National Herbarium in Washington, D.C. and identified as Leptotaenia multifida

Nutt., a member of the Carrot family.

Robert H. Lowie

DISCUSSION AND CORRESPONDENCE
Proverbial Expressions Among The Crow Indians

THE dearth, if not complete lack, of proverbs as a distinct literary category
among the American Indians has been repeatedly stressed. This, however,
does not imply a complete absence of proverbial sayings. As Professor Boas has
pointed out in his Primitive Art, such traditional phrasings are found on the North-
west coast, though their number and significance in aboriginal life do not remotely
approach those characteristic of, say, African Negroes.

Some fifteen years ago I recorded two comparable sayings among the Crow
Indians, which, however, I never published. During a visit in the summer of 1931
I corroborated the earlier information and secured some additional statements. It
seems to be not altogether unusual for a Crow to refer to some well-known tradi-
tional or mythological episode and to make a personal application. So far I have
been able to record four expressions of this type, all obviously conforming to the
same pattern. The first two are those recorded in identical form on an earlier field
trip.

(a)

a -c dut*u • 'rak' hira' k'ara'*k'uci • 'riky.

His scalp when they had taken then he ran, that he is like.

(Free translation: He is like the man who did not run away until after he had been

scalped.)

This is, of course, applied to any one who is belated in his undertakings. It is
said that the Crow once scalped an enemy and, on looking back after a while, saw
him scurrying off.

(b)
ak'birikyuxci' dahi'^kyuci'riky.
The helper poor he is like.

(He is like the poor helper.)

This is applied to one who proffers his assistance but turns out to be a bungler.
I could get no light on the origin of this saying.

Porcupine-taker he is like.

(He is like the one who wanted to catch the porcupine.)

This applies to persons who persist in a hopeless enterprise. The reference is to
an incident in the Old-Woman^s-Grandchild myth, one of the most popular of Crow
hero tales: a girl is lured up a tree in pursuit of a porcupine, whose master (the Sun)
causes the tree to grow miraculously until it reaches the sky.

739

-^>

740

AMERICAN ANTHROPOLOGIST

[n. s., 34, 1932

(d)
basa'^ddk hire • 'citu^k'uci'riky.

The turtle into the water thrown he is like

(He is like the turtle that was thrown into the water, i.e., while pretending to be

afraid of it.)

This is applied to a person feigning not to like what he really craves.

This suggests that the Crow may have some knowledge of the fairly wide-spread
story of Turtle's Warparty, though I never recorded it among them.

In this context may be quoted two phrases used in order to characterize an
impossibility:

(a)
isa-cpi'te tsi-'sua ha'tskitu-'r^k or kuruxa'ruorak.

Cottontails their tails when they are long or when they are dragged.
(When cottontails have long tails; or drag their tails on the ground.)

(b)
ba' • tsia a • 'p3 de • 'axd^k*.

Pine leaves when they are yellow.

(When pine needles tarn yellow.)

Robert H. Lowie

Note from New Guinea

Aliatoa, Wiwiak District, New Guinea.

April 21, 1932.
We are just completing a. culture of a mountain group here in the lower Torres
Chelles. They have no name ki^d we haven't decided what to call them yet. They
are a very revealing people in spbts, providing a final basic concept from which all
the mother's brothers' curses and father's sisters' curses, etc. derive, and having
articulate the attitude towards incest which Reo outlined as fundamental in his
Encyclopedia article. They have taken the therapeutic measures which we recom-
mended for Dobu and Manus— having a devil in addition to the neighbor sorcerer,
and having got their dead out of the^ village and localized. But in other ways they
are annoying: they have bits and^Bftatches of all the |ag tag and bob tail of magical
and ghostly belief from the Pa^c, they are somewhat like the Plains in their recep-
tivity to strange ideas. A picture of a local native reading .the Index to the Golden
Bough just to see if they h^ missed anything, would be apph)priate. They are very
difficult to work, living^ over the place with half a dozen garden houses, and never
staying put for a we^at a time. Of course this offered a new challenge in method
which was interesting. The difficulties incident upon being two days ovel^ impossible
mountains have been time consuming and we are going to do a coastal people next.

Sincerely yours,

Margaret Mead

and much ne
the Americ

''^"^^. 34. Wo.vf^ TDec l^'az.

BOOK REVIEWS 717

lew^jQifferial has been gathered, wmcJ^^Tappreciated by al^J^rf^s of

Old Man Coyote {Crow). Frank B. Linderman. (254 pp. New York: John Day Co.,
1931.)

The author^s American^ a biography of the Crow chief Plenty-coups, has been
reviewed in this journal (A.A., 34: 532, 1932). The present volume is a collection
of tales, by no means all of which centre about the titular hero; and like its pred-
ecessor it contains material of some utility to the ethnographer.

Under his first caption, "The Bird Country,'' Mr. Linderman offers two quite
distinct stories told by one of his informants. Cold-wind. The one explains how Old
Man Coyote made the body of the pin-tail grouse from the muscle of a bull, used
hairy caterpillars for its toes, the claw of a wolf for a nose, etc., and then ordered
the bird to dance in the spring-time (p. 21 f.). This has a closely similar counterpart
in a section of an unpublished creation myth which I secured from Yellow-brow in
1931. The other story (p. 22 ff.) is similar to one of my printed tales (Lowie, Myths
and Traditions of the Crow Indians^ A P A M N H, 25:t58 ff., 1918) : a young faster
declines blessings offered by the meadow-lark and other birds until the Seven Cranes
promise to take him to the bird country. A significant resemblance is the lifting of
the sky by means of a pipe.

The Dwarfs' Ward (Lowie, op. cit., 165, 169) appears in fundamentally similar
form (Linderman, 35 ff.). There is the loss of a child strapped to a travois; his adop-
tion by benevolent Dwarfs; the localization in Pryor Canyon; the boy's aiding the
eagle in his feud with the dragon that devours his young, the monster being killed
with hot rocks. The Dwarf's command that passers-by should pile up stones and
shoot arrows into the rock likewise recurs. On the other hand, the tale of the Two-
faced People (52 ff.) with their slave Magpie Feather who overcome and kill one
group of Indians after another in gambling until conquered by a boy hero aided
by Old-Man Coyote is new to me.

The Trickster tales are all true to type. As in previous Crow collections, Old-
Man-Coyote is sometimes coupled with a real coyote or kit-fox (called One-Man by
Mr. Linderman, Cirape by my informants) who often gets the better of him, —
stealing his roast ducks when he is caught by creaking trees (p. 81 ff.; cf. Lowie, 25),
or the meat of buffalo killed in a race down a cliff (p. 91 ff., cf. Lowie, 19). The epi-
sode of the hoodwinked birds is reported (p. 99; cf. Lowie, 33). A widespread motif
I cannot find in my own cycle is the duped Old Man Coyote's diving for his deceivers
reflection (p. 105). *'One-Man" also fools Old-Man-Coyote by making away with
one paunch after another when sent for water, on the plea that some being in the
water always snatches the vessel from him (p. 133). Old Man Coyote's marriage to
Whirlwind-woman and his escape with the aid of rodents is common to the two col-
lections (p. 197; Lowie, 32).

Two romantic stories (p. 139, p. 169) start with a haughty beauty who spurns
all lovers, being bent on marrying a particular man. These tales correspond to my

718

AMERICAN ANTHROPOLOGIST

[n. s., 34, 1932

Worms-in-his-face and Corn-Silk tales (Lowie, 119, 107). Mr. Linderman's version
of the former, like mine, introduces small animal helpers to aid the heroine, the
magic flight, escape to a bowlder, and ultimate destruction of the wicked husband
by a boy hero who keeps a mountain-lion and a bear for dogs. He and his seven
brothers adopt the girl as their sister; they are attacked by on ogre woman, but the
boy conquers her, and after a characteristic debate as to what they shall turn into
(Linderman, 165; Lowie, 126) the brothers ascend to form the Dipper. In the other
tale, the Buffalo-wife's rival is Elk-woman instead of Corn-woman (as in my ver-
sion), but the testing of the bufifalo-cow's husband, the race with her mother, and
the winning of all buffalo by the hero are common to both variants.

Mr. Linderman's equivalent of Lodge-boy and Thrown-away — his rendering
**Lodge-lining and Spring-boy** comes closer to the Crow names — is fairly orthodox
in form (p. 110 ff.; cf. Lowie, 74 ff.). The same applies to his version of the Old-
Woman's Grandson myth (p. 208; Lowie, 52-74), the most popular of Crow hero
stories. The porcupine decoy and the Sun's taboo against shooting at meadow-
larks and digging a many-stemmed big root parallel celestial episodes in my ver-
sions. The determination of the unseen child's sex by the old woman; the transfor-
mation of her red corn into black-birds, her clandestine feeding of a dragon husband,
are also significant resemblances. The boy's exploits include overcoming of a bear,
the pot-tilter, a sucking-monster, and the snakes. In the last-mentioned episode the
snakes begin the story-telling contest, — one of the two alternatives represented in
my six versions (three unprinted). Most interesting is the recording of the calf-
foetus incident, which obviously is a very distinctive Crow-Hidatsa feature, though
less elaborately found among the Arikara. Thereby hangs a rationalization which is
thus given by the informant Plain-feather:

Never does he [Morning-Star = Old Woman's Grandson] show himself during certain moons;
never until the Buffalo-calves are born on the plains does the Morning-star shine in the sky

(p. 254).

•

This is identical with the statement of one of my narrators (Lowie, 74).

Mr. Linderman's renderings are too free to assist in a study of style; but, as the
foregoing comments indicate, his variants give the general reader a conception of
Crow plots and help the specialist in ascertaining tribal norms and individual devia-
tions from it. -. TT T

Robert H. Lowie

Southern PaiutCy a Shoshonean Language. Texts of the Kaibab Paiutes and Uintah
Utes. Southern Paiute Dictionary. Kdward SAPiiit^(Proceedings of the American
Academy of Arts and Sciences, vol. 6^no>^2, and 3.) 730 pp. 1930-1931.

At last, after many years, we have SapffQ^hoshonean material at hand. It will
naturally enough supersede previous^-f^ers on'^Shoshonean linguistics. And when
we have more material as good iilDoth quality arti^quantity as we have in this
volume it will be possible to know exactly what the American stocks are. The only
adverse criticism I can make is one of form. Had there been more references by page

276 THE NATIVE

farewbli^ his tribe and leaped with his. lover.
The angry^^^c^er closed over the two.

The song comih«;morating the t^o determined
lovers, is the compo^U^ion of Thurlow Lieur-
ance, who has sp^nt^agi^t part of his life
with the varji&tls Indian tribfesv^ an effort to
preserye^^tneir legends and loreMp music. —
Getrffe^F5iThTrrTTH^h^»rawar-Aitre«^^

Chief Plenty Coos Gives Land to the

Government

For many years it has been the dream of
Plenty Coos, chief of the Crow Tribe and Rank-
ing Chief of all Chiefs of the Tribes of the
United States to present to the Government
and "All people, both red and white," a me-
morial to the Crow Nation, which would live
forever.

Thus, he conceived the plan of presenting
40 acres of land as the Nation's Park, to be
maintained by the proceeds from a 160-acre
tract of land which is the balance of the 200
acres which comprises his old home, "on which
the snow of many winters have fallen."

The ceremonial of giving was held Tuesday,
August 8, 1928, at his home near Pryor, Mon-
tana, with his sacred mountains making a
picturesque background, and the serenity and
peace of the great out of doors pervading
everything.

General Harbord received the gift in the
name of the Government of the United States.
At this time he was also adopted into the tribe,
the Crows using their ancient and impressive
ceremony of adoption. Chief Plenty Coos, be-
stowing upon him the name, "Da Askosh
Putsich," which translated means "War Eagle,"
thus designating the general as a great war-
rior. He also presented him with a war-bon-
net and an auto-graphic portrait of himself
in war costumes.

General Harbord's gift to the renowned chief
was a beautiful American flag, a blanket, an
autographed photograph of himself taken in
uniform.

With much solemnity the old chieftain made
his presentation speech which was interpreted
by the Rev. John Frost:

"Many snows have fallen marking the years
I have lived at peace with my white neighbors.

"No red man has ever been shown so many
honors as have I. My people — the Crow
Nation — have not always been treated fairly.

AMERICAN Phoenix, Arizona

They hold no hate. Today, I who have been
called Chief of Chiefs, among the red men
present to all the children of our Great White
Father, this land where the snows of many
winters have fallen on my tepee.

"This park is not to be a memorial to me,
but to the Crow Nation. It is given as a token
of my friendship for all the people, both red
and white.

"The Great Spirit is good to all people, but
it seems he loves his white children most. He
has never shown my people how to do many
wonderful things his white children are doing.
He did give us patience and love of home and
children.

"Our old men have long pondered this matter
in their councils and we have now come to be-
lieve it is because we are late in finding the
true God.

"Today, one of our noblest red men, has been
chosen to represent this nation as subchief of
our Great White Father. We are proud of him.

"As the snows and moons of the coming ages
pass you will hear of many others of my race
holding places of high honor and trust.

"My people have ever been fighting men and
I believe the warriors rank highest among all
the professions. He fights for his women, his
children, and his home. Therefore, Chief War
Eagle, my heart goes out to you because you,
too, are a great warrior, who has done great
service for our country.

"On behalf of my people, I invite you into
the Crow Tribe — the highest honor within my
power.

"As as the snows of coming winters go by,
I hope you will keep in mind the needs of my
people in their struggle to be better Ameri-
cans.

"May the Great Spirit permit your moccasins
to make tracks in many snows is my prayer.
I have spoken."

Following this was General Harbord's speech

interpreted in the Crow language by the Rev.

John Frost, in which he touched upon many

things, foremost being the gift of the Great
Chief, the friendliness which has always ex-
isted between the Crow Nation and the white
people, and the changes which have taken place
within the last fifty years.

In conclusion, he added that the new gravel
highway extending from Billings to the Mon-
tana-Wyoming State line, a distance of 110
miles, was to be named "The Plenty Coos
Trail." — American Indian Journal, Billings,
Montana.

Crow Indians Prove Worth as

Stock Raisers:

ATO SELLS, Commissioner of Indian Affairs, has recent-
ly returned from Chicago, where he supervised the
sale of thirty-four carloads out of a shipment of fifty-
one cars of Indian cattle from the Crow Reservation,
Montana, seventeen carloads having been sold at Oma-
ha the day before. The Commissioner spent most of
a day on horseback riding among the cattle in the pens
of the stock yards discussing the cattle and prices with his commission man

and the buyers.

Commissioner Sells is not only a lawyer and banker, but is also a
real- thing farmer and stockman. He knows the business from every angle.
In a conversation today with the newspaper men Commissioner Sells

said :

'Two years ago last June, with funds derived from the sale of part
of their lands, we purchased for the Crow Indians seven thousand two-
year old heifers, two thousand yearling steers and three hundred and
and fifty bulls. Since then these cattle have been handled under my
direction and the immediate supervision of Reservation Superintendent
Estep and Superintendent of Livestock Willcutt, assisted by Indian stock-
men and lineriders.

Two hundred and fifty-six head have heretofore been sold, but this
sale was the first big shipment, when fifty-one carloads of Crow In-
dian cattle reached Omaha and Chicago stockyards and sold for
$97,993.42. All of these steers were range-raised and grass-fed ; not a pound
of corn or feed other than grass and hay ever having been fed to any of
them. Including the increase of the herd, the profit of the Crow Indians
on the original purchase in twenty-seven months, after paying all
expenses, had been three hundred and fifty thousand dollars. The first
year after the purchase of these cattle, the Indians cut and stacked five
thousand tons of hay to winter their herd, and last winter cut and
stacked nearly seven thousand tons. The winter loss during each of
these two years has been about two per cent, which is considerably less
than the loss usually sustained by white cattlemen during the winters of
the Northwest.

Heretofore, our conduct of the stock business among the Indians has
consisted largely of upbreeding and the development of herds. Every-
where the Indians have taken great interest in their stock, both as to
tribal herds and those individually owned, and the increase in number
and value has been such as to insure a business man's profit. We have
sold wool and mutton and some horses, but we are only now commence-
ing to widely and substantially realize on their cattle.

These sales from the Crow Reservation are the beginning of large

IN— • jimmiir i^-WNW. 1||MI

68 'I

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, THEiKEDMAN^,

iJL ..ldilb„.i!llll.alliillu.rlil)l.atfllll..4ll)lL.iriillJ..^l!llb....li)hl.^i)li,..iltilli.

H October 41

:iii..'«ai;.''in''.tiCMirdii:;i

sales from this and other reservations. It is the demonstration of the
wisdom of the policy of utilizing the grazing lands of the reservations
for the benefit of the Indians and positive indication of the responsive
disposition of the Indians when given opportunity with sympathetic
encouragement to do things for themselves.

About three and a half years ago I inaugurated, and have since
aggressively pursued, a policy of farm and stock raising betterment
among the Indians, the immediate purpose being to make them pro-
ducers rather than altogether consumers. Shortly after becoming Com-
missioner of Indian Affairs I discovered that the agricultural and graz-
ing lands on Indian reservations were not being utilized as they should
have been ; that the large part of their grazing lands were leased to white
men for a minimum rental, and likewise much of the agricultural
land; that the Indians were not making proper industrial progress and
that their income from leased lands was much less than should have
been derived either when rented or cultivated by themselves; all of
which meant lack of progress and large appropriations by Congress,
neither of which were in any sense satisfactory, and all demanding radi-
cal change. To remedy this condition, the Indian Office has made a
vigorous and unceasing campaign with gratifying results. For example,
three years ago one reservation in the Northwest had twenty-one hun-
dred acres under plow; last year there was in cultivation by Indians
on this reservation fifteen thousand acres. The advancement is not
so great everywhere as there, but it is exemplary of the progress being
made by the Indians as farmers on practically all of the reservations.

It cannot be expected that all Indians shall advance from plainsmen
to intensive farmers in one generation, but that they are now making
tremendous progress is apparent throughout the entire country, many
of them being among the best and most prosperous farmers in the
vicinity of their residence, frequently comparing favorably with their
white neighbors. As stockmen they have been even more successful.
The Indian is a natural herdsman. He loves horses and readily adapts
himself to raising cattle and sheep. During the last three years the
Indian Bureau has purchased with funds of the Indians (not a dollar
of the amount invested being gratuity) more than two million dollars
worth of cattle, horses and sheep for tribal herds and individual Indians,
most of the purchases being for upbreeding stock and young stuff-
heifers for breeding purposes; at the same time an industrious effort
has been made to dispose of inferior male animals. Accompanying
these activities there has been a corresponding reduction in the leased
acreage. The carrying capacity for reservation pastures has been re-
estimated, rentals increased to a fair price and round-ups and counts

;i?r.i!Z3''Axrjiji!;"

October

III. i<

IhiIIIi. 'I|..,...iii.iP' .|iiuiiuH<'.lill|i

^THEiEEDMAN;

\^ 69 4

carefully made to determine where lessees failed to pay for full number
of stock grazed under their permits. For example, on the San Carlos
Reservation in Arizona, charges to grazing permittees were advanced so
that the Indians on this reservation now receive twenty-five thousand
dollars annually more than at any time theretofore, and on this
same reservation cattlemen have been required to pay thirty-four
thousand dollars excess grazing fees. The new leases cover the count
upon which this excess payment was made. Long-time sheep leases
on a reservation in the Northwest which recently expired have been
made to new lessees on a competitive basis for thirty-six thousand
dollars annually, which previously paid sixteen thousand dollars; all
of which charges and collections are entirely reasonable and fair ''as
between man and man" and should be equally just as between white
men and Indians. While the protection of our wards is a first consider-
ation, we have not been unmindful of the interests of the stockmen in
matters of fencing, water supply, and leases sufficiently long to realize
on their improvements and investment.

The result is that on several of the big Indian reservations there is
now for the first time an income sufficient to relieve the Government
of every dollar of administrative expense.

Pony stallions are no longer used, and the horse stock is being so
rapidly improved that on many reservations the Indian-owned horses
are marketed for prices almost, if not quite, equal to those raised by
white ranchmen. The southwestern Indians, notably the Navajos of
New Mexico and Arizona, are among the best sheep raisers in the United
States. The Navajos own more than two million sheep and they are
now being upbred so rapidly that buyers are eager to purchase their
wool at the same price paid to white sheep men. Two years ago we pur-
chased, with reimbursable funds, a band of sheep for the Jicarilla Indians
and last year their net profit from wool alone was thirty-six hundred
dollars.

Last week Frank Reed, a Crow Indian, sold a range-raised and grass-
fed steer for ten and one-half dollars per hundred. This is said to be
the highest price ever paid for a grass-fed steer on the Chicago market.

These conditions and achievements now exist in varying degree on
all Indian reservations and among numerous individual Indians.

There is every probability that the Indian will soon become the
cattle king of America, a great factor in the world's wool market and
a large producer of horses.

If the Indians continue to progress as rapidly for the next ten years
as they have for the past three years, they will be practically self-sup-
porting, with corresponding reduction in appropriations."

^ HOW THE INDIANS

Probably the largest collection of elk
teeth in the world is in the possession of
John D. Losekamp of Billings, Montana.
This is no particular credit to Mr. Lose-
kamp from a sportsman's standpoint, as the
value placed upon such teeth has been the
have extracted the following from a letter
lately written us on the subject.

"Pew people know that an ordinary elk
tooth is worth from 40 to 50 cents for the
ivory alone, as the fineness of an elk tooth
is exceptionally remarkable. One of these
teeth will stand the most delicate cutting, to
a thinness of tissue paper and not break,
and at the same time polish to a fineness
which no other ivory in the world equals
possessing 62% phosphate of lime.

"My early idea was to purchase only in
large quantities. As soon as the Indians
(who in those days needed money) found out
that a trade with me could only be made by
selling an entire dress (dresses having from
300 to 600 teeth on each) I got them to
come to my way of trading, and in a short
while I got hold of many dresses. Many
amusing swaps were experienced, for an
Indian changes his mind while the money is
being counted. Many times I would have a
trusted employe go out and get the gold
(all Indians in those days being goldbugs)
which was placed in my one band, and when
price was agreed upon I would take the dress
in one hand and pass the money over with
the other, which clinched the trade. Then
the buck would stand by the trade, even if
the squaw wailed and kicked. Squaws at
all times were averse to selling their gar-
ments, beautifully ornamented as they often
were, to the paleface. After the trade, Mr.
Buck usually had to square himself with Mrs.
Injun by buying all kinds of trifles, includ-
ing blankets, etc., with the promise that as
soon as the spirits would permit him he
would trade for and get her another dress.
And, sure enough, in a few days you would
see Mrs. Squaw with even a better dress,
which she would with glee show me. It was
'^hen that Mr. Buck would bemoan the great
cost the "swap" with me had cost him, as
he had to give some half-dozen cayuses, with
other trinkets, to get the new elk tooth dress.
"And thus the swapping continued until

PRIZED ELK TEETH. r«V*\\01, XoH^ZoB
] cause of thousands of magnificent bull elk
losing their lives.

But the manner in which Mr. Losekamp

I obtained these teeth and an account of his

' trafficking with the Indians to secure them

may be interesting to our readers, so jwe

these elk tooth dresses dwindled down to
less than fifty which the Crow tribe had sev-
eral years ago. Since that time the teeth
have been taken off by ones and twos, so
that to-day many Indians come to me and
buy teeth, to put with bone teeth (which
many are making) and putting the two to-
gether. The innocent tourist takes his choice
and pays his money. As often as not a bone
tooth is selected for the real stuff.

"As early as 1885 dozens of dresses were
bought from the Indians by English and
French cattlemen who then lived in these
regions, and who would annually on their
visits home take with them these dresses
filled with teeth.

"The largest dress which I purchased
contained 1280 teeth, and was owned by the
wife of "Plenty Cones" (lots of scalps), chief
of the Crow tribe. For years my eye had
rested on this valuable dress (which had
fully 1000 large, fine, bull teeth). One day
a trade was suggested by Mr. Plenty Cones,
who became enamored of a beaver coat
which I had for my personal use. He started
the preliminaries of the trade by sitting
in the back part of my store for hours each
day, smoking pipes and cigarettes. After
five days we agreed upon terms, which were
that I should give him the coat and ?60 for
the dress. With my former experiences at
trading in mind, I got the money ready and
paid the $60, taking the dress away into hid-
ing, as the squaw was *red-eyed* about it.
For two days she moped around, walling,
to the disgust of Mr. Plenty Cones, who was
obliged to mortgage all his outfit and buy
for her silk dresses, blankets, silk bandan-
nas, beads, paints and everything her crav-
ings asked for. He also promised her equally
as good a dress — which she got in a short
while, and which she delights to show me
from year to year for the past twenty years
(and which is not for sale) — since which
time poor Plenty Cones has been 'broke'
— and ever thus the ways of Mr. Injun."

Da kc Tc

Cy^

/•?J/~36

C. Hart Meniam

Papers

BANCMSS

80/18 c

570 AMERICAN ANTHROPOLOGIST \n,S.,28, 1926
SOME CJOaiDGONIC IDEAS OF THE DAKOTA

It appears that the Dakota conception of the
earth and the known and unknoim regions about
it was somewhat as follows: The known and visible
world lay all about us in every direction in
four quarter 8, to the norths the east» the south,
and the west*

In the region of the north, very far away,
lay the country of the Buffalo* It was believed
that there the buffalo were a nation, just as
there were nations of human beings here in this
region of the unknown world* It was believed
that many of the buffalo nation migrated south-
ward in winter time from that faraway unknown
region of the North, across this immediate known
region of human nations, toward the equally re-
mote and mysterious region at the South, and that
in summer time they returned thence again to their
own homeland in the North*

It was believed that the far-away unknown
region of the South was the dwelling place of

light* It was said that there lay a great

(

i»

)

570 cent, \1

circular area, red in color. This area was call-
ed the Red Circle. It was said that from the
Red Circle light streamed toward the North in
a yellow hand which was called the Yellow Road,
Crossing the Yellow Road at right angles from
the region of the East to the region of the
dVest there lay extended a great mystic or sym-
bolic serpent marked with bands of black and
yellow. This was called the Black and Yellow
Road.

At the ttitimate region of the West was the
dwelling of the mysterious Thunderers. This
was argued from the meteorological fact that
the storms and electrical disturbances unifoim-

ly sweep across the earth from east to west
in the country known to the Dakota*

At the ultimate region of the East was the
realm of Evil Powers. Somewhere in the eastern
region, surrounded by ocean, was an island*
On this island there dwelt, hesided other fods,
the four gods of horses, one white, one "black,
one yellow, and one red#

Thus the four quarters were the dwelling

570 cont. i.)

places of different mysterious powers or
gods. That is why offerings of smoke were
made toward the four quarters. It was in

recognition of these several mysterious powers,

and in propitiation of them.

■i':

/ >■■--

>f ""

DISCUSSION AND CORRESPONDENCE

571

I! n

A certain man who had dreamed of the Red Circle always wore a
small red circle or hoop attached to his belt as an emblem of his
mystic dream. In his dream he had a vision of a mystic buffalo from
the mysterious Buffalo Land of the North headed southward,
traveling on the Yellow Road toward the Red Circle, the area of

light.

Mystic dreams or visions were a common source of origin of

personal names. Thus, the man who had had this vision of the buffalo
gave to the infant son of his sister the name Canhdeska-wanyag-mani
in allusion to the vision which he had. This compound is made up of
three words: canhdeska meaning hoop or circle (here alluding to the
Red Circle, the'area of light); wanyag, the act of seeing; and»wam,
the act of walking. The translation of the name might be "Seeing-
walking-toward-the-circle." Of course this combination of words has
no sense or meaning apart from a knowledge of the dream to which it
alludes, and of the popular beliefs and the psychologic setting of the
dream. Because of his dream, when he was called upon to give a name
to his infant nephew, he gave the name Canhdeska-wanyag-mani.
The man who dreamed of the buffalo thus believed himself to be
mystically affiliated with the buffalo, that he was in some mystic way,
himself a buffalo. For that reason he wore the emblem of the red
circle and other insignia pertaining to the buffalo. The emblem con-
sisted of a small wooden disk painted red. To this disk was attached a
down feather dyed red. Also attached all round the edge of the disk
were the burrs of wUd licorice {Glycyrrhiza lepidota). Wild licorice
burrs are emblematic of the buffalo because they are considered to be
an essential part of the buffalo world. They abounded in the grazing
grounds of the buffalo and consequently the curly hair on the forehead
of a buffalo was often matted with these burrs.

The significance of the parts of this emblematic object was this.
The small red disk signified the Red Circle, the area of light in the
region of the South, which was the destination of the mysterious
winter migration of the buffalo. The down feather dyed red signified
the shafts of light issuing from the Area of Light. The licorice burrs
signified the buffalo, which in some mysterious way was drawn on its
annual migration toward that mystic Red Circle.

. Because the licorice burrs were so connected with the buffalo they
were regarded with reverence by those who had been favored by
buffalo dreams or visions, and were never treated by them with in-
difference. When, in walking, a man who had had a buffalo vision

■» im

572

AMERICAN ANTHROPOLOGIST

[n. s., 28, 1926

found that licorice burrs had attached themselves to his clothing, he
did not carelessly throw them away, but treated them with respect,
saved them, and carefully put them away. Whenever he attended any
public social or official function, he took some of these burrs and
attached them in the hair over his forehead, thus attesting his mystic
connection with the genius of the Buffalo as manifested to him by the
dream which once had been granted to him.

Melvin R. Gilmore

Being an Account of An Hidatsa Shrine and the

Beliefs Respecting it

In December, 1908, there appeared in the Memoirs of the Ameri-
can Anthropological Association, Volume II, Pt. 4, an account of an
Hidatsa shrine which had been acquired by the Museum of the Ameri-
can Indian, Heye Foundation. At the time the account was published
I was unable to form a judgment concerning the statements made, for
at that time I had neither seen the shrine nor been in the country of
the Hidatsa tribe, which is North Dakota. But since that time I have
spent seven years in North Dakota and have become familiar with the
native flora of all that region. I have also had opportunity now to
examine the shrine since I have been on the staff of The Museum of
the American Indian for the past three years.

From these circumstances, I have had opportunity to discover
several errors in the published account, which ought to be corrected;
"better late than never.'' Certain plants pertaining to the shrine are
erroneously identified. It is obvious that if a plant is mentioned in
any ceremonial or other ethnological connection, the correct identifica-
tion should be made, otherwise serious misinterpretation will be made
of the aboriginal philosophic thought connected with the use.

On page 281 of this Memoir, near the bottom of the page, a plant
is mentioned by the popular name, "pennyroyal,'' and it is there said to
be an aquatic plant. The fact is that the plant, dried specimens of
which are found in the shrine, is not pennyroyal {Agastache an-
ethiodora (Nutt.) Britton); and neither Agastache nor Hedeoma is
an aquatic plant. The plant found in the shrine {Agastache anethio-
dora) has its habitat in damp, partly wooded ravines. Throughout
the paper, wherever the plant is mentioned by the common name,
"pennyroyal'', this correction should be made, or it should be read
with the understanding that it is really Agastache and not Hedeoma.
Such mention will be found near the top and also near the bottom of

>«

DISCUSSION AND CORRESPONDENCE

573

page 282, at the bottom of page 283, near the bottom of page 290,
near the top of page 293, near the top and near the middle of page
294, in paragraph 3 on page 296, in paragraph 4 on page 297, and in
paragraph 2 and paragraph 4 on page 299.

On page 284, paragraph 3, we read "Series 1 is a bag containing a
bearskin with a bunch of wild turnips." Now the article to which this
statement refers is a bunch of dried tipsin roots {Psoralea esculenta),
which is not a turnip, not even a member of the Crucifer Family, but
is a member of the Bean Family which has a food storage root that is
edible and palatable, and was indeed one of the most important of
of native prairie foods, often mentioned by the early Missouri River
travelers, and called pomme blanche or pomme de prairie by the French
voyageurs. This same article, tipsin, is again mentioned on page 301
in line 10 and miscalled "wild turnip." In both these citations "wild
turnip" should be cancelled and "tipsin" written in, with the identifi-
cation by the scientific name Psoralea esculenta.

On page 285 there is a description of the relic pipe of the shrine.
There it is stated that the pipe "is made from the central portion of a
hickory log." The fact is that no hickory trees grow in the Hidatsa
country nor within several hundred miles distance from it. The
wood of this pipe looks like ash, which is in fact the species of wood
always used for making pipestems by the Hidatsa and all other tribes
in that region.

On page 308, line 21, it is stated* "The man went outdoors and
pulled sage ....". The plant to which this statement refers is not
sage {Salvia sp.), nor any relation to it, but wild-sage, so called,
{Artemisia gnaphaloides) , which is a member of the Compositae, no
relation to Salvia. On page 309, line 15, the same plant is again men-
tioned by the misnomer "sage," again on page 316, line 4.

On page 314, line 11, a plant is mentioned as "black medicine."
The plant intended is the western red baneberry {Actaea arguta

Nutt).

A footnote on page 283 says "In one myth the wren appears as a
thunderbird." My own information is not that the wren is itself one of
The Thunderers, Thunderbirds, but that it is a servant or messenger
of The Thunderers. Melvin R. Gilmore

Ientral Algonqutan Dream Dance

Owinff to the recent tragic death of Mr. Alanson^inner I feel a
certain delicacy in answering his new strictures (American Anthro-

THS WnSMim HID THS BUC ZH VfSBMQft Of THB filKOli

Joar»lnufolk4iOr« XVni» Oot»«Boc« 257*266, 1905«

NATIVE

LIFE

Bulletin of The Society

Friends of Our Native

Wild Life

Published Bi-monthly by the Society

VOL^I ^U>vvX)0^^c.V^H.l)C)LVco\:QL NO. l

TABLE OF CONTENTS

History of the Society of Friends of Our Native Wild Life 2

A Native American Dinner .^ • • • ' ^

On Killing Animals (H. G. Wells) ......../. 4

Dangers Attending the Overthrow of the Balance of Nature

(Lankester) 4

V^ Brotection of Native Plants 5

•^>.Folklore Concerning Meadowlark (Melvin Randolph Gilmore) 6

Who Owns the Mountains (Van Dyke) 6

The Chickadee (Melvin Randolph Gilmore) 7

Immigration of Bird Species (Melyin Randolph Gilmore) 7

7 ^

HISTORY OF 1 HE SOCIETY OF FRIENDS
OF OUR NATIVE WILD LIFE : : :

A number of persons of Bismarck, North Dakota, together with Mr.
Vernon Bailey, of the United States Biological Survey, had been consider-
ing the project of an organization which should bring together those in-
terested in the things of the great outdoors, for exchange of ideas, and for
aggregation of strength towards the accomplishment of desired purposes.
So on the evening of November 24, 1919, the following seven persons met in
the office of the Oscar H. Will Seed Company and organized a society with
the purposes before mentioned. The original seven were George F. Will,
Russell Reid, Edwin Carlson, Hugo Carlson,* Lester Vetter, Cecil Burton,
and Melvin R. Gilmore.

Folklore Concerning the Meadowlark

The meadowlark is a great favorite with the people of the Dakota nation.
An old man of that nation was asked if his people ever used the meadow-
lark for food. He said they did not. When it was said that white nien
sometimes eat them, he said he knew that. Then, when asked why Dakotas
would not eat the meadowlark, he said, "We think too much of them. They
are our friends." They call the meadowlark ''the bird of promise," and "the
bird of many gifts,"' for they say it promises good things to its friends,
the Dakotas. They apply words of the Dakota language to the songs of
the bird. They say it calls to the people with promises and words of coun-
sel and advice on all manner of subjects, and with words of encourage-
ment and good cheer. One of the things which it used to sing out to the
people was "Koda, pte kizhozho," i. e., "Friends, I whistle for the buffalo,"
that is to say, it would whistle to call the buffalo in order that its friends,
the Dakotas, might supply their needs of meat and clothing.

The white people speak of the United States government as "Uncle Sam,"
but the people of the Dakota nation call the government "Tunkashila,"
which means "Grandfather." In the summer of 19^,'^^hile the United
States was at war with Germany, many of the Dakotas said they heard
"the bird of promise" singing "Tunkashila ohiyelo !" "Ohiyelo" means
"will be victorious" or "will have victory" ; so the meadowlark, "the bird
of promise," was singing to them "the United States will have the victory!"

—Melvin Randolph Gilmore, July 22, 1921.

Light. \if the sapphire skies, .
Peace of the siknt bills.

Shelter of the iis^-est, comfort of the grass,
Shadows of the clm^ds that swiftly pass,
Mtisic of the birds, rnlKmiir of little rills,

And after showers^

The, smell of flowers,
And of the good brown earth—
And best of all along the way, N

Friendship and mirth.

Henry Van Dyke.

—2—

THE CHICKADEE

The Chickadee is a very popular bird among all the Indian tribes where
it is known. They all have many stories and sayings about it. They say
of it, that, though small, it is a very wise bird. It is like the wise men,
the doctors and teachers among the people, who are learned in mysteries
and the wonderful things of nature, who keep a calendar of the cycle of
the days, months and seasons through the year by cutting marks upon a
piece of wood which they have prepared for that purpose.

This wise little bird is said also to keep account of the months. It is
said that ''in the beginning" the task of keeping account of the months was
assigned to the chickadee. But instead of making notches in a piece of wood
as the wise men do, this wise bird's method is to make notches in its tongue;
thus in September its tongue is single-pointed, in October it has two points,
m November three, and so on until in February it is said that its tongue
has six points. Then in March its tongue is again single-pointed and the
count is begun again. So, it is said, the chickadee has been keeping the
count of the months since the long ago, in the dim past, when the task
was assigned to it in the time of beginnings, in the time when the evil
powers and monsters struggled mightily to overcome the good, and to de-
stroy mankind by sending fierce storms and heavy snowfalls and shuddering
cold winds upon the face of the earth. It was thus the evil powers sought
to discourage and i6 overcome mankind.

And so it is said that at one time the evil powers supposed that by stress
of a long siege of cold and storms they had reduced mankind to famine.
At this time they chose to send the chickadee as a messenger to find out
the conditions and to bring back word to them.

Now when the chickadee came on his mission and appeared at the dwell-
ings of men he was invited to enter. He was courteously given a place by
the fireside to rest and warm himself. Then food was brought to him.
After he had eaten and refreshed himself he was anointed with fat, which
was a symbol of plenty; then he w^as painted with red paint, which was for
a symbol of the power and mystery of life. After these ceremonies and
marks of respect his hosts quietly composed themselves to give attention
to whatever their visitor should have to say as to the purpose of his visit.
When he had stated his mission his hosts held counsel and formulated a
reply for the messenger to take back to those who had sent him. He was
bidden to say to them that mankind was still living and hopeful, and they
ever would be; that they could not be daunted by discouragement, nor de-
feated by storms and stress, nor vanquished by hunger, nor overcome by
any hardships; and that there never would be a time when there should
not be men upon the earth. So this is the message which the chickadee
brought to the evil powers which had sought to overcome mankind.

— Melvin Randolph Gilmore.

-Fl

'-♦^ . :>/

extended in the prairie states since groves have been* planted in the country,
and parks and parkways in towns have been planted to trees.

In the spring of 1921 a pair of Scissor-tailed Fly-catchers nested at Lin-
coln, Nebraska. This bird, sometimes called 'Texan Bird-of-Paradise,"
ranges from southern Texas to southern Kansas, and has hitherto been
unknown farther north than that.

A very common bird of the valleys of the Ohio, Mississippi and lower
Missouri IS the Dickcissel, or Black-throated Bunting. It has not been
known m the valley of the Upper Missouri River as a regular resident,
ahhough common in the valley of the James River at least as far north
as the upper Pipestem and James Rivers. In the sum-mer of 1920 Mr. Roy
M. Langdon reported having seen one individual of this species in the
Missouri "bottom" south of Bismarck. Now, in the summer of 1921, the
Dickcissel has appeared in considerable numbers in the valley of Apple
Creek, east of Bismarck, and in the valley of Burnt Creek north of Bis-
marck. Hence it would seem that the Dickcissel is now extending his
range, moving in and settling in territory new to his species.

^Aki

nu)

i^s-f-^i

C. Hart Merriam

;'-J(i..,«*,. w . •i'> i:,. '.ii i

The MedicanSoaTonThe Yukon

A Modern ''Medicine Man'' Visits the Alaskan Natives

JOHN W. CHAPMAN

OF CHRIST CHURCH MISSION, ANVIK, ALASKA

Each month the World*s Work receives innumerable letters from readers in
distant parts of the world. One may be from a naval officer on the Yangtsze;^ an-
other may be from a consul in South America; a third from an American business
man in the Philippines^ etc. Unvariably these letters tell of the work of the world
in a spot remote from America. In that informal way we received this brief article
from a Protestant Episcopal clergyman in Alaska^ and we are glad to print it^
not only because it is readable but also because it tells what Uncle Sam does for
native populations under his control. Is this imperialism ?

SINCE OUR country became nursing-
father to Alaska, sixty-one years ago, the
Federal Government has been kind to the
foundling. The list of major benefits <:on-
f erred includes such items as the following:
By the establishment of executive and
judicial systems, protection has been as-
sured to life and to property.

By the Coast and Geodetic Survey,
navigation has been safeguarded.

By the Geological Survey, the interests
of prospectors have been served, as well
as those of all explorers and travelers.
Reconunendations have led to the intelli-
gent development of the mineral resources
of the country, and to the favorable loca-
tion of routes of travel and transportation.
A network of wireless, cable, and tele-
graph systems has been established.

The seal herd, which was in danger of
extinction, has
been protected
and converted
into a perma-
nent source of
revenue. The
unlimited kill-
ing of fur-bear-
ing animals has
been restricted
by game laws,
notwithstanding
the indecent
operations of I

indiscriminate killers and users of poi-
soned bait.

The persecuted salmon has found a
champion. The people of the interior re-
joice over the removal of the Yukon can-
neries, which were a menace to the liveli-
hoods of those dwelling inland along the
river. The annual export of canned salmon
is now valued at approximately $50,000,000.
The introduction of the domestic rein-
deer has passed the experimental stage,
and the export of reindeer meat is increas-
ing annually.

A railroad makes the interior of the ter-
ritory accessible at all seasons and facili-
tates the transportation of the mails. The
Road Commission has furnished us with
important highways and has staked out
trails in remote districts.
This list might be considerably ex-
tended by ref-
erence to the
work of the Bio-
logical Survey,
the Department
of Agriculture,
and other agen-
cies; but our im-
mediate concern
is with the med-
ical work that is
being done in
the interest of
the natives of

276

THE WORLD'S WORK

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.■^TK *»-:'S«<l«.

>%«»*«»'^

AN INDIAN MEDICINE MAN AND HIS ASSISTANTS

Before the arrival of Uncle Sam*s floaring clinic the native medicine men by their primitive methods

promoted rather than retarded the spread of disease.

the Yukon Valley by the United States
Bureau of Education, with the support of
the Governor of Alaska.

A glance at the map shows the extent
of the field covered by the work. The
Yukon is a mighty stream, navigable for
two thousand miles. The distance from
the Bering Sea to the Canadian border is
about twelve hundred miles. No Alaskan
town in the Yukon Valley proper has five
hundred inhabitants. Certainly not more
than four or five have as many as three
hundred. Fort Yukon, a thousand miles
from the sea, has a resident physician and
a well-equipped hospital, operating under
the auspices of the Protestant Episcopal
Church.

Tanana, more than two hundred miles
farther down the river, is on the site of an
abandoned military post. Fort Gibbon.
The barracks and other buildings have
been taken over by the Bureau of Educa-
tion, and one of these buildings has been
converted into a hospital, with a physician
in charge. This is a new enterprise; the
equipment is incomplete and the help in-

adequate to serve so favorable a location.
Tanana is situated at the junction of the
Yukon and its largest tributary ; and within
a radius of one hundred and fifty miles
there are probably a greater number of
people — especially natives — than in any
other section of Uie Yukon Valley proper,
with the possible exception of the Eskimos
of the Delta.

These two physicians, one at Fort Yukon
and one at Tanana, are the only resident
physicians on the banks of the stream
that bisects the entire territory of Alaska,
through which it winds for approximately
eleven hundred miles— --two hundred miles
more than from New York to Chicago.
From Tanana to the sea, approximately
eight hundred miles, there is no physician.
At Nulato, two hundred miles below
Tanana, the Bureau of Education has a
small hospital where good work has been
done in the past. A nurse is stationed there
and a physician will doubtless be sent
when arrangements can be made.

Here and there a trained nurse may be
found, either serving one of the half-dozen

1 1

r *fv •

THE MEDICAL BOAT ON THE YUKON

277

AN EXAMPLE OF UNCLE SAM S WORK IN ALASKA

Dr. Welch examines a native child, while a relative assists by turning himself into a chair for the physi-
cian. Along the Yukon and its tributaries are about 4,000 natives who have never had medical attention.

or more places where there are govern-
ment schools or church missions, or Uving
in a town as a permanent resident. A nurse
serves the Roman Catholic Mission at
Holy Cross, where there is an infirmary
that is a credit to the station. There is also
a nurse at Anvik.

All along the Yukon are scattered fishing
camps, wood choppers' camps, and small
communities. Some are close together;
others are a hundred miles or more apart.
In summer, the natives living on the
smaller tributaries come down to the
Yukon for the annual catch of salmon. It is
now evident, perhaps, why the Bureau
of Education, which has always taken a
Uvely interest in the welfare of the natives,
and to whom we owe the introduction of
the reindeer, should have conceived the
idea of operating a medical service boat.

There are very few of us who are able
to realize from personal observation and
experience the difference between the
opportunities for organized medical service
at the present time and those of the period
before the discovery of the Klondike. Not

long ago, during an epidemic of influenza
at Fort Yukon, a doctor and a nurse
dropped down out of the sky. They had
been summoned from a distant station by
wireless a few hours before.

Nearly twenty-five years ago, diph-
theria appeared in the Yukon Valley. In
those days there were no airplanes and
no means, such as now exist, for spreading
information and establishing a quarantine.
A woman suffering from a sore throat was
brought to Anvik in a small boat by her
husband. Within a few days deaths began.
Natives who had been exposed took the
infection to other villages. In all, there were
more than a score of deaths. Not one of
the patients saw a physician, either then
or during a great epidemic of influenza
that took place in 1900, or in a similar
epidemic that visited the lower Yukon
last year.

In the recent instance, the epidemic
came at the time when, owing to the spring
thaw and the breaking of the ice in the
rivers, the condition of the trails was such
that no communication between the re-

278

THE WORLD'S WORK

mote villages and the wireless stations was
possible. It was ended before the rivers
were open. There were nineteen deaths at
Anvik and ten in the neighboring Shageluk
region. The isolated communities on the
lower reaches of the Yukon and Kuskok-
wim rivers also suffered, to what extent no
one knew until the boats began to run.
At Anvik and Shageluk we might have had
help, had it not been for the break-down of
the motor-generator of an amateur radio
station, which had kept us in communica-
tion with the worid at large until within
about a month before the epidemic. We
were as effectually cut off as we had been
before men had begun to flv and to send
signals through the air.

Steam, gasoline, aeronautics, wireless
communication— what inspiration for new
enterprises there is, in the light of past
success! Many years ago, during the era
of steam, a boy was brought to us suffering
from a gun-shot wound. He had been hunt-
ing geese, and a charge of shot had passed
through the arm, just below the shoulder,
taking with it about an inch of bone. We
dressed the wound as well as we could, put
the ends of the bone together after we had
picked out the splinters, and sent him to
the military post at St. Michael, some five
hundred miles distant. Fortunately for
him, a steamboat came down the river
just as we had finished dressing the wound
and putting the arm in splints. He re-
covered the use of his arm and is still
hunting geese.

A few years later, the Bureau of Educa-
tion hospital was opened at Nulato, two
hundred miles up the Yukon from us.
How near it seemed; for meantime gasoline
had become king. We took several patients
there. One was a sawmill accident. His
arm was amputated and his Ufe was saved.
Another was a white man who had been
hunting with a companion and who had
received a wound similar to that of the
goose hunter, except that it was worse.
When we dispatched him in the launch, I
expected never again to see hun aUve, but
he also reached Nulato in time, and later
in the summer he was dismissed with a
fair prospect of having a useful arm.
These illustrations may help those who

have never attempted to visualize exist-
ence without a doctor to understand our
feelings when we heard tHat the Bureau
of Education was about to place a medical
boat upon the Yukon. We wondered what
it would be like. There were rumors of a
doctor and a nurse and a hospital ward,
with accommodations for several patients.
These, the sufferers who could not be
treated locally, were to be taken toTanana,
where the old barracks had been made
over into a hospital and where there was
to be an industrial school and a sanitarium
for the reception of tuberculous patients.
It was a rosy prospect, for the tuberculous
are always with us.

Finally, the Martha Angdine arrived.
The doctor was there, and two nurses in-
stead of one; but the boat was not so im-
pressive as we had expected that it would
be. It was well manned and well kept;
but the hospital ward was mostly filled
with the boat's stores, for lack of room to
dispose of them elsewhere. It was reassur-
ing to learn that all the developments
that we had hoped for were in contempla-
tion, and that efforts were being made to
obtain adequate appropriations. Mean-
time, the Martha Angeline must demon-
strate her usefuhiess and prepare the way
for a more imposing successor. This she
has nobly done during the first season—
1927 — although the program was cut short
by a tragic accident.

Dr. J. W. Houston, whose reputation
for successful hospital work at Juneau led
to his being detailed for this particular
work, had served upon the boat until he
fell overboard and was drowned. In less
than two months he had treated 1,400
patients and performed 155 surgical opera-
tions, mostly for the removal of adenoids
and infected tonsils. Seventy-four camps
and towns had been visited. The voyage
began at Nenana on the Tanana River,
included the lower reaches of the Tanana
and the Yukon from the town of Tanana
down to and including the Delta, and was
to have been extended, on the return from
the Delta, to cover the distance from Ta-
nana to the Canadian line. Several major
operations were awaiting the return of
the boat to Tanana. Up to the time of

THE MEDICAL BOAT ON THE YUKON

279

*^,» 4'

the accident, every sufferer along a thou-
sand miles of waterway had been afforded
the opportunity of being advised and
helped by a splendidly competent physi-
cian and surgeon, who was accompanied
by two qualified nurses.

If the question is asked whether the
natives, for whose benefit, primarily, this
enterprise has been undertaken, appreciate
the opportunity that it affords them, the
answer may be given unhesitatingly in the
affirmative. We shall probably never know
all their mental reactions, and it is certain
that the ideas in which their ancestors were
bred still influence them more than their
friends like to admit. But it is also certain
that these ideas have been greatly modified
during the last two or three decades.

Their traditional methods of treating
disease are known to us in part. In the
early days of my acquaintance with them,
I witnessed the treatment of a sick man,
probably in an advanced stage of tuber-
culosis. He was brought into the conmiimal
house and placed in the middle of the
floor. The room was a large one; the walls
and the rather lofty ceiling logs were
blackened with the soot of innumerable
fires. The, entire community was present;
the men lying upon the wide shelf of thick
planks that extended around the walls of
the room about three and a half feet above
the floor, or sitting upon it with their
knees drawn up to their chins under their
parkas; the women and children, dirty,
unkempt, huddled together on the floor
underneath this shelf. It was a strange
scene. There were no high Ughts except
those thrown by a pair of smoking oil
lamps upon the pallid features of the pa-
tient and the naked form of the medicine
man. This man, with his arms and his head
enveloped in a squirrel-skin parka, began
stamping around the room, keeping up a
strange, chattering cry and a continual
vibration of the parka.

I understood afterward that it was his
intention to catch the evil spirit that was
tormenting the man, get it into the parka,
and expel it from the room. Evidently he
did his best. As he went from place to place

he was encouraged by the cries of the
crowd. His own exertions increased. At one
time it appeared that he would be success-
ful. The excitement became intense. His
own contortions and muscular efforts were
extraordinary. I wondered at his endur-
ance. Finally he seemed to give up, with-
drew his head, reeking with perspiration,
from the parka, and said " Vivdn tUkmHtW
[No use!]''

However, the people were not satisfied,
and he was encouraged to undertake it
again. This time the result seemed to be
more in accordance with their wishes. The
spirit was caught; but just how it was dis-
posed of, I do not know. Neither do I now
remember how long the patient survived
the infernal din and the smoke and dust
that accompanied the performance. These
communal houses, or Kashimes, are breed-
ing places of consumption.

A generation has passed since this
"treatment" was undertaken. Meanwhile,
institutions have been greatly modified.
It may be that such rites are still secretly
practiced. The traditions in which one
grows up are hard to overcome. But one
thing is certain: breaches of the old dis-
cipline are more and more frequent and of
increasing significance.

Nothing is of greater importance in the
eyes of the native than a successful catch
of salmon. Formerly it would have been
impossible to have secured the transporta-
tion of a dead body across the river at the
beginning of the annual salmon run, for
fear of offending, or frightening, the fish.
This year it was done — notwithstanding an
ineffectual protest on the part of some of
the more conservative — in order to secure
decent burial with Christian rites. Advice
was given, but no kind of compulsion was
undertaken. It must have been gratifying
to those who took the risk, that two days
later began the greatest run of salmon
that has been known in recent years.

The minds of the present generation
are therefore prepared for different meth-
ods in medical practice; and happily the
results of the first trips of the medical
boat were such as to inspire confidence.

Ro^n^un and Canadian Silver Fox News

m» >— 1

Rupert's

Qua

The Vanishing

Traders at a Tea Party

Scenes and life at the ancient north-
ern stronghold of the H.B.C. are re-
called to Allison, as his ship bears him
once more towards the unexplored re-
gions of sub- Arctic Canada. Memories
of wolf dogs and months-old mail;
strange forest-hidden characters, and
unforgettable hours at trailside fires or
with the fur traders of the outposts:
trials of ice-ridden seas, and wintry
tempests on the land; redskin warriors
and history-book pioneers; all return
at his call to aid in the building of his
story.

Scene: The wardroom cf a Survey Ship
northward bound up the Labrador
coast for a season's charting of Hud-
son Bay waters.

Time: July the 1st, and evening;
blanketing fog and Arctic blasts be-
speak the approach to the ice fields.

Cast: Hydrographer Allison of the Sur-
. veying Fleet, as yarnster of the even-
ing, with his tale of the James Bay
frontier.
Other characters are the rest of the
Wardroom Mess.

THE PACKET! They're coming!"
The cry burst upon us with the
opening of the door, borne upon
the wings of a sudden inrush of frost-
laden air. It echoed about the little
office and penetrated beyond into the
trading store, where a clerk attending
to the wants of a brown-ski,nn©d
beardless buck and his shuffle-foot-
ed squaw, responded as to a clarion
call to arms. He dropped the bale of
goods, hurdled the counter, and joined
the eager exit from the place.

Down between the billowy, heaped-
up drifts that flanked the pathway
between the store and fur depot, we
hastened on the moccasin heels of him
who had so rudely heralded the joy-
ous event.

"There they are!" he triumphantly
cried. "The packet! Look!" and, draw-
ing me a few yards closer to the bank
of the frost-stilled river, he pointed
downstream and across the bay to the
tiny speck darkening the otherwise
unbroken expanse of the frozen, wind-
swept sea.

Such a tiny speck to cause such a
great commotion! Ay, but it was the
long yearned for spark that set into
flaming enthusiasm the banked-up
fires of emotion that had smoldered
throughout the long, weary winter
months.

Where I stood, adding my share of
pent-up feelings, was the first post
of the great company, historic Rupert's
House — pioneer fort of the "H.B.C."
Surrounding us were the great silent
woods, half-'buried in their mantle of
snow, with the low noonday sun look-
ing down upon the oft-repeated scene;
the newly-fallen snowflakes caught
and returned its feeble rays in a myriad
of tiny, sparkling flashes from house-
top and native tepee,. The spear-
pointed spruces twinkled like Christ-
mas trees.

"They'll be here by supper time,"
said Factor Alan Nicholson, decisive-
ly. At a more leisurely pace he had
followed us to the bank. "Come back
to the fire. The cold's too bitter to
stand out. Ye've waited these months
for the mail — you can wait a few hours
longer."

Evening came — following the long-
est afternoon of the year. "You'll ex-
cuse us, won't you? 'Til we've read our

A Tale From the

Robert

mail? This is our big day — the win-
ter's event. You see, we've waited
months — or is it years? — ^for the mail."

Waiting months for the mail packet!
That is the striking note at Rupert's
House, the two hundred and sixty
years' old trading post in the Frozen
North. Waiting, in common with its
companion posts about the shores of
James Bay — waiting, as is the Bay
itself, the country's vanishing last
frontier.

There are several ways of reaching
this old outpost of barter in Prince
Rupert's Land; in summer by canoe
and back-'breaking portages across the
height of land from the various "trans-
continental crossings," the "end of
steel," "the line," as railhead is vari-
ously called; by native coast boat,
small, cranky sailing barges built by
half-breed company carpenters at
Moose Factory — slow, ponderous craft
that wander from island to island and
up and down the east shore between
the trading posts, distributing the
year's allotment of trade goods and
supplies that have been landed by the
annual steamer at some central depot
farther north. In winter you must
go by dog team, down the Abittibi
from the "line", to Moose, and thence

Hudson Bay Company Post of Moose Factory

rv. Mikii

warn

« •

oTiTmi T?^*» xT^wc

od and Gun and Canadian Silver Fox News

« «

caught j-^lmost 200 salmon (198) be-
tween May 26 and Sept. fiist. Another
successftll rod, Mr. S. Overton's, took
90 salmoV between the 22nd of May
and July tlae 24th. Mainly in Fishceh's,
Crabbes ami North Branch Rivers. In
Harry's River, that noted stream, Mr.
E. F. ReinharKtook 18 salmon between
July 16th andN24th, several of which
weighed 25 pounds and over.

Your old fly bo^ will hold all the
needed ones, as the\^gula: flies, the
Black Dose and the Jook Scott and Sil-
ver Doctor, Dusty Mille\ etc., are of
course good heie, but the fhihermen ad-
vise the larger hooks early iW the sea-
son, from 4 up, and the smalleK. ones,
say 7 to tens, for the later low winters.
At some places you can buy flies ni^e
for that especial river.

There is but the one license in New-
foundland for all season, ten dollars
and fifty cents, and for the short sea-
son 1 to 4 days, two dollars a day. All
rivers are open to all men. I know that
for some favourite pools the salmon
fifihermen write down the pools on
slips and draw for them from a hat for
the next day's fishing, but that is only
for a few most used pools. In fact you
will often be the only rod in a log-
camp or tent set along some lonely
river, just you and the guide. They
are all great river men these, using
river boats that are counterparts of the
dories we Nova Scotia men use for
shore fishing. This trip can be do
for from five to ten to iiiteen jfine
last figure is fairly high) do^lfra per
day per man, depending hoji^ong you
keep guides and how oft^n you move.

There are no passp^fts required. On
the return trip tickets the regular war
tax is still charged, (about $1 to $3)
in fact the U.S. still does this.

Grey River, Newfoundland

I have not heard of a single case of
Vhay fever in Newfoundland. In fact
fHe printed matter tells you forcibly
thaS there is not any. Here you will be
amon^^a truly British people in the
oldest CKlony of our race. Scattered
over the v^st barrens and foreste
paits and aloHg the rivers and bay^/ffre
a scant quarteKjof a million,^-^ople,
forty thousand oiS^hich Uj^ i^ l^is-
toric old St. John's.^ii^u have any
desire to see the Li^raHijr shore a
regular steamer^o-^'^Cyle," le!h^^ here
(St. John'sL/ms year on June^^th
and forpi^ptly thereafter, always
far n^fui as Hopedale, but on two
trif^she will go right north to Nain —
Snd you can always coast about *-h3
island (Newfoundland) in the faithful
"Glencoe" and several others.

There is no change of coinage, ours
goes at par, as does English and the U.
S. You cannot get there too early to
cast a fly as the season opens January
15th and closes September 15th. And
your spoitsmanship will decide just

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exactly how ntany fish you take per
day and per Reason.

If yoU/<^amp use a sewn-in floor. I
use thp^'e thicknesses of curtains for
all Jfiew camping grounds. Copper
,;wrj^, with cheesecloth on it is grand
for the windows, and mosquito net
over all will keep out the flies. "Not de
ones dat bite wid de feet," as our
guides say. I have not yet conquered
the *'no-s ee-ums," or tiny semi-invis-
ible sandflies, met all over America. A
fire outside the door is good, dope is
good, lemon rubbed on is good. I hate
^he he^dnets, I have used them on N.
rivers. Luckily the season of this
pest Wk. short. The good old mos-
quitoes^^ith their radio warning are
the least ofotht^orries.

Now get your (ItaU^x) tourist fold-
eis and figure out a tri|)sdown here by
the sea. I will be somewlWe between
St. John and St. John's so w> will all
get some fish. If you are too early at
Margaree River, Cape Breton, going,
try it coming back.

r.*

\."r

(

Cape Bonavista, Newfoundland

Land

Last Frontier

Wardroom Mess

James

across the frozen bay. This is the
route of the mail packet. By such a
route I first visited Rupert's House,
travelling, not exactly with the packet-
men, but in their wake, following,
overtaking them, being overtaken in
turn, arriving finally at the journey's
end, almost on their tail.

"Ye think ye've had a hard trip,"
remarked Joe Bridgar, hoary-headed
boat-builder, who, expecting nothing
in the "packet*', was not interested
in the opening of the mail bags, the
contents of which were being impa-
tiently sorted on the factor's office
floor.

"Well," replied one of our little
party, a sailor, as were we all, "we
were eighteen days on snowshoes get-
tin' down this far."

"I wants no more o' the likes o' he I"
exclaimed another. His memories of
a recent snow trail were still vivid, as
witnessed by the tender care with
which he gently shifted one frost-bit-
ten foot to rest more comfortably
across its fellow. "The lads down
home, Newfland way, are used to the
bush a bit, but 'til us signed for dis
trip down nort', ain't done travellin'
o* dis kind for a long, long spell. Yes,

National costume of the North

sir! From now on de sea is good
enough for we."

We echoed his sentiments. That is,
all but the Rupert man. "Well, may-
be," was his only concession to our
tale of woe. He drew silently on a
dead pipe, then spoke at further
length. "You would not do, then, for
the packet trips," advised the boat-
builder. "What you saw was only a
wee bit of their jaunts — from the set-
tlements to here. That's the way all
the mail for the whole James Bay
District comes. Slow and sure — if not
today, perhaps tomorrow — Indians
and dogs — good going, or bad — His
Majesty's mail for the Bay.

"Oh, it comes all right," he continued.
"After the factor and the office have
done their bit of waiting. No aero-
plane mail or railroad here. Don't think
we'll ever have them. All this we hear
of the North coming into its own —
the northward march of development,
passes a long way from our door.
We're like the hub of a wheel here,
with the country's development and
settlement travelling around its rim."
The eyes of the world are on the
"changeless North." That once popu-
lar, time-worn phrase is today slip-

Native decoys

ping unnoticed back into the limbo of
forgotten things. The North is rapidly
changing — changing by virtue of the
insatiable appetite of man for new
territories to conquer, by his pursuit
of the long hidden, northland wealth
of forest, mountain and sea. That
region between restless railheads and
the top of the world is experiencing
the inevitable invasion that is made
possible by the relentless penetration
of railroad steel, while into the
farther North, the land of lost expedi-
tions and mysterious disappearances,
the space-devouring planes go forth,
heralds of newer and greater exploita-
tion. Where the dog teams crawled
for months, the birdman flits over lake
and forest, measuring time by the
watch, calling to his mates to fol-
low.

Then what of the James Bay region,
and old Bridgar's remarks — "no aero-
plane mail or railroads here. Don't
think we'll ever have them"? He
answered that briefly, when he suc-
cinctly put it "travelling around its
rim." The settlement, development,
and subsequent further exploitation
of the country have followed a cir-
cuitous route. Controlled primarily by
geographical conditions, this process
of penetration into the land of un-
estimable possibilities started in early
colonial days from the eastern sea-
board provinces, went west to Upper
Canada then onward, northwesterly
to the prairie lands; still north-
westward into the Peace River coun-
try. For a time there it paused, took
breath. Today, with a renewed im-
petus, it has once more gotten under
way, again altering its course — almost
turning about upon its own trail — and
is heading in from the west to the
Arctic regions and the shores of Hud-
son's Bay. The circle will be com-
plete when the restless seekers of
Nature's long-concealed resources turn

7> U'^^^ l^A ^'^*-' '}*vl ^'^V.-^-^'-zr-l^-^-TH ^'^ XT ^'

Rod and Gun and Canadian bilver rox News

4j — k

Rod and Gun and Canadian Silver Fox News

Trading Vessels in the ice of James Bay

southwaid — homeward hound, as it
were — through the unexplored heart of
Ungava and the hinterland of Quebec.

And the pivoting point Bridgar's "hub
of the wheel," by which this migia-
tion, in its several chronological stages,
advanced from east to north, by way
of the west, is the James Bay coun-
try and Rupert's House, the centuries-
old starting point of the great com-
pany, the "H.B.C."

By a unique cycle of a nation's
history of development, the original
virginal domain of Prince Rupert,
though being gradually circumscribed,
rests thus far comparatively unmolest-
ed by the march of colonization. And,
perhaps it has been providentially writ-
ten, that where the Hudson's Bay Com-
pany "Kings" first set foot and raised
their standard, shall be the last of the
country's unfathomed "far beyonds."

"Some few years ago," said another
of the company officials at Rupert,
"we thought this old country here was
bidding fair to become the metropolis

of the North. What with incorporat-
ed steamship lines, and railways com-
ing in from all sides, there seemed
no end of promises. The Clergue
people started from Montreal with
their North railway — then dashed up
here with a shipload of spades and
pickaxes to break ground for the line.
The Ontario people took the hint and
began to push their line beyond the
'Transcontinental.' Parties of all sorts
and manners flocked in — ^^by the Al-
bany and the Moose, and down the
Nottaway, and around by the Straits.

"Why, that first summer, when the
government crowd came in with a big
schooner, and the first gasoline boat
we ever saw, to sound for harbours
and make charts of the bay, dozens
of others flocked on their trail. The
chatterers did a lot of good work and
for several years later, found some
good places around Rupert bay here
where harbours could be made. But
none across the way, at the mouth of
the Moose — too shallow.

"Bird men came, too. No, not flyers
— they were chaps from Pittsburg, col-
lecting birds, and reptiles. A Mr. Todd
was one of them.

"No, the only airmen we got wind
of were those Americans in the bal-
loon who were blown away from some
place in the States, and landed in the
bush over near Moose.

"There were other parties looking
for fish — Melville and his crowd went
away up the East Main. Prospectors?
Surely. Gangs of them! Mr. Flaherty
was the best of them. Great chap! Put
the Belcher islands on the map, end
bought up all the old man's nega-
tives. Whenever you see a picture of
an Indian head, or a husky dog, hang-
ing in a hotel lobby, ten to one it's a
print off one of Factor Nicholson's
negatives.

"Never saw so many^ ships down this
way in all my life. When I went out
to Charlton island at ship time — out
beyond the bay here, to our main de-
pot— one man who came on the *Bona-
venture,' with promoters, and sports,
and prospectors, ' said that down south
anyone with a good dollar could get a
charter to build a railway. I didn't be-
lieve him — quite.

"Then the war, and other things,
came, and they all quit. Mostly all —
the only ones who have kept at it
are the government with the Hudson
Bay line, 'way north, to Churchill,
a thousand miles from here. And the
Ontario people with theirs. They're
moving down slowly — not rushing —
to the bay. They don't want a har-
bour at tidewateir — they're harness-
ing the waterpower as they go, and
(Continued on page 44)

)

JOCK

No. 44

MIZPAH

For Strenuous Exercise

For Baseball, Foot-
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of any kind, a Jock
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lutely essential.

The No. 44 Mizpah

_ is made of the best

materials and workmsuiship throughout,
of proper proportions to insure perfect
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The BUDDY Jock

For Constant Use

is made of the same

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thcNo.44 Mizpah , but

with Pouch of Knitted

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and more suitable for

constant wear, and

will last indefinitely. _

« , No. 44 Mizpah $1.00 each

Price: jj^^ Buddy $1.00 each

Mailed on receipt of price, which wiU be

refunded if not entirely satisfied.

State Waist Measurement

THE WALTER F. WARE CO.. Dept. C
1036 Spring Street. Philadelphia. Pa.

For Sale at Drug. Spmting Goods and Haberdashery Stor-

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Rupert's Land

(Continued from page 12.)

gathering the nutriment of the coun-
try along the way, the pulpwood, min-
erals, and a bit of farm land.

**Yes, sir — those were years of
hustle and bustle here. I tell you
we had plenty to do then besides truck-
ing with the natives. It seemed as
though all the ruddy Empire-build-
ers in the world were at last conc€n-
trating on this last bit of God's coun-
try. I thought to see old Radisson
and Groseilliers rise from their graves
and sail back here to see what was to
become of their ancient stamping
ground.

**But I needn't," he added— rather
wistfully, we thought. '^We^re side-
tracked. Guess this will always be
Prince Rupert's Land. We got mail and
news, and saw people, and papers,
those years."

It was through the inpecuniosity of
Charles II. that birth was given to two
monopolies, only one of which Ihas
survived the attacks of rival competi-
tion. Chartered rights have been sur-
rendered, and still the Hudson's Bay
Company, in this particular region of
James Bay and the Ungava shore, re-
tains a monopoly, of fact, if not of
law. In this remote territory it is still
supreme, wielding a fragment of that
mighty influence that played so strik-
ing a part in shaping the destinies of
the Northland. The Government treaty
igent, the "missioner," the command-
ant of police, all hold minor rank iti
the eyes of trapper, Indian, or half-
breed. Their liege lord is the factor
of the company.

Radisson and Groseilliers are but
two of the many illustrious names
associated with the making of early
Canadian history. But to the men of
the *'H.E.'C." they carry weight, for
they were its pioneers. They were
brothers-in-law and life partners. They
had long been familiar with the Can-
ada of the French and the great lands
beyond the lakes and north to the in-
land sea, and the visions of wealth
to be made in that region had fired
them with ambition to establish there
a far-flung chain of fur-trading posts.
But their efforts to interest the mer-
chants of Quebec and New England
were unsuccessful. Equally unproduc-
tive was a journey to France, and it was
only after a visit to England that, in
court circles there, they found the
one man who was willing to back
their ambitious plans with capital and
a royal consent. The dashing Prince
Rupert became their sponsor.

ARTIFICIAL EYES

11 BIRDS and ANIMALS
H AITDEER and MOOSE
* "* DUCK DECOYS

Taxidermiit Catalogoa Vr—

OLIVER SPANNER & CO.
Dept. R.. 26 Elm Street Toronto. OmI.

Left: A northern belle and her chaperone. Centre: Trader at the mouth of the Rupert River.

Right: The mother of the tribe.

If you want an authoritative book on fur farm-
ing send to Rod and Gun. Woodstock. Ont., for
a copy of "Fur Farming for Profit." by Ath-
brook, price $4.50.

With hearts aglow with enthusiasm
for their '*^eat ideas/' the two ad-
venturous spirits sailed north m the
little "Nonsuch," pierced the northern
ice barrage, and made their way down
to the foot of James Bay, to the
mouth of the Rupert river, and two
hundred and sixty years ago erected
the first *'fort'' of the Company. They
were the "trail breakers'' for the hon-
ourable company of gentlemen adven-
turers trading into Hudson Bay.

**We still call them 'forts'*', said
Factor Nicholson, with a smile. "No
doubt to outsiders the name is quite
misleading. Even in Radisson s day
they were not much as fortifications,
and in the various wars they were us-

ually handed over to the enemy on
demand. We were never left much in
the way of a description of the Fort
Rupert that our first-comers erected
here, beyond that it was of the type
common to later establishments. There
was a heavy stockade, and corner
bastions. They brought out four small
cannon one trip. They were all right
for a salute, or to intimidate the In-
dians. But they couldn't hold off the
bold coureurs de bois under those old
fire-eaters. Chevalier de Troyes and
D'Iberville.

"They marched a wild-looking crowd
of men — more Indian than French, I
think — all the way from King Louis'
settlements in old French Canada.
Great rivalry in those days! The
Frenchmen had at last sensed the value
of the trade up here. Of course, Eng-
land didn't let it rest there, though
the Quebec traders had the pickings
of this country for seven years be-
fore an expedition came over and
drove them out.

"Next spring, and the Frenchmen
were back again and chased our men
off to their old hiding places in the
woods. That riled the Britishers to
the point of sending two ships through
the ice, and the company came into its
own once more — for a short while, for
that Ryswick treaty turned all the
posts over to the French Canadians for
sixteen years, when the treaty of Ut-
recht finally put an end to the hostili-
ties.

"From that day to this we've been
unmolested, and our tattered old H.B.
C. flag has flown over this much-con-
tested fort ever since.

"In recent years, or since some
twenty years back — what are two
decades in an institution's unrivalled
history of two and half centuries? *
asked Alan Nicholson. He nodded to-
ward the far comer of the gun
room, the common messing quarters
of the staff, where the latest raw
Highland recruit was immersed in the
contents of a month-old Century maga-
zine. "Why, that laddie over there is
only twenty years old!"

"I should think it's plenty of time
for competitors to make some inroads
into your trade," I ventured to inter-
rupt.

"Inroads! No, young man. These
keen-witted French neighbors of ours
have throughout these twenty years
attempted to break the allegiance of
the natives to the company. They
haven't done it — not in any appre-
ciable measure— rin this district. It was
my forefathers who first bartered *skin
for skin' with the aborigines here —
with the forefathers of my Indians.
They're still loyal, and we're still
canny. Call us close-dealing Scotch-
men, if it pleases you. We have to be,
for, though ye may not believe it, the
Indian is a hard man in a trade.

"There's rivalry, yes. Bound to be
all of that. Rivalry of race, of blood.
But, competition, no. Why, man,
we've got back of us two centuries of
trucking with Nascopies and Swampy
Crees! And the company still retains
the lion's share!"

I believed it. Knowing Alan Nichol-
son and others, compatriots of hia
scattered about the region at other
isolated outposts, I fully believed it.
Descendants of pioneers, of traders of
the old regime of monopoly days.

♦5

sout
wen
Vng

An
of t
tion,
adva
of t
try i
old
panj

•

histc
virgi
thou
rests
ed b
perh
ten,
panj
theii
cour
<<c

of 1
"we
bidd

' ^' i

I.. I. ..i

Rod and Gun and Canadian Silver Fox News

candles >^or something else is caused to
dart int^ the air how many a man
could hitvin a short time.
M. M. St .^^Cyr, and L.P. Chamberland,

Grand' Meijre, P. Q.

\'.

Reply — Another case of where it all
depends upoft the man. A profession-
al exhibition -ihot could probably hit
five or six, orXpossibly even more be-
fore they strucii the ground. It would
depend largely ufton the angle of flight,
how high the candles are thrown, how
they spread afterXbeing thrown etc.
With an open bore A repeating shofgun
a man accustomed to this work could
hit them very rapidlyV almost as fast
as he could fire the giin, provided the
candles would spread out in the air so
that they were spaced aWout right for
accurate aiming. It is l^ier to hit
the same object a numb^ of times
than to hit an equal numbd^ of differ-
ent objects Irregularly spacdd, in the
same interval, as less time i\ lost in
taking aim for each shot. \

The average shot would probal^ not
be able to hit over two to fout\^an-
dles before they strike the groun

There is one thing in favor of
ing a large number of hits on candR^s
on account of their shape they cou
be thrown very high even with a mo_ ,
erate initial velocity and that would \
keep them in the air longer than you V\|
could keep up some other objects. ^

Editor.

Dr. Paul B. Jenkins, A. E. F. Chaplain,
America's authority on the history of firearms
and historian for America's largest fir^rms collection
in Milwaukee's Public Museum, ch96ses an Ithaca because
he believes Ithaca lock speed improves his shooting.
Trap and Game Guns $37.50 to $750.00

Ithaca Gun Co» Ithaca^ N* Y*

Bctk 13

^*'"

f. ^<^'

^^^'

^^y

><^^ c/^ Cf'

The .22 Long Rifle on Woodchucks.

Editor, Guns & Ammunition Dept.:
Dear Sir: —

In different issues of "Rod and Guti'
I have noticed articles stating that ^e
.22 rifle was inadequate in power' for
game such as woodchucks. Laslf' sea-
son I went in for wdodchuck.' shoot-
ing and the majority were l^led be-
tween 50 and 85 yards. I ^rst used
solid point bullets and received the
same surprise that A. R./Mendizabel
mentions in his article "The model 24
auto as a varmint gunr.

In every case thos/ chucks man-
aged to make their dQhs. In one case
I shot one through the neck, and leav-
ing him where he w/s you can imagine
my chagrin to fin/fl that same chuck
living the next wj

After switching to hollow points I
was able to count a dead chuck to al-
most every hit Since the coming of
non-corrosive ^femmunition I think the
.22 rifle de^rves all the popularity
it gets.

I have tried the .32 rim fire but did
not get re/ults as to fine accuracy that
were obtained with the .22. Next year
I will tr^ the .25 r.f. and the .22 W.R.P.

/ H. R. Curry,

Peterljbrough, Ont

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■e^

REAL INEIIAN CANOE

Made by Huron Indians
VERY LIGHT FOR PORTAGING

Re|)ly— Glad to have your letter. We
hav^ all had experiences much like
thcji^e you mention. A man will have
a run of clean kills and then again
even with a high power cartridge and
\!Hth a bullet that is known to be
deadly, cripples will occur that are
annoying. A chuck is not the only
animal hard to kill instantly. Ever try
shooting ordinary rats with only the
head sticking out of the hole? A good
many will get back in a foot to a yard
even when shot through the center of
the forehead.

Editor.

Write for
Price List
and Catalogue

THE GAGNON CANOE REG'D ?"». "bU't-p^I:

ApRETTEVILLE, QUE. dies. Outboards, etc.

h
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Could You Use a "Standard'' Fishing Rod ?

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ROD AND GUN, WOODSTOCK, ONT.

Rod and Gun and Canadian Silver Fox News

speed

Stability

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in the

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they exhibited in carriage and man-
ners the traditional glories and pow-
ers of the chief factors in the days
of invested rights. Austere and
haughty lords were those old black-
bearded barterers of fur, governing
with a hand of iron the thousands of
wild children of the forest who hunted
within their particular domain. Under
their jurisdiction, too, fell the Scotch
and French halfbreed progeny that
grew up in the country. Some cause
for pride had these "Company men",
for oftentimes the Scottish lad, a
year or two after leaving the Old
Country, would become ruler over a
territory larger than his native Scot-
land, with undisputed sway over the
lives and destinies of the half-savage
tribes who trapped fur for their lord
and master.

When I first visited Rupert's House,
and subsequently saw winter, spring
and autumn pass there in all the char-
acteristic phases of those seasons in the
Northland, Alan Nicholson was com-
pleting his fortieth year as Factor. He
combined scholarly pastimes and a
taste for higher literature with a rare
understanding and masterly control of
the natives under his influence. The
visitor quickly, almost unconsciously,
fell under the spell of the old Scotch
hospitality that was so generously cast
about, and the simple, yet full, life
at this remote and somewhat desolate
outpost of civilization, as exemplified
in that of the factor, draws those who
have once met and lived with him and
his kind back again through the gate-
ways of the North. Well had he earn-

ed the distinction — "last of the Hudson
Bay kings.""

Of the old "fort" nothing now re-
mains but a row of hollows on the
bank, lined with crumbled brick — the
sites of Radisson's buildings. Rupert
House is characteristic of many of the
smaller posts about the bay. Inside the
bounds marked by the faint and fast-
disappearing lines of the old stockades,
the buildings stand, some dozen in
number, closely grouped together. Ap-
proaching upstream from the bay, the
mission chapel is the first object to
catch the traveller's eye. There is the
house of the factor and of his clerks;
the store wherein is kept the gaudy
trade goods — not so gaudy, all of it,
for your Indian of today demands
the best in merchandise, the finest in
clothing, blankets and shawls, latest
models in fire-arms, a remarkable
"finickiness" in his taste in foods, and
demands it whether or not he has the
ready wherewithal with which to pay —
and the depot which each year holds
a prince's ransom in furry pelts.

Scattered about are the humbler
dwellings of the halfbreed retainers.
Smoke wreaths curl from every chim-
ney. Lounging about the buildings or
on the bank — never hurrying — one
sees halfbreeds in semi-European garb,
or a group of Indians in black or
dirty white capotes ; every one is smok-
ing. The pointed poles of the native
trappers' wigwams and tepees rise
from their smoke-stained canvas; over
all is the tapering flag-staff.

Around the great silent woods stand,
shrouded in their winter white or

fringed with spear-pointed spruce tops,
and close by the chapel a rude cross
or wooden railing blown over by the
tempest, discoloured by rain and snow-
drift, peeps pitifully forth from the
deep mantlle of snow, maiking -^he
lonely resting places of the dead.

Wild, in the sense of its surround-
ings, desolate and remote, is this iso-
lated trading post, yet it is difficult to
describe the feelings with which one
beholds it across the ice-bound bay or
silent river as the dog team winds
slowly amid the snow. Coming in
from the wintry blast and the wild-
erness, that to the traveller seems to
stretch in endless miles between what
one's guides are wont to describe as
the "here" and the "over yonder", ex-
posed to the wrath of a northern storm
and the bitter cold, footsore or frozen,
we looked upon the snow-enshrouded
humble wooden dwellings as palaces of
rest and contentment.

I doubt if it be possible to know
more acute comfort on arrival, for its
measure is exactly the measure of that
other extremity of discomfort which
excessive cold and hardship have car-
ried with them. Nor does that feel-
ing of home and contentment lose
aught for want of a welcome at the
threshold of this lonely stopping-place.
Nothing is held too good for the trans-
ient visitor or wayfarer seeking a roof;
the best bed and the best table are
his. If he has arrived with the mail
packet, he then has brought the long-
awaited letters and messages from
far distant friends; if he comes from
the "outside", he carries with him his
news of almost-forgotten worlds. Mail

1^ 40

Rod and Gun and Canadian Silver Fox News

sout
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Ung

of 1

tion

advi

of 1

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old

pan.

hist<
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Absurbinc

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THE ANTISEPTICLINIMENT.

At all dealers $1.25 per bottle

UNS, AMMUNITION

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FINEST SELECTION of
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TACKLE at REASONABLE

PRICES

ANGUNG MCENSES ISSUED

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Established 1905
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TELESCOPES. FIELD GLASSES
MICROSCOPES

Vest pocket telewope*— 4 % times $1.25. 6 tlmei $2.50
3 draw telescopes — 10 times $5. 16 ilmei, $6.50. 20
times $9.00, 25 times $12. 33 times $20, 38 tlmej
Marksmen's $35. Prism Monoculars — 5 tlmei $«.O0. 8
times $12. 12 times $16. Prism Binoculars-— 8 time*
$20 and $35. 12 times $45. Field Glasses— -$10 and

• $18.50. Pedometers— $3.50. Students Stand Micro-

• scopes— 600 times $52.50. 2.'S0 times $19.50, 100 timet
$10.50. 75 times $6.50. Compasses — $1 to $2 up.
Rocky Mountain Views, colored In transparent oila 8x10

1 ins. to 11x11 Ins. $1.75 to $3.50. These are works
■* of art, also Prince of Wales Ranch In sepia or color*.
t All prices postpaid. Send for price list.

The Alberta Optical Co., Ltd.

Dept. 129. 123.8th Ave.. West (Upstairs)
Calgary, Canada.

a THE FIRM of CHURCHILL has

a MOVED into NEW PREMISES

J. immediately behind the familiar frontage m

Leicester-Square, London, England. The new

g!| building is at the corner of ORANGE STREET

xj. overlooking the National Gallery. It is handy

as ever, with improved facilities at the service

of all appreciative of the merits of Churchill Guns.

packet or not, he haa at least cheer-
fully obeyed the unwritten law of the
out-of-the-way places and gathered to-
gether the last few tardy letters from
some obscure railhead office or
store — the missing messages that will
gladden some weary, anxious soul.

But, be he bearer of such things, or
only the chance carrier of his own
fortunes, he is still a welcome visitor
to the lonely Hudson Bay fort.

During the winter, snugly ensconced
in the factor's cozy quarters, one long
evening following upon another, I
kept attentive ears tuned to reminis-
cing members of his staff, and wonder-
ed at the amazing fund of yams that
had lain throughout the years hidden
in that isolated region. Stories were
told of almost unbelievable heroism
and endurance; tales of strange do-
ings and of weird characters — of the
exiles, fancifully known to their com-
rades as the "men who can't come
back.*' There was the '^MacDonald ,
outlawed from a southern city; and
Baum, the German minstrel, banish-
ed years ago from the Imperial court,
now a lonely trader in the bottom of
Ungava bay, one of the dreariest posts
in the north. "An astounding genius,
declared the talester. "Cultured, with
a perfect command of five languages

a musician of talent — ^^has a rare old

Cremona on which he constantly plays
the old masterpieces and the songs
of the Fatherland. Many's the piece,
too, that the violin has picked up from
Baum's own heartnstrings. And how
wasted it all seems — his only hearers,
the untrained ears of the Indians and
the ^buckles', and the breeds of the
George river country.*'

Stories of the pitiable pieces of hu-
man wreckage, condemned to stick to
the purer air of the hills of their chos-
en retreats; of a "missioner" with a
"past," to whom society and the home
circle are forever barred, though God
Himself knows that he has worked
out his redemption in the North; tale
following upon tale, tragedy and hum-
or, fell from the lips of the little
band of exiles, stories long suppressed
for want of a hearer now rose from
wells of reminiscences, in return for
the eagerly-sought morsels of news
from that long-lost other world, the
settlements south of the height of land.

"You've heard of Ducharme? Yes,
he was born and raised in a chateau
in the south of France. Now living
like a native Eskimo.*"

"Ay, he's one of the men who can't
go back."

*There is another breed of men,"
said Alan Nicholson, "who can, and
yet, strangely — if you gather v^hat I
mean — cannot return and live in the
settlements where they were born.
Many have tried; have gone back to
the paternal fireside — but only for a
time. For, know ye, there is a some-
thing— ^the *call of the wild', or the
Vanderlusf — name it as you will —
that has them bound, hand and foot,
and spirit, too, and for them the
cramped cities have lost their appeal.
Only this land up here seems to satisfy,
to offer them a fullness of life. For
there is a fever which, once it enters
the blood, cannot be stayed, and the
infected ones are drawn like so many
pieces of steel ever toward the pole."
"Yes, and others again," added
Routledge — John Ban Routledge, the

"Gray'* — "others who live and die
here, not so much because of bars that
would shut them out from the home-
land, but rather by virtue of the fet-
ters that bind them to these places.

He paused, hesitating. He did not
appear to search for words. It was
more as though some baffling, con-
flicting emotions had halted him.

"I don't know whether they're to

be pitied or blamed," he suddenly

burst forth. "No. not blamed, I'd say

—not blamed, so long as they are true

to the ethics of this country and their

adopted life. For, mostly, they have

entered this bondage with their eyes

open, and of their own free will. Some

do go back, I know. Go back to the

old homes and their flocks, and cause

pain and misery. I know. I tried it

this many years ago. Yes, thirty-

seven years it is, since I first left the

old land and the company's ship landed

me at York Factory. Since then, I

went home once — ^thinking to stay. I

came back."

"But why?** we asked, wonderingly.
"Surely you — "

"No," he interrupted, in his ap-
parent haste to set us right. "No, I
wouldn't go back again. I rather put it
that way than say I couldn't. I'm fet-
tered here, though no laws of state or
man can hold me. Only my own feel-
ings. I'm an old man, now, and I real-
ize."

"But, mind you," he added, "Fm
not complaining — ^not exactly."

Routledge turned aside, to leave the
room. "Don't you really know?" whisp-
ered a younger member of the post.
"I thought you knew he was a squaw-
man."

Months drifted by, some idly, some
with heedless haste, each with their
interests varied by the changing sea-
sons' activities that was life at a wild-
erness trading post. Once more it was
March and the time for the packet
mail. "You're more interested this
time," said Factor Nicholson, "now
that a year's gone by." There was a
humorous twinkle in his eye. The
James Bay District mail should be
well on its way ere now."

The term "district," as applied to
the James Bay country, had at one
time conveyed but little to me. Then
I travelled its rivers, and sailed about
its shores, and returned with a new
idea of the territory served by the
packetmen. Their route from "the
line" led down the Moose and across
the bay, and upon the east coast — the
tr:;ders' "East Main"— to the Great
Whale river post, on the borders of the
Eskimo's land. Six hundred miles of
snow trails! There were branches up
the west shore, to the Albany and the
Ottawapiscat and to the sub-posts of
the interior. Including the tributary
outposts that lie miles and miles in-
land, tho "forts" of the James Bay
"district" number fifteen.

"I can recall other districts of the
company," said the Factor, "that were
larger by far, and at one time less ac-
cessible, through which the carrying of
a single mail was a full six months
winter journey.

"It was through the then unsettled
^vest — the farther unexplored north-
west—ay, to the Yukon." Alan Nich-
olson drew upon his fund of early com-

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PILES

Do you suflFer from this complaint? If
so send me your name and address and
I will tell you, free, how I rid myself of
Piles by an old family remedy.

LEWIS E. RODNEY
Box 250A, Yarmouth, Nova Scotia

Dr. J. M. E. PREVOST

(London, Paris and New York Hospitals)

Male and Female Disorders

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3440 Hutchison St.

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How to Catch Fish in 1929

Hildebrandt'a Hints tells you —
shows you some new baits and ail
the old favorites — tells you how to
use them for any kind of fishing.
It's one of the best books on fishing
ever issued. FREE. Tell us where
to send yours.

John J.Hildebrandt Co., 968High St., Logansport,Ind.

(PLRRY DAVIS)

SPPAINS&BRUISES

CANADIAN WILDS

A book from the pen of a Hudson Bay

oflFicer, telling all about the Hudson Bay

Company, northern Indians and their me-
thods of hunting, trapping, etc.

Price $1.00 per copy — 277 pages

ROD AND GUN, WOODSTOCK, ONT.

As this book is published in the United
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pay a slight duty upon receipt of same.

pany history when he spoke of those
tragedy-riden trails.

**In the early seventies the mail for
the district Yukon posts was assembled
at Fort Garry — now the city of Winni-
peg. From there, in the month of De-
cember, the dog trains started. They
made their way down the Red river
to Lake Winnipeg; in about nine days'*
travel they crossed that lake to the
northern end at Norway House, where
they transferred that part of the mail
that was written for Hudson Bay and
the distant Churchill.''

"They're going to take it in there
now by aeroplane,'* I remarked.

"Ay, so Tve heard. Moie power to
them!"

(As I write, there is a letter on my
desk, that was only six days old, be-
tween the time of its mailing at Port
Churchill and the postmen's knocking
on an Ottawa door. It came by 'plane,
motorboet, canoe and rail.)

"PYom Norway," Alan Nicholson had
continued, "the parent packet journey-
ed in twenty days' travel up the Great
Saskatchewan to Carlton House, where
there was another lightening of the
load — the Lesser Slave and Saskatche-
wan letters were detached from it.
About the first of February it started
its long journey to the north.

"During the succeeding winter
months it held steadily on its northern,
way, following winding frozen streams
or windswept lake, across the prairies
that are now furrowed by the settlers'
plows. At long, long intervals, branch
packets were sent off to right
and left. There weie hungering souls
in those less-frequented little posts far
off the main line of travel.

"Finally, just as the sunshine of
mid-May was beginning to carry a
whisper of the coming spring to the
valleys of the Upper Yukon, the dog
train, last of many, dragged the
packet, now but a tiny bundle, into the
enclosure of La Pierre's House.

"The map will show you that it
travelled neaily three thousand miles.
Fully a score of different dog trains
had hauled it, and its frost-tanned
drivers had camped for more than a
hundred nights under the stars on that
long, weary trail.'*'

The factor paused. "Were you ever
with them?" I asked.

No, not exactly on that route with
the packets. But, through the same
country, yes. When I was a lad. I was
scarce out of my 'teens when I was
landed at the old distributing depot —
York Factory — and was .sent across on
the identical route that Sir John
Franklin followed — by the Hayes river,
Oxford lake, Norway and Lake Win-
nipeg, up the Red river, and then,
pretty much like the packet, right
through to the Mackenzie basin.

"I'd never recognize that land now,"
he added, "There are railroads through
the Peace river, and steamboats down
the Athabasca and Mackenzie. Full,
too, of tourists, sports, farmers and
prospectors — the fur trader has plenty
of company there. And from the
Winnipegs to the bay the Hudson Bay
railway is cutting right across.

"They've left us alone, yes, but
when they do come this way they will
do so by way of the Quebec and Lake
St. John country — down the Notta-
way, and the Rupert here. Mistassini

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.iMjIKMI^em:;

ioiAJBkifemaiiivaEiatriiimt.

and the Nemiskau will b« lu^tfi^A
they come along." settled as

foragin^Smy from °?i, "" ^^l"*^ «
went inland ♦!« J , ^^^ Post and

Nemiskau trarV/^' J°"™«y »" the
of the comnanv Y-f^f"^ *? '"^t ^^^^
sent forth t^*<?J?"-''j;^ "^^^ *»ad be*n

search ofearib/u't'S;os/''lS"^ i"

the Vrking'';"oint'"?nd^ t.^""l^* ''
old Scotch »»^+i ' ^"*'' though the

nor word W ^f*K"^" "^^" by sign
that h°s Do?t', r« P^'-Po^ely kno^

of good f^f^f^ ^'o "«t''' '" *^* ^«y

reaching tS ni^f ***' "^^^ ^^Pidly
ant enoVh lo ^e VC .Y"^ «''««"^-
setting bf fore ^a ,»/*• •*''* **'«'" °'
subBtance and varie?5 '."^"* .^i ^"th
inner man"wasS4 his'tS' *^

ujr ?o?e1.'r* Vr '^°"" "' -^^'

that In pSv Th/7?f-*''«''« ^^
at Rupert is oip nJ ♦!,'*" «^°°«e hunt
year, ^when" hundreds of^X** ''l*'j*
are shot and nreserln % ^^^!^ hirds
winter months.'^ mJ^^J,"?' ,-*''« ^o"?
f ul, the gees» «t/. w> * ^ ° " plent -

in tins and tR meC*^**^ ^"'^ P"t up
the birds'a*;^ Tn'Sl'^^J^^S '^''

^aferdVbkftit^^^^^

tr^^rinrandi?^- ^^^^^
palatable? with an *^''°''^' ^^'^ ^ess
smoked or frozen wMf'??^"/^ ^^«h of
bulwarks of S meS'^'^^ ^""'""^^ the

thirty^ mnerto^L°"^^r™« *^«"ty or
Sher^icTup' he coas^'fJrrH-"^ ^°""t
gettin? caribou hnf /"d'ans were
custom, n^e of till "i?"*™^y to past

reaching the littitL/'"'*^^ '"^t was
On« ^xT , tradmg post.

said « 'Tii'^t^iS^ wT^aTt °" ^/'''^
stand it. One wmfw T *^®? t under-

to think that a ?ree traT.* v?!, "'"'^^
on the coast last ftif o^'J'^j^ ««ttled
dians placing the,vL*1*'>^ the In-
house. We wo'i^'T T*** ^°^'' at his
him. though. ^ ^^""^ ^^a'-d «bout

a^r'j pirtJ:x^:jed";ithT^ r™

^ tunjodi^L«ri°'^^<^^^^^^^^^

tween here and vtl?^^- ^^^^^^V be-
■ natives-you tafow ^^'^t'"-, ■^"•^ the
really like Lpro^;,e™r*chnd?'™ ^^^
regarded the fact thlt tw, l*"~''l^
years before thl „„ throughout the

their li^e *ord h«rP''"7.^«'^ heen

and carr^ed'Th^m^trgh'^thi ^f™
years, and henno/? *i, i?* tne lean

truck in the Son, n^^"^ **"'' "^^h
to the newcomers wthtl,^J?r' *"'-"«'J
zling offers Tho^ * *..® latter's daz-
this place ^ studiously avoided

when tuhi?"tj;%efe *¥'. ''^'o"^'
this post to hrwl • ^ distance of

caribo^uf J^a^rroVaVns 'ir"""^'
Polar bear fliof v» "^^asiom it was a

and leagues souttl^''";?-"^'' '^agues
ing «roS, perhans 'llr,^'^ °^" ^""t-
drifting for weeks w>-r,S" '" l'^^^
current. Some yea^s „*''!», '?"*''^™
and every year do;^ s^u^h nf^* '^*^.-
UD Nemiskau wav tw k' ''®'*® and

moos. Some^timTmiJl^^thaSTe^'eUS
^®® — those sea5on<? wlior* A ^^ouia

Rod and Gun and Canad!aIS^!|^5J

!r V" ""." ."***' *" 'That is what t

of all appreciative of the merits of Churchill Guns. I KOUU-ugt:— u v..... .

by' waoJt"a'^sl^.fo?d"i>f V "?^^ ^«
finding it» wav t^ onr .» l'"^*'' "^at

SdVut^£r^ft^rd^"be^an'!

Je^enSt t'dir ly

n5iLsTlled°'thT"°"' «"i ^^^""he

nearest markl an J />f' ^.f"^"'' ^° the
'«T». ^'^''^t and the highest bid.

wer?|r'iven"out1hr^'"'?P'"< "^*1«
the native? cZeTacK 'uTe%St'

ThV'didnTyt^r ^^' '" *'^-"'--

worst off endfrs L= ** if ^"^ ,°^ the

man' had carried 'ov« T^'Z?' '°^^
he wouldn't adv»T,«J . ® °®° year's,
and to the others n?l ^ ^if^^y °^ ^^eht,
sary to keen ttfi °"'y '^''^t was necea-

fter^s f^om'?et?ar tlSo/"l\yr"^-
those bucks paid well ?^; I tell you

away from here-Sy had tJ^^^'?.^
for a whole vp»r «J^^^ ,. °. to hustle

ful catch of fur %'l'*7« ^*^ a hounti-
aicn or fur that next winter."

huminrpartr'anTme? ri"*""^* *'>-

Michipicoten^'rSrve ^^ *?.?« "^^
shore Of Lake Superio? vL "'"'**'
torn there iw,, ^^^^^ T* *'"'®'* was
him was when h.^i knowledge of

"Labrador Wi?ds'? n^T ,*"i^ «* the
of the book bv +fc»f "* <" the pages
the sole sSi^fvS * f 't? "''"r-E>«on,
Hubbard eMlor/f,-^ . • ""fortunate

?on r« Hulbard'^^u d?N^t%^« ^^-
m charee nf ftl s^'oe. Now he was

Nemiskau for Stni"*'-P^'* at Lake
countered him S°".^«"«- ' «"-
first time he w^ w«™t* R«Pert— the

packet. tVtJZ JrTfon IV^"

those fellows finish off *!,''; ^***h
meat." " °" that moose

had^tm°i teck^to^f ";? *^° I"dJans

frying pan. a number Jne ' .l"7^'^^ «
size sold by thp t^!!^J^ ®' T^^ largest

heaped full ef red fro^„' ™ ^^ ^^^ 't

-fully fifteen pounds '* ''"^^^

tw?o/*them°"'addii^^' "^^^ ^«^ the

"Watch them. You seemed"™^""^-

lous when Routledge told thlT^t^-
day of some nf tht ^ the other

of these TellowsI'lPKi'"""'"'? '««ts
what thev havJ^f; L\ *'* surprised if
the two o^f thlm!" ^^^ P^" ^'" ««tisfy

to V;"dSrfo"l?p^\T ""« «,^^«^
burning, and the n«« }^ '"^'^t from

fire. Not lonir rff/ -."^^^ '*t on the

When the red ^utt '* "r^" there.

to a broln the t/^{"^*^ ^^^ turned

pan andVet'it on fht^ ^V!^oved the

his companio'n and*'hiij°e"f ' felT."
ter produced n *,.« ""^eii. rhe lat-

nock, and-with thf 1 ^'^^ °^ han-
within easy r^ach tL \^^ ^^'^ P'aced
their meal After 1;^^ *=?"""«nced
gorging—one wouHr* "V""tes of

"eatin#"_noth W teia Lh° '*" J'

pan but the gravy wS Jt '" • the

hardening in the w w^ *'"''^kly

Then T),r „ . ^ "^'"ter air.

gather^ *^thei?"befon'^' ^''^ ^Ison.
ed them on the sl'ed °hS5 the" d '^^''
dogs onto their feet wi ® drowsy

-.1^1^-°"^''^^''' trail! ^^°'^-^^«'
.I!Z^:^ '"^^y -lied a snack-

ffie^he"St^o's^• if^Jo^^K^^^ to

hadn't tim^e to eartheir'Vir*'^' *"'^

feas?^ft\:^U'srin%Vn'SeV "'^^

the winter's tTapping is Tv '"' ^^l""
see some eating. Thfy'lT fn?4 y°"^'
ves full like our husky dogs 'tiwr^'
can only grunt and smokf%^ ^^^^

X"g^°n"^'^^^"^«^^^^t--^^^^

o^viwTtrttitouTrfj't

dal 'b°^lertt^ -™ weVeL-^
fe%ngt"ch°J\td"Cn' thr/'
scribed. In the first we^ n* iS? *^®-
party of Coast CrS from th- ^p^ **

pTs? rf. ^°""*^" arrived^'^at'^fhe
?W J* ^''^ *»y t^o moose had been

s&e'd^itX' as?'' "^'^ s

than leave hpM„!^?^*'^ traces, rather

They cr^d fh/lf ^^"^ °t *he kill.

befd'reThTbreak-V"^'^' "^" ^'"^^

Camped on the outskirts of fh^ * ^

S *net^^JaSl!;l?if\

tti?'^Lf^"^ ^'^^ "ewco^e^"pitS
SSnvas""™ ~^^*' ^"^ smoke-Sid

wh3\¥„ •'l?*^!-'" ««eted the factor
wnen the leader of th^ Uffi« iT j'

entered the store "'* ^''"'^

theTdtt-LTrntt-^thl^^^^^^^^

preceded" him r the p^^f ^P""«« ''^'^

have'^other^fc *^"^'''. «PP^ared to
the disposal of hT "^ 'i*"*^' t° ^hich
ondaryTmtortInc;! '^"'' ^^^ °^ «««=-

ca^w^it^Pl^^r/'J'o' *"^"«'«''- "F"-
Jimmie WastSn "'°°«t"'^^*' '"^ and

f-J:^h^iit'-o^n^ur*h^r"^^'^^

years without befom?n<. >! ^r * ^""^y
their improvident hS Ful'/'" 71*''

™r.ife\V°retfn^ ^ i'-"" °^ th'-
would bet SlSonT^^^"' ^''-

ret^uS'^o" tKrf,S,"|;;:.Pa« "f lard.

bo?el"o{%?e't?or'"'"^"^«'^- The leg

«P from hi "pee n"!?"" ^K'^ ^""^ '

hunter would natnr«n ^\ ^ ^hite

these to his dogs^ but fh- r^^- ^'""^
give no part of „« • ^,"^'an will

bird to a doe if hf" *"""«'.' «sh. or

use of it hSisel^" S"if Tof ^'""'^
meanness— c^rf«,-r.i,, . '^,®* always

promptslhem'to 'S thu "^^^^
superstition- fi,^,. iT %• "s- " ^ mainly

bring bad luck Ll'"^" ^^"^ " ^o"ld
that sometime /„ ^*''* hunting, and
hunter wouB 'him««i7"'^^?^"'=«' the

the dogs "are th'rown^ufon'^?,"^- «°
resources, mad*. t7 * ^ " their own

(Continued on page 57.)

Rod and Gun and Canadian Silver Fox News

MiiuNT ROYAL

HOTEL//, /

The popularity of this
hostelry is evidenced in
the fact that sruests in-
variably return to the
Mount Royal.

A courteous welcome and
cheery hospitality await
you.

: Vernon G. Cardy
Managing Director

Winfrey's Island Lodge

Dundee, Prov., Que. A beautiful is-
land on Lake St. Francis (expan-
sion of Upper St. Lawrence).
Thirty by seven miles wide.

A TOP NOTCH PLACE for scenery,
comfort, French cuisine (Al). Cozy bun-
galows, with running water, heated. Cen-
tral dinti.q: lodge. All comforts for ladies.
Bass, Muskie, Pickerel, DUCK HUNTING.
Reached by auto. References, Canadian
National Railways. $35 weekly. Open
June 15th-Nov. 15th. For circular write

DR. W. C. WINFREY

825 Bienville, Montreal, Que.

Is 11

CANADA

^this Summer (^

' Colored map of high-
ways and recreational
resources with illustrated booklets
of inform^t'on on request;
NEW BRUNSWICK TOUKIST BUREAO
. 973 PariiuBent Baildings ^ 1^
L^. Fredericton,N.B , ^^ ^ ^^ 1
Canada

THE LAURENTIAN MOUN-
TAIN FISH & GAME CLUB

invites sportsmen. Twelve private trotit
lakes, good camps and guide service, pri-
vate automobile roads up to the camp.
Good accommodations for ladies. For fur-
ther information apply to J. I. Le Bel,
Keefer Bldg., 1440 St. Catherine St. W.,
Montreal.

GRIZZLIES

If you intend hunting bear
this fall try

JACK BOWMAN

Three Valley, British Columbia

Rupert's Land

{Continued from page 48)

selves, and, in consequence, it is lit-
tle wonder that the half-starved brutes
become thieves.

One large fire was kept alight, and
on this each family placed stew-kettle
and pan, crammed full of tempting
venison cuts. Steadily, for half an
hour, all members of the party ate.
Then, the first round over, they sat
back, filled pipes, — men, women and
half-grown boys alike — and the whole
company stretched out on the blankets.

•

Presuming that this much-advertis-
ed gastronomic rite was over, we were
about to go our way, disgusted at the
sight — certainly not amazed at what
appeared to bd simply a spectacle of
a form of native indulgence — when
someone laughingly remarked, "Well,
that's round number one. There they
go again."

The short rest was over, and the In-
dians arose and refilled pans and ket-
tles. The "stuffing" recommenced.

For a day and a half this gorging
continued, and the one thing that
finally terminated the feast,, was not
the exhaustion of the guests, but of
the host's larder. A day later, one of
the children, a lad of ten summers,
died in great agony. The only ap-
parent cause to which the "missioner"
could attribute the illness was "over-
stuffing."

Two full-grown moose had stocked
the festive board, and the gathered
company, men, squaws and children,
numbered only nineteen. The factor
estimated that there were over a thous-
and pounds of meat in the two car-
casses, clear of the coarser portions
that were now drying in the smoke
of the wigwam peaks. Thus, in less
than two days, each member of the
band had over fifty pounds of fresh
moose meat placed to the credit of his
gastronomic powers. This accomplish-
ment may seem incredible to many —
we were eye witnesses of the scene.
The factor assured us that it was not
an uncommon feat among his trappers.

I was curious to know, had the sup-
ply been several times as great, how
long the feasters, if put to an endur-
ance test, could maintain the pace. Our
Rupert friends claimed that there
would be no question of "endurance";
they would simply "eat as long as
there was a pound of meat in sight."
They were quite sincere about it, too.

Considering the nourishment and
sustenance derived fiom fifty pounds
of fresh meat, it was only to be ex-
pected that not a member of the
party came near the store to trade
for four days after the feast. There
was no need in that time to invest in
more provisions, and other require-
ments could wait. Most of the In-
dians we:e quite unable to do more
than crawl forth from their tents.

When once more hunger did re-
place the state of stupor, the trappers
brought their bales of furs to the fac-
tor's office. Then, the trading over,
they returned to their tents, reconcil-
ed to the summer's menu of traders'
pork.

{Continued in next issue)

No. 1 Folding Cot

All Outdoors
Is Calling

No. 35
Arm Chair

No. 13
Folding Table

Vacation time is here. The
crowd is heeding the call of
the great outdoors. Packed
on the running boards of
thousands of cars you see
"Gold Medal" cots, chaira,
beds and other camp equip-
ment.

For all outdoor occasions
"Gold Medal" folding fur-
niture and camp equipment
has been the recognized
standard for 37 years. It
offers the ultimate in com-
fort, convenience and pro-
tection to your health.

Before you start away thia
year see your "Gold
Medal" dealer. He can help
you get the most out of
your days in summer camp.
All the advantages of "Gold
Medal" equipment may be
had for only a few dollars.
A new catalog in four col-
ors is now ready. Write
for your copy.

GOLD MEDAL FOLDING FURNITURE CO.

1721 Packard Ave.

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ColdMedal

Abiding (^UmiU^

Counterfeit Money ^
Imitation Dardevles

belong in the Scrap Pile

'^^^•* Weak-kneed, spineless copy-
ists without original thought or idea
are offering YOU a rank imitation —
a spurious bait of little value.

Refuse These
Mongrel Lures

INSIST ON THE

Genuine Dardevie

EVERY GENUINE LURE IS
STAMPED

"DARDEVLE"

DETROIT, U. S. A.

If it's fish you are after, and the
thrill of catching them, stick to the
genuine Fish Getting DARDEVLE.

Four color catalogue and Fisher-
man's Luck booklet free.

Dept. R.G., Detroit, Mich., U. S. A.

THE EYENTKG

ALASKA CALLED
PREHI WIC GATE

Mummies and Other Discov-
eries Indicate Road
From Asia.

By the Associated Press.

NEW HAVEN, Conn., February 14.—
The discovery in Alaska of buried pre-
historic villages, which yielded hun-
dreds of archeological relics new to
science, was described here last night
by Edward MofTatt Weyer, anthropolo-
gist and archeologist for the stoll-Mac-
Cracken Arctic expedition, which set
out from New York last Spring on the

schooner Morrissey. i. ^ ^« +1,0

Mr. Weyer, who talked before the
Yale Anthropology Club and who is
studying for his doctor's degree at Yale,
described Alaska as the probable gate-
way through which passsd the early
Asiatic immigrants, and where the first
scene of human history in America
took place.

The Navy^
has its headc
Department,
estate of the
swain's Mate Jot
served in the Na^
1928, and who ws
outstanding workers^
ciety. This annount
made yesterday and
service recalled Bowen
to organize the society

the needy. , .ocr

Born in Boston in 1865, ^
enlisted In the Navy June
1898, and died la^t June. He
buried in Los Angeles. His wl
was recently probated.

Immigrants From Asia.

*'The American continents are
younger with regard to human occupa-
tion than the Eastern Hemisphere," Mr.
Weyer told his audience. "The very
first immigrants to them, the forerun-
ners of the American Indians, doubt-
less came from Asia. Thus Alaska,
which lies much closer to Asia than any
other part of America, probably was the
rateway through which passed these
I early Asiatic immegrants. The nortn-
' western corner of North America,
therefore, can be regarded as the nrst
scene of human history in America.

No aborigines of Arctic America, so
far as is known, ever used a written
language. Consequently the mute relics
of matierial culture are the only source
of historical information here. Never-
theless, the buried prehistoric villages
of Alaska yield secrets to the arche-

° ^or one month Mr. Weyer and two
companions were encamped on an
ancient village site on the Alaska
Peninsula. During 11 day of this
period, with provisions for only 4
days, the group was In forced isolation
by reason of stormy weather, and used
^ for food clams dug from the mud flats.

Remarkably Preserved Bodies.

On the almost inaccessible summit
of a precipitous island in the Aleutian
chain, the expedition discovered a grave

containing mummies of unknown age.
By reason of their careful Preparation
for burial, the bodies remained in a
remarkable state of preservation. This
grave afforded the first comprehensive
information concerning this type of
burial in the Aleutian Islands before
the introduction of higher civilization.

Later, for six weeks, Mr. Weyer pur-
sued his investigation in the region of
Bering Strait, the neck of water 50
miles wide separating Asia and Alaska.
Part of this time he passed on the
Diomede Islands, where dwell the most
primitive Eskimos in this section of
the Arctic. In connection with his mo-
tion pictures, which are the only ones
ever taken on these islands, he related
many interesting customs which these
Eskimos practice. —

Science News Letter jor January lo, i952

ANTHROPOLOGY

Domestic Occupations of the Eskimos

A CI

f Sci

assic or ocience

Eskimo Life Was Described Almost a Half Century Ago
By Dr. Franz Boas, Retiring President of the A. A. A. S.

THE CENTRAL ESKIMO. By Dr.

Franz Boas. In Sixth Annual Report of
the Bureau of Ethnology to the Secre-
tary of the Smithsonian Institution,
1884-85. Washington, Government
Printing Office, 1888.

IT IS winter and the natives are estab-
lished in their warm snow houses.
At this time of the year it is necessary
to make use of the short daylight and
twilight for hunting. Long before the
day begins to dawn the Eskimo pre-
pares fpr hunting. He rouses his house-
mates; his wife supplies the lamp with
a new wick and fresh blubber and the
dim light which has been kept burning
during the night quickly brightens up
and warms the hut. While the woman
is busy preparing breakfast the man fits
up his sledge for hunting. He takes
the snow block which closes the en-
trance of the dwelling room during the
night out of the doorway and passes
through the low passages. Within the
passage the dogs are sleeping, tired by
the fatigues of the day before. Though
their long, heavy hair protects them
from the severe cold of the Arctic win-
ter, they like to seek shelter from the
piercing winds in the entrance of the
hut.

The sledge is iced, the harnesses are
taken out of the storeroom by the door,
and the dogs are harnessed to the
sledge. Breakfast is now ready and
after having taken a hearty meal of seal
soup and frozen and cooked seal meat
the hunter lashes the spear tha: sinds
outside of the hut upon the sledge,
hangs the harpoon line, some toggles,
and his knife over the antlers, and starts
fo" the hunting ground. Here he waits
patiently for the blowing seal, some-
times un'il late in the evening.

Meanwhile the women, who stay at
home, are engaged in their domestic
occupations, mending boots and making
new clothing, or they visit one another,
taking some work with them, or pass
their time with games or in playing with
the children. While sitting at their

sewing and at the same time watching
their lamps and cooking the meat, they
incessantly hum their favorite tunes.
About noon they cook their dinner and
usually prepare at the same time the
meal for the returning hunters. As
soon as the first sledge is heard ap-
proaching, the pots, which have been
pushed back during the afternoon, are
placed over the fire, and when the hun-
gry men enter the hut their dinner is
ready. While hunting they usually open
the seals caught early in the morning,
to take out a piece of the flesh or liver,
which they eat raw, for lunch. The cut
is then temporarily fastened until the
final dressing of the animal at home.

In the western regions particularly
the hunters frequently visit the depots
of venison made in the fall, and the
return is always followed by a great
feast.

A Religious Custom • • •

After the hunters reach home they
first unharness their dogs and unstring
the traces, which are carefully arranged,
coiled up, and put away in the store-
room. Then the sledge is unloaded and
the spoils are dragged through the en-
trance into the hut. A religious custom
commands the women to leave off work-
ing, and not until the seal is cut up are
they allowed to resume their sewing and
the preparing of skins. This custom is
founded on the tradition that all kinds
of sea animals have risen from the fin-
gers of their supreme goddess, who must
be propitiated after being offended by
the murder of her offspring. The spear
is stuck into the snow at the entrance
of the house, the sledge is turned up-
side down, and the ice coating is re-
moved from the runners. Then it is
leaned against the wall of the house,
and at last the hunter is ready to enter.
He strips off his deerskin jacket and
slips into his sealskin coat. The former
is carefully cleaned of the adhering ice
and snow with the snowbeater and put
into the storeroom outside the house.

This done, the men are ready for their

dinner, of which the women do not
partake. In winter the staple food of
the Eskimo is boiled seal and walrus
meat, though in some parts of the west-
ern districts it is musk ox and venison,
a rich and nourishing soup being ob-
tained by cooking the meat. The na-
tives are particularly fond of seal and
walrus soup, which is made by mixing
and boiling water, blood, and blubber
with large pieces of meat.

The food is not always salted, but
sometimes melted sea water ice, which
contains a sufficient quantity of salt, is
used for cooking. Liver is generally
eaten raw and is considered a tidbit. I
have seen the intestines eaten only when
there was no meat.

Forks are used to take the meat out
of the kettle and the soup is generally
poured out into a large cup. Before
the introduction of European manufac-
tures these vessels and dishes generally
consisted of whalebone. One of these
has been described by Parry. It was cir-
cular in form, one piece of whalebone
being bent into the proper shape for
the sides and another flat piece of the
same material sewed to it for a bottom,
so closely as to make it perfectly water-
tight. A ladle or spoon is sometimes
used in drinking it, but usually the cup
is passed around, each taking a sip in
turn. In the same way large pieces of
meat are passed round, each taking as
large a mouthful as possible and then
cutting off the bit close to the lips.
They all smack their lips in eating.
The Eskimo drink a great deal of water,
which is generally kept in vessels stand-
ing near the lamps. When the men
have finished their meal the women take

Lava, Granite and
Qu artz

form as series covering the modes of

rock formation from fusion to simple

crystallization, described by

SORBY

IN THE NEXT CXASSIC OF SCIENCE

Science News Letter for January 16, 1932

MEDICINE ^^ m

Injury to Head at Birth
Mav Cause Mental Dii

Brain Hemorrhage in Newly-Born Child Results in Ills
Ranging in Seycrity from Backwardness to Imbecility

INJURIES to the heads bl babies at
birth may cause mental disorders
ranging in severity from backwardness
to epilepsy and imbecility, Dr. Leon S.
Gordon of George Washington Univer-
sity School of Medicine stated in a re-
port to the American Association for
the Advancement of Science.

Chief of the birth injuries to babies
is hemorrhage into the brain, Dr. Gor-
don said. When this condition is very
severe, the child cannot survive. When
ic is very mild, the child may recover
and be perfectly normal. In between
these two extremes. Dr. Gordon finds
all degrees of hemorrhage reflected in
all degrees of mental disorder.

Of infants suffering from the latter
tj'pes of hemorrhage Dr. Gordon says
they are a "group in which mental sub-
normality or neuropathology is manifest
sufficient to create candidates for homes
for imbeciles and idiots, the epileptic
colony, or the neurological institutions
as the probable result of birth mjury
upon the central nervous system."

In a series of 180 postmortem ex-
aminations of babies born dead or dying
soon after birth there was hemorrhage
into the cranium in more than four out
of five Dr. Gordon reported that he
found 'in his studies. Of 1,000 con-
secutive babies born alive, one out of
ten showed blood in the cerebro spinal
fluid, indicating an injury in the central
nervous system.

Dr. Gordon called attention to the
work of Dr. Aaron Capper of Philadel-
phia, who followed through 437 live-
born, immature or underdeveloped
babies that weighed at birth under five
and one-half pounds. He found that
only 55 per cent, were alive at the end
of the first year and only 52 per cent,
at the end of the fourteenth year.

"These children showed a multitude
of deviations from the normal in psychic
and mental progress," Dr. Gordon sum-
marized Dr. Capper's findings.

"There was marked tardiness in hold-
ing up the head, and attempts to sit up.
In the second year there were late at-
tempts at walking or active speaking.

Many of the children did not progress
normally in school with the rest of their
mature fellow children; others were
sent to schools for mentally mfenor
children. '

"In brief, the immature infant will
become the backward school child, is
the potential future psychopathic or
neuropathic patient, and even the po-
tential inmate of the homes for imbeciles
or idiots," Dr. Gordon declared.

Science News Letter, January 16, 1932

ECOLOGY

Cypresses Change Shape
According to Water Depth

POND CYPRESSES, endlessly fasci-
nating to all travellers in the South
because of the great buttresses that brace
their trunks and curious "knees" that
hump themselves up on their roots,
have yielded some of their secrets to
Prof. Herman Kurz, botanist of the
Florida State College for Women. In
a report to the Ecological Society of
America, he showed how these strange

trees respond to changes in their habitat.

Shallow water with a miry sub-
stratum favors the formation of cypress
knees Prof. Kurz said. Trees in deeper
water' are devoid of knees. Frequently
the knees form a symmetrical circle
around the base of the tree.

The buttresses around the trunk are
also influenced by the depth of water
in which the tree grows. Relatively
constant deep water results in bottle-
formed buttresses. Shallow water pro-
duces inverted saucer-shaped buttresses,
and fluctuating water levels result in the
formation of cone-shaped ones.

Science News Letter, January 16, ISSt

ECOLOGY

Young Pond Cypresses
Drown When Submerged

DROWNING a pond cypress would
seem, at first blush, about as easy
as drowning a catfish. Yet it can be
done. In a report to the Ecological So-
ciety of America, Delzie Demaree of
Little Rock, Ark., told about his experi-
ments with seeds and young seedlings of
this water-loving tree, which he per-
formed in the St. Francis River, Ar-
kansas, and Reel Foot Lake, Tennessee.
Seeds planted under water, he re-
ported, never sprouted. Seedlings just
emerged from the seed-coat never pro-
duced a leaf when submerged in water,
regardless of die depth. Seedlings, re-
gardless of age, died when submerged,
die time depending on the temperature
and the muddiness of the water.

Science Neics Letter, January 16, 19S2

Science News Letter for January 16, 1932

o»

BOTANICAL BOTTLES
by Prof. "^'"'"',2^'''y/X/. these strange tree, stood was dramed.

N, V X

.— 6»

--• %J/

•*'-i;

ij\A. — - ■ "^ — -."._'_

INTERIOR OF A SNOW HOUSE
A bed on a snowbank, lamps and a supply
of meat are the Eskimos* chief furniture.

'->

their share, and then all attack the
frozen meat which is kept in the store-
rooms. The women are allowed to par-
ticipate in this part of the meal. An
enormous quantity of meat is devoured
e\'ery night, and sometimes they only
suspend eating when they go to bed,
keeping a piece of meat withm reach m

case they awake. , . , ,

After dinner the seals, which have
been placed behind the lamps to thaw,
are thrown upon the floor, cut up, and
the spare meat and skins are taken mto
the storerooms. If a scarcity of food
prevails in the village and a hunter has
caught a few seals, every inhabitant of
the settlement receives a piece of meat
and blubber, which he takes to his hut
and the successful hunter invites all
hands to a feast.

The dogs are fed every second day
after dinner. For this purpose two men
go to a place at a short distance from
the hut, taking the frozen food with
them, which they split with a hatchet
or the point of the spear. While one
is breaking the solid mass the other
keeps the dogs off by means of the
whip, but as soon as the food is ready
they make a rush at it, and in less than
half a minute have swallowed their
meal. No dog of a strange team is al-
lowed to steal anything, but is kept at
a distance by the dogs themselves and
by the whip. If the dogs are very hun-
gry they are harnessed to the sledge m
order to prevent an attack before the
men are ready. They are unharnessed
after the food is prepared, the weakest
first, in order to give him the best
chance of picking out some good pieces.
Sometimes they are fed in the house; in
such a case, the food being first pre-
pared, they are led into the hut singly ;
thus each receives his share.

All the work being finished, boots
and stockings are changed, as they must
be dried and mended. The men visit
one another and spend the night in

talking, singing, gambling, and telling
stories. The events of the day are talk-
ed over, success in hunting is compared,
the hunting tools requiring mending are
set in order, and the lines are dried and
softened. Some busy themselves in cut-
ting new ivory implements and seal lines
or in carving. They never spend the
nights quite alone, but meet for social
entertainment. During these visits the
host places a large lump of frozen meat
and a knife on the side bench behind
the lamp and every one is welcome to
help himself to as much as he likes.

The first comers sit down on the
ledge, while those entering later stand
or squat in the passage. When any one
addresses the whole assembly he always
turns his face to the wall and avoids
facing the listeners. Most of the men
take off their outer jacket in the house
and they sit chatting until very late.
Even the young children do not go to

bed early.

The women sit on the bed in front ot
their lamps, with their legs under them,
working continually on their own cloth-
ing or on that of the men, drying the
wet footgear and mittens, and softening
the leather by chewing and rubbing. If
a bitch has a litter of pups it is their

business to look after them, to keep
them warm, and to feed them regularly.
Generally the pups are put into a small
harness and are allowed to crawl about
the side of the bed, where they are tied
to the wall by a trace. Young childreti
are always carried in their mothers
hoods, but when about a year and a half
old they are allowed to play on the
bed and are only carried by their moth-
ers when they get too mischievous.
When the mother is engaged in any
hard work they are carried by the young
girls. They are weaned when about
two years old, but women suckle them
occasionally until they are three or four
years of age. During this time they are
frequently fed from their mothers
mouths. When about twelve years old
they begin to help their parents, the
girls sewing and preparing skins, the
boys accompanying their fathers in
hunting expeditions. The parents are
very fond of their children and treat
them kindly. They are never beaten and
rarely scolded, and in turn they are very
dutiful, obeying the wishes of their par-
ents and taking care of them in their
old age.

Science News Letter, January 16, 19S2

OCEANOGRAPHY ^^ ^^

Submersed Beach Proves to b
Island Once 30 Times Larsei

OCEANOGRAPHER'S nets, torn
on sea beaches now submerged
more than a mile arid a half, have
yielded scientists new knowledge about
the Bermudas, popular resort islands,
revealing that these islands, which are
now smaller than Manhattan, were once
nearly thirty times their present size.
This evidence of the past extent o the
Bermudas was obtained by Dr. Wi ham
Beebe, of the New York Zoological So-
ciety, working near the scene of his
1930 quarter-mile descent below the
surface of the water in a hollow steel

sphere.

•The sea floor at 1,000 to 1,500
fathoms is usually comparatively smooth
and flat," Dr. Beebe says in a report ot
his work to Science. ""But my nets and
dredges have encountered obstacles at
every trawl, obstacles similar in hard^
ness and in the bits of broken rock
which came up, to the water- and air-
worn reef-rocks in shallow water near
the shore.

"Four-foot iron dredges were used
this year with unexpected results. About
two hauls were made with each dredge
before it was lost, and at each success-
ful haul the dredge was bent almost
double. One-half square-inch mesh
netting was used on the dredge, which
allowed most of the ooze to slip
through. What remained was of great
interest since it consisted almost en-
tirely of water-worn pebbles, shells and
bits of coral."

The submerged beaches enable Dr.
Beebe to estimate that the Bermudas
once had a Und area of at least 576
square miles, a much larger figure than
that of 230 square miles, the area geolo-
gists assign the islands for glacial
periods when the oceans were lower be-
cause their water was in the form of ice
around the north and south polar re-
gions. He believes the land itself might
also have changed some in altitude, but
not more than 150 feet.

Science News Letter, January 16, I9.12

Science News Letter for January 16, 1932

ASTRONOMY

American Astronomer Given
Medal of British Society

THE HIGHEST honor of the Royal
Astronomical Society, its Gold
Medal, has been awarded an American,
Dr. Robert Grant Aitken, director of the
Lick Observatory of the University of
California, it was announced at Lon-
don. Dr. Aitken becomes the nine-
teenth American to receive this medal,
which has been given annually by the
British society since 1824.

Dr. Aitken is considered a leading
authority on double stars, shown by the
telescope to consist of two or more
bodies revolving around each other. He
has been director of the Lick Observa-
tory since the retirement of Dr. Wil-
liam Wallace Campbell in 1930. Dr.
Aitken is a native Californian, and was
graduated from Williams College in
1887. His connection with the Lick
Observatory dates from 1895.

The first American to receive the
Gold Medal of the Royal Society was
George P. Bond, second director of the
Harvard College Observatory, to whom
it was given in 1863. Six of the past
eighteen American recipients are living.
They are: Dr. George Ellery Hale, hon-
orary director of the Mount Wilson Ob-
servatory; Dr. William Wallace Camp-
bell, director emeritus of the Lick Ob-
servatory; Dr. Ernest W. Brown, of
Yale University; Dr. Walter S. Adams,
director of the Mount Wilson Observa-
tory; Dr. Henry Norris Russell, pro-
fessor of anatomy at Princeton Univers-
ity, and Dr. Frank Schlesinger, director
of the Yale University Observatory. The
recipient last year was Dr. Willem de
Sitter, of the University of Holland.

8cie7ice News Letter, January 16, 19S2

PSYCHOLOGY

Schooling Fails to Remove
Public's Belief in Magic

^'l-HE SCHOOL has done very little
I in eradicating magical beliefs from
the minds of the common people," Dr.
A. O. Bowden, president of the New
Mexico State Teachers College, said in
a report to the American Association for
the Advancement of Science.

Dr. Bowden found no relation to ex-
ist between the amount of schooling a
person had had and the extent of his
belief in magic and superstition.

A six-year investigation made by Dr.
Bowden indicates that 86 persons out of

every hundred believe that beautiful pic-
tures, fine music, and fine home sur-
roundings will in some mysterious way
make people moral and virtuous. Sixty-
five per cent, believe fish to be a better
brain food than bacon. And 92 per
cent, believe that the great majority of
the American people, by reason of an
innate ability to tell right from wrong,
will naturally take the right side of any
big public question in the state or na-
tion when allowed to vote on it.

The average belief in the fallacies
used by Dr. Bowden in his test was
49V2 P^^ ^^^^' ^"^^^8 ^^^ population in
general. Among teachers it was 46I/2
per cent. There is evidently a difference
of only 3 per cent, between the super-
stition of teachers and of those whom
they have taught.

Science News Letter, January 16, 19S2

ZOOLOGY

IN §€IIE

NUTRITION

Cockroaches Evolved
From Voracious Termites

EVIDENCE that roaches, among
whose numbers are some of our
worst house pests, evolved from
termites, which sometimes literally eat
our houses from under our feet, has
been found in a species of wild roach
living in the Appalachians and in cer-
tain localities in the Pacific Coast area.
This has been' reported to the Ameri-
can Association for the Advancement of
Science by Dr. L. R. Cleveland, Eliza-
beth P. Sanders and S. R. Hall, of Har-
vard University Medical School.

The evidence was quite literally
found in the roaches, for it consists of
certain one-celled animals, or protozoa,
hitherto known only from the digestive
tracts of termites. These protozoa serve
their termite hosts by digesting the
wood which is their exclusive diet.
Without their internal equipment of
protozoa the termites would starve, as
Dr. Cleveland demonstrated several
years ago, when he shared the Associa-
tion's annual thousand-dollar prize for a
paper on his discovery.

Like the termites, these woodland
roaches are wood-eaters, and their in-
ternal protozoa apparently do their di-
gesting for them.

The possibility that these roaches
swapped internal inhabitants with the
termites in comparatively recent times
is barred by their distribution, Dr.
Cleveland reported. These particular
roaches have not been neighbors with
the termites that carry similar protozoa
since the days of the dinosaurs.

Science News Letter, January 16, li)S2

Jobless Nutritionists
Teach Nutrition to Needy

UNABLE to find jobs themselves, a
number of young trained home eco-
nomics workers have volunteered their
services as nutritionists to the American
Red Cross at Washington. They are
ready to teach others, reduced like them-
selves to straitened circumstances, how
to spend more wisely their food money,
how to reduce other household expenses
and how to prepare budgets which will
safeguard their health. In return the
local Red Cross chapter meets the living
expenses of these volunteer nutritionists
and pays transportation to and from
their homes.

One such volunteer is already at work
at Marion, Ohio. She is teaching classes
in schools, mothers' clubs and else-
where, the inexpensive nourishing foods
that may be substituted for the more ex-
pensive ones in their daily diet, the
foods that can be safely omitted alto-
gether, and the methods of cooking the
cheaper foods that will make them more
palatable and nutritious. Another nu-
tritionist will soon be on her way to
Lewiston, Maine, to do work there.

Science News Letter, January 16, 19St

BNGINEERING

Pipe Lines in Gas Fields
May Carry Solid Products

EVEN an exhaustion of natural gas
fields would not necessarily cause
the junking of the thousands of miles
of pipe lines recently built to carry gas
to industrial centers. Prof. J. H. Pound
of the Rice Institute, believes.

As long as the nation continues to
develop, the expansion of the pipe line
method of transporting oil, gasoline,
natural gas and possibly other materials
seems unavoidable. Prof. Pound stated
in a report to the American Association
for the Advancement of Science.

"Solid fuels in suspension may some
day be a promising pipe line load, and
so may certain chemicals or even some
foods," he said.

Science News Letter, January 16, 19St

.,**^-7

Folk-Lore Scrap-Book. 65

FOLK-LORE SCRAP-BOOK.

Notes on Eskimo Customs. — A number of interesting letters from
Alaska, written on the cruise of the U. S. revenue cutter Rush, by Mr.
Wardman, appeared in the " Pittsburgh Dispatch" of 1879. They contain
some notes on Eskimo customs and lore. All hunters have their favorite
charms to bring them good luck. It will not do to cut up a white whale
with an axe. Wood must not be chopped when seals are near at hand.
On such occasions firewood must be cut with a knife. A hunter's wife
must not taste meat of a moose he has killed himself when it is fresh, but
after three days she may have some of it. In some cases, for weeks after
a woman has become a mother, she will not be permitted to eat flesh of
any kind, else her husband would have bad luck. After a white whale has
been caught, numerous ceremonies are performed by the successful hunter.
The last of these is the trimming of a narrow strip from the edge of each
fin, from the tail, and from the upper lip, before the animal is hauled out of
the water. These scraps are carried away by the successful hunter, sacred
to his own uses. After the hunter has performed his ceremonies he walks
away, leaving those who choose to cut off what they want. During the
night there is a great feast, the kettles being kept boiling till morning.

The Eskimo shaman is not born to his profession, as among the Tlingit
of southern Alaska. He is the creature of accident or of revelation. He
has a dream sometimes, which beitig verified he goes off alone into some
remote place, where he fasts for several days, after which he comes out and
announces himself a shaman. Now he is ready to heal the sick, to regulate
the weather, and to supply game in seasons when it runs scarce. His
manner of curing disease is by incantation no vile drugs being adminis-
tered. The cure, if effected, is due to his miraculous influence with invis-
ible spirits. If he fail and the patient die, he persuades the mourning
relatives into the belief that some other shaman or some old woman be-
witched the deceased, and then death is the lot of the offending party who
came in between the doctor and the dead.

There is an instance reported here (at St. Michaers) of a shaman against
whom some prejudice was created in this manner on the Kuskoquim. He
was hunted from village to village, finding no resting-place anywhere, so
far as heard from, till he passed up northward beyond St. Michael's.

Some of these shamans believe in themselves, but as a rule they know
they are humbugs. There was one at the mission up the Yukon, who, dur-
ing a scarcity of deer, proposed to go up to the moon and get a supply. It
should be known that, according to Eskimo accounts, all game comes out
of the moon, the origin of which orb and others is thus accounted for : In
the beginning there was plenty of land, water, and sky, but no sun, moon,
and stars. An Eskimo, who noticed that the sky came down to the ground
in a certain locality, went forward and made holes in it with his paddle.
One stroke formed a rent which the sun shines through ; another tore away
the curtain from before the moon ; and smaller stabs with the paddle made
vol. III. — NO. 8. 5

•

yournal of American Folk-Lore.

Folk-Lore^ Scrap-Book.

holes which now appear as stars. (This account is somewhat remarkable,
as it is known that the Alaskan, as well as other Eskimo, consider sun and
moon as sister and brother. The moon being merely a hole through which
the light shines from a land where the supply of game is inexhaustible, all
a shaman has to do for his tribe is to go up and throw some down through
the hole. There is no doubt in the minds of some that they can do this.
A shaman at the mission, who volunteered to go up to the moon after game,
fastened a rope around his body beneath his arms and about his neck.
Then he went down under the floor of the dancing house. He left one
end of the line in the hands of some men above, with instructions for them
to pull as soon as he got out of sight. They obeyed, and pulled vigorously
until they became tired. (It appeared that in this case the enterprising
shaman was strangled, but the performance is of great interest, being
known by fuller descriptions from the Central Eskimo and from Green-
land.)

In order to have influence among the people, it is necessary that the
shaman should be possessed of mysterious powers. One of them would
present his hands to be bound together with leather thongs behind his
back, and would pull the lashings through his body, and show the wrists
still fastened in front. But it was indispensable that this miracle should be
performed beneath his skin robe. Some of them eat fire ; and one shaman
at Pastolik, between the mouth of the Yukon and St. Michael's, permitted
himself to be burned alive to satisfy his people that he was not a swindler.
He had an immense pyre of logs arranged near the dancing house, in which
all of the people were assembled, and at a given signal he took a position
in the centre, and the torch was applied. He stood there calm as a mar-
tyr, with a wooden mask upon his face, and gazed upon the people as they
retired into the dancing house *' to make medicine " for him.

In half an hour they came out and saw nothing but the mask in the centre,
the logs around it being all on fire. The next time they went out all was
burnt down to cinders, and they again returned to the singing house. Pres-
ently a slight noise was heard on the roof, followed immediately by the
descent of the shaman, mask and all, among them. The effect was won-
derful, but one of the shaman's confederates later on explained to a white
man that there had been a hole under the logs of the pyre through which
the shaman crawled out, and that the mask seen in the fire was on a pole,
not on the shaman's face.

When the Eskimo dies, he goes to that land which the wild geese seek
in the winter. It is a long way off, and the entrance to it is a narrow pass,
which may be traversed only when the snow is melted out of it. Some
men — the bad ones — have greater trouble than others in making the jour-
ney, being obliged to go through a long, dark passage, probably under-
ground. Once in the promised land, they will find clear skies, warm weather,
and an inexhaustible supply of game.

The origin of man and animals, according to the account of the Ten-
nanai Indians, is as follows : Man and all animals were created by the
eagle and the bluejay jointly. After man was nearly finished, the jay pro-
posed to give him wings, but to this the eagle objected, saying that he had

already been made too powerful, and to permit him to fly would be to make
him altogether dangerous. Some controversy occurred on this, but the
eagle would not give way. That dispute explains why the eagle keeps as
far from man as possible, while the jay goes into the camps with impunity,
and takes whatever he wants, if he can find it.

Remedy for the Influenza. — A correspondent of the New York
" Tribune," January, 1890, favors that journal with a cure for the prevalent
influenza : " Coming to the influenza, he believes there is nothing so good
for it as a black catskin poultice laid on the breast. ' The cat,' says our
valued correspondent, ' should be very black. See that she is killed in the
dark of the moon on a cloudy night, as the fur contains more electricity
then. Make an ordinary bread poultice and put it on the hide side. A
little Spanish-fly will improve it. Apply hot. The electricity, which is life,
will pass into the body, driving the good influence of the poultice before it
A little old whiskey taken internally will do no harm. Be sure that the cat
is very black and the night very dark.' ''

A CORRESPONDENT seuds the following, without naming the journal from
which the dispatch is taken : —

" New Orleans, August 13. — A big voudoo festival was given last even-
ing at the west end of the Lake Pontchartrain suburbs of New Orleans by
an assemblage of mixed white and colored. Dr. Alexander, the colored
voudoo doctor, presided. The police showed no disposition to interfere. A
decided sensation has been caused here by the discovery that voudooism,
or rather belief in the power of the voudoo doctors, is increasing, and is
accepted not only by the negroes, but by the whites. A raid on Dr. Alexan-
der's establishment discovered a large number of women there, most of
them whites, who visited him because they believed his incantations im-
proved their health. Surprise was increased to horror when it was found
these, almost completely disrobed (for a voudoo seance requires the * pa-
tient' to dance without clothing around the fire or snake which represents
the devil), were of respectable middle-class families. Since then the vou-
doo belief seems to have spread, and a number of meetings have been re-
ported, that last night being the largest yet.''

It would seem that there should be little difficulty in obtaining authen-
tic accounts of proceedings so well known to the police as these are said
to be.

Meeting of the Philadelphia Chapter of the American Folk-
lore Society. — A stated meeting of the Philadelphia chapter of the
American Folk-Lore Society was held on Wednesday evening, January 8, at
the parlors of the First Unitarian Church, Chestnut Street, above Twenty-
first.

Dr. Carl Lumholtz, the distinguished Australian explorer, delivered an
extemporaneous address on the customs and superstitions of the aborigines
of Australia, in which he described them as living in temporary huts made
of palm leaves, which are constructed from day to day, as occasion requires.
They do not like to leave the camp at night. An Australian is gay and
happy all day, but when the sun goes down he becomes restless and low-
spirited. He is afraid of being killed and eaten by some predatory tribe,

538

SCIENCE

[N. S. Vol. XLVIII. No. 1248

Society of American Foresters.— Will meet
on Friday and Saturday, December 27 and
28. President, Fi]itert Both. Secretary, E.
E. Hodson, U. S. Forest Service, Washington,

D. Gr / .

Sihoot Garden Association of Apmerica, —
Will meet on dates to be announoifed. Presi-
dent J. H. Francis. Acting Secretary, V. E.
Kil^trick, 124 West 30th St.,/New York,

N. Y,
The\)fficers for the Baltimore meeting are :
Present— J<Am Merle Con|ter, University
of Chicfco, Chicago, lU. /

Vice-residents— K (Matymatics and As-
tronomy) rfieorge D. Birkhoft Harvard TJniver- *
sity, Cambridge, Mass. B jfphysios) : Gordon
F. Hull, Dal^raouth CoUe^, Hanover, N. H.
C (Chemistr;^: Alexandp Smith, Columbia
University, mw York./ D (Engineering):
Ira N. HoUis, mrcester Polytechnic Institute,
Worcester, Mass^ E I Geology and Geog-
raphy) :" David ^^ite,^. S. Geological Sur-
vey, Washington, S^. iC. F (Zoology): Wil-
liam Patten, DartAjfcuth College, Hanover,
N. H. G (Botany A A. F. Blakeslee, Cold
Spring HaAor, l^.kSjl (Anthropology and
Psychology): Ale^^HrcJ^icka, U. S. National
Museum, Washington, f)^ C. I (Social /and
Economic Scien(^ : John*Barrett, Pan ^oner-
ican Union, Wa|lhington, D. C. K (Physiol-
ogy and Expe/imental Me^eine) : Friederic
S. Lee, Colur*ia University,\New York. L
(Education) :/stuart A. Courtte, Department
of Educatioj/al Eesearch, Detroi^t, Mich. M
(Agricultur/) : Henry P. Armsbyj^ State Col-
lege, Pa. / \

Permanfnt Secretary — ^L. 0. Howai^, Smith-
sonian l/stitution, Washington, D. <).

Oenerll Secretary— O. E. Jennings, Car-
negie Ifuseum, Pittsburgh, Pa. ^r

Secretary of the Council— O^o election).
Secietaries of the Sections— A (Mathe-
maticif and Astronomy) : Forest R. Moulton,
UnivoVsity of Chicago, Chicago, 111. B (Phys-
ics) : 'George W. Stewart, State University of
Iowa, Iowa City, Iowa. C (Chemistry) :
Arthur A. Blanchard, Massachusetts Institute
of Technology, Cambridge, Mass. D (Engi-

neering) : F. L. Bishop, University of Pitts-
burgh, Pittsburgh, Pa. E (Geology andT Geog-
raphy) : Rollin T. Chamberlin, Univoifrsity of
Chic^v- Chicago, 111. F (Zoology/: W. 0.
Allee, Lafe Forest College, Lake /orest. 111.,
in absence df Herbert V. Neal. yG (Botany) :
Mel T. CookK Agricultural El^riment Sta-
tion, New B^nswick, NVJ. H (Anthro-
pology and Psychology) ^^. K. Strong, Jr.,
1821 Adams Mill \Boadr Washington, D. 0.
I (Social and EcortcMftic Science): Seymour
C. Loomis, 82 CWftt Street, New Haven,
Conn. K (Ph:^lo^ and Experimental
Medicine) : A. J^oldf ar^. College of the City
of New YorkJNew York)sN. Y. L (Educa-
tion) : Bird 1\ Baldwin, WaH^r Reed General
Hospital, Washington, D. (J> M (Agricul-
ture): Edwin W. Allen, U. S. Department
of Agriculture, Washington, D. C.

Treasurer— R, S. Woodward, Carnegie Insti-
tution of Washington, Washington, D. C.

Assistant Secretary— F, S. Hazard, Office
of the A. A. A. S., Smithsonian Institution,
Washington, D. C.

SCIENTIFIC EVENTS

A JOURNEY ROUND THE ARCTIC COAST OP

ALASKA

A LETTER written by Archdeacon Stuck, at
Fort Yukon, Alaska, in June of this year, de-
scribing a journey made by him last winter
round the whole Arctic coast of Alaska, is ab-
stracted in the British Oeographical Journal
The journey, which naturally involved no
small amount of hardship, afforded an un-
rivalled opportunity for gaining acquaintance
with the Eskimo throughout the great stretch
of country traversed, as well as for a compara-
tive study of the work carried on among them
by the various Christian organizations busy in
that remote region. These Eskimo, the writer
says, are " surely of all primitive peoples the
one that has the greatest claim to the generous
consideration of civilized mankind. Where
else shall a people be found so brave, so hardy,
so industrious, so kindly, and withal so cheer-
ful and content, inhabiting such utterly naked
country lashed by such constant ferocity of
weather ? " Everywhere he received from them

:mb£r

to be announced. President, H. A. Bumstead.
Secretary, Dayton C. Miller, Case School of
Applied Science, Cleveland, Ohio.

Optical Society of America, — Will meet on
Frid^ December 27. President, F. E. Wright.
Secretary, P. G. Nutting, Westinghouse Re-
search 'Laboratory, East Pittsburgh, Pa.

Society for Promotion of Engineering Edu-
cation.— Will meet on date to be announced.
President, ^ohn F. Hayford. Secretary F. L.
Bishop, Unil^rsity of Pittsburgh, Pittsburgh,
Pa. \

Geological o^iety of America. — ^Will meet
on Friday and SVturday, December 27 and 28.
Joint meeting wim Association of American
Geographers, afternteon of December 28; joint
meeting with Section\E, A. A. A. S., on night
of December 28. Pre^dent, Whitman Cross.
Secretary, E. 0. Hovey/\American Museum of
Natural History, New yW, N. Y.

Association of AmericarvsGeographers. — ^Will
meet on Friday and Saturday, December 27
and 28. Joint meeting with the Geological So-
ciety of America on the afternoon of Decem-
ber 28. President, Nevin M. Ftomeman, 375?
Broadway, New York, N. Y. Se6fetary, 0/L.
Fassig (absent).

Paleontological Society of 4 me^ca/— Will
meet on Saturday, December 28. Bjresident,
F. H. Knowlton. Secretary, R. S. .Bassler, U.
S. National Museum, Washingtqii, D.

American Society of Naturalists. — ^Will Veet
Saturday morning, December^8. Annual
ner, Saturday night. Sec^^^tary, Bradley
Davis, Statistical Divisicjii, U. S. Food Ad-
ministration, Washingtoji, D. C.

American Society of/Zoologists. — Will meet
on Thursday, Friday /and Saturday, December

26 to 28. Joint sBssion with American So-
ciety of Naturalists Saturday morning, De-
cember 28. President, George Lefevre. Act-
ing Secretary, .W. C. Allee, Lake Forest Col-
lege. Lake Forest, 111.

American Association of Economic Entomol-
ogists. — Wi^l meet Thursday and Friday, De-
cember 26 and 27. President, E. D. Ball. Sec-
retary, Albert F. Burgess, Gipsy Moth Labora-
tory, Melrose Highlands, Mass.

November 29, 1918]

SCIENCE

Botanical Society of America. — ^Will meet
on Thursday to Saturday, December 26 to 28.
Joint sessions with Section G, A. A. A. S.,
and American Phytopathological Saciety on
Thursday afternoon, December 26. Joint ses-
sions with American Phytopathological Society
on Friday and Saturday, December 27 and 28.
Joint session with Ecological Society of Amer-
ica on Saturday morning, December 28. Presi-
dent, William Trelease. /' Secretary, J. E.
Schramm, Cornell UnivQaf'sity, Ithaca, N. Y.

American Phytopathological Society. — ^Will
meet from Monday J6 Saturday, December 23
to 28. Joint Ineetjiligs with Botanical Society
of America on Fyfday and Saturday, December
27 and 28. '[^nth anniversary dinner, 6:30
P.M., Wedne^ay, December 25. President,
Mel. T. C(^K. Secretary, C. L. Shear, U. S.
Departm^ht of Agriculture, Washington, D. C.

Ecol/gical Society of America. — Joint ses-
sion with Botanical Society of America on Sat-
urday morning, December 28. Dates of other
^ssions to be announced. President, Henry
C. Cowles. Secretary, Forrest Shreve, Desert
Laboratory, Tucson, Arizona.

American Anthropological Association. —
Will hold joint meetings with Section H, A.
A. A. S., and American Folk-Lore Society on
Friday and Saturday, December 27 and 28.
President, A. L. Kroeber. Acting Secretary,
Bruce W. Merwin, University of Pennsylvania
Museum, Philadelphia, Pa.

American Folk-Lore Society. — ^Will hold
joint session with American Anthropological
Association on Friday, December 27. Presi-
dent, C. Marius Barbeau. Secretary, Charles
^eabody. Harvard University, Cambridge,
iss.

,erican Metric Association. — Will meet on
Fridl^ and Saturday, December 27 to 28.
The sflission of Saturday will be held at the
Bureau\)f Standards, Washington. President,
George T\Kunz. Secretary, Howard Richards,
Jr., 156 Fi^th Avenue, New York, N. Y.

American Society for Horticultural Science,
— Will meet &q. Friday and Saturday, Decem-
ber 27 and 28. ''President, C. A. McCue. Sec-
retary, C. P. Clos^, College Park, Md.

539

the greatest possible help and kindness, and
brought away the warmest feeling of admira-
tion and friendship. The start was made on
the west coast first made known to the world
by Cook and Kotzebue, Beechey, Collinson
and Bedford Pim, and here it was possible to
find some habitation, usually an underground
igloo, on every night but one of the journey.
Storms were encountered, but there were com-
monly fair winds and there were no special
hardships, traveling being far more rapid than
is usual in the interior. At Point Barrow a
halt of two weeks gave oi^portunity for the
study of the largest Eskimo village in Alaska.
In spite of the advancing season the difficulties
increased with the resumption of travel, March
being the month in which the severest weather
is to be expected here. Throughout the 250
miles to Flaxman Island the party saw only
one human being and were housed only twice.
" It is," says the writer, " the barrenest, most
desolate, most forsaken coast I have ever seen
in my life : flat as this paper on which I write,
the frozen land merging indistinguishably
into the frozen sea; nothing but a stick of
driftwood here and there, half buried in the
indented enow, gives evidence of the shore."
The fortnight's travel along this stretch was a
constant struggle against a bitter northeast
wind with the thermometer 20° to 30° below
zero Fahrenheit, and at night, warmed only by
the " primus " oil cooking stove, the air within
their little snow house was as low as from 48°
to 51° below zero. The almost ceaseless wind
was a torment, and the faces of all were con-
tinually frozen. There are Eskimo on the
rivers away from the coast, but it was impos-
sible to visit them. East of Point Barrow all
the dog-feed had to be hauled on the sledge,
and — for the first time since the archdeacon
had driven dogs-^they occasionally went
hungry when there was no driftwood to cook
with. The heaviest task however came on the
journey inland to Fort Yukon. Beyond the
mountains the winter's snow lay unbroken,
and for eight days a trail down the Collen
River had to be beaten ahead of the dogs. At
the confluence of the Collen with the Porcupine
Stefansson and his party were met with, es-

corted on the way to Fort Yukon by Dr. Burke,
of the hospital there. Stefansson had lain ill
all the winter at Herschel Island, and would
never have recovered had he not finally re-
solved to be hauled 400 miles to the nearest
doctor.

A PROPOSED BRITISH INSTITUTE OF INDUS-

K TRIAL ART

We learn from the London Times that ^e
British Boar(i of Trade in conjunction yith
the Board of :^ucation and with the advi6e of
representative faiembers of the Koyal §fociety
of Arts, the A^ts and Crafts Exhibitfon So-
ciety, the Art Wiprkers' Guild, the D^gn and
Industries Association, and variojfe persons
and organization* connected wit^ manufac-
ture and commere4 have framed A scheme for
the establishment o^a British Institute of In-
dustrial Art, with tke object .^f raising and
maintaining the st&idard pi design and
workmanship of works^nd ^dustrial art pro-
duced by British desikne^, craftsmen and
manufacturers, and of stWlating the demand
for such works as reach* high standard of
excellence. ^ \

The institute will be incorporated under the
joint auspices of the ]foard ^f Trade as the
department dealing /ith industry and the
Board of Educatioi^f as the authority con-
trolling the Victoria/and Albert ^useum, and
the methods by whid^ it is propose1( to achieve
its objects include? %

(a) A permanent efaiibition in London >^ modern
^ British worjfs selected as reaching a high
standard 4f artistic craftsmans^p and
manufacture. ^

(&) A selling a^ncy attached to this exhibition.

lected works of outstanding merit exhibited
at the institute.

(d) The establishment of machinery for bringing

designers and art workers into closer touch
with manufacturers, distributors and others.

(e) The organization of provincial and traveling

exhibition of a similar character, either di-
rectly or in cooperation with other organiza-
tions.

It is not at present intended that the exhi-
bition of the institute shall be actually opened

13M_

April 1927

■^ /A« IL.l.U9TltATKt> CANAOIAM

ORCSTand OUTDOORS

199

Every Day Life in Eskimo Land

By EMILE LAVOIE, C.E.

THE latest anthropological stud-
ies dealing with the habitat of
the early human race have deter-
mined that the Eskimo is undoubtedly
of Asiatic origin and likely one of the
first inhabitants of North America.
At what period he crossed Behring
Strait, or when his sampans were
driven by stormy weather from Mand-
chouria to the Aleoutian Islands, it is
hard to say, as no tradition of the
Eskimo migration remains.

Owing to his quiet disposition and
his lymphatic character, he was easily
driven north by more war-like tribes
who, centuries after him, followed in
his wake, and slowly but persistently
drove him to the
Arctic regions,
where he fully
adapted himself to
the severe condi-
tions of living.

Physically, the
Eskimo is more like
the Japanese than
the Chinese. His
medium height,
yellow skin, promi-
nent cheek-bones,
oblique eyes, dim-
inutive hands and
feet, his gait, and
good-natured air,
all proclaim his
Mongolian an-
cestry and his close
relationship to the

Jap.

His race inhabits

Greenland, Labra-
dor, the Arctic

Ocean's littoral from the Atlantic to
the Pacific, and some of the large
islands to the north as far as latitude
78. The author has come in close
contact with the aborigenes of Labra-
dor, Hudson Bay, Baffin and North
Somerset islands. Little mention will
be made of the Labrador natives, as
they have been evangelized for a
number of years by the Moravian
Brothers. They are nearly all Luth-
erans, under the spiritual direction of
a bishop and of several missionaries.
Their intellectual and moral status is
higher than that of their pagan
brothers. Notwithstanding the fact
that the Moravian Brothers have sim-
ultaneously promoted evangelism and

<iA first hand Study

of the Habits^ Customs and

beliefs of our

V^^(orthern U^^(eighbors

o o

commerce, they have founded schools
where the Eskimo has acquired an
elementary education.

Quite different from the Indian
tribes inhabiting Canada, all speaking
diflferent dialects, the Eskimo language
is practically the same from the mouth

POINT OUIiOUKSlGNE, TEMPORARY SETTLEMENT
OF lOLOOLIK ESQUIMAUX

of the Mackenzie to Greenland, and
strangers from these far-oflf points
understand each other when they
meet. The language may be guttural,
but not unpleasant to the ear, as it
eliminates harsh consonants. It lends
itself to all phases of human thought,
even the abstract.

Some authors claim that the Eski-
mo is not only very dirty, immoral,
treacherous and false, but that he is
also a liar.

If this can be laid against the native
of the mainland skirting the Arctic
Ocean, it certainly does not apply to
the inhabitant of the Arctic archi-
pelago and of Greenland. The islander,
if necessarily and unavoidably dirty.

lies through etiquette, and if, after our
conception of sexual relationship, he
is what can be claimed to be im-
moral, on the other hand, he is very
honest and trustworthy. As to his
treacherousness, the author, who has
been in charge of explorations, his
only helpers being Eskimos, can other-
wise verify. During one of these he
was three months absent and at a dis-
tance of 300 miles from the ship,
surveying unmapped territory that
had never been trodden by the natives.
On his sleighs were articles for which
the Eskimo would give a fortune in
furs to possess, such as rifles, guns,
knives, files, etc. It never occurred

to me that my life
was not secure or
that it had entered
their minds how
easily they could
have murdered me,
stolen my goods,
and not return to
our starting-point.
They could have
avoided being ever
overtaken. On the
trary, in the course
of my travels they
always treated me
white and tried by
all means to facili-
tate my work from
the mouth of
Prince Regent In-
let to that of Fury
and Hecla Strait.

Such a wide dif-

ference in the

morals of tribes of

the same race has certainly causes,

and these I attribute to the following

reasons : —

The Eskimo inhabiting the extreme
north of the North-West Territories
bounded by Alaska, the Arctic Ocean
and the west coast of Hudson Bay
has been from time immemorial in
warfare with the Indian tribes south
of him. Between the two races in the
barren land stands an undefined fron-
tier, a " no man's land," where the
vendetta reigns supreme. If an Eski-
mo meets there an Indian, neither will
hesitate an instant ; kill the foe.

The first white men who came in
contact with the Eskimo in these
regions were accompanied by Indians,

JOO

^u ---— 5|J^^oORS

'OnCST'afxd

April 1927

jiis irreducible enemies. Logically, he
concluded that if the white man was
I lie Indians' friend he was the Eski-
mo's enemy, and, occasion arising, he
would have no hesitation in killing
cither. What has also likely preju-
diced the Eskimo against the white
man is the refusal of that special hos-
l)itality the first night a stranger sleeps
in their village. The most important
man of the tribe offers his hut to rest
in and his w^ife to sleep with. A re-
fusal is the worst insult to your host,
as vou refuse his friendship and show
spite, unconcern and contempt for his
companion. Hospitality with the Eski-
mo is sacred, and this is the summum
of it, although intercourse with the
woman is not necessary. This is like-
ly what caused the murder and mar-
tyrdom of Father Rouvier and his
rompanion, the two Oblate mission-
aries killed in the frozen north. The
un-Christianized native must have
seen scorn where vritue was, and
Ic^gically, but wrongly, concluded that
they had no use for men with whom
they would not mix.

The Eskimos of Baffin, Somerset
North and EUesmere Islands have
never met with the redskin, yet their
traditions relate wars with them in
the ages past.

The islander first met the white man
in the eighteenth century, and he has

since been in contact with him through
the Scotch whalers who sail the north-
ern seas. Their first meeting was
friendly, and barter started at once.
Even if the native had the worst of it,
yet he was neither persecuted nor kill-
ed, and henceforth he considered the
white man as his friend.

it must not be forgotten that the
territory inhabited by the Eskimo is
barren, except for the mosses, lichens
and fiowers which grow in the valleys
and in the lowlands. Not a tree, not
a shrub to build a house, to heat it,
to make a frame for his cayak, his
summer tent, his :>pears, arrows, etc.
All the raw material had to be had
where he lived, and he showed a great
ingenuity in his mode of using the
material at hand: whalebones, ivory,
silex, soapstone and furs of the ani-
mals. The white man, therefore, was
a God-send, for from him he got
planks for his sleighs, steel rods for
his spears, rifles, guns, powder, lead
and large snow-knives. It is easily
seen that his condition is much im-
proved.

The native of Somerset North is
now the only one who leads the primi-
tive life of his forbears.

An instance of how easily the
Eskimo will adapt himself to Arctic
conditions and from a certain state of
civilization return to the stone-age if

necessity arises is shown here. Quite
a few years ago an Eskimo and his
family drifted on an ice-pan. All
was lost, even the dogs. He landed
at last on Salisbury Island, in the
north of Hudson Bay. There he lived
ten vears, cut oft* from everything.
Through his adaptability to the clim-
atic conditions, he resumed primitive
life. His family increased, but after
ten years he felt lonesome for his kin.
He therefore built an umiak (^) and
in the summer headed toward Hudson
Strait, taking along all his belongings.
At first, when meeting men of his
race, he was thought to be a spirit, as
everyone was under the impression
that^he goddess '' Sedna " had taken
him into her niansion.

Their tradition relates that at one
time the " Innuit " {^) inhabited the
shores of a large river which was lined
with trees and abounded in fish and
where the sun remained above the hor-
izon even in winter. He was driven
away from its shores by men who
threw thunderbolts at him. Continually
hunted down, he moved to the tundras
of the sub-Arctic and then to the polar

regions.

Scattered on such an unlimited
territorv, it is not ot be wondered at
that his race formed itself into so
very many small nomadic tribes, sus-
picious of one anodier, and ready to

kill his kin when
famine stared at him.
These tribes differen-
tiate from one another
by the cut of their
dress. In the larger
villages one will see
women wearing three
or four entirely dif-
ferent garments, for,
as a rule, they pride
in their tribal origin.

The language is
practically the same.
A few years ago a
tribe was discovered
on Victoria Island. It
thought itself the
only inhabitants of
the whole world. For
ages it had never met
any other aborigine,
as far back as could
be remembered. Yet
on meeting natives

(0 A large boat made
of sealskins, generally
user! by the women, as
the men prefer the cayak.

ESQUIMAUX AT DOUGLAS HARBOUR

{Photo from S.S. " Diana " Expedition)

(') Name by which
the Eskimos designate
thmselves, meaning the
people, the chosen race.

APRIL 1927

*>C

"^ /A« ILLUSTftATKO CAMADtAM

on esx and Outdoors

Apt?tt. 1927
201

from the mainland
they entered into im-
mediate conversation.
«Their beliefs, reli-
gious ceremonies, or
rather their shaman-
istic seances, are
everywhere the same.

The Innuit, mean-
ing '' The P e o p 1 e,^'
makes his living out
of hunting and fish-
ing. From these two
sources he draws, not
only his food and his
dresses, but also his
fuel, taken from the
fat of the seal, of the
walrus and of the
narwhal.

During winter he
lives in a snow hut
called igloo and in
summer under a skin
tent designated as a
toopie.

Winter is the hard-
est season for the
Eskimo. Hunting is
then uncertain and
the polar night is a
drawback. The wild
animals keep hidden,
and it is dangerous to
venture too far on the
ice-fields, as a gale, with a wind rag-
ing at from 50 to 1 10 miles an hour,
may start at any moment. Woe then
to the hunter caught in such a gale.
Never will he return to tell the sad
story. If he has not been' provident
enough in the fall to establish caches
of salmon and barren-ground cariboo
meat, famine is likely to knock at
his door and may reign supreme at
his hearth. Life then slowly ebbs out
of the aged and the feeble. If the
weather keeps bad, the survivors, to
turn away death and to save their very
lives and that of the tribe, will be
forced to feed off the dead bodies of
their brothers. Abominable necessity
of which the Eskimo speaks very
reluctantly when questioned concern-
ing it.

As mentioned before, the Eskimo
spends the winter in a snow hut or
igloo, for the construction of which
he shows remarkable ingenuity. With
a long knife he tries the compactness
of the snow-drifts. These must be
hard, well packed and deep enough to
suit his purpose. He then opens an
oblong hole with a straight wall along
its longest area. Oflf this wall he cuts
Ills blocks, 6 inches thick by 24 inches
long by 18 niches high. As a rule,
one man cuts the blocks and the other
builds the hut. An elliptical curve the
dimension of the proposed igloo is

ESQUIMAUX FBOM BIG ISLANU

iPhoto from S.S. " Diana " Expedition)

traced on the ground, and the first row
of the blocks is disposed around this
line. iThe foundation is now set, and
the other blocks are then diagonally
shaped in such a way that the subse-
quent rows develop in a decreasing
spiral till the apex df the dome is
reached. A keystone of irregular
shape is then used to complete the
whole structure. A snow ventilator
is then adjusted to the roof.

Once completed, the igloo has the
appearance of a depressed arch. It is
very firm and solid, as it will support
the weight of two or three men. The
average dimensions of these huts for
an ordinary family is 12 feet by 9.
The door is very low, and one has to
get down on all fours to creep in. The
masonry completed, the women use
])owdered snow to caulk the joints.
An elevated snow-platform of about
2 feet occupies half the space at the
hack of the house. On it are dis-
posed the furs and bedding. It is
the family parlour, and there every-
1 ody squats and rests. Lateral plat-
forms are also built on which are set
the stone lamps and kettles and part
of the eatables. If the igloo is of a
permanent nature, care must be taken
to prevent (lrip[)ings from the melting
snow after it is heated. This is over-
come by building an inner wall of
tanned sealskins, leaving an air-space

of 4 or 5 inches between it and the
snow blocks.

A well-built house will last prac-
tically all winter with an average
temperature of 40 to 44 degrees Fahr-
enheit.

To prepare the family's sleeping
quarters, several layers of tanned
cariboo skins, with the hair on, are
then disposed on the snow platform.
The lamp is then set in place. If it
is a large dwelling, two are used.
They are set on the lateral platforms
and rest on whalebones sunk in the
snow. They are carved out of soap-
stone. Of a triangular shape, they are
long and narrow. The surface is hewn
to form an oil reservoir. The wick,
made of dried mosses and rabbit dung,
is placed on the concave side of the
lamp and trimmed with a small bone
or the thumb-nail to give it the re-
quired shape. It is then soaked with
oil and lit with touchwood set on fire
with a Hint and steel. At first the
flame is very low, but it increases
gradually as the stone warms up. It
then requires a great deal of manipu-
lation to keep it even and bright and
to prevent smoking. To keep the oil
level with the wick, pieces of seal
blubber are cut in narrow strips and
hung above the lamp. The heat soft-
ens them and they drip slowly into the
reservoir. ( Turfi to page 228)

:8
It
1-

le
[n
tie
en
it

202

OR eS'T and OUTDOORS

April 1927

228

•April 1927

1 An example
' of the result of
^ s 0 m e one* s
. carelessness

Fire sweeping
through the
light timber in
central British
Columbia

» - »»

Photo reproduced
Jrom ^^ Maclean* s
Magazine

National Forest Vision

"By DR. CLIFTON D. HOWE

Dearly Faculty of Forestry ^ University of Toronto

CANADA is what she is to-day
because of the struggles and
sacrifices of our forefathers,
and she will be to-morrow what the
young men of to-day make her. Young
men are inclined to forget that the
process of action-making is a continu-
ous one. We hear a good deal nowa-
days about the wonderful future that
lies before Canada. No doubt she has
wonderful potentialities. Few coun-
tries in the world are so wonderfully
endowed by nature with agricultural
soils, forests, mines, fisheries, game,
water powers and inland water trans-
portation possibilities. Without con-
scious planning for their maintenance,
however, the prosperity that flows
from the exploitation of the natural
resources is temporary and relatively
short-lived. I could cite for illustra-
tion several countries in the Eastern
Hemisphere and I could mention
some countries in the Western* Hemi-
sphere, including Canada, that have
begun to travel down the same road.
Canada is rich and prosperous to-day,
very largely through exploitation of
tlie free gifts of nature. Canada will
he i;ich and prosperous to-morrow
only if she places her restorable nat-
ural resources on a self-sustaining

Conscious Planning oj Main

tenance Measures are an

Immediate Essential

From an address delivered
before The Young Men's
Canadian Club of Montreal

basis, and she will do this only
through the conscious planning and
the sustained eflfort of her young men.
It is self-evident that the treatment
of our natural resources in such a
manner that their re-creative power is
not destroyed, so that they will yield
periodic crops for all time, leads to a
permanent population continuously
employed. It is just as self-evident,
on the other hand, that the exploiting
of the free gifts of nature in such a
manner that their productive capacity
is destroyed or greatly reduced brings
about in any community only rela-
tively temporary employment, a shift-
ing population, and leaves behind it
extensive areas of waste land or at

least land of very low productivity.
And this waste land remains idle for
a generation, perhaps for a hundred
years, as a charge upon the commun-
ity. In a highly industrialized coun-
try, no community can remain pros-
perous if it has to carry extensive
areas of idle lands or lands of low
productive capacity.

Thus far I have used the term
natural resources in a general sense,
meaning the soil, agricultural and for-
estal, water powers, mines, fish and
game. With the exception of the
mines, they are all restorable through
the intelligent direction of man, that
is, they can be made continuously pro-
ductive. As to their actual treatment,
I shall use the forest as an illustra-
tion because I know more about it,
and because it is really the subject of
this article.

In school, you were probably taught
that our forests were almost illimit-
able and certainly inexhaustible. Such
statements were largely based on
ignorance of facts. Forests have never
been inexhaustible, but they are al-
ways potentially inexhaustible, that is,
if they receive the proper kind of
treatment. We know a great many
things about our forest resources that

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AT OUR STORES,
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INCO'*^«ATfO «-• M>v l«70

Every Day Life in Eskimo

Land

{Continued Jrom page 201)

The Eskimo always sleeps with his
head towards the door ; the lamp being
set on the lateral platforms, it is then
easy for his wife to keep the home-
fire burning all night, as this essen-
tially feminine occupation is '* taboo "
to the male, and it is only in cases of
dire necessity that he will look after it.
Above the lamp, close to the flame,
is suspended a soapstone kettle of
about one gallon content. In it is melted
the snow or ice used for drinking. In
summer the meat is cooked in it, but
in winter meat and fish are always
eaten raw. The small quantity of
water thus obtained is never used for
ablutions, and the Eskimo therefore
never washes during the winter. Some-
one will ask why does he not use
snow to rub his face and hands? I
would answer, how would you like to
rub those parts of your anatomy with
frozen sand? The snow is so brittle,
harsh and hard that it just feels that
way, and two or three applications
would rub the skin ofif. The remedy
would be worse than the cure, as the
author has himself experienced. The
salubrity of the climate makes this
obligation dispensable, and personal
cleanliness is therefore sentimental
more than a necessity.

The Eskimo diet is not varied:
three times a day, fish and meat or
meat and fish. No cereals, no flour,
no fruits, no sugar. If necessity
arises, he will eat at once enough to
keep him going for three or four days.
Once his igloo is finished, he builds
a long tunnel at its entrance about 4
feet high, where in stormy weather
the dogs seek shelter. Against one
wood, jointed, assembled and tied with
lashings made of walrus' skins. The
crossbars are also tied to the runners,
and are longer, to give a hold to the
side of the igloo a semi-circular, un-
roofed rampart is built. Inside is
stored all the spare clothing, meat,
lashings and harness, as the dogs
devour absolutely everything that
comes within their reach. The com-
etics (0 when not in use are set high
on snow blocks to save the lashings
from the devouring teeth of the ani-
mals. No nails or screws are used in
the manufacture of the sleighs.

The Eskimo race is the only one
that practises true communism. In
this respect it could give lessons to the
Soviets of Russia. Even its women
are in a sense common property if it
is for the good of the tribe at large.
With him it is not a Utopia, but a

(1) Sleighs.

{Turn to page 229)

In writing to

oar adVTtUer; pUaf mention " For..t an«I Oatdoor.." It h,lp:

April 1927

^7/-

OR eSX and OUTDOORS

227

A National Forest Vision

{Continiitd from Page 204)

our own forests were drawn upon to
contribute their quota. It was because
of these experiences that Great Britain
in 1920 in spite of her great load of
pubhc debt appropriated $15,000,0(X)
lor the first ten-year period of forest
reconstruction through phuiting and
is planting at the rate of about 10,000
acres per year. She^will never again
be caught in a positioit where the lack
of forest supplies may determine tne
outcome of a war. If happily the
war never comes she will have a pro-
fitable investment. ^

It was because of the war expe-
riences in relation to supplies of wood
that the Imperial Forestry Confer-
ence was formed, one of whose prim-,
ary objects is to bring about a stock-
taking of the forest resources through-
out the Empire.

We might modify the thought of
the old writer referred to above by
saying that the second line of defence
of a country in time of war is en-
trenched in the soil and it expresses
itself in terms of food and wood
The second line of defence in time of
peace, or in other words the basis of
nidustrial development and nation
building, is also entrenched in the soil
and it expresses itself in the same
terms : food and wood. The first line
of defence of a country in both peace
and war lies in the character of its
people. /

The products of the farm stand first
and the products of the forest stand
second in the contribution to Can-
ada's annual creation of wealth. We
are proud of the agricultural develop-
ment in this country. We are proud
of the phenomenal development of the
pulp and paper industry and the allied
development of water powers in the
])ast few years. We wouM be in a
very poor position industrially and
financially were it not for this develop-
ment. During the past year Canada
has outstripped the United States in
the production of pulp and paper.
Plans are on foot for greatly increas-
ed production during the next few-
years. /

Keep Wooden Star Bright

The pulp and paper star is in
ascendency in eastern Canada and it
will be for a number of years to come,
i)Ut we must not forget that it is a
wooden star and will therefore event-
ually grow dim and decay unless
liere is conscious planning and sus-
ained effort to keep it bright, so that
niav continue to shed its effulgent
lul golden light upon the stock-
olders and the workmen in the for
,t and in the mill.

We are proud of these develop-
ments, proud of the business abilitv

Our adtittrtiMPrM

and human energy behind them, but
when we come to our treatment of the
forest on which all this creation of
wealth depends, wiien we realize the
extent of the destruction of its re-
cuperative powers by repeated forest
fires, when we realize that the cutting
methods employed are such that the
regeneration of the most valuable
species is entirely madetjuate to meet
future needs, we cannot say that we
are proud ; in fact, we must bow our
heads in shame. Why can't we have
the same enthusiasm for forest crop-
ping that we have for wheat crop-
ping? The value of the forest crops
is nearly equal to that of the wheat
crop. The one is just as important
as the other in the welfare of the
country and there is' just as much
romance in forest cropping as in wheat
cropping, indeed i;iore, for when you
Have once established a forest on a
proper basis and cared for it in a
proper manner, it goes on forever.
And this is the thought, the vision,
I wish tq leave with you. The vision
of a Canada with her forests so treat-
ed that they will produce for all time
adequate and continuous supplies of
raw materials from the most valuable
and profitable trees, such as pine and
spruce, for her wood consuming in-
dustries, wMth her river valleys whose
soil is non-agricultural, dotted with
mills and developed waterpowers and
with their consequent busy, contented
and prosperous population ; a Canada
"vith her railwa>^s and waterways
crowded with manufactured forest
products on their way to the markets
of the world : a Canada with the ae-
coin])anying benefits of the forests'
fully developed, a summer refuge and
recreation ground for the teeming
millions in the great cities to the south-
ward, with her fish and game and fur-
bearing animals conserved and pro
tected. In a word, Canada reaching
the full realization of her wonderful
economic possibilities.

Visionary? Yes. Let me say, how-
ever, that imagination is as necessary
for the protection and upbuilding of
the Empire as battleships. A people
without a vision, without conscious
striving towards an ideal to be realized
in the future, is lost. By aiding in
the education of public opinion, by
placing men of vision and high ideals
to represent you in the parliaments of
the country, you can bring about con-
tinuous forest production and the
consequent permanency of our wood
using industries. You can make your
country great in prosperity as well as
great in spirit. By so doing you would
maintain your country's first line of
defence for peace and prosperity:
character and constructive citizenship ;
you would maintain her second line of
defence: her wooden walls. By so

doing you would come back to the
standards of your forefathers, the
founders of this country, who made
great ettort, endured great hardships,
made great sacrifices that their child-
ren might have a better country in
which to live, who regarded citizen-
ship as a trusteeship for coming gen-
erations.

xC;-^^:"*:':;';::;;;-l::i::^^'=%

Do you
really want
a better job?

A RE you really trying to get ahead ?
■^^ Have you ever picked out a definite
job that you'd like to have? Could you
make good in that job if you got it?

No matter what line or kind of
business you are in, your advancement
will depend largely on the thoroughness
of your training.

If you really want a better job and
are willing to devote a little ot your
spare time to getting ready, the Inter-
national Correspondence Schools will
help you, just as they have helped so
many other men in the last thirty-four
years.

You're ambitious. You want to get ahead.
Then don't turn tliis page until you have clipped
the coupon, marked the line of work you want
to follow and mailed it to Montreal for full
particulars.

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vestigation— in justice to yourself you can't afford
to do less — and it doesn't obligate you in the least.

The I.C.S. system of rorrespondence instruction
has been conducted in Canada^ the United States,
Great Britain and throughout the English-speaking
world for more than a third of a century.

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Dapartmtnt 1521c IVI«ntr«al, Canada

T7!thout cost or obligation, please sencl me full In*
lormation about th« subject before wlilcb I hava
marked "X" In the list below: ^^ " ^" * "»v«

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Name,,

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ir name of Course yon front i.i not VrLthe abo9§iiMi
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■m

April 1927

'OnSSXand

229

{Continued from Page 228) \,

mode of government born of the
severe conditions of his strenuous and
precarious existence in a God-for-
saken country. In time of famine, if
a hunter kills an animal it is common
property.

The Eskimo woman is a good and
devoted mother. Much could be said
of the gross immorality of which she
is accused. Common civility will lead
her to do acts which our morals con-
demn, but nevertheless she is shy,
demure and never lewd. Her aim in
life is to bear sons to her husband.
In a country where not a tree nor
a shrub grows, the reader will wonder
how the Eskimo will build his cometic,
his kayaks (') and the frame for his
summer tent.

The cometic is a narrow sleigh
from 10 to 18 feet long. For its con-
struction, until a few years ago, he
used whalebone and ivory, shaped and
laced together till the required length
was reached. This mode of construc-
tion has been done away with now
that he gets pieces of board or planks,
for which he pays a thousand times
their value, from the navigators sail-
ing the northern seas. The runners
are formed of diflferent pieces of
strings tying on the load. The run-
ners are shod with flat pieces of ivory,
held on with wooden pegs. To elim-
inate the heavy drag over rough snow,
this shoeing is coated with several
layers of a paste made of peat and
water. It is only used in very cold
weather. As soon as applied on the
cold ivory it freezes and is bonded to
it To complete the surfacing, water
is then vaporized with the mouth over
it and repeated till a shining, uniform
and glossy coat covers the whole
This icing process must be repeated
every morning. Friction is thus partly
eliminated and the hauling improved
50 per cent.

The harnessing of the dogs is quite
original. In a wooded country, they
are all harnessed one in front of the
other along a single trace, otherwise
they would get entangled amongst the
trees. In the treeless regions of the
Arctic there is no such danger. There-
fore every dog has an individual trace
tied to the harness on his back. Each
trace is from 10 to 30 feet long, and
disposed in such a way that the leader
is a few feet ahead of the next dogs
coming in pairs, and all separated
from one another. The traces are
long for several reasons, but princi-
palfy to allow the team to spread fan-

(2) A low-decked canoe, for one person
only, made of tanned sealskin.

Ot^/that impulse

Take your faithful Eveready Flashlight and explore
the contents of your pine -scented dunnage bag —

In almost no time, trout fishing will be here, and
you'll be waiting for the great silver king-of-the-
pool, at sundown —

And your Eveready Flashlight will be in your bag,
waiting to see you safely out of the willow tangle
after his shining fins have flagged surrender on the
still surface of the darkened waters.

CANADIAN NATIONAL CARBON CO., LIMITED
MONTREAL TORONTO WINNIPEG VANCOUVER

—Owning and operating Radio Station CKNC (357 metres)
Toronto, on the air Monday and Saturday evenings —

£VERElU)Y

FLASHLIGHTS
b" BATTERIES

-they last longer

feis--

• zyi

AttmaWSdDiKKq

GetTWs!

The A. L. & W. illustrated
cataloR off fishing, hunting and
camping supplies is the most
complete book of its kmd. Over
60 years' business success is your
guarantee. [Authentic informa-
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mm^ FisK

to your property. Wild Life will
come if you provide food. Plant
Witd Rice, Wild CeUry, ducks meat.
etc. — 35 other plants for attract-
ing game and fiah. 31 years, ex-
perience. Write today lor expert
plantinK advice.

Terrell's Aquatic Farm
735 W. Blk. Oshkosh, Wi».

ALl.CO^lAlOH^t.WfSlJ^S

REAL HARRIS TWEED

The Aristocrat of all sports wear,
direct from the makers. Suit-lengths
by Post. $2.00 per yd. Postage Paid.
Samples free on stating shades desired.
NEW ALL, 324 Stornoway, Scotland.

( Turn to Page 230)

Our adv€rti89r» will

,wiU appreciat. learning that you read their annoane.m.nt W..

wilt annr»eiatm Imarnine that vou read their announemm^nt- hmrm.

APDTr inr-y?

.230

OReST'and

AprjL 1927

(Continu d from page 229)

'like and to prevent continuous snarl-
ing, biting and fighting. In case of
'these is renewed every spring and con-
'sists in the exchange of wives for
< three weeks, with mutual consent, of
course. Two things must be consid-
ered in this act : to wipe off the short-
coming relating to the taboos and to
promote child-birth.

Notwithstanding his apparent im-
morality, the Eskimo is neither lewd
nor immodest, for his senses are sub-
mitted to a severe regime of contin-
ence. In his ways and habits he is
even a prude. Month after month the
author lived among them, a stray
sheep in a strange flock, alone of his
kind, dressed, fed and housed as they
were, each night sharing the family
bed. Not once did he notice impro-
l)er actions.

The children are well looked after
and are suckled till they reach the
age of four or five years, as the essen-
tially carnivorous diet of the Eskimo
would ruin his digestive organs. He
just grows. He is never reprimanded
nor smacked. The grandmother looks
after his education by relating bed-
time stories of folklore.

The old people are respected, looked

after and their advice sought, but woe

ho the childless. In case of famine

they will be abandoned to a lingering
death, but only in the face of dire
necessity. Stoically they will sacrifice
themselves to save the adults and the
children, the hope of the race.

When the angel of death has reaped
the soul of one of these poor pagans,
the whole village raises an unearthly
yell, the dogs howling and the women
rending the air with shrill lamenta-
tions. Man's civilized blood curdles
and a cold wave follows the spine,
chills race over the epiderm. The
lamentations are followed by a gut-
tural, dismal and dreary chant. He
need not be moved too deeply, as this
is for the gallery. The sepulture is
done immediately after this ceremony,
as the house in which a death has
occurred must be abandoned and de-
molished. Therefore, in winter time
the moribund is dragged outside for
the passing of the soul. If death has
occurred within the hut, the body is
not removed through the door, but a
hole is made through the back wall
for its exit. The body is dragged to
the place of burial and covered with
stones in the summer and blocks of ice
in the winter to protect the carcass
from wolves and foxes, which man-
age to devour it in either case. Near
the corpse are placed the different
articles used by the deceased during

his life, to ensure a safe voyage
through the spirit-world. The dresses
worn by the dead person are aban-
doned.

Lastly, the Eskimo is trustworthy,
logical, good and hospitable. He has
an equanimity of character which is
wonderful and keeps his nerve against
all odds. He never rages nor fumes.
He is not rash in his actions, he is
persevering and stoical. He shows no
surprise when shown some of our
marvellous mechanical inventions, but
just a sophisticated mien and a philo-
sophical impassibility. Is he not an
'' Innuit,'' the people? Why should
he worry?

When his time is not taken up by
work, he loves to play. He is jocular,
sprightly, humorous and very witty.
His pastimes are quite primitive, but
he delights in musical and singing
tournaments, in which not only his
primitive life is depicted but also
some of the most subtle sentiments of
the soul.

All the Eskimos of North Baffin,
Somerset and Ilgloolik Islands, with
whom the author has lived, are pag-
ans. Those of Cumberland Gulf are
Anglicans and those of Labrador are
Lutherans. The Oblate Fathers, who

{Turn to page 231)

s
a
a:
rr
oi

Pi
di

fin

ha
th<

Pic

cd
vea

asc(

will

hut

woo

lall;

iicr

!in(

>ld<

t a

nient.

YOU ARE SURE OF

BEING NOURISHED

IF YOU TAKE

BOVRIL

Indispensable

for

(omfortable

Qamping

*'THE GOODNESS OF PRIME BEEF

Other Interlake
products are:

WHITE CROSS
VELVATISSUE
AND INTERLAKE
TOILET TISSUES
AND INTERLAKE
DECORATIVE
CREPE.

INTERLAKE Cfcpe Paper
Napkins add a touch of
solid comfort to camping
meals. Made of bleached
white genuine crepe, 100
napkins pack into a small
space in your kit.

Take Interlake Paper
Towles with you too. They
dry perfectly.

InterlakeTissue Mills Co.

Head Office :
Sales Branch.

Mills :

LIMITED

54 University Ave.. TORONTO 2. ONT.
602 McGill Bldg.. MONTREAL. P.Q.
MERRITTON. ONT.

^f.

April 1927

OneSXand

CAMAAtAM

Outdoors

231

y ''\

In Oi

ummer

or winter

Klim is the BeST Qamp Qt

There is no need these days to sacrifice the luxury of fresh country milk m your tea or coffee
or with your breakfast cereal, because with the new Klim, fresh milk is available any-
where in any temperature. Klim is pure full cream milk in powdered form It is easy to
carry. Never sours or freezes and a forty-ounce tin makes eight quarts ot m-.lk.

CANADIAN MILK PRODUCTS LIMITED

Dept. 65 - 347 Adelaide St. W. - TORONTO

Send for this Free Book to-day

Let us have your name and address and we

will send you a copy of a hook written by five

well-known outdoor writers entitled ** Camp Cooking "

packed full of interesting woodlore and camp cooking hints.

mim

Our advertisers will appreciate learning that you read their announcement here.

{Continueed from Page 230)

have done so much amongst the North-
West Indian tribes, have also come in
accident or surprise, the unharnessing
is done in a twinkling. Each trace
ends with an ivory eye, and is not
tied directly to the sleigh but threaded
through a strong skin-cord tied to the
cometic with a slip knot.

When travelling on the ice-fields, if
a polar bear is sighted, in a trice the
knot holding the traces is loosened,
the dogs are free and quickly bring
the bear to bay. The hunter then
approaches to within 40 or 50 feet of
the animal and puts a bullet through
him. If he has no gun, he attacks
him with his spear, a dangerous game
which will last over an hour before
bruin lies dead at last.

Barren-ground cariboo, seal, fox
and other animal hunting will likely
be developed in a later article, for the
Eskimo shows great skill and a thor-
ough knowledge of wild life to ensnare

and kill his prey.

Only a few traits of the Innuit s
moral principles will be touched on
here. On some I shall lightly dwell,
as I have often wondered if the white
man's contact has not spread what at
first may have been but an unusual
custom which shocks our conception
of sexual relationship. Let the man

who has not sinned throw the first

stone.

As a general rule, the Eskimo is
very honest. Around the ship at
Arctic Bay were tools of all descrip-
tions lying around which to him repre-
sented values untold and riches never
dreamed of. In and out of our cabins
he would come and go, with things
scattered about. Never did we miss
an article after his passage. The
white sailor was not so honest. He
would pick them up, take them to
the natives and exchange them for
knicknacks.

He is a liar, some will say. Yes,
but after the fashion of the Oriental,
through politeness. When questioned,
he generally answers in a way that he
surmises will please his inquisitor, and
sometimes he falls short of the mark
or exceeds it.

Concerning sexual morality, his
ideals are at a divergence with ours.
The marriage ties are very loose and
divorce very easy and open to every-
one, man or woman, for the most
futile reasons. If the husband does
not agree with his wife through in-
compatibility of character, through
sterility, laziness, etc., he enters into
a bargain with one of his neighbours
who he thinks is in the same soup
as himself. Wives are then exchanged,

the children following the mother, and
the exchanging will continue till per-
fect bliss and happiness reigns supreme
in the snow house. The newly-formed
couples continue friendly, visit and
help one another. This does not mean
that love, aflfection and sacrifice are
unknown virtues to the Eskimo's
heart. Not in the least ; being logical,
he follows the line of least resistance.
Although the woman's lot is a hard
one, she is not a slave and she is well
treated by her husband. Christianity
will easily divest her of some abnor-
mal practices called forth by their
superstitions.

The religious beliefs of the Eskimo
are vague. He believes firmly in a
good and in a bad god, or, rather,
goddess. Sedna, the goddess, inhabits
the abysmal depths of the ocean in
a large stone mansion, where every
good Innuit will go after his death.
To obtain the goodwill of his god, he
wiy perform a series of propitiatory
acts and observe numerous taboos.
Open confession to the shaman is
made at least once a year, following
a seance of sorcery. Inspired by his
guiding "tonwak" (^), the *' angay-
cook " (-) predicts the future, propi-

(^) Guiding spirit. (2) Sorcerer.
(Turn to Page 232)

»ft«tr announcmmmm^ hmrm.

23(

232

0« iEST aAT6uTb00R&

April 1927

ti;
w

a1
ti]

al
to

For Surveyors,
Foresters

FOTlSTflMUIIiM

CNHAa4

NortKem Ontario
CANADA

Northern Ontario contains millions of acres
of virgin soil open for settlement to Returned
Soldiers free, to others eighteen years and
over fifty cents per acre. Its resources in
timber, mineral, water power, fish, game and
scenery are immense. The land calls for men
to cultivate it, and in return will give health,
comfort and prosperity.

What settlers say of the soil, climate, farm-
ing and forest life is told in a most attractive
booklet issued under the direction of the
Honourable John S. Martin, Minister of
Agriculture for Ontario.

For free copies write

G. A. ELLIOTT

Director of Colonization
Parliament Buildinf^s
TORONTO, ONTARIO

Please mention this magazine

Edge-Holding
Saws

DIP

SAWS

^ Fast-EasyCutting ^

VANCOtfH

TIRED FEET

Minard*s soothes sore and tired feet.
Bathe— then rub well with Minard's.

HIGHEST CASH PRIZES

Honest deal. Check mailed same day skins reach us.

Reference: Longacre Bank, N.Y.

McEWEN-ECKSTEIN CO.

Dept F.. 35 West 35th St.. New York. N.Y.

You ran benefit
l)y having the best
wild life expression
on your deer and
moose heads, youi
bear and wolf skins
tanned and made
Into the tinest tlcx r
mats (moth proof)

Your fox am)
coon skins made
into ladies' necli-
pieces at reasonable
prices. My personal
attention. You get
the finest work of
this art In Canada.

Sportsmen's guide, prices and shipping tags free.

KDWIX DIXON, MsiHier Taxidermist,

UnionviUe, Ont., Canada

In writing to our advertisers, please mention " Forest and Outdoors," It helps.

{Continued from Page 231)
tiates the divinity and imposes the
penances to be performed. One of
contact with those of the Mackenzie,
of the Interior and of Hudson Bay,
and through the barren lands they
carry high the light of the Gospel to
the poorest of the poor, under the
leadership of Bishop Turquetil, who
left his sunny France to devote his
life to their welfare and gave his
youth for the good of these disin-
herited brothers of ours.

The Danish Government, which
rules over Greenland, has made a
success of that glacial colony, and has
civilized the Eskimos of that region
to such an extent that they have their
own parliament, ministers, doctors
and agents of their race to preside
over their destiny. Their increase in
population is quite remarkable, whilst
the Canadian-born are on the decline.
The same satisfactory results could be
obtained if our Government would
apply to our Eskimos the co-operative
regime enforced by Denmark for their
welfare and safeguard.

It would be a loss to the country if
that race was to disappear, and the
economical development of our north-
ern regions handicapped and rendered
impossible. The Eskimo is part of the
landscape, and has so fully resolved
life in the Arctic that he could not be
replaced. If practical means are not
adopted for the propagation of the
race, he will slowly disappear. There
are tribes at the present time where •
the male element predominates to the
extent of ten and twenty per cent over
the female element. This state of
affairs causes brawls and murders for
the possession of a companion. Let
the Eskimo be assured of an abun-
dance of food and not face continu-
ous famine, and the barbarous custom
of choking the baby girls before the
age of eight days will be abandoned.
Now, only those who are engaged to
be married in that very short lapse of
time are allowed to survive. Of
course. Christian education will event-
ually stop this practice, but there is
no denying that Parliament could help
in this by adopting a mode of govern-
ment adapted to these people. It must
not be forgotten that there is but one
inhabitant to every four hundred
square miles.

That the Eskimo race be preserved
from total extinction is the wish of
everyone who has come in contact
with it. Owing to his adaptability to
all conditions, the time would come
when he could furnish his own agents,
leaders and priests, and this specially
educated class be the leaders of their
t brothers through life.

fcfli

lW.^«>t'e-sU -'Vvv'-.xA^U^O.

The Cruise of

tV«. Kotn.<cViks. By W. DusTiN

winter woods — and our craft, the komatik of the
northern Eskimo, is a sledge in our own tongue.
It is doubtful if an Eskimo would have recognized
his komatik in the light and graceful sledges which
The Musher has evolved from it. The original
komatik was low and flat and heavily built, espe-
cially designed for travel over flat country and
on sea ice, while these modern Yankee komatiks
were light, though strong, and could be easily
handled or hauled up steep grades. They were
equipped with brakes for easing them down hill
and with handle bars by which they could be
steadied over rough places and guided around
turns.

The land of great snows had also supplied our
motive power, for each komatik was drawn by a
team of big Eskimo dogs. Some of these had
been imported from northern Labrador and
Greenland and others were raised from these im-
ported animals. The Eskimo dog is ideal for
harness work and for hauling a sledge over snowy
trails. His breed originated in a land of severe
climatic conditions and he has astonishing hardi-
hood as a part of his heritage. He is strongly and

"fH^iriffi^

Each komatik was drawn by a team of big, husky Eskimo dogs,
ideal for harness work and for hauling a sledge over snowy trails

HE first komatik weighed her brake-spike and skimmed out
on her course while three sister craft heaved and tossed and
strained at their moorings. As she rounded the first bend
The Musher, who commanded the fleet, stood on the
afterbeam and threw up his hand. This was my signal and
jl I

loosed a snub rope, whereupon the second komatik headed

out into the wake of the first.

A heap of camp supplies and equipment stowed amidships and lashed
with a pair of snowshoes on top made up the cargo, while I manned the
handle bars. It was a serious position for me, for the komatik was a
strange craft and the course unfamiliar. Dead ahead the surface was
choppy with small drifts which tossed the craft uncomfortably about,
and when we tacked to starboard she rolled dangerously. Once out on a
tangent, however, she settled to an even runner and, full trace ahead,
began to overhaul the craft in front. Hard astern followed the third
komatik, manned by The Artist, while the fourth, with The Lady as

pilot, brought up the rear.

We were just starting on a journey— a cruise of the great, white,

152

The Lady on her skis

Little Stories by the Men of the Southern Forestry Educational Project of The American Forestry
Association Who are Carrying the Message of Forest Protection to the People of<the South

HE Consolidated School at Crystal Springs, Mis-
sissippi, with a faculty of forty-five and an enroll-
ment of more than 1,200 children, is said to be the
largest consolidated school in the world. Twenty-four large
busses bring children to the school from distances ol sixteen

miles or more.

**When I first went to the school to arrange for a motioftl
picture program and lecture, I realized that it would.be
necessary to give our program during school hours as the
children would have no means of transportation to attend a
night program. There were eight large windows in the
auditorium which had to be darkened for the' motion pic-
tures, and as the seating capacity was not more than seven
hundred, we decided to give two programs^

*'More than 1,200 children Hstened attentively to the lec-
ture and witnessed the showing of Pardners, the motion pic-
ture made by The American Forestry Association. Their
interest in the pic-
ture was shown by
happy exclama-
tions, and the fac-
ulty appeared to be
as much engrossed
as the children.
The few patrons J
who came were
amazed at the suc-
cess of the program
and expressed their
appreciation 'of our
undertaking. We
were urged to
return/' — Earl
Taylor^ Unit Di-
rector, Mississippi.

man,* he said finally, referring to the slogan *Stop Woods
Fires — Growing Children Need Growing Trees,' and other
brief statements concerning forest protection, *and I am cer-
tainly glad you found our little school out here in the piney
woods. You are doin' a great work with your talks and pic-
y/tures — somethin' that should have been done fifty years ago.'
**I found out that this man was the wealthiest in the com-
munity, and the only one whose children had gone through
high school and entered college. He told me later that he had
always made every effort to keep fire from his land." — W. L.
MooRE^ Lecturer and Motion Picture Operator, Florida.

**In an audience at a motion picture show at a very small
school near Fargp, Georgia, my attention was attracted by
a man whose interest in the motion picture Pardners was out
of the ordinary. His face was familiar and when he had the
opportunity he came overhand shook hands with me.

^' 'Reckon you
don't remember
me, son,* he said,
'but I heard you
talk and saw your
show about a year
ago way over in
\ Echols County.
\^^ "'Well,
sure glad

ybu again,
old

Negro school children in Florida about to see their first motion

picture show.

"At Natural Bridge School, near De Funiak Springs, Flor-
ida, an old man about sixty years old approached the truck
and read the lettering on the sides.

" 'Every word painted on that truck is the truth, young

I'm
to see
sir,' I
told him.

^And I'm
gladder to see you,
son. VYou know, I
have ^een burnin'
my wdods for more
than thirty years,
and aftfer listening
to you talk last year I decided that maybe it was wrong to set
out fire. Now that I have seen your new picture, 'pardners,
I never expect to fire the woods again." — Jack ThOrmond,
Lecturer and Motion Picture Operator, Georgia.

:.i

the Komatiks

White

compactly built, and a coarse outer coat sheds the
most severe storm while a soft, wooly undercoat
conserves the heat generated by his own body. His
tail, a jaunty plume, w^hich he carries curled over
his back when traveling, provides a covering for
his nose and feet when curled up to sleep. His
feet, compact like the foot of a cat, are unusually
tough, which enables him to travel without great
injury over the icy stretches.

A team of five dogs, nicely matched, hauled my
komatik. They were attached to the sledge in
what is known as the gang hitch — two pairs with
a single leader in front. The leader was Okak,
light and quick and possessing an intelligence that
enabled her to respond readily to such commands
as I had succeeded in adding to my vocabulary.
Back .of her ran Mader and Co-Cyack, while next
to the sledge was Cyack and old Yank. Yank
was an imported dog, a veteran of the Labrador
fur trails. Formerly he had led his team, but
with old age slowing him down, he worked back
willingly enough next to the sled.

When we first started out I could only cling
to the handle bars while my dogs raced along in

The Musher would a-hunting go

Komatiks make ideal craft for navigating the winding ribbons of
snowy road or trail, or traveling expanses of ice-locked waterways

151

the wake of the team ahead. Before long, however, I managed to get
my snow legs and to feel more at home on the sledge. I quickly learned
how to shift my weight from runner to runner, thus trimming the craft,
and how to turn the handle bars so that she would take the curves in
graceful swings. Then I awoke to the beauty of the country through
which we passed. We were following a main highway, traveling down
the narrow valley of the Upper Ammonoosuc River, in northern New
Hampshire. It was a glorious late winter morning, the air clear and
the sun bright. From our starting point we could see the distant peaks
of the Presidential Range, looming clear and sharp over rolling hills.

For perhaps a mile the surface was hard and the going smooth. All
we had to do was to let the dogs run and apply the brakes a bit on the
down grades to keep the traces from tangling. The driver of a dog
team rides on the rear of the sledge, one foot on each runner and one
hand grasping each handle bar. The brake, which is a steel spike mounted
on a spring board, is located between the runners where it is easily ac-
cessible. When we came to a more drifted portion of the road, the sledges
ran much harder. Here we could aid by paddling — kicking back with

153

154

AMERICAN FORESTS

March, 1930

one foot and thus giving the sledge a push forward. At other and dark, somber evergreens, festooned with nature's own

times we would jump oflE and run along behind, relieving the decorations. At last, The Musher, who was still ahead, made

team of our weight altogether. This brought another part a sharp turn and his dogs trotted out onto the smooth sur-

of our equipment into play, a light rope, about twenty feet face of a small lake. The beauty of the scene which spread out

long, one end of which was at-
tached to the gathering ring at
the sledge bow. At the other end
is a loop through which the driver
places one hand, bringing the loop
around his wrist, while the sur-
plus rope is gathered in the hand.
One of the rules of driving is
never to take the hand out of this
loop. Then, in case the team
should start suddenly and snap
the sledge away, the driver will
still have something to hang on to.
But this was not to be a cruise
of the beaten trails for the dog-
drawn komatik, like the canoe, is
essentially a craft of the wilder-
ness. Its great advantage is that
it can be taken where other modes
of conveyance fail. So after a
short run down the valley road
we swung to the starboard quar-
ter and began bucking the stiff
grade of an old logging road.

This ascended rapidly, and we
ran along behind' the sledges,
pushing occasionally on the handle
bars to help the dogs with their
heavy loads. U p w- a r d we
climbed, past the last pulp-wood
pile, beyond the end of the log-
ging road and out on a trail that
had been trodden with snowshoes.

We came
into real wil-
derness when
we topped the
summit and be-
gan to descend
a long grade.
We could ride
here and watch
the endless
precession of
forest trees
that marched
back past us.
Rank upon
rank they
stood — maples
beeches, birches

Hard astern followed the third komatik,

manned by The Artist, while the fourth, with

The Lady as pilot, brought up the rear

The Musher and Musher, Jr., at the family camp in the woods.

stretched out, enjoying a well-deserved rest

before us was overwhelming.
The deep green of the spruces on
the shoreline was enhanced by
the graceful white trunks of the
birches. Farther away the hard-
wood ridges billowed up to where
two snow-capped mountain peaks
stood on the skyline. There was no
trail here but the snow was not
deep and the dogs traveled easily.
Across the lake we took to the
woods again on a narrow trail.
We had not gone far, however,
when The Musher's sharp
''Har,*' which is Eskimo for
**Whoa," brought the teams to a
standstill.

He had stopped at one of the

finest camp sites I have ever seen

and we lost little time getting

shelter tents up. The Musher's

was a wall tent, nine feet square,

large and roomy, for his was a

family camp. The Lady, who

piloted the rear komatik, was Mrs.

Musher, and Musher, Jr., a

sturdy little chap of five years,

had taken passage with his father.

The Artist and I preferred an

open-front shelter tent. The dogs

required no shelter whatever, for

even in their home corrals, where

snug kennels are available, they

often sleep in the open by prefer-

erence. They
fell asleep on
the snow while
we were mak-
ing camp. At
night they were
u n h i t c h ed
from the
sledge, but not
unharnessed,
and each dog
fastened, by its
own tug, to a
small tree. A
small depres-
sion, trodden in
the snow and
lined with

March, 1930

AMERICAH FORESTS

155

The dogs are

boughs, makes an ideal bed. Each dog is then given its allot-
ment of food while the ever present snow is an ideal sub-
stitute for drinking water.

Camping in the winter woods, when the mercury is cuddled
in the bottom of the tube, is something that must be ex-
perienced to be appreciated. Much of its charm is a matter
of contrast and comparison. The snug warmth of the tent
is wonderfully pleasing when the woods outside are cold and
dark and still. The fire casts a fitful light which seems only
to accentuate the shadows, and a profound mystery lurks
all about. The dim figures of the dogs in the far circle of
light; the sough of the wind that rustles the treetops; the

wilderness to explore on our snowshoes or our ski. There
were tracks of wild animals to study and trails to follow;
there were fish in the lakes to be caught through the ice.
There were rabbits in the swamps and foxes in the woods
to be hunted — everything to make it an ideal vacation land.

The Eskimo language bothered us considerably. We
couldn't seem to get just the right inflection on the syllables,
though they sounded easy enough in the speech of The
Musher. The dogs did their best to understand us. but
Chippy, the leader of The Artist's team, gave up trying.

We were driving along, single file, and this dog would not
lead the team in the trail of the others. The Artist tried

«».-«,.

We were off on a cruise by komatik of the great white winter woods, with The Musher as commander of the fleet

sharp snap as the frost cracks a tree or the rolling boom as
it rends the ice of the lake and the solemn hoot of an owl.

The lake we had crossed before reaching our camp was
the first of a chain of seven now frozen fast in this semi-
circular mountain valley, and we had some thrilling expe-
riences driving the dog teams on their surfaces. Here
it was not necessary to follow The Musher all the time, so
we struck out by ourselves, testing our skill at manipulating
the sledges and our knowledge of the Eskimo language which
was essential in guiding the dogs. Some of the lakes were
connected by narrow thoroughfares while others were sep-
arated by short portages— but a portage to a dog-drawn kom-
atik is but a bit of variety. Too, there was the whole great

such commands as he could recall and then shouted to The
Musher for instructions.

*'Say, *Ouck\" was the reply.

"Ouck,'' said The Artist, apparently in correct form, but
Chippy gave no sign that she had heard.

Again The Musher spoke the command and again The
Artist repeated it, with the same result. When Chippy was
ready she swung into line, but not until then.

Once back in the home port. The Artist and I were agreed
that this cruise of the komatiks was the best vacation we had
ever taken. While we had known the joys of winter camp-
ing, the use of the dog team has added to those joys by
making it possible to transport a more complete outfit.

House Committee Approves Acquisition Bill

•n.e CarUe BiU (H. R. 5694). -hon^jn. — ^^^^^^^ f^m dunn, ^^^^^^^^t^^;-:^

purchase

February 10. The total appropriati

being forwarded under the McNary-Woodruff Law

538

SCIENCE

[N. S. Vol. XL VIII. No. 1248

Society of American Foresters. — Will meet
on Friday and Saturday, December 27 and
28. President, Filibert Roth. Secretary, E.

E. Hodson, U. S. Forest Service, Washington,
D. C.

School Garden Association of America. —
Will mqet on dates to be announced. Presi-
dent, J. te. Francis. Acting Seseretary, V. E.
Kilpatric^, 124 West 30th ^., New York,
N. Y.

The officers for the Baltin^re meeting are:

Presidem — John Merle Qbulter, University
of Chicagci Chicago, 111. J

Vice-PreUdents — A (^Npithematics and As-
tronomy) : (fceorgeD.Birjriioff, Harvard Univer-
sity, Cambridge, Mass. fB (Physics) : Gordon

F. Hull, Dartmouth Qjollege, Hanover, N. H.
C (Chemistly) : Aleii^nder Smith, Columbia
University, New l^ferk. D (Engineering) :
Ira N. HollisI Worc^ter Polytechnic Institute,
Worcester, ]!fass. -'E (Geology and Geog-
raphy) : Davifi W&ite, U. S. Geological Sur-
vey, Washington,/ D. C. F (Zoology) : Wil-
liam Patten, ^Dartmouth College, Hanover,
]Sr. H. G (Botany): A. F. Blakeslee, Cold
Spring Harbori N. Y. H (Anthropology ^nd
Psychology) : Ales Hrdlicka, U. S. National
Museum, Washington, D. C. I (Social and
Economic Science) : John Barrett, Pan Amer-
ican Union, Wa^ington, D. C. K (Physiol-
ogy and Experimental Medicine) : Frederic
S. Lee, Columbia University, New York. L
(Education) : Stuart A. Courtis, Department
of Educational Research, Detroit, Mich. M
(Agriculture) : Henry P, Armsby, State Col-
lege, Pa. • ^

Permanent Secretary — L. O. Howard, Smith-
sonian Institution, Washington, D. C.

General Secretary — O. E. Jennings, Car-
negie Museum, Pittsburgh, Pa.

Secretary of the Council — (No election).

Secretaries of the Sections — A (Mathe-
matics and Astronomy) : Forest R. Moulton,
University of Chicago, Chicago, 111. B (Phys-
ics) : George W. Stewart, State University of
Iowa, Iowa City, Iowa. C (Chemistry) :
Arthur A. Blanchard, Massachusetts Institute
of Technology, Cambridge, Mass. D (Engi-

neering) : F. L. Bishop, University of Pitts-
burgh, Pittsburgh, Pa. E (Geology and Geog-
raphy) : Rollin T. Chamberlin, University of
Chicago, Chicago, 111. F (Zoology): W. C.
Allee, Lake Forest College, Lake Forest, 111.,
in absence of Herbert V. if eal. G (Botany) :-
Mel T.XJook, Agricultural Experiment Sta-
tion, New » .Brunswicte N. J. H (Anthro-
pology and fei^ycholofty) : E. K. Strong, Jr.,
1821 Adams J^ill JRoad, Washington, D. C.
I (Social and EjplDnomic Science): Seymour
C. Loomis, 82 >Clivrch Street, New Haven,
Conn. K (KiysioWy and Experimental
Medicine) : J^ J. Goldft|,rb, College of the City
of New Yo|i, New Yoi^ N. Y. L (Educa-
tion) : Bird T. Baldwin, Walter Reed General
Hospital, Washington, D. \C* M (Agricul-
ture): Edwin W. Allen, U. S. Department
of Agric jlture, Washington, D. C.

Treasurer — R. S. Woodward, Carnegie Insti- '
tution of Washington, Washington, D. C.

Assistant Secretary — F. S. Hazard, Office
of the A. A. A. S., Smithsonian Institution,
Washington, D. C.

SCIENTIFIC EVENTS

A JOURNEY ROUND THE ARCTIC COAST OF

ALASKA

A LETTER written by Archdeacon Stuck, at
Fort Yukon, Alaska, in June of this year, de-
scribing a journey made by him last winter
round the whole Arctic coast of Alaska, is ab-
stracted in the British Geographical Journal,
The journey, which naturally invoked no
small amount of hardship, afforded an un-
rivalled opportunity for gaining acquaintance
with the Eskimo throughout the great stretch
of country traversed, as well as for a compara-
tive study of the work carried on among them
by the various Christian organizations busy in
that remote region. These Eskimo, the writer
says, are " surely of all primitive peoples the
one that has the greatest claim to the generous
consideration of civilized mankind. Where
else shall a people be found so brave, so hardy,
so industrious, so kindly, and withal so cheer-
ful and content, inhabiting such utterly naked
country lashed by such constant ferocity of
weather? " Everywhere he received from them

November 29, 1918]

SCIENCE

539

the greatest possible help and kindness, and
brought away the warmest feeling of admira-
tion and friendship. The start was made on
the west coast first made known to the world
by Cook and Kotzebue, Beechey, Collinson
and Bedford Pirn, and here it was i)ossible to
find some habitation, usually an underground
igloo, on every night but one of the journey.
Storms were encountered, but there were com-
monly fair winds and there were no special
hardships, traveling being far more rapid than
is usual in the interior. At Point Barrow a
halt of two weeks gave opportunity for the
study of the largest Eskimo village in Alaska.
In spite of the advancing season the difficulties
increased with the resumption of travel, March
being the month in which the severest weather
is to he expected here. Throughout the 250
miles -to Flaxman Island the party saw only
one human being and were housed only twice.
" It is," says the writer, " the barrenest, most
desolate, most forsaken coast I have ever seen
in my life : flat as this paper on which I write,
the frozen land merging indistinguishably
into the frozen sea; nothing but a stick of
driftwood here and there, half buried in the
indented snow, gives evidence of the shore."
The fortnight's travel along this stretch was a
constant struggle against a bitter northeast
wind with the thermometer 20° to 30° below
zero Fahrenheit, and at night, warmed only by
the " primus " oil cooking stove, the air within
their little snow house was as low as from 48°
to 51° ^below zero. The almosit ceaseless wind
was a torment, and the faces of all were con-
tinually frozen. There are Eskimo on the
rivers away from the coast, but it was impos-
sible to visit them. East of Point Barrow all
the dog-feed had to be hauled on the sledge,
and — for the first time since the archdeacon
had driven dogs^ — ^they occasionally went
hungry when there was no driftwood to cook
with. The heaviest task however came on the
journey inland to Fort Yukon. Beyond the
mountains the winter's snow lay unbroken,
and for eight days a trail down the Collen
River had to be beaten aihead of the dogs. At
the confluence of the Collen with the Porcupine
Stefansson and his party were met with, es-

V TRIAL ART

W^ learn from the London Times that the
Britisn Board of Trade in conjunction with
the Bo4rd of Education and with the advice of
representative members of the Boyal Society
of Arts, the Arts and Crafts fehibition So-
ciety, the Art Workers' Guild,ythe Design and
Industries Association, and/various persons
and organizations connectofl with manufac-
ture and colnmerce, have f/amed a scheme for
the establislmient of a Bmish Institute of In-
dustrial Art,\ with the object of raising and
maintaining \he standard of design and
workmanship otE workar and industrial art pro-
duced by British designers, craftsmen and
manufacturers, aW pi stimula;ting the demand
for such works a\ /reach a high standard of
excellence.

The institute wflftbe incorporated under the
joint auspices of th^ Board of Trade as the
department deling With industry and the
Board of Education Vs the authority con-
trolling the V/'ctoria 'and Albert Museum, and
the methods % which it i*^ proposed to achieve
its objects include: \

(a) A per Jnent exhibition i^.^ndon of modern
British works selected as reaching a high
standard of artistic craftsmanship and
manufacture.

(h) A selling agency attached to this exhibition.

lected works of outstanding merit exhibited
at the institute.

(d) The establishment of machinery for bringing

designers and art workers into closer touch
with manufacturers, distributors and others.

(e) The organization of provincial and traveling

exhibition of a similar character, either di-
rectly or in cooperation with other organiza-
tions.

It is not at present intended that the exhi-
bition of the institute shall be actually opened

August, 1926

Illustrated Canadian
FOREST AND OUTDOORS

Some Pictures from the Top

By AUBREY FVLLERTON.

SAMMY, beyond
a doubt, must
b e included
among the native-
born artists who
have done something
to depict Canadian
outdoor life.

"Forest and Out-
doors*' has shown in
its pages from time
to time, for many
years past, pictures
that have been made
by various processes

Group of Eskimos jn costume by

Some of Sammy's friends went out to hunt

of art — photographic, pencil, pen — but all rep-
resentative of some phase of nature in some part
of the Dominion. To the list of picture-makers it
is now able to add one from a hitherto unrepresent-
ed source, whence art-work has not been looked for,
nor probably even thought of, since the dawn of

liistory.

If there is native art anywhere in Canada, it is
Sammy's, for both he and it are wholly and essen-
tially products of the soil. It might be better said,
as a matter of fact, that they are products of the
ice-belt, since Sammy is an Eskimo who lives away
up at the top, on the edge of the Arctic Ocean.

Some of this northern artist's work has been
brought south by an Edmonton fur trader and may
now be shown in public. It spenks for itself. The
Canadian public never saw a more original exhibit
nor one more ex-
pressive of home-
made genius.

Sammy's other
name is unknown
and, very likely, un-
pronounceable. IT e
left it behind him
when, moved by a
spirit of wanderlust,
he came down from
his home in the Co-

ronation Gulf coun-
try a few years ago
to visit the oil camp
a t F o r t Norman,
where he attached
himself to the mana-
gement as cook's
ludper and errand
boy. A fine summer
he had with his new
friends, tlie white
men, and when he
went back to Eski-
mo-land he took with

"Sammy" native artist. j^jj^^ enough thrilling

news to last him through even an Arctic winter. *
But he never sus|)ected that some of the pictures
he had drawn wliile in camp would by-and-by
reach a far-away city and would eventually get
into print.

Now Sammy never went to school in his life,
never had a bit of instruction in drawing or any-
thing else but hunting and trapping, and i)robably
never saw such a thing as a lead pencil until he
came down to Fort Norman. One of the men in the
camp gave him a little notebook and a pencil, how-
ever, and he began to work out the artistic instincts
that were in him.

Naturally enough, the pictures that this Eskimo
artist drew out of his limited experience were of
things and scenes that he knew in the Far North.
Reindeer, dog-teams, and hunting parties figute

This represents a Dog Team in action

Arctic Deer, Native Game and Native Art

most frequently
among his subjects,
and he works them
up into many and in-
g e n i 0 u s cohbina-
tions. The pictures,
to be sure, are crude
and unskilled, as one
would expect from
the hand of an artist
who had never used
a pencil before.

468

Illustrated Canadian
FOREST AND OUTDOORS

August, 192(

proceed to peel himself a meal of
luscious bark.

A whole lot of strange and im-
possible stories have been told and
written about the porcupine, the
most persistent of which is the be-
lief that he can hurl those deadly
barbs of his at will. Such a feat, is,
of course, quite beyond his very,
ordinary powers. As a matter
of fact, his first and only line
of defence is to bury his all too
tender nose under his forepaws,
hump himself up like an over-
stuffed pincushion, and lash his
stumpy, quill-laden tail fur-
iously from side to side.

But among the earthbound,
the porcupine is not alone in his
liking for the twilight hour.
Shambling along the trail like
a bear, his velvet nose sniffing
inquiringly, and his bright lit-
tle eyes shooting fire, comes a
eoon. Eager to capture the most
daring of the cricket frogs, he
patters quietly along the edge
of the little pond and scans the
muddy water. A sudden swift
rush into the depths, a quick
slap of those black-furred
hands, and he backs out with
a juicy frog in his grasp.

Unlike most creatures of the
wild, the coon must needs go

through a strange ceremony before
he dare pop that frog into his
mouth. And though his banquet is
guaranteed fresh from the water he
sloshes and swishes it about in the
pond till lie considers it clean and
wet enough to eat.

The ring-tailed coon of the twi-

The Ring-Tailed Coon of the Twilight

light does other things too besides
fish. Like his gigantic prototype, the
bear, he is a botanist of no mean
ability. And to see him hunt out and
dig for roots is an education in j)a-
tience and persistence. Clever
enough to avoid the few poisonous
roots that lie in the earth, he shows
a tremendous liking for tubers
of the wild bean, the spicy roots
of wild sarsaparilla, and gin-
ger. But better than all these,
to his way of thinking, is the
nippy, bitter-sweet tang of the
spatterdock. And he exhibits
an uncanny knowledge of the
hiding places of these delect-
able morsels.

They love the quiet and tran-
quility of the twilight hour,
these busy little dwellers of
the woods, and no sooner has
the sun dipped behind the hillsl
than they shamble joyously
about their business, cramming
into that short, magic hour be-|
tween daylight and dark an in
sredible amount of activity. Fori
even the smallest coon amongst!
them instinctively knows that
the falling darknesss entices
from their dens the merciless]
free-booters of the trails.

T^il ^ot,r Hovs the facts about forest fires! If every Canadian lad were
Is c/refiwftt. fire^Boy Scouts, the NaHon would save millions a year.

FOREST FIRES.

(Certified work of
Published

Jack Wood, Aged 13, Aberdeen School, Vancouver, M. C. Courie Teacher
Jy courtesy, M^^^ D. Boardman, Editor of Mt. Pleasant News.)

One little forest fire,
Drying up the dew,
A chance wind came along,
Then there were two.

Two little forest fires,
Burning many a tree,
Somebody dropped a match,
Then there were three.

Three little forest fires,
Burning trees galore,
Someone had a picnic.
Then there were four.

Four little forest fires,
Bright and ali^e,
A man lit a cigarette,
Then there were five.

Five little forest fires.
Burning trees and sticks,
A donkey engine had no screen,
Then there were six.

Six little forest fires.
Lighting up the heaven,
A careless man lost his pipe,
Then there were seven.

Seven little forest fires,
A match was the bait —
A man built a camp fire.
Then there were eight.

Eight little forest fires,
Burning up the pine,
A little red spark flew—
Then there were nine.

Nine little forest fires.
Caused by careless men,
Another man came along.
And then there were ten.

646 Stv«Avxe35^:-^i^*sfi?i; ^^^

THE STOLL-McCRACKEN SIBERIAN-
ARCTIC EXPEDITION

An expedition, to be known as the StoU-McCracken
Siberian- Arctic Expedition of the American Museum
of Natural History, is preparing to explore new lands
on the Arctic coast of Siberia and collect flora and

fauna for the museum. f a v,

The expedition will be financed and directed by
Charles H. StoU, a New York lawyer and sportsman,
and led by Harold McCracken, associate editor ot
Field and Stream, who has spent five years in the
Arctic and who is known as a photographer of mm
animals. He spent two years at the head of an Ohio
State University expedition in Alaska. Captain Egb-
ert A Bartlett, commander of the Roosevelt when
Admiral Peary reached the North Pole, will command
the expedition's vessel, the Morrissey, which was used
during the past two years by George Palmer Putnam
on expeditions to Greenland and Bafdn Land.

Other members of the expedition include Dr. H. l!i.
Anthony, curator of mammals of the American Mu-
seum of Natural History ; R. B. Potter, of the mu-
seum staff, and Edward Namley, of Marietta, Ohio,
operator of the Morrissey radio.

The search for the natural mummies of the post-
glacial period will be one of the objectives of the
expedition. The party will explore Czar Nicholas II
Land, an island of unknown size north of Cape Lhel-
yuska off the coast of Asiatic Siberia, about 600 mUes
south of the Pole. It will study the economic pos-
sibiUties of Kamchatka, which is rich in timber, coal,
gold lead, zinc and other minerals, and m grazing
lands But it will be concerned chiefly in huntmg for
the museum specimens of animals and birds of the

''^The expedition will sail north from Seattle about
April 1 Captain Bartlett left on December 8 for
Sydney, N. S., to bring the Morrissey to New York to
be outfitted for the journey. He wiU then sail
through the Panama Canal to Seattle to await the

^^he exploration wUl last about six or seven months.
The Morrissey will sail from Seattle by the inside pas-
sage to Kodiak, Alaska, and thence to Unimak Island
on the western end of the Alaska peninsula. The
next stop will be Kamchatka, whence the journey will
be up the Siberian coast and, when the weather per-
mits, through the Behring Straits to the Arctic coast
near the mouth of the KoUma River, where collections
will be made.

6l2

General Notes.

'^•^M&3-

TRAVELS.'

[July,

The Churches and the Kuro-Sivo.— Captain Hooper, lately
in command of the U. S. steamer Coi-win, in an address before the
Geographical Society of the Pacific, spoice of the habits and cus-
toms of the Chukches who inhabit the arctic coast of Siberia In
the winter they travel west on their way to the Russian trading
posts in the interior, which they reach by ascending the rivers
west of Cape Jakan ; in the spring they travel to East Cape, cross
Behring Strait, and continue their journey to Cape Blossom,
Kotzebue Sound, where they meet the Eskimo from the entire
coast of Arctic Alaska, from Point Barrow to Cape Prince ot
Wales, for purposes of trade, returning to their houses by the
same route in the latter part of the summer. , ^ , tt

Captain Hooper is of the opinion that a branch of the Kuro-
Sivo, or Japanese warm stream, passes through Behring Strait,
but subject to the varying conditions of wind and ice. A south-
erly wind accelerates it, while a northerly wind stops it entire y
for a time ; and in some cases of a long-continued northerly
wind, it is not impossible that a slight southerly set may be cre-
ated but such an occurrence must be rare and of short duration.
The' current is much stronger in August and September than
in the early part of the season when the ice-pack extends en-
tirely across the Behring Sea. This branch of the Kuro-Sivo
follows the direction of the Kamchatka coast to the northward
through Behring Sea, passing between St. Lawrence Island and
the coast of Asia, and thence through the strait, after which it is
controlled in a great measure by the condition of the ice-pack.
Captain Hooper stated that he had never known the current
through the Strait to exceed three knots per hour, the average
being probably not more than two knots. Near Herald and
Wrangell Islands the current was found setting to the north and
eastward about two knots per hour, and no tidal change was de-
tected ; off the south coast of Wrangell Island a slight westerly
current was observed. In the Arctic, as well as in the Behring
Sea, there is no doubt a tidal current, but it is so dependent on
the conditions of the ice that only the mean of a long series ot
careful observations could determine its characteristics.

Six cases containing the zoological and anthropological collec-
tions, made by the brothers Krause in the Chukchi peninsula,
have arrived at Bremen. Dr. Arthur Krause will remain in
Alaska during the summer, but his brother is now on his way
home.

rEOGRAPHicAj. NoTES.— Mr. A. R. Col^ujjoun, an
emplb^of the "Government of TK^a. whb has spent
surve3np^^nd engineering wj)rkjff»fiiitish Burma, ha|

ajq>Mliey th

icer 1

tei

e
ars in

ngineering wofk iu-k^
rh southern Cbiifa, an(

taken
OSS the frontier th><^ugh

''^Edited by Ellis^Yarnall, Philadelphia.

2 1 . li

SESSIONAL PAPER No. 26

SUMMARY REPORT 8u-iJl-S^c<x^.

M&.

Field Work and Research.

In the course of the year E. Sapir continued work on his monograph ''The
Na-dene Languages,*' referred to in the Summary Report for 1914. As this work
has grown under his hands and will eventually form a rather large memoir, it
was deemed advisable to present a preliminary report, embodying the main
results of the work, to the American Anthropologist. 'The Na-dene Languages,
A Preliminary Report" was accordingly published in that journal (N.S., Vol.
XVII, pp. 534-558). During February a number of chiefs from Nass river,
British Columbia, visited Ottawa on government business. Opportunity pre-
sented itself to obtain valuable information on Nass River social organization
from the best informed of these Indians, information which has been embodied
in the form of a bulletin on "The Social Organization of the Nass River Indians,"
published during the year. In connexion with the meeting of the American
Anthropological Association at San Francisco, to which Mr. Sapir was appointed
as delegate of the Geological Survey, an important methodological problem
presented itself in regard to the chronological reconstruction of aboriginal Ameri-
can culture. The problem turned out to be a fruitful one, and has been worked
up by Mr. Sapir in the form of a memoir entitled "Time Perspective in Aboriginal
American Culture, a study in Method,'' which will be published in the near future.
A beginning was made on the preparation for publication of those Nootka texts that
refer to legendary family history. These, with translations and editorial comments
will make up an extensive memoir. The large body of other Nootka texts,
including miscellaneous tales and such as refer to ethnological matters, will be
worked up for publication as separate sets.

CM. Barbeau spent a period of three months in the early part of the year
at Port Simpson, B.C., on Tsimshian field work. An intensive study of the social
organization in its static aspect was undertaken of nine or ten Tsimshian tribes
formerly living along the Skeena river and on the adjacent coast. As complete
a survey as possible was made of the details of organization of these tribes, a
considerable number of legends bearing on the crests being collected in the course
of the work. Considerable attention was paid to the artistic representation
among these Indians of their crests. Mr. Barbeau also collected a large number
of museum specimens and photographs bearing on the culture of the Tsimshian
Indians. On the return to Ottawa the material in the Provincial museum at
Victoria, B.C., and the Field Museum of Natural History at Chicago, 111., that
is of interest for a study of the Tsimshian, was carefully examined and in part
photographed. During the summer, Mr. Barbeau spent three weeks in the col-
lection of folk-tales among the French Canadians of Kamouraska county, Quebec.
Over sixty folk-tales were collected, in addition to those already obtained in 1914.
The field thus opened up proved unexpectedly rich and valuable and is obviously
destined to throw considerable light on the interrelations of European and
aboriginal folk-lore. As a first instalment towards the scientific study by Mr.
Barbeau of French Canadian folk-lore, he has prepared a memoir of French
Canadian folk- tales to be published by the American Folk-Lore Society. By
request of the Dominion Parks Commission, the Division of Anthropology under-
took to prepare a popular guide-book to the study of the Indians formerly inhabit-
ing the region now occupied by the Rocky Mountains parks in Alberta and British
Columbia. Mr. Barbeau undertook the actual writing of the guide-book, which
is to be published by the commission.

F. W. Waugh spent a period of two months in field work among the Iroquois
of Six Nations reserve, Ontario. A portion of the time was spent in prosecuting
inquiries along a number of lines suggested by the work of previous seasons.
The greater part of the time, however, was taken up with the collection of Iroquois

270

GEOLOGICAL SURVEY

SUMMARY REPORT

271

6 GEORGE V, A. 1916

folk-lore and mythology. About one hundred and thirty mythological and other
tales were collected. This material is also of ethnological interest, as many refer-
ences to witchcraft, medicine, divination, hunting, burial and other ceremonial
custonis, games, food preparation, and older handicrafts are found in it. This
collection of folk-lore, like sets previously obtained by the division for other
eastern tribes, will eventually help in throwing much light on the relation between
European and aboriginal folk-lore. A number of valuable museum specimens
was also obtained by Mr. Waugh in the course of the summer.

P. Radin continued to work up his manuscript on Ojibwa material, for
publication by the Survey. The general paper on Ojibwa ethnology, referred
to in the report for 1914, is now completed, also the second set of Ojibwa myths
there mentioned. Further progress was made on the special paper devoted to
Ojibwa religion and on the series of Ojibwa texts.

J. A. Teit spent a period of four months during the summer and autumn in
continuing his ethnological reconnaissances among the Athabaskan tribes of
British Columbia and Yukon Territory. A good deal of intensive work was done
among the Kaska Indians, inhabiting the Dease River country between Dease
lake and Liard river. The ethnological results include data on tribal divisions,
material culture, social organization, and mythology. The division of the tribe
into two exogamous phratries. Ravens and Wolves, was current among the
Kaska as well as among the Tahltan, though not as much emphasized as among
the latter. The latter part of the trip was spent in continuing researches among
the Tahltan of Telegraph creek, a good deal of new information being obtained
on the social organization of this tribe. A large series of phonograph records
of songs, photographs, and ethnological specimens was obtained in the course
of the trip. ^

^"""^ Canadian Arctic Expedition,

A letter dated January 5,' 1915, from Bernard harbour, Coronation gulf, has
been received from D. Jenness, the anthropologist of the Canadian Arctic expe-
dition. It speaks of further progress in ethnological activity. A later report
as to the work of the southern party, however, has come from Dr. R. M. Anderson,
its executive head. This report is dated July 29, 1915, also from Bernard har-
bour.^ The portions of this that relate to anthropological work are here quoted:

''Ethnologically, D. Jenness has been able to accomplish a great deal of work
among the hitherto little known groups of Eskimos in this region, including
numbers of Akuliakattagmiut, Haneragmiut, Uallirmiut, Puiblirmiut, PalHrmiut,
and Kogluktogmiut. He finds that these groups are not as definite as was
formerly supposed, in fact the groups are pretty thoroughly mixed, both by
intermarriages and by families shifting from one group to another, nearly every
group containing individuals from other groups more or less remote. He has
made good progress in linguistic work and vocabularies, made fifty or more gramo-
phone records of various Eskimo songs and spoken words which he has had repeat-
edly reproduced before the natives so that he could get the text letter-perfect and
translated for comparison with other Eskimo dialects. A considerable number
of photographs of Eskimo people with their life and customs, have also been made
by Mr. Jenness and other members of the party. Mr. Jenness' facility in learning
the Eskimo dialects and the customs of the people has been of great service to
the expedition in many ways. He made many trips in the winter, to the islands
m the strait and to Victoria island, and in addition to his ethnographical work,
usually obtained and brought home to the station on each trip, a quantity of fish,
caribou, or seal meat, as well as engaging with natives to bring more meat over.
While at the station Mr. Jenness acted practically all the time as interpreter and

SESSIONAL PAPER No. 26

purchasing agent of the party in trading with the natives for fresh and dried
meat, tish, skins, and clothing. In doing this work he collected a large number
of specimens of Eskimo tools, weapons, and other implements, clothing of all
kinds, stone lamps, and pots, a collection which is very complete for this region,
and a large series of duplicates of many things.

''In the early spring, arrangements were made for Mr. Jenness to spend the
summer with the Eskimos in the heart of Victoria island. He had a good quantity
of provisions hauled across Dolphin and Union strait in early April and cached on
the south side of Victoria island for his use if necessary in the autumn. He engaged
a middle-aged Eskimo named Ikpukkuaq (who had been in that part of Victoria
island before) together with his family, to accompany him and help him during
the summer, Mr. Jenness supplying the man with a rifle and ammunition, which
together with a tent and other things are to be given him if he serves Mr. Jenness
. n^I^ r r ^T r ^^.^"^^^ ^^^^ ^im in the autumn. Mr. Jenness started on April 13,
1915, for Victoria island, with this family of Eskimos, and a few others who were
thinking more or less seriously of joining the party. They started about the time
the barren ground caribou began to migrate across to Victoria island in numbers,
planning to follow the caribou migration north across the Wollaston peninsula, then
go up to the head of Prince Albert sound, ascend a large river to a large lake called
Tahieryuak, in the interior or west central part of Victoria island. When the
snow disappeared they intended to cache their sleds, either at the head of Prince
Albert sound or at the lake, and continue their journeys during the summer with
pack dogs. That region is the summer hunting and fishing ground of a large
number of the Kanghirmiut (Eskimo of Prince Albert sound) and Mr. Jenness
hopes to gather much new and valuable ethnographical material concerning this
hitherto little known group of Eskimos. Mr. Jenness expects to live with these
Eskimos all the coming summer, and return to the south side of Victoria island
in the autumn, following the caribou to the southward again, and return to the
station at Bernard harbour as soon as the ice is strong enough to cross Dolphin
and Union strait in the autumn.

''Mr. Wilkins brought a cinematograph outfit with him from the northern
party's base on Banks island, and exposed about 2,000 feet of cinematograph film,
principally views of the local Eskimos. He also obtained a small collection of
Eskimo clothing, weapons, and instruments to send out for advertising purposes.
Mr. Wilkins has made a very good series of portrait studies of most of the local
Eskimos, men, women, and children, in full view and in profile, for Mr. Jenness*
ethnographical work."

•

Manuscripts and Publications.

Mcmuscripts Received.

A number of manuscripts of ethnological interest were obtained during the
year as gifts. These embrace:

From P. Radin. —

''Autobiography of a Winnebago Indian," manuscript of 103 oaees
(MS. 59). ^ ^

From F. G. Speck, Philadelphia, Pa. —

''Studies of the Beothuk and Micmac of Newfoundland,** manuscript of

66 pages and 4 negatives (MS. 71).
"Nova Scotia Hunting Territories" and "Prince Edward Island Band

of Micmac," manuscript of 8 pages (MS. 66).

272

GEOLOGICAL SURVEY

6 GEORGE V, A. 1916

Manuscripts turned in to the division as a result of field work undertaken
under the auspices of the Geological Survey include :

By E. Sapir. —

'*A Sketch of the social organization of the Nass River Indians/' manu-
script of 40 pages (MS. 67a).

By E. W. Hawkes.—

'The Labrador Eskimo/' manuscript of 170 pages (MS. 60).

By P. Radin.—

'The Ethnology of the Ojibwa of southeastern Ontario," manuscript

of 216 pages (MS. 65).
''Literary aspects of North American mythology," manuscript of
49 pages (MS. 64).

By P. Radin and A. B. Reagan. —

"Ojibwa myths and tales," manuscript of 128 pages (MS. 67, including
MSS. 9 and 31).

By W. D. WalHs.—

"Dakota ethnology," manuscript of 587 pages (MS. 69).

Ethnological manuscripts purchased in the course of the year embrace:

From Alex. Thomas, Alberni, B: C. —

"Ucluelet legend," Nootka text, manuscript of 105 pages (MS. 50 p.)
" 'owimhPni as a whaler," Nootka test, manuscript of 8 pages (MS.

50q).
"Tom's Wolf ritual," Nootka text, manuscript of 211 pages (MS. 50r).

From Frank Williams, Alberni, B. C. —

"Story of how Kwatiyat went for a walk," Nootka text, manuscript of

4 pages (MS. 70).
"Story of a young man who got married and became angry," Nootka

text, manuscript of 2 pages (MS. 70a).

From F. G. Speck, Philadelphia, Pa.—

"Wawenock texts," manuscript of 52 pages and 3 negatives (MS. 72).

Manuscripts Submitted for Publication.

In the course of the year the following papers have been submitted to the
Deputy Minister of Mines for publication by the division:

F. G. Speck. —

"Hunting territories of the Micmac Indians" (bulletin).

E. Sapir. — ,,/, n . \

"A Sketch of the social organization of the Nass River Indians (buUetm).

F. W. Waugh.—

"Iroquois foods and food preparation" (memoir).

v.%.'^

'#^-"*?X

t ^'yyr.

>>^>-

-i^

CHBISTIAN LEDEN, EXPLORER AND ETHNOLOGIST

AN ESKIMO AND HIS TENT— IN SUMMER

ESKIMO MARRIAGE, MUSIC, AND PHILOSOPHY

BY GREGORY MASON

ONE of the commonest kinds of melancholy and mental
fatigue is caused by introspection. When we are tired
or despondent from too much musing on the shortcom-
ings of our own little lives or too much dwelling upon the hard-
ships of our own lot in this world, nothing is so restoring as to
anaesthetize our self-consciousness by imagining the nature of
life on other planets or watching the drama of ant life in the
grass. Since the beginning of the war it has been easier than
ever for us to become depressed by our immediate temporal
surroundings. At such times it is good to hear that there is a
people on the earth who are unaware of this war and who are
^ untouched by the troubles of the peoples who boast that they
are civilized. This people is the Eskimo.

^ Mr. Christian Leden, a young Norwegian explorer, who has
lived among most of the tribes of Eskimos, believes that in
many respects the Eskimos are the happiest people in the
world, and that in many respects their civilization is the highest
existing to-day. Mr. Leden has spent most of his time since
1909 living among the Eskimos, and he knows most of the tribes
that have been discovered by white men. He has recently
returned from a sojourn of three yeara and a half among the
Eskimos of Canada. In his various expeditions he has had the
public support of the King and Queen of Norway, the Ethno-
graphical Department of the University of Christian ia, the
Danish Carlsberger Institute, and the Geological Survey of
Canada. Mr. Leden is more interesting than many Arctic
explorers, perhaps, because primarily he is not an explorer of
unknown lands but a student of unknown peoples. He would
be much more thrilled by finding a tribe that had never seen
a white man than by discovering a hundred leagues of frozen,
uninhabitable Arctic plain. Mr. Leden has the charm of a man
who is intensely interested in what he is doing, but who has
not lost his sense of proportion. He has no inflated conception
of the world's opinion of his work.

" In some ways we can learn as much from the Eskimo," says
Mr. Leden, " as he can learn from us. We commonly think that
the world ends where the timber line ends and where the great
Arctic waste begins. The Eskimo thinks that the world ends
where the ice ends and where the timber begins. In many re-
spects the Eskimo (*ivilization is the highest in the world. For
instance, tlie Eskimos never indulge in tril)al warfare. They
cannot conceive how one whole nation can make war on another.
Occasionally there are tights or duels between two Eskimos, but
even these affairs are rare, and, as a rule, are carried out with a
cold-blooded formality that would astound us. One methcxl for
settling a dispute between two men is for them to swap blows

until one cries quits. A offers his shoulder for B to strike, then B
does the same for A. Then A permits B to hit him on the tem-
ple, and again B reciprocates. This goes on until one man has had
enough, but there is never any temper shown. This is usually
just in sport to see who can stand the hardest blows. As a rule,
however, the real disputes between two individuals are settled in
another way— by a sort of competition. The two disputants try
to outdance each other or outsing each other, and when the
judges have decreed one the more proficient, honor is satisfied.
But the idea of meu marching out to kiU other men whom they
have never seen is incomprehensible to them. When I told
some of them about the European war, they shuddered and
cried out, ' Kappeamakonni^' which means, ' I am very much
afraid.' When some of their wise men had wagged their heads
over this problem, they announced that, after all, it was not
surprising that white men should do such things, which would
be impossible for them, the ' Innuit,' or human beings, because
it was well known that the white man was not entirely human,
but had in his veins a good deal of the blood of the dDg."

In regard to the origin of the Eskimos, Mr. Leden says : " The
most generally accepted theory is that the Eskimos belong to
the MongoHan race, and emigrated to this continent and Green-
land from Asia. Another theory is that the Eskimos are the
survivors of a race who lived on the northern part of our globe
before the glacial period." Mr. Leden, however, as the result
of his investigations of the music of the Eskimos, which he has
found to be very similar to the music of the North American
Indians, believes that the closest relatives of the Eskimos are
these Indians of our continent, and not the Mongolians.

This distinguished young Norwegian is full of praise for the
humanity and domestic kindness and home life of the Eskimos,
albeit this home life has certain characteristics strikingly dif-
ferent from what the white man considers ideal ; for instance,
it is a common thing for Eskimo men and women to exchange^
wives and husbands. Apparently they are not polygamous, how-
ever, but are what might be called successively monogamous.
Unlike some other primitive peoples among whom the marital
relation is more changeful than with us, the Eskimos are ex-
ceptionally kind to their women. A man is never permitted to
swap wives with another man miless the women approve of the
transaction. It might be thought, however, that this armnge-
ment would result in the neglect of children. On the contrary,
it is considered a heinous crime for a man to abandon his own
children, and a grave sin even for him to watch unmoved the
sufferings of another man's children. Where the natural dan-
gers to human life from the elements and from wild animals are

141

HO g^reat, the whole tribe is impressed with the importance of
(•aring for children.

Like Vilhjalmur Stefansson, another well-known explorer
who is also an admirer of many things in Eskimo character,
Mr. Leden feels that our civilization often suffers by compari-
son with the Eskimo civilization when ours is exemplified by the
conduct of white people who do not live up to the moral stand-
ards preached by the missionaries. There are missionaries in
the North who are of help to the natives in many ways ; but
there are, on the other hand, also missionaries who do not seem
to understand the natives at all. Mr. Leden teUs an amusing
story of a missionary who was trying to inculcate in a certain
Eskimo a belief in the devil. The Eskimo's persistent refusal
to believe in the existence of such a malevolent being finally
so angered the missionary that he struck the native. " Alas 1"
cried the Eskimo ; " I am now forced to believe what you say.
If the world is so bad that a missionary will strike a poor
Eskimo, there must be a devil.'* This happened years ago in
Greenland, and was reported by the missionary himseK to his
superior in Denmark to show how conservative and stiff-necked
the Eskimos were.

Mr. Leden has learned the Eskimo tongue himself, and
points out that many missionaries fail of their purpose through
their unwillingness or inabiUty to learn the natiW^langaa|e.
Not very long ago certain English missionaries arranged to
have a series of religious services amongf the Canadian Eskimo
tribes. The services were held in English, and information of
this fact was quickly passed from one tribe to another. The
natives also learned of the dates when white men might be
exi)ected at their respective villages, and the result was that
when the white men came they found left in the villages only a
few toothless, old women and teething children.

The Eskimos have no writing, and consequently no perma-
nent literature ; but they have many poems or songs which are
learned by heart and handed from generation to generation.
The attainment of extreme old age is common among the Es-
kimo women, but is very rare among men, owing to the dangers
of the hunting which is the one means of livelihood.

Mr. Leden has made an interesting study of Eskimo music,
with a view to the evidence that m^ht be established through
their music of the relations of the Eskimo tribes to other primi-
tive peoples.

" As a result of my studies of Eskimo music," he says, " I
have found an astonishing relationship between the Eskimos
and the North American Indians. Two things that are typical
of the melody construction of Eskimo music are the descent
from higher to lower tones at the ending of a stanza, and the
long dwelling upon a deep tone between every verse. In their
manner of delivery, which, in my opinion, is of very great im-

portance, one notices especially their downward glissafido from
a powerful start and the hacking accents on the higher tones at
the beginning of a mot'J\ besides their decrescendo and piano on
the deeper tones at the end of a stanza. Right here the music
of the Eskimo approaches the music of the American Indian,
but, so far as I know, differentiates itself from the music of all
other primitive peoples. Much of their music has the simple
devotional quality which is foimd in the hymns simg by your
American Pilgrim Fathers."

On his last trip the Norwegian ethnologist was not so busy
noticing the social traits of the natives of the North that he
overlooked more material things which might attract the aver-
age traveler. Mr. Leden believes that the animal and mineral
wealth of northern Canada and the Arctic islands is destined
to be of great use to the world once it becomes aware of the
extent of these great natural resources.

" There are minerals, oil, leather, fur, fish, and meat in the
North," says Mr. Leden, "and with the high price now of
leather, oil, and meat, it should be a pretty good business to send
ships up there to the right localities and load them with the arti-
cles mentioned. I know of places in the Hudson Bay and in the
country north of it where five hundred walrus could be caught
in a few weeks, and just as many white whales during the sum-
mer season, besides thousands of seals. Walrus leather is now,
as I understand, worth between thirty and forty cents a pound, and
each walrus hide weighs about five hundred pounds. This would
make for one year's catch in walrus leather sdone about f 76,000
profit. Besides this, the ivory and oil of the walrus would be
worth a eood deal. By establishing two trading and sealing
posts in tiie Hudson Bay one could take in about $400,000 in
oil, leather, fish, and skin, the first year, with an outlay of from
$60,000 to $90,000. Later, by establishing a chain of posts
from Hudson Bay to the Arctic islands between Greenland
and Canada, one could make millions of profit annually.

" The prices of oil and leather, which on account of the war
are now very high, will continue to be so for many years to
come, even after the war is over. It seems to me that besides
further scientific investigations, what ought to be done in the
Arctic is to make use of the information already gathered by
explorers regarding the material wealth of these northern coun-
tries, and turn such resources to practical use and profit."

A good many people are prejudiced against Arctic and
Antarctic exploration, believing such endeavor as hunting for
unexplored area to be merely a sort of sporting contest of little
or no value to civilization. Explorers of the type of Christian
Leden are proving to the world that the right sort of Arctic and
Antarctic exploration is not only of interest to scientists, ideal-
ists, and sportsmen, but is also of value to the practical men and
women of affairs.

THE NATIONALIZING OF AMERICAN EDUCATION

SPECIAL CORRESPONDENCE BY FREDERICK M. DAVENPORT

This is the third of a series of three articles based on recent travel and study of educational development. — The Editors.

THE Argentine Republic has a national Minister of Edu-
cation. So has France. So has England. So has Austra-
lia. So has Canada. Thus runs the mind of all democracies
except ours. And we have not even a secretary of education in
the Cabinet. We have a National Bureau (or perhaps chiffonier)
of Education. It is a bureau of information and lias a few simple
National duties, such as administering the schools for natives in
Alaska, watching over the distribution of certain educational
moneys appropriated by Congress, making surveys of trouble in
the educational power system of State or city. But it can start
very little on its own motion.

Why should not the United States have a minister or secre-
tary of education ? We have a Secretary of Commerce, but of
course commerce is written into the Constitution. But we have
a Secretary of Labor, and certainly labor has no prior Consti-
tutional or social claims over the welfare of twenty million
people whose daily business is going to school. Why should not
the Nation be primarily interested in education? There is

every reason for it. If the school system of the country is sli}>-
shod, chaotic, mechanical, good in a few places and bad in very
many ; if we are worshiping the fetish of democratic training
when there is no such thing ; if the schools are failing to edu-
cate the great majority of the youth of the comitry to be useful
up to anything like the limit of their capacity ; if two-thirds of
the boys and girls at fourteen years of age plunge at onco half
trained into the industrial,commercial, agrieultui^al, home-making,
and political responsibilities of citizenship, then the most deplor-
able leak of weakness in the National life is revealed. And the
Nation should take a hand. Here is something fundamental. Of
what avail are coast defenses or battle-cruisers or field artillery or
diplomatic parleys or industrial mobilization or business organi-
zation or agricultural co-operation if the educational system of
the country does not provide a constant flow of trained leaders
and every-day experts in great number to make these things
work effectively ? Why does the Nation interest itself deeply in
passing child labor laws and only feebly in the vocational edu-

856

THE AMERICAN ANTHROPOLOGIST

[Vol. XI

ootto (Jul piuluro. A nnnialn, Xrvpoli,
ISy^K^iii, 142-150.— Watson
SciopoftHS. Reliquary & l\lurstr.
Arch?eoLNLond., 18t)8, h{<^69. —
"Weber. uH^rdie Bp^itmtung der
Degeiierationsz^kli^fK Allg.Ztschr.
f. Psyt^hiat., [eipf^TB'Ni;, 1898-9, 1 v,
164. — Wep>€^t. Die^ftiritisteii
vor jietfi Landg(

lord bci NaMirvulktrii dcp Goeen-
wh^ und Vergangenheit. Globus,
Bnisbk^., 1898, Ixxiv,, ^11-213.—
WorcesbaklD. C.) Notes on some
primitive PfrHiopihe tribes. Nat.
Geog. Mag. J^YS4^, 1898, ix, 284-
301.— ZujS<5arrelliS^J L'antro-
neiravvenime^rtaJDreyfus-
Anomalo, Napoli, l5tJ8wyiii,
129-141.

Weke the Ancient Eskimo Artists? — Having previously
expressed the opinion that, before the coming of the wliite man,
the Eskimo did not etch to any extent upon bone, antler, horn,
wood, or ivory, I have lately had this opinion confirmed by ex-
amination of a large collection of ancient relics from the island
of Attn, which is the farthest west of the Aleutian chain. It
does not need more than a superficial glance to convince the
student that the artistic expression of the Eskimo, in the line of
etching, is exactly parallel to the extent to which he has come
in contact with white men ; first, with the sailor and the whaler,
with their rude and often clever scrimshaw work, and, finally,
the Russian and American jewelers with their exquisite tools.

So true is this that at a few points in Alaska the Russian of
the last century (having first been in contact with the Sandwich
islanders and then with the Eskimo) has succeeded in adding to
the native art motives and forms of decoration common to all
the Polynesian groups.

The people of Attn are Aleutian islanders, and the women are
extremely expert in the manufacture of all sorts of fine needle
work and basketry.

The men do not lack talent, because, after the Russian occu-
pancy, their later forms of ivory tools and weapons are exqui-
sitely made and decorated ; but on the old objects taken from
the graves by Lucian Turner, covering quite a large variety of
functions, especially of weapons, there is not a dot, circle, or any
other conventional etching, or any attempt to carve the figure of
a man or beast. The eff*ort, therefore, to derive the Eskimo from
an artistic people on the eastern hemisphere, on account of their
later performances, is made at great hazard.

O. T. Mason.

GEOGRAPHICAL

^Be!aa>^|HV|..(7/^. 379

ing has been suppressed by the Dutch, the last case of this kind in this region having
occurred at least five years ago. .. j,

It was in this region that Lumholtz spent the greater part of his time. In spite or
the objection of the natives, he was able to secure many photographs and cinematograph
pictures and take the measurements of 174 individuals. Quite a comprehensive ethnolog-
ical collection was made, including children's games and folklore and numerous short
vocabularies

After this sojourn, the rapids of the Mahakam were passed in safety in three days.
Many Dyaks have lost their lives there, and only recently a foreign trader was drowned.
The expedition arrived on August 22, 1916, at Samarinda at the mouth of the river on
the eastern coast, having during nine months covered by river a distance of over one
thousand miles in native boats and nearly half as much in the steamer.

A geographical result of the expedition is a map of the route which corrects previ-
ous errors, especially in the watershed region of central Borneo. The maps of this dis-
trict are, of course, based only on reconnaissances. The Busang River region has been
surveved only within the last ten years. The best representation of this area and the
remaining territory shown is the standard * < Schetskaart van de Residentie Zuider- en
Oosterafdeeling van Borneo,'' on the scale of 1:750,000, published in 1913 by the
Topographical Bureau in Batavia. The most complete account of the physical geography
of the Barito drainage basin is to be found in ' ' Topografische en geologische beschrijving
van het stroomgebied van de Barito, in hoof dzaak wat de Doesoenlanden betref t, ' ' by G.
L. L. Kemmerling (Tijdschr. Ron, Nederl Aadrijk. Gemot,, Vol. 32, 1915, No. 5, pp.
575-641; No 7, pp. 717-774: listed in the February Review, p. 162), accompanied by a
geological map, 1:750,000, based on the aforesaid topographic map.

Eastern Asiatic Expedition of the University of Pennsylvania Museum. In the

June number of the University of Pennsylvania Museum Journal C. W. Bishop publishes
a beautifully illustrated account of his recently completed journey in the Far East. The
museum 's Eastern Asiatic Expedition was a reconnaissance to determine the possibilities
for archeological research over a wide area in the Orient. Commencing his surveys in
the country centering round Nara and Kyoto, the nucleus of the early Japanese Empire,
Mr. Bishop traveled over the border country, long disputed between the Empire and the
aboricrines, to Hakodate and thence to the island of Yezo. In the south of the island he
visited modern Ainu settlements, remarking on the survival of such ancient features as
the characteristic Ainu storehouse raised on piles above the ground and the Ainu interest
in horse-raising. A later stage of the journey embraced Korea, where a favorable
impression of the work of the Japanese government was obtained. Thence via the
Liaotung Peninsula the author proceeded to Peking. Disturbe^l conditions in the upper
valley of the Yellow River caused the abandonment of the original plan for study of
the seat of the earliest Chinese civilization, and instead the journey was continued to
Szechuan by way of the Yangtze River. The objective here was the famous caves m
the sandstone hills of this western province. Native tradition attributes them to the
work of the aboriginal barbarians. Mr. Bishop believes that this is correct and regards
them as burial places.

POLAR REGIONS

Eskimo Migrations in Greenland. At Holstenborg, Greenland, well within the
Arctic Circle, is one of the northernmost outposts of settlement and here V . O. ± reaer-
iksen, a resident missionary, has published a monthly journal, a volume of church hymns,
a brief history of Greenland, and several literary translations, all in the Eskimo language,
while at the same time carrying on archeologic investigations and makmg pastoral calls
by dog sledge and kayak at the small native settlements scattered along three hundred
miles of dangerous coast. Pastor Frederiksen, in another monthly journal called
Atuagagdliutit, or *^ Reading Miscellany,'' published at Godthaab, Greenland, has
expressed some very interesting views on Eskimo migrations according to an abstract
by James Mooney in the Journal of the Washington Academy of Science (Vol. 6 191b,
No. 6, pp. 144-146.) The evidence of linguistics, geography, and archeology led him to
conclude (1) that the Eskimo tribes reached Greenland from an original nucleus in the
extreme west, (2) that they traveled southward along the coast to the east, and (3)
that they decreased in number toward the north owing to the scarcity of game and
building material. He believes that the Norse occupation about 1000 A. U. made a
wedge between the east and west coast Eskimo and that natural communication was
again established only after the extinction of the Norse colony about 1490. Some ot the
northerly tribes on the east coast starved to death; some of the southerly tribes were
saved from a like fate at a later period only by contact with Danish colonists. Ihe

380

THE GEOGRAPHICAL REVIEW

superior capacity for civilization of the South Greenland Eskimo is explained by a
strain of old Norse blood.

to otWr South Polar regions. Advantage of this was taken by the Scottish National

lt^V£ EailS, '4i^%X^.!'^^^^^:^^). ^ The Boutb 0^|y^s ap,e^
f« f hp TPmnant of a sunken and dissected upland with a latitudinal extent o± 7 J miles
ExtensiveTac at^^^^ ata time when the land stood at a much higher level accounts for
±,xtensive ^^acidi^iun ^ . -^ ^^ ^^ ^ subaerial weathering. In this

egioirtToffia^^ o7cUr«cTo;re^s probably some little dist-ce above sea-
wi Thfi fonfiffuration of the land produces a number of more or less isolated ice
sheets c^nterlnfrroighly concentric form about the heads of the bays. The g aciers
bp?onl to the fla"s first described by Arctowski as "suspended coastal glaciers" and
fatr^deVe? by Nordenskjold as ''ice-foot glaciers.'.' For purposes of deseription
they may be divided into three integral parts. The high slopes are sometimes distin-
;„,{h^ from the main body of the glacier occupying the slope between the hills and
fCLa by a wSlTarked Lfp.c/.««/which conforms rather closely 1x> the eonflgura^-«
nf tiiT iinderlvine surface. In these glaciers, unfed by snow fields, the snow passes
aLrtlv i^to n6vf and glacier ice, a phenomenon assisted by the comparative frequency
SSic^the mean daf temperature of the air rises above freezing point. The glaciers
Id in snouts or in terminal clifEs. Observations on the snout glaciers show that the
ice is either staWonary or retreating slightly. Those reaching the sea terminate in regular
cliffs ran JIng in h^ht from 60 to 160 feet and affording good opportunity for the
study of internal glacial structure. /

PHYSICAL GEOORAPHY
Br.afTninor Wells The ' ' breathing' ' of wells has often been noted, and the relation

Ltd";™ ehS^:, .0 H.™ "P..*" »-' »'" «-■• *' '""« VdTc. w^icS™

opinion as to the probability of danger. . , . - „

^This^t true af S,'for /e -infaU of BaUi^ore Maryland compa^e^ ^hat ^of

l^'^'To'r June" ?9"6 (Vo? 4^ pp. 3'29"33V^ The'^avJrale'dSaLn of rain's is eight
Review for June, lyio (,voi. ^^, pp ^'^^ ^ >' ,,^ /inrfltion and frequency of

blurrfng the ink on a moving W- -P-^^/^^^/./.^ef tir"The autogrL^^^^
drawn-out general lams of middle latitudes.

Popular Mechanics Magazine

RIOItTIIIIO IN U. •. PATENT OrPIOI

WRITTEN SO YOU CAN UNDERSTAND IT

Vol. 33

FEBRUARY, 1920

No. 2

Modern Eskimos to Have Igloos of Concrete

THOUGH the snow blocks of the Es-
kimo igloo might almost class as
permanent building material in the land
of perpetual ice, their use does not accord
with even the most primitive ideas of
civilization. And it is a matter of gov-
ernmental recognition that the Eskimo
Indians of the Pribilof Islands are rapid-
ly gaining in sophistication, as the prices
of the sealskins and blue and gray-fox
pelts they sell mount higher and higher.
Those bits of frozen land in Bering Sea,
whose total area is less than 70 square
miles, have only about 350 inhabitants,

yet they are being assailed by all the as-
pirations of prosperity, and are beginning
to buy the most interesting items the
mail-order catalogs offer. So United
States engineers are building them igloos
of concrete, thus substituting the most

Igloos of Concrete for the Eskimos of the Pribilof Islands: Permanent Habitations. Built by the Government,
That Retain the Peculiarities of Native Architecture, Yet Substitute the Most Modern and

SnHstantial of Materials for the Traditional Ice and Snow

161

162

POPULAR MECHANICS

substantial of materials for what seems,
from the temperate-zone viewpoint, the
most ephemeral. It is to be noted, how-
ever, that the builders are careful to ad-
here closely to the native style of archi-
tecture. The new concrete dwellings in-

troduce no unfamiliar and depressing in-
novations to their tenants. If those built
this season are accepted as satisfactory
to the changing Eskimo taste, a whole
colony of them will be constructed next
summer.

PORTABLE CRIB FOR BABY

\lKE TRAVELING BAG

The prbi^lem of carrying a baby from
place to pl^ce has met with one solu-
tion in a .--^ handy "suitcase crib." A

old child has traveled with its
over the country in the port
vented by* its father.

nts all
crib, in-

This Chubby, Happy Infant
Demonstrates Conclusively
That an Outdoor Life in the
Open Is the Most Healthful.
The Photo Shows the Suitcase
Open

Steel frame, slightly
larger than the ordinary
valise, is covered with
wire netting and hinged
at either side of its
gable top. The bottom
is filled with soft bed-
ding, and when the grip
is closed it is strapped
like any suitcase to in-
sure double security. ,
One healthy six-month3

The Proud Parents Car.rying the
Baby on One of Their Cross-Country
Trips: The Baby Takes Quite Kindly
to Its Suitcase Crib and is Here
Sleeping Soundly in It

TRANSMIT POWER 9^ IMPULSES

THROUGH COLUMN OF WATER

That a column of i^ater may be made
to transmit power i/ the same way that
an electric wire t/knsmits it, is the re-
markable discovej5^ of a European scien-
tist, and the s/stem already has been
adapte^for operating rock drills,
reptecing pneumatic equipment.
\\t this application it is partic-
ularly useful, for the same
water that operates and ro-
tates the drill also removes
the chips of rock. The
power waves are transmit-
ted through the water line
with the same facility
whether it is in motion or
stationary, and may be
generated and delivered
at any desired frequency,
or in more than one phase.
. Used for drilling granite
in Cornwall, England, the
special tools designed for
v^the water-wave impulses de-
livered to the work 80 per cent
o^ the generated power, as
against only 10 per cent for
aif'-jools. For work under
wate^ and in mines, the new
poweK should show many
advant^es.

J AIRMAN MAKES SAFE LANDING ON TELEGRAPH POLE

While filming^ comedy feature in Cali-
fornia, an airplane was used to provide
thrills for motion-picture patrons. A Los
Angeles airman, who was employed to
do the flyirig, tried to pass between two
tall telegraph poles on the top of a hill,
when his plane was caught by a sudden
gust of wind. The airplane was thrown
into a sharply banked turn, only to be
punctured and held fast by one of the
two poles.

The forward momentum of the plane

was so great that it pivoteA^twice around
the pole, then caught on \he climbing
cleats, and dangled in mid-air. \The driver,
after recovering from the shock and real-
izing that he was still alive and^ot trav-
eling toward an undertaker's pjixlor in
a gunny sack, climbed over the wr^kage
of the broken wing, and shinned down
the pole like a lineman. He escaped
without a scratch. The fire department
later in the day removed the damaged v^
airplane from its precarious position.

?T*-

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^.•'♦tii

i^r^ts*..

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i**^^

-«r*""W'*<»'

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-^--

'V*^

■:^ .iS^""'

1 1 ^iiiiir^*

HU*~-

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.#*«-»*^^

1i ■.-^Pjk','?*''^'"'

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Photograph hy Donald B. MacMillan

THE GEOGRAPHIC EXPLORER BUILDING A SNOW SHELTER FOR THE NIGHT

When the day's trail is ended, great blocks of snow, carved from the all-encompassing cold, must be formed into a rude shelter to keep out the bitter
wind of the frozen north. ^, ^

Bear and Eskimo Boy

WHILE his father was out fishing off Boster
Rock, Labrador, Ashwatuk, a sixteen-year-old
Eskimo boy, was at home with his mother A polar
bear suddenly thrust his head in the igloo. The
brave boy ran and commenced kicking the brute
who caueht the boy's foot and bit it off. ine Dear
^as drivfn away, Ld the lad's mother, for whom
he was fighting, was saved. First, the physicians
of DrGrfnf ell's mission took an interest in the lad
and cared for him in the hospital. Then Martha
Leinineer, a nurse, decided to get a job for him in
heTiStown in Pennsylvania and he was sent to
New York on the steamship Stephano. The im-
Sation officers decided that, even with the wooden
foot the Grenfell people had given him, he might
become a public charge if allowed to and, and sent
him to Ellis Island. There a special board of in-
Sufry ordered Ashwatuk deported. The boy who did
Sot utter a scream when the bear undertook to enter

?he hut, or cry when his foot T'^^J^'^^^'^.f/Ztvi
when told he could not remain in this land ff Prm
lege which had been described to him. Friends in
terested themselves, and the case was appealed.
Wo'rd camfback from Washington that the pepart-
ment of Commerce officials had reversed the order^
Tnd would permit the lad to and ««der a bond to
insure his not becoming a public charge Ashwatuk
nf t^r <?eeinff the city, went to the farm of the latner
S Miss Singer of the Grenfell Mission at Mo-

s -

'.•^rA

^THE LITERARY DIGEST *

OCTOBER 3. 1931

Hot Work, Hunting Winter Meat With Eskimos

ONE-TON BOLOGNA SAUSAGE with handsome
tusks was dozing on the Arctic ice-pack, untroubled
by any thought of danger. But without warning it
collapsed in a manner that suggested the sudden deflation of
a balloon. Otherwise, we are assured, it made not the slightest
move. The huntcT's bullet had found its mark.

**I had broken the walrus's neck,** writes Robert Frothingham

riiutourapii by barl Kossman. From Ewinir Galloway, New York

Bringing Home the Bacon in the Arctic

Point Barrow Eskimos giving a slain walrus a ride from shore to village.

in the New^ York Herald Tribune Magazine. *'0r rather, it would
he more correct to say that I had broken its back at the spot
where there is a neck in every other animal.**

Then bedlam broke loose. Mr. Frothingham reminds us that
with him in the umiak were five Eskimo hunters, every one of
them highly excited and **each armed with a high-power rifle.'*
Figure, he suggests, **the necessity for keeping the umiak head-
on to the ice-floe, thus compelling every one of these wrought-up
natives to shoot over your head. No chance for shooting from
the side, as no one knew when the boat might have to be * beached*
on the ice-floe to avoid a wounded animal in the water. Imagine
thirty bullets being fired as rapidly as those semicrazy Eskimos
could pull the trigger.**

Mr. Frothingham had come on this walrus-hunt on the pack-
ice of the Alaskan coast in the summer of 1930, presumably for
the experience. Jim Allen, ex-whaleman and trader at Wain-
wright, had come with twenty or so Eskimo friends, who in their
turn were after their winter meat supply. The Coast Guard cutter
Northland carried the party to within a short distance of the ice,
where Mr. Frothingham saw to his amazement thousands upon
thousands of walruses, reminding him of Gargantuan bologna
sausages, stretched at lazy ease. In tense silence, the account
runs on: .

These natives have instructions to hold off shooting until you've
had your shot. Til give you the word when your chance comes,
but if you're not ready, righton the dot, you*ll never know whether
it was your bullet or some one else's that got your game."

That appeared to make the gruff old veteran feel a trifle easier,
and he said kindly, **What sort of a contrivance is that camera
of yours, anyway?" I had a stereoscopic camera, with a view-
finder on the side, which I have learned to hold fairly steady on a

level with my eyes, and I explained it to
him. .

"Hell's bells!*' said Jim. ** I thought it
was some new-fangled pair of binoculars
you had there. Can you take a picture
with that outfit while you sit low in the
boat? " I assured him that I could.

X HE three skin boats ** moved forward
practically on a line, about a quarter of a
mile apart, and arrived at the edge of the
ice-pack at the same time," says Mr.
Frothingham, continuing:

That mile or more from the cutter
seemed to have been covered in a mighty
few minutes. No more silent paddlers
could be imagined than those fifteen Eski-
mos. Not the slightest trace of a sound
when the paddle was dipt or when it was
* lifted from the water.

Our mile dwindled to a half-mile, to a
quarter, to 250 j^ards, to 100. We could
count at least five of the monsters on the
floe we were approaching, all lying with
their backs toward us, and not a pair of
tusks to be seen. How many more there were behind this group
of five could only be conjectured.

Suddenly, the one right in line with the prow of the boat lifted
its head, displaying a fine-looking pair of tusks. Instantly
every paddler *' froze." The huge creature gazed around, ap-
parently saw nothing to arouse suspicion, and lurched back.
** That's your game," whispered Jim Allen, **but not yet."
The 100 yards shrank to fifty, and it looked as if we would
beach the old umiak against the broad back of my walrus.

Just then Jim gave me the word. I lifted the camera with a
steadiness which was later revealed in the negative, but which
I was far from feeling. Gently putting the instrument back on the
bottom of the boat, I raised my rifle.

Jim had already imprest it upon me that there was only one
place to plant a bullet in a walrus to assure immediate death —
about ten inches back of the eye. But there wasn't an eye to be
seen, not even a head; nothing but the broad back of the neck
presented itself for my consideration.

*'Let 'er go," whispered Jim. **Tliese 'Skimos won't wait
another split-second." My bullet found its mark.

The three umiaks were lowered from the davits, and the
excited natives, quivering in every nerve, dropt down the ladder,
each taking his place, with paddle, rifle, and spear, five to a boat.
Jim Allen beckoned me and we took our places in the first boat,
I in the bow, Jim right behind me. We were about to push off
when Jim noticed the camera between my feet.

"What are you going to do with that?" he asked; and there
was the least suggestion of resentment in his voice and eyes.

"I hope to get a picture of a 'live walrus* before I start any
shooting," I said.

"Don't forget that this is a hunt for meat," he rejoined;
**you can't stand up in the boat to take pictures, and I don't
suppose you can get 'em any other way. If you're looking for a
trophy, you'd better drop that camera and stick to your rifle."

"Jim," I said, "I'm not going to stand up in this umiak either
to shoot or take pictures, or anything else. Not if I know myself,
I'm not!"

"Well," he replied with a trace of resignation, **it's up to you

Ewintt Galloway

Many a Good Dinner Looms Ahead

Down to

Rw^dL

u.v.

Ajiother Tale from the JVanlroom Mess

By ROBE R 1^ J A M I ^ S

Eight bells! A muffled, metallic rumbling nnmtnnced the lettiiiq-qo itj the
anchor off Shippegon wharf. Light vibrations throughout the hull caused
a tinkling of tableware from the few dishes yet remaiiiiug from the evening
meal. The broadcast receiver strove valiantly to retail the music from a
distant New York hotel — but the sharp, incessant tapping of code by the
big set of a liner steaming up the gulf killed the indifferent jazz. An
irritable soul reached over and snapped off the switch. Quiet. Then, *^Spin
a yarn, someone — before we turn in. Another of the Wardroom tales.''

nrj E L O W ,
r^ there !

^■^ Sailing
orders! YouYe
detailed for the

Delta. That^s all,
except . . ."

Yes, that was
all — except! All,
except for the
surmises as to
what lay be-
hind; except for
the conjectures,
and ardent
hopes, on what
lay ahead. All,
except for the
requisitioning of
a f i V e - 1 0 n
schooner, and a
big Kermath en-
gine; tents and
bacon, fly dope
and flour; a can-
oe a n d canned
goods ; repair
tools and spare
parts, a cook
and a dinghy,
and a ^*Sea-
horse ^^ to kick it
along. Maybe
someone to per-

form the same „ ,

service on the cook. All, except lum- able, homey cabins on the big chart- Eskimos would scarcely deign to
ber, and gasoline in drums, and ing ships at Halifax, to messmates raise questioning eyes skyward when-
gasoline in tins; and more gasoline — brother officers in '' the trade.'' We ever the drone of a birdman was an-
in tins and drums. All,
except money and a
crew ; and sounding
and surveying gear,
fish nets and a radio
set; and clothing and
a gun; a camera, and
a bottle of '' No. 9's ''
and a five-pound car-
ton of Epsom^s. All,
except railway tickets
and steamboat fares;
and indents and or-
ders; and the usual
hastv good-byes.

'^ the Delta!'; There
was magic in the
word. So we packed
our battered sea chests
and tumbled them on
to the dock. With an
inconsequential wave
of the hand, we turn-
ed over our cosy
berths and comfort-

Children of the twilight

girded up our
loins. . . '' Pull
up you r socks.
YouVe going ad-
venturing in re-
gions new . . .
the Delta . . .''
'^The Delta"
was the M a c-
kenzie — infre-
quently travel-
led; little known.
The year was
that one of in-
tensive invasion
and hurried,
scattered explo-
ration of the
Western Arctic
watershed. From
the ends of steel
federal parties
went noi-th and
northwestward,
by river steam-
er, gas schooner
and plane. So
common were
the latter be-
coming that,
along the ice-girt
shores of Coro-
nation and
Queen Maud
gulfs, the native

nounced. They had
heard their own voices
blare forth from the
mouth of a gramo-
phone. Its wh i rling
disk no longer mysti-
fied them. Gazed at
their own likenesses —
not the glittering re-
flections from the old-
time traders' penny
looking glasses, but
on paper; their own
photos, taken the year
before. They were
g r 0 wn sophisticated.
They had tasted can-
n e d delicacies; and
canned jazz — not so
delicate. They grew
blase. A flying explor-
er landed in Frank-
lin\s Land, and traced
out the ^English sea-
man's tragedy-ridden

Rod and Gun and Canadian Silver Fox News

can think what they like/' said Dan.
He took over the steering paddle
in our canoe and we started off
again across the lake. There was no
sign of a portage where he finally
landed us.

There was no path — not even
blazes marked the trail until we got
w^ell back into the bush. Dan led
the way with the upturned canoe on
his shoulders. We followed wuth the
fishing rods and the lunch bag. It
was not far — up over a low ridge of
hardwoods, down the other side into
birches and cedars — scarcely one
hundred yards. We came to the
glint of water amid the trees with
unexpected suddenness and walked
out on a flat rock landing of a little
bay.

'^ Here we are/' said Dan.

It was just a pond. AVater-hly
pads dotted the surface except for a
clear area in the middle. Across the
open waters a swamp reached far
back into a narrow valley between
high hills. A spring creek came in
by this valley. Years ago beavers
had dammed the creek and flooded
the lower ground. Marsh surrounded
the pond except at the little bay to
which we had come through the dry
bush.

^' These guides on Quogami watch
me like hawks/' observed Dan, as
he paddled us out. " I can always
get fish in here whether they're bit-
ing in Quogami or not. Those guides
would give their eye teeth to find
out where I get them.''

As the canoe left the close shelter
of the bush a light breeze cooled our
faces and rippled the open water
beyond the lily pads.

" The smell of smoke carries a
long way, don't it!" remarked Dan,
letting down the stone he had tied
to the pointer for an anchor.

^^ Is that smoke I smell?" ex-
claimed Madame.

How often a light remark leads to
a mischievous undoing!

" Is that smoke I smell?" repeated
she.

'^Yes, mam," said Dan. ^^ The
wind carries the smell of a bush fire
for hundreds of miles sometimes."

He fixed a worm on Madame's
hook and threw it overboard. Then
he baited his own.

As for me I knelt in the bow with
a five-ounce fly rod and a cast of
flies. I had chosen a deer hair
nymph, a brown hackle and a black
gnat— too dark and dingy, as I
found later. It was color thev
wanted.

^^ There's another good hole over
there where the creek comes in," re-
marked Dan, " but I generally get
all I want right here."

He twitched his young cedar tree
as he spoke and derricked a one-

later he derricked another one in.

''Don't let him flap all over me!"
pleaded Madame, from her place on
the floor amidships, where she was
still struggling with her reel.

Dan rebaited and cast out again
before he got the landing net and
helped the lady get her fish in.

It was a one-pounder like the
others — a beautiful fish.

"How much would he weigh?
Two pounds?"

"Yes, mam, pretty near."

" If that fish goes an ounce over
one pound I'll eat him raw," I con-
tributed to the cause of truth.

"Go on," repHed the leading lady.
" You're jealous because you can't
catch any with your dinky little
flies. Put on a fresh worm, Dan, and
I'll catch another."

And she did catch another. And
so did Dan. They continued this

At Lake Quogami

A few Utile ones for lunch

pound trout into the
canoe.

Madame shrieked
with joy.

" Are there manv
like that, Dan?"

" Yes, mam," said
Dan. " They are all
like that."

" I wish I could get
one/' said Madame,
wistfully. "I've got
one/' screamed she in
the same breath. " I've
got one. Dan, what
will I do now?"

"Don't let him get
awav/' advised Dan.
" Hang on to him."

He t h r e w his re-
baited hook back into
the water. A moment

way very happily till lunch time
when they had nineteen of the most
beautiful fish in the world stowed
away under the stern of the canoe —
and I hadn't yet had a strike.

" We'll give the fly fisherman a
chance this afternoon," said Dan.
" We'll try that pool among the lily
pads just opposite where the creek
comes in."

We lunched on the flat rock and
enjoyed a leisurely smoke after-
ward, thinking we had a long after-
noon before us.

" The morning was yours," I
boasted. " The afternoon is mine."

I changed the end fly to a Parma-
chene Belle after lunch. I felt it
was color they wanted. AVe crossed
the clear water and approached the
lily pads on the far side. A long

(Continued on page 28)

Rod and Gun and Canadian Silver Fox News

trail — and the world heard anew that
saga of almost forgotten sailormen.
But it wasn't news to the Eskimo —
a story handed down from eye-wit-
ness to son.

Photographers and surveyors flew
north to tidewater, and eastward
from Herschel Island's lonely out-
post, to blaze new trails across the
Barren Lands. Seekers of mineral
wealth criss-crossed the territory
beyond the Arctic Circle. Pioneers
of aerial routes landed upon unmap-
ped lakes and perpetually frozen
muskeg land. There were investiga-
tors of fish and game resources en-
deavoring to bound the seemingly
limitless and widening circle of the
ranges over which roamed the un-
counted herds of caribou and the
scattered bands of musk oxen. Theirs
was a job, too — ^not for gain, but of
seeking data on conservation; devis-
ing protective measures whereby
there would be conserved in perpet-
uity the wild,
free life, in its
native habitat,
for a generation
of hunters and
sportsmen and
their kind. Not
for this day
only. For gener-
ations yet un-
born.

Came and went
anthropologists,
census-takers of
northern tribes.
Zealous mission-
ers and medicos.
There were in-
spectors, of ser-
vices varied and
wide. And uni-
formed stalwarts

of the law visited the far-flung sta-
tions of the Northwest Territories.

And — as we have already an-
nounced— among the investigators of
new trails were the ubiquitous Sea
Surveyors; to the eastern Arctic
waters of Henry Hudson, a whole
ship's company; the whilst, with a
little following of inland sailors,
went two, down to Mackenzie delta,
and the island fringe that lies be-
tween its many mouths and the un-
broken seascape that men call Beau-
fort Sea. Went north with a tiny,
new-bom craft, following the time-
dimmed pathways of Franklin and
Mackenzie and their crews.

Fort Smith, sixty degrees north,
on the Slave River, was the fitting-
out point, where they stocked and
launched tJheir schooner. Their sail-
ing orders read ** to Mackenzie Bay
of the Western Arctic, latitude 70
north — and return." That was all —
except! All, except the distance of

1 ,340 miles of river navigation from
the Slave River Rapids to the salt
water of the Arctic Sea.

For quite a spell of years fur bar-
lerers of the North — amongst them
the old Northwesters and the H.B.C.
— and keen, enterprising transport-
ers, who will carry another man's
freight, a single pound or a hundred
tons (for a consideration) over any
possible route, maintained during the
open season steamboat or schooner
communication on this thousand-
mile waterway from Fort Smith to
Fort Macpherson. In recent years
they extended their river voyages to
Aklavik. Not yet content to rest at
this far northern point, the water
transportation companies cast their
eyes longingly beyond the head of
the delta — ^to salt water. It was a
revival of the old slogan '' Westward
ho!" On farther to the western
Arctic; on again, to Behring Sea; on,
at last, around the corner, into the

Outer coast natives

Pacific. It was a reawakening of the
age-old, irresistible urge to realize
the " North West Passage.^'

In the Mackenzie basin, watered
bv the Slave and the Bear, the Liard
and other tributary streams, and the
lakes, whose depths no one yet has
sounded and whose farther sides are
as the shimmering horizons of a sea,
it is claimed there is a grand total
of some four thousand miles of
water, all navigable except for eight-
een miles — at two points, one, a rapid
two miles long on the Peace River,
and the other tlie Sixteen Mile Rapid
on the Great Slave.

To the Sea Surveyors — the two
hydrographers and navigators were
from the salt water coasts of New
Brunswick, and the temporary crew
of five from the Athabasca and
Mackenzie river districts — the thir-
teen hundred and some miles of
steaming from Fort SmiMi to the
scene of charting operations in Beau-

fort Sea was incidental to the object
in hand — the exploring of the delta
entrances. Their schooner, an auxi-
liarv motor-driven craft, though
modelled after the shallow-draft type
now in common use with the trad-
ers and Eskimos of the western
Arctic, had been specially built at
Edmonton for the charting service.
Two days were spent at Aklavik,
northernmost settlement on the route.
At this little outpost of empire —
civilization as represented by the
trader and the missioner, a medical
unit and the khaki-clothed police —
and a bustling hive of activity only
for the few days each three or four
times in the summer when the big
stern wheeler river boats arrive and
depart — ^the Sea Surveyors joined
company with a fleet of little gas
schooners that were counterparts of
their own. They were the Eskimo
hunters* boats. They had come up
from Herschel and the outer delta,

from Tununuk
and Karagazuit.
Come, eager and
expectant as
children, to greet
the white man's
steamboat, its
arrival now due
from that
strange myste-
rious region that
lay south of the
Innuits' Land.
It arrived a day
behind us, with
a string of those
same little boats
in tow — new
ones, also for the
Eskimos, and
each loaded to
the PlimsoU with
goods. Business — good business.
Build a boat, and tow it north, and
make it pay its way with the freight
that could be crammed within its
otherwise bare and comfortless hull.
Then sell it to the native, boat and
engine and sails complete, for $8,000
or $10,000. And the '' hucky " gladly
buys it; and coaxes and nurses the
cold-stiffened motor with the cun-
ninc: of a merchant navy artificer
engfineer.

^'And paid for, yes, sir,*' said a
trader who brings his vessel around
from Victoria through the Behring
Sea. "Sometimes in advance; but
paid for. The huckies of this coast
are unlike the Indians. The Indians
Fve trucked with, anvwav. Our
huckies look upon a * debt,^ not as
credit, to be renewed on any old
excuse — but as an obligation to be
met. And met it is! When a huckie
(lies and leaves his grubstake, or ad-
\ ance, unpaid, the family and rela-

Rod and Gun and Canadian Silver Fox News

tives get together and go the Hmit
to wipe it off the books. I know third
generation natives here who have
met the obligations of the first. Til
sav they're honest !''

Up to this point, Aklavik — or
down, according
to one's choice
of terms — it is
"up'' in the
sense that the
route lay pole-
wards; '' down "
in that wq were
travelling with
the s t ream, all
had been plain
sailing. It was
the third wTck
in June. The
short northern
summer was
stealing by, and
ahead lay a ver-
itable maze of
streams and un-
charted chan-
nels. '' That was
all, except . . ."
all, except that
thus far we had
only reached the
head of '^the
Delta." So a lo-
cal pilot was engaged, loins were re-
girt, and the Sea Surveyors pushed
off" from the bank and pointed ^heir
craft downstream for the Arctic; into
the Land of the Midnight Sun.

Their pilot chose the East channel,
best knoW'n route, for
125 miles to Tunun-
uk, a small island in
the delta that lies at
the parting of three
principal ways. One
lea_ds northeastward
into the sea, Karaga-
zuit w^ay, for Corona-
tion Gulf; a second
westward through the
outer part of the delta
towards the open
ocean and along the
coast — the route to
Herschel Island. The
third, and middle,
runs due northward
to the outermost
islands, beyond which
lies nothing but the
unbroken expanse of
ice-fields that cap the
top of the world.

It was here, at Tun-
unuk, a gathering ground of the
Mackenzie Eskimos, and the con-
templated contact point for seagoing
and river vessels, that the hydro-
graphers commenced their explora-
tion work. From here thev traversed
and sounded northward and west-

ward, amongst the outlying unmap-
ped islands between the delta and
Herschel. They were the first white
men to ever set foot upon some of
these. Their original charted posi-
tions had been set down by the

Products of the district

rough observations and occasional
sightings by Franklin and his ships,
and the indefinite and inaccurate
sketches, that represented this area
on the map of Canada and on the
Admiralty charts of the region, dat-

ed back to that explorer's voyages.
To the crew of our little hydrogra-
nhic craft these were hopelessly mis-
leading. They misrepresented some
channels as leading for a short dis-
tance directly to the open sea. The
pilot was non-committal. What of

it? The chart or map was clear.
'' Good ! Just what we're looking for.
The short, straight passage to the
sea."

The explorers bore on, fathoming
the waters beneath the keel. The

depths lessened;
grew shoaler, till
the schooner's
progress was
barred. They left
her; went on
with the dinghy,
the out bo ard
kicking behind.
Shoaler still;
sandbars. They
took to the can-
oe. For two days
they pushed sea-
w a r d. In that
time they never
once sighted the
ocean !

Other channels
likewise; myths,
or born of ima-
ginative minds
whose owners
had never
thought or dared
to follow to their
ends. They pe-
tered out on
open flats with scarcely any more
water on them than that of a heavy
dew; or turned, snake-like, upon
themselves and led back inland.

Even the pilot was hopelessly lost
at times, and could not find the

various Eskimo en-
campments to which
he had planned to
lead the party.

And then, when
camped on Kendall
Island, he deserted the
ship and joined a band
of roving natives, up-
river bound; left the
white men to their
own resources.

The cook fell sick.
'' No g u i d e . . . no
cook . . ."

Up came the anchor.
They headed back.
Scouted in and out of
blind passages; up on
to and over unsus-
pected bars. Hounded
by the urgency of a
quick return to the
hospital at the post,
they explored, day
and night, each promising passage,
till, at last, by a more western, cir-
cuitous route, up winding, low-
banked channels, they found their
wav up-stream to Aklavik.

It wa« now the middle of July.

(Continued on page 32)

Down to the Delta

}

(

(Continued from page 16)

A short, restful stay followed. Then
they set sail once more for the Arctic
shores— without a pilot. The experience
gained on the first venture enabled them
to guide their schooner unaided back
through the intricate channels to the sea.

Oftentimes, to make full use of the
short summer season of this clime, the Sea
Surveyors carried on their sounding and
charting work during the bright twilight
hours under the midnight sun — when days
of continuous light were distinguished,
each from the preceding one, only by the
passing of another twenty-four hours.
There were vexatious moments of trial,
as they hurriedly performed their sailors'
job of work in a strange and sometimes
unfriendly clime. It was always cold. The
ice pack, glistening under the lop-sided
sun that, for weeks on end, circled over-
head and at midnight barely skimmed the
horizon, was lurking close to the outer
iVinge of the islands. In the month of
August there occurred only two successive
fine days on which the schooner could be
run with wide open throttle. Position-
finding off the low marshy shores was
done by log and compass. During that
forty-eight-hour spell of constant watch,
over one hundred miles of sounding was
accomplished.

Wood for marks and beacons was not
obtainable on the outer islands. There
was plenty of driftwood; no camper in
that region should suffer for lack of fuel.
But what had once been fair-sized six-inch
timbers were so ground and chewed up by
their milling contact with the larger trees
on their passage down the delta streams
in the freshet period that they were use-
less for erecting marks.

As they extended their area of explora-
tion, new channels and passages added
here and there new bits to the jig-saw
puzzle that was the unmapped lower
delta; misled them time and again, till
they lost all faith and dependence in the
old route sketches of northern traders-
crude maps compiled by fur barterers
more versed in the tracing of a woodland
trail than in the byways of the sea; men,
liard-pressed by competition in the trade,
or driven by the menacing ice fields of
Behring and Beaufort seas, to seek the
olusive deep-water passage into the
Mackenzie proper.

On one August day they sighted over-
head the planes of the Maudesley special
air patrol, flying eastward from Herschel
Island to the heart of the Barren Lands,
blazing a new aerial trail. It was a brief
touch with modem civilization.

ihe Eskimo camps and equipment were
lound to be much superior and of a
higher order than those of the Indians
i*arther inland. This has been the observa-
tion of explorers since Alexander Macken-
zie's time; that traveller noted the re-
markable difference when passing through

the Indian country to that frequented by
the Eskimo.

Of game, little was seen. The nature of
the work, and the necessity of making
every hour of daylight count towards the
intensive prosecution of the job precluded
any excursions inland, or about the shores,
for the purpose of hunting. The few ob-
servers of this region in years past were
impressed with the variety and extent of
the fish and game to be found ; books and
tales penned by explorers, missionaries,
traders and the odd sportsman contain
references to the wonderful resources in
this respect. The fishes and herbivorous
animals of the delta wate'rshed played an
important part in the support of the
slender population of native and white—
at one time, in the not so distant past.
But the stock was not inexhaustible. Away
back in Franklin's time, in 1821, moose
were killed on the islands at the mouth of
the delta. They are never found there
now. Not many years ago the caribou were
plentiful on this same marshy, tundra land.
Very plentiful on the big island, Richards,
and about the eastern or Karugazuit
mouth of the Mackenzie. The famed
Rocky Mountain sheep are still to be
found in the Mackenzie mountains, back
beyond the headwaters of the delta
streams. But the Sea Surveyors only
glimpsed these summits at rare times on
clear days, from the little schooner out
at sea.

Along the mainland shore and in some
of the streams, the Eskimos net grayling,
inconnu, a specie of whitefish and herring.
They are caught from August until the
ice sets in; a short season. They smoke
them over campfires. Smoked inconnu is
delicious.

The moose and the caribou are gone,
and to provide a source of food for the
natives of the delta and the region to the
eastward, reindeer herds are being brought
into that country from Alaska. Botanists
were employed during the years 1926 to
1928 to investigate localities where the
proper sustenance for these animals might
be found; to survey the conditions in
areas where the immense herds of barren
ground caribou formerly grazed, but are
no longer to be found. At Aklavik the
hydrographers met the Danish botanist
Porsild, who had made a special study
of the problem; had explored the coast
territory from Alaska to far east and
south of the delta; had selected a route
over which the nucleus herds might be
driven to their new grazing preserves.

Two years ago the " drive '* commenced,
with some 3,000 head of Alaskan reindeer
under native herders being started on their
three or four years' trek of nearly two
thousand miles from the Nome district.
We asked, " What about their protection
from wolves or other marauders on this
unprecedented migration?"

The answer was that they needed little
safeguarding from predatory animals;
very few are to be found on this coast

near the route chasen from the Alaskan-
Vukon boundary eastward to the Macken-
zie delta region. Despite old-timers' tales
to the contrary, wolves are of very rare
occurrence, and the only beasts that may
occasionally give trouble to the reindeer
are the barren ground grizzlies, the big
brown Alaskan and the polar bears.

September came; the advancing North-
ern Lights bore southward in the wake of
the retreating sun; a new, sharper bite in
Beaufort's sea-chilled winds heralded the
approach of winter. " Homeward bound I
. . . fly the paying-off pennant I . . . 'bout
ship I . . . uphill, this time ... all the way
. . . 'gainst old Mackenz-ie's stream . . ."

It was an "uphill" climb, back over
those thirteen hundred miles, to the little
ship's winter berth on the bank of the
Slave at Smith. They declined the offer
of a tow alongside of the big stem-wheeler
''Distributor." The sturdy Kermath
brought them through. At Fort Smith, a
brief pause; a hasty battening down of
hatches; packing of logbooks and records;
elimination of heavy gear. All hands
climbed into two airplanes and were
swiftly winged to " the line."

More railway journeys. A short, bald,
unromantic report. The season's cniise
was ended. Next day preparations for
another began. ^

Range Riding with Canada's
Buffalo Herds

(Continued from page 12)

then with cattle we did not worry just
how prime the hides were. Beef was the
main thing. With the buffalo it's different,
as both beef and hide count, and the
buffalo's hide is not considered prime
until about December or later, and this
hide, when prime, makes beautiful robes
and coats. That is why you will hear of
us riders hitting the round-up trails in
40 below weather, right up to our necks
in snow banks. ^

Now take "Shorty" over there, for
instance. One bitter cold day in January
we were drifting in a bunch of buffalo.
Started 'em way up west in the river hills
and had fought them all day long, twenty
long weary miles, to within a mile or so
of the corral gate. There we were skirting
around the edge of a lake. Shorty, riding
wide on the flank of the running buffalo,
decides to cut across a bay to head some
of the leaders. Half way over there is a
crash and a howl, and Shorty and his
saddle horse disappears through the ice!
The buffalo are forgotten and quickly
vanish back into the hills, while the whole
gang ties in to the rescue. Amid a snarl
of frozen ropes, Shorty and his pony are
dragged out, seven long miles to camj)
with the thermo' down to 14 below zero.
Shorty rode to camp, arrived there all
same " chunk of ice." Did he quit the

AN IMPORTANT DISCOVERY BY EXPLORER IN

HUDSON BAY DISTRICT

Anew country of some 4,000 square miles,
inhabited ny people (Eskimos) who have
probably never been visited by white
people, is the important discovery of R. J.
Flaherty, F.R.G.S. This new area is only
about 1,000 miles from Toronto, in the Hud-
son Bay district. Mr. Flaherty has been up
in this new country for upwards of two years
in the interests of Mackenzie and Mann, and
has had some remarkable experiences and
most amazing luck, for not a member of his
party died or was lost.

A most unique collection of skin coats,
boats, weapons, and carved ivories depicting
the history of the people has been brought
out by the intrepid explorer, and through the
kindness of Sir William Mackenzie has been
presented to the Royal Ontario Museum, and
form objects of the greatest interest. These
primitive people have practically no furs, so
wear costumes of eider duck skins, which
are very light in weight despite their cumber-
some appearance. The coats have hoods to
protect the wearers' heads. Trousers are
made of polar bear skins, and one pair shown
had a band of some kind of dark fur around
each leg, making the fashionable combination
of white and black. Baby seal fur is used to
make garments for the little poeple, being
softer and more pliable.

A woman's costume of reindeer skin (these
are mainland people) was remarkable m its
beautiful striped appearance. The jacket
is nearly three-quarter length, but the centre
back piece is continued to some length, in
what the fashion books would term a "postil-
lion back." This the lady doubles under her
when she sits down, forming, no doubt, a
comfortable cushion. This reindeer suit was
lined throughout with fur, making it very
warm. It was trimmed down the sides with
a two-inch band of white fur, and a fringed
effect was given by slashing the fur at intervals.
On this was a most capacious hood, used to
carry the baby. An idea of just how it looks
is given in one of the carved ivory models.

Snow-goggles made of driftwood, the only
wood obtamable there, are curious-looking
things, resembling automobile goggles, in
that they protect the eyes all around, only
there is no glass used, lust long slits in the
wood, through which tne wearer can peep,
these in turn being protected by an over-
hanging protection of wood that protects the
eye from the glare. They are tied on with
leather thongs.

Interesting is the small, shallow soap-stone
lamp, when one knows the double purpose it
serves, that of giving heat and lignt in the
igloo through the long, dark Arctic days.

Suspended above this rude stone bowl is a
piece of blubber on a string. It is raised or
lowered according to the amount of heat
wanted. This crude affair is the basis of life
to the Eskimos. Around it is lived what
constitutes the family life of these people.

A tremendous number of hunting weapons
forms a large part of this particular collection;
old harpoons are shown and also some of the
big American coppers over half a century old
dated 1848 were also exhibited. No doubt
they were gotten from some old American
whaler. A cup of hide, sewn to a circular
base, the handle of wood wrapped with thongs,
is also interesting. Cooking utensils were
conspicuous by their absence, housekeeping
there being reduced to "zero." The people
eat raw meat, "hot seal" being the chief dish,
eating the seal just as slaughtered.

A model of a woman's boat was shown. It
is sealskin stretched over a wooden frame; the
sail is of skin. The oars are long with a square
piece of wood sewn by thongs of leather. A
splendid model of a "caique," the long skin
JDoat used by the men, has been obtained, and
is sure to attract considerable attention. Of
equal interest is a sled used by the Eskimos.
The runners are made of whalebone, which
are "glassed" every morning by blowing
water on them, which immediately becomes
ice, so it practically amounts to running on
ice. The slats are lashed on to the sides, and
give with the motion of the sled.

The collection of ivories is absorbingly
interesting, showing as it does the history of
the people. Here one see ivory igloos, ivory
needles finely polished and protected in an
ivory case, with a filling that resembled sea-
weed. To break one of these brittle needles
would be a tragedy, for they are beautifully
made, considering the lack of tools. An
ivory comb for combing the hair, little spoons
with leather handles and other little objects
are also to be seen.

The historical ivories show a man being
torn by a dog, a fight between a walrus and
a bear, a sled with the father and mother and
the seal they have killed. A reindeer hunt,
pack dogs, watching the seal hole, showing the
man ready to spear the animal as soon as it
appears, a group of figures joining hands form-
ing a circle, and many pieces depicting the
habits, life and ledgends of these people in
ivory from the walrus.

It is not given to many to make such a
discovery as Mr. Flaherty has made, and it
is hopea to send up experts to study these
people.

The Story of an Eskimo Dog^

A GOOD story well told is always welcome, and here is one in the biography
of Polaris by Ernest Harold Baynes. It is the true life story of an Eskimo
dog, whose parents were among those selected by Peary to draw his
loaded sledges, under the worst possible ice conditions, on the final stretch of
the long trip to the North Pole.

The author needs no introduction to the members or to the scientific staff
of the American Museum of Natural History. He played a veiy important
part in saving the American bison from threatened extermination; he fired the
first gun on the right side in the nature-faking controversy which swept the
country a score of years ago; and he has done great service in the conservation
of bird life by the organization of more bird clubs than any one in America.

Many who have heard Mr. Baynes tell in his lectures the stories of his
animal friends, will be glad to learn that he has put this account in book form.
We would not expect the author, who helped stem the tide of sham natural
history, to humanize his animals or to be over-sentimental about them, and he
does not err in this way; yet he has given us a most appealing account, —
one that will rank in readableness with those two great dog stories of literature,
Rab and His Friends by Dr. John Brown, and Stickeen by John Muir.

The style is not that of the ordinary narrative, but rather the colloquial styk^
of the raconteur,-the energetic style used by Mr. Baynes in his inimitable lectures.
The many humerous episodes add greatly to the attractiveness of the narrative.

The book is copiously illustrated with photographs by the author, and the
introduction was written by Captain Bob Bartlett, who sailed the ^^Roosevelf
for Peary and the ^^Karluk^^ for Stefansson, and who said that Polaris was the
finest Eskimo dog in the world. — G. Clyde Fisher

i Polaris: The Story of an Eskimo Dog, by Ernest Ilarohl Baynen. The Macmillan Company, New York. 1922.

1 5 ')

T>f-#>\

FISHING FROM THE KAliUEST TIMES

157

The earliotst roproKontatioii of fishing with a rod appears on an Egyptian
tomb that dates back to 2000 b.c. From Beni Hasan, by P. E. Newberry

Fishing from the EarHest Times: A Review'

By E. W. GUDGER

Associate in lohthyology, Ameriran Museum

K. WILLIAM RADCLIFFE^S
weighty tome is "so full of a
number of things'' of great
interest — to borrow Stevenson's phrase
— that it is no easy task to write a re-
view of it, yet we ma^^ at least indicate*
the great diversity of the valuable*
data which the author has brought
together through his painstaking re-
searches.

• In his introduction Mr. Radcliflfe
traces the evolution of fishing imple-
ments from the close of the Old Stone
Age up to classical times. He draws
the [)arallel between the fishing tools
of the prehistoric fishermen and those
of the Bushmen, Tasmanians, and
Eskimos of a day just ending. He
endeavors to settle the question as to
what are the most primitive fishing
implements and finds that the weight
of evidence is in favor of the spear and
the gorge.

The next section, by far the most
important part of the book, consists
of seventeen chapters of 233 pages
devoted to fishing in classical times.
The author begins with the accounts of
fishing in Homer and ends with a dis-
cussion of pisciculture among the Ro-
mans toward the close of the Empire.

One can onl}^ indicate the wealth of
material filling these chapters to burst-
ing. Here are to be found accounts of
the dolphin as man's friend and helper
in fishing, of the Ichthyophagi, of the
(*arliest records of tunny-fishing, of the
use of fish as a sacrifice to the gods, of
the first acclimatization of fish, of the
use of the torpedo or electric ray in
medical practice, of the extravagant
prices paid by the Greek and Roman
gourmands for their nine most highly
prized fishes, of the sumptuary laws
passed by the Roman emperors to
keep down such prices, of fish in
mythology and in symbolism (includ-
ing the Christian fish symbol) and on
coins and medals, of Roman vivaria,
used first as mere storage places but
later for the breeding and rearing of
favorite fishes — the first known pis-
cicultural efforts in the western world.
In addition, the ichthyologist will
get exact references to the first descrip-
tions of the salmon, trout, and pike
and the first surmises regarding the
method of reproduction of the eel;
while the angler will find the earliest
known accounts of the use of the
jointed rod, the reel, and the artificial

fly.

The next section, consisting of
seven chapters, deals with F]gyptian
fish and fishing, the latter being traced
back to 2500 B.C. (according to Petri(*
to 3500 B.C.) Here we find interesting
accounts of Egyptian fishing and
fishing implements, of the fish that
were taboo to the ancient dwellers
along the Nile and of the fish they
looked upon as sacred. Accompanying
these accounts are illustrations copied

2000 B.C. and on th(\se V)ricks we find
listed also two hundred kinds of
Assvrian fishes, a dozen of which can
l)e positively identified today.

Fishing among the Jews is limited to
five short chapters, for, if one (*xc(*pts
the account of the use of nets in Lake
Galilee and to a less extent of hand
lines and

> .

This picture, from a Roman mosaic at Sousso, illustrates different methods of catching fish,
the net and the trident for spearing being indicated in two of the examples and what are
believed to be bottle-shaped baskets in the third instance. The picture is derived from
Revue Archeologique^ 1897

150

^Fishing from the Earliist rimes. By William Radclifife. New York, 1921. E. P. Dutton \ Co. 478pp.,

19 pis., many text figs.

from the tombs, including the (»arli(»st
known pictorial records of fishing with
the rod. the i-eel, and the net.

Next come eight fascinating chapt(Ms
on piscatology in Assyria, among th(»
topics treated, translated from the an-
cient l)ricks with cuncnform inscrip-
tions, being the eailiest fishing contract
and the first record of poaching on fish
preserves, divination and augury by
the use of fish, Dagon and the fish gods,
and the origin of fish in the calendar.
Through these records in cuneiform,
the use of vivaria is traccvl })ack to

thei(* is little* more to b(^ said of it than
can be related of the catching of snakes
in Ireland. There was no fishing for
sport, and no use of the rod, an imple-
ment which one might have expected
the Jews to bring back from Egypt. No
ichthyolatry was practiced in Juch^a,
but there was a tal)oo on scaleless fish.
Furthermore, the interested reader
may learn much about the fishers of
Tobias and of Moses, about Jonah and
the fish (not a whale) which gave him
refuge, and about the fish which Re-
stored Solonu)n\s ring.

158

NATURAL IIISTOHY

Shorter still is the account of
Chinese fishing, for, since the author
does not trace the history of fishing
beyond 500 a.d., he has available as
sources only translations of the Chinese
manuscripts. However, the readei* will
learn with interest that the (»arlv
Chinese were the first to engage in
fish-breeding and that the first arti-
ficial incubation of fish ova was effected
by filling the empty shells of hens'
eggs with fish spawn, and then entrust-
ing the hatching of the strange brood
to a confiding hen.

Mr. Radcliffe's book is alike enter-
taining and informing, touching as it
does on a multitude of subjects relat-
ing to fish and fishing from the remotest
times. The faults are few and, with
one or two exceptions, of no particular
detriment. In covering such a vast
field of time and so great a range of
subject, the book is somewhat dis-
cursive and diffuse, but I am not sure
that this does not add to its charm.
The typography is excellent, though
one regrets to see Rondelet's name
persistently spelled Rondolet.

The sales of the book should and
undoubtedly will call for a second edi-
tion and when that appears, there
should be a^ ociated with the title a
subtitle indicating that the author's
I'esearches trace the subject up to the
year 500 a.d. but not beyond. Then,
the next edition should have a bibliog-
laphy. Footnotes may be of value to
the general reader, but, since this
publication is a source book of great
value, the titles of the works referred
to should be collected and arranged
alphabetically at the end.

Mr. RadcHffe's monograph is liter-
ally sui generis, a unique work. Other
books on halieutics barely touch on
the beginnings or at most give a few
chapters to fishing among the Greeks
and Romans, but here we have an
octavo volume of 478 pages devoted
to the ancients alone. Fishing From
the Earliest Times is the most compre-
hensive treatment of the subject that
has been attempted thus far and
will probably hold an unchallenged
position in its field for many years to
come. I

Two men engaged in fishing are shown on these coins from Carteia. The illus-
tration is taken from Dcsrnptions genomic des niomiaies nniiques dc /' Expngne !)>' A . Hcm'ss

WHITHER OUR ESKIMOS?

ONLY 7000 LEFT IN CANADA'S
NORTH AND LIKELY TO SURVIVE
ONLY AS A HYBRID RACE. A FRANK
INDICTMENT OF THE WHITE MAN'S

INTRUSION.

RICHARD FINNIE

Noted arctic traveller and writer. {Reproduction of article or
pictures in whole or part forbidden except by authors consent.)

Here are three "civilized" Labrador Eskimos who, wearing manu-
Foctured clothing, are members oF a brass band trained by a mis-
sionary. Their repertoire includes "Onward Christian Soldiers"

and "God Save the King."

This is a women's wheelbarrow race at a BaFFin Island settlement,
one oF the events in a sports program staqed by traders For the joint
entertainment oF white visitors and local Eskimos.

134

HERE did the Eskimos come from?'' is a ques-
tion for anthropologists to answer, and most of them
beUeve that in common with the American Indians the
first Eskimos drifted to this continent from somewhere
in Asia, via Bering Strait, at least two thousand years ago.

'^Where are the Eskimos going?'' is a more vital ques-
tion that sociologists may be able to answer.

Most of us still associate Eskimos with snow igloos,
kayaks, bows and arrows, fur suits and blubber. Mean-
while, however, the shadow of CiviHzation — the shadow
that has blighted almost every aboriginal group it has
touched — has been cast over the Eskimos, revolutionzing
their lives. The Eskimos of the story-books have ceased
to exist.

Their snow igloos, than which there can be no more
healthful type of winter shelters, are gradually losing
favour. Their summer tents or tupiks, made with the
skins of seals or caribou, are now rare. Their graceful
and efficient kayaks (sealskin canoes) have varished in
some districts. Their picturesque and hygienic skin
clothing, perfected by centuries of experience, is becoming
unfashionable. Their straight meat and fish diet, ideal
for their environment has been modified. Their bows and
arrow^s, which secured game but never wasted it, are
virtually gone. Their ideology and folklore and quaint
customs have been frowned upon. Their own crude but
appropriate system of government is no longer tolerated.

Instead, our Eskimos are expected to conform to the
white man's laws and ethics, embrace his religion. Many
of our Eskimos now occupy canvas tents and wooden
houses. All of them wear a considerable proportion of
imported clothing. All of them eat a great deal of
flour, sugar and canned goods. All of them own high-
powered rifles. Nearly all of them, men and women,
smoke pipes and cigarettes. A very few surreptitiously
drink alcohol. All drink tea and coffee. Most of them
have imported canoes, whale-boats or motor-schooners.
Many of them have either sewing machines, accordions,
phonographs, or even radios or washing machines. So
simple are their real and basic material requirements that
new artificia^ones must be introduced by the traders to
stimulate the trapping of more foxes.

Formerly our Eskimos were a race of hunters, independ-
ent, self-respecting and wholly self-sustaining. They
were pre-eminently satisfied with their lot. According
to our standards their lot may have been unenviable,
but of that they were blissfully ignorant. They were
philosophers and laughed and joked much. Occasionally
they starved but were ordinarily in perfect physical
condition.

Now they are a race of trappers. They hunt less
because hunting sometimes interferes with trapping, and
often there is less to hunt. They are no longer independ-
ent, no longer self-sustaining, no longer always have
reason to be self-respecting. They are still philosophers
but they laugh and joke somewhat less heartily than

'^70IRi?r& OUTDOORS
MAY. 1938

\ 'K

' jJ:"^

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* X ■■'■■ ^

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;■ I^kJ^An

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■**• *. ■ ■ ..-w^

-»T

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<-:-^%^:f;r:^^%.Ks

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*0 »»r»

These are Netsilik Eskimos of the region of the North Magnetic Pole,
among the last to have been touched by the shadow of Civilization.
They are awaiting a signal from their medicine-man to dash into a
shallow stream to spear Arctic char corralled in a stone weir — an
exciting and spectacular method of fishing rarely employed any more.
Imported nets are now in universal use in the Far North.

All photos in this article by Richard Finnic,

FOREST & OUTDOORS
MAY. 1938

135

Here is a Baffin Island member of a new generation of Eskimo being
reared in an atmosphere of confusion and uncertainty caused by the

shadow of Civihzation.

they used to. They often are hungry even though they
may be less Ukely to starve to death now, and very few
of them are in perfect physical condition any more.
They are suspectible to tuberculosis. Various foreign
maladies take heavy toll among them and their resistance
is slight.

Who or what is responsible for these drastic changes,
and why? The inexorable force called Civilization is
responsible; and at the door of no one person, no one
organization, can be laid either the credit or the blame.

White men have been pushing into the Canadian
Arctic for four centuries — first as seekers of a Northwest
Passage to the Orient, then as whalers, explorers, traders,
missionaries, lawgivers. Evei:y one of them meeting
Eskimos has wanted to learn something, to buy or sell
something, to teach something, to control something,
or to stop something.

Nearly every white man who goes to our Arctic now-
adays without an axe to grind, and who is a sympathetic
observer, deplores the present status of the Eskimos.
He sees many of them occupying unsuitable houses,
wearing unsuitable clothing, eating unsuitable foods,
being taught unsuitable ideas, or being made to do
unsuitable things. He sees their health and character
being undermined, their identity lost. *

Yes, he deplores their status but the several remedies
he may suggest for it cannot easily be appUed. Banish
the traders? — You cannot suppress Big Business in a
democratic country. Banish the missionaries? — Public
opinion would be against you. And complete Federal
control and operation of all Eskimo affairs, to the exclu-
sion of private enterprise, would be awkward to effect
in the Canadian Arctic. In Greenland a Danish Govern-
ment monopoly of this sort has worked successfully for
many years, but Greenland's geographical situation has
helped. Besides, live Eskimos cannot be put in a museum,

136

which is what you would be trying to do in handing them
back their primeval status. They wouldn't thank you
for it either, and a lot of them might perish in the process,
for Civilization is something they can get along very
well without only before it has reached them.

There are only 36,000 Eskimos left in the whole world,
including those of mixed blood. In Canadian territory
we have less than 7,000 — where once there were an
estimated three times as many.

At this point the casual reader may inquire: ''But why
bother about the Eskimos, anyway; of what benefit can
they be to Canada?"

Well, on the score of sentiment it may be said that they
are among the most lovable (as well as among the most
gullible) of primitive peoples. They are peaceful, kindly,
hospitable, generous and intelligent.

But on the score of sheer economic worth the Eskimos
are indispensable to us because by heritage they are
physically and spiritually better adapted to life in the
Far North than any other people, and without their
aid and knowledge we would be seriously handicapped in
developing the resources of one-third of the Dominion.
Colonization is important in maintaining the sovereingty
of any land, and Eskimos must be the mainstay of our
Arctic islands' population for a long time to come. In
connection with trans-polar air commerce alone the
value of these islands is incalculable.

Just now our Eskimos trap all of a million dollars
worth of Arctic foxes annually. Several pure and half-
breed Eskimos manage trading posts. Few white men
are capable of safely traveling anywhere in the Arctic,
winter or summer, without the companionship of Eskimos.
There are Eskimos who stand on the bridges of freighting
ships as trusted pilots. There are Eskimos who are
masters of fair-sized schooners of their own. Eskimos
are sometimes taken as guides in airplanes on Arctic
flights. Though culturally but a generation or so removed
from the stone age, many an Eskimo can beat a white
man at using and repairing guns and mechanical imple-
ments and internal combustion engines; might even give
him some competition at poker or contract bridge. There
is really no reason why there should not be licensed
Eskimo aviators and wireless operators one of these days.
But whatever they do along such lines they must receive
their training in the North, for if brought to cities they
are likely to sicken and die.

These people who have been dubbed ''God's frozen
children" are not basically inferior to Europeans morally
or intellectually; it is only as they face the cataclysmic
transition from their own primordial culture to ours of
the 20th Century that they may at times appear childlike,
and no wonder. The unperceiving white n an who treats
or rates them as children and menials is doing them a
tragic injustice. They may sense it, too, but generally
humor him to be polite — at first. Later, if his influence is
strong and persistent, their splendid morale may be broken
down until they actually become what he has always
supposed them to be. Or else they may be turned into
liars and cheats. Many of our Eskimos have been
exploited, victimized and pauperized.

{Continued on page 155)

FOREST & OUTDOORS

■

* will be subjected to all the vagaries of the weather, the
scourge of flies, the annpyances of swamp and muskeg,
risks of personal injury! and many inconvenijences inci-
dental t^ Ufe in temporary camps far removed from
establisheii communities.! The life of an entomologist
from earli^spring to late f^U is not one for a clqck watcher,
for at almoH, every hou^ of daylignt he muit be active
seven daya aN^eek. | J^ I

The tota\ volui^ie of acceslmle timber hai been esti-
mated at 170,142,(18Q,000 ^|tic feet, of whichfeS per cent
is located iri the Eas^rnr provinces, 15 perjcent in the
Prairie Provinces and^>^er cent in Britisp Columbia.
In addition t^ this tho/e fc elated to be 10S,524,000,000
cubic feet of 'standing tiiiiber, t^chich is inac(|essible under
existing conditions. The;total foi*s§t resourqes of Canada
of 273,656,000,000 cubic; feet are capable of being con-
verted into 425,250,000,000 board feet ^ sawn lumber,
sufficient tojtuild about; 42,000,000 severtjoom frame
houses, and M,746,639,006 cords of pulpwood, jties, poles
and similar forest producfts. \ 'v

Even/a more serious tnenace to the forest wealth of
Canada, thaj^-fitw^^re, destructive, insectgr ^-^^

"WHITHER OUR ESKIMOS?"

{Continued from page 136)

However, in the Mackenzie Delta the Federal Govern-
ment with praiseworthy foresight has established a herd
of domestic reindeer (in emulation of the U. S. in Alaska)
to replace depleted caribou and insure a dependable food
supply for dwellers in our Arctic, where there are a
milUon square miles of potential grazing lands. Eskimos
are the logical herders. Here may be the beginning of
a meat industry of tremendous importance to Canada.
We cannot do without the Eskimos.

Yet, alas, the Eskimos are disappearing — as Eskimos.
It is sad but true, and probably nothing can or will be
done about it. One European scholar who was born in
the Arctic and who has lived among the Eskimos of the
Mackenzie Delta avers that this group will have died
out within a generation. I myself have seen the Copper
Eskimos dying like flies in Coronation Gulf. A Govern-
ment medical officer declares that at least seventy-five
per cent of the Eskimos of Baffin Island and vicinity
have some admixture of white blood. And here may lie
part of the answer. The Eskimos as Eskimos — with
blood and culture unadulterated — will survive only in
motion pictures like Robert Flaherty's ''Nonook of the
North.'' A new hybrid race will slowly evolve, whose
members will have built up an immunity to our diseases,
an adaptability to civilized customs — which pure Eskimos
have lacked and so have succumbed.

These new White Eskimos should be able to work for
and with us in the Arctic. Even their table manner
may be so improved as to win the commendation of dear
old ladies such as the one who, at a showing of a movie
close-up of an Eskimo friend of mine enjoying a snack of
raw fish, exclaimed pityingly: ''How disgusting! But of
course the poor creature doesn't know any better!"

FOREST & OUTDOORS
MAY. 1938

WINES

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CONCORD - CATAWBA

• The rare flavor of

HERMIT PORT and

HERMIT SHERRY is a \^ ♦». ^

treat to tKc palate that \
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fullest extent

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155

394

Science News Letter, for December 17, 1

ETHNOLOGY

Always Christmas

In Eskimo Land Every Day Is a Holiday, For Each
Family Runs Its Own Toyshop and Children Are Loved

By EMILY C. DAVIS

IT'S Christmas all the year for lucky
boys and girls way up north. For the
Eskimos who inhabit Santa Claus' home-
land are the greatest toy-makers on
earth.

Eskimo fathers and mothers — espe-
cially fathers — produce toy boats, dolls,
footballs, cook stoves, knives. They are
world's champions at the business of
making things to amuse their children.

Why?

"It's mainly because," says Henry B.
Collins, Jr., U. S. National Museum
ethnologist, "Eskimos love their children
so much."

Mr. Collins has made repeated expedi-
tions to Alaska for the National Mu-
seum. He has dug up so many ancient
Eskimo toys that he is convinced that
Eskimos have always been like that —
devoted to their small sons and daugh-
ters and expressing their interest by lav-
ishing handmade playthings on them.

Eskimos don't cram their toy-making
into any particular season. There's no
burst of Christmas giving in Santa
Claus' own land. Only the Christianized
Eskimos keep Christmas. Young Eski-
mos hear something about Santa at
school but not at home.

They don't think of the reindeer as
a proper steed for bringing toy cargoes.
Now that reindeer have been introduced
into Alaska in recent years, some of the
Eskimos do carve little reindeer. But

Mr. Collins says tourists are the ones
who like them. They aren't made for
the children, who prefer a carved dog,
polar bear, bird, fox, seal, whale, or
walrus.

There are no gift-giving holidays at
all in Eskimo land, Mr. Collins ex-
plains. No shower of Happy-birthday-to-
you presents. No Buy-the-child-a-new-toy
Week. Their ceremonials occasionally
call for presentations, but they are sol-
emn and quite different, and not for
children.

Eskimos make toys in the long winter
evenings we hear about, and also at
any other time when they think of it.
They make everything that they can
think of, that children would like.

Actually, young Eskimos like the
same familiar toys that children the
world over seem to love. The same toys
have been amusing children ever since
the Stone Age. The same stiff-legged
animals carved in wood or ivory. The
same staring dolls, and miniature dishes
and tools that small fingers can hold.

But here's a surprise. Little Eskimo
girls have a tomboy liking for balls.
And no soft, light balls, either. They
play football with a rounded ball of
sealskin stuffed reindeer hair. There are
several Eskimo footballs in the National
Museum at Washington. Mr. Collins
lent one to a Washington schoolgirl, to
see whether Eskimo football is easily
mastered by a young paleface.

The young lady, named Ginger, made

£ s K^^^o

dlolVa

a determined attack on Eskimo tech-
nique and developed fair skill in one
lesson. The trick is to throw the ball,
kick it with your shin or top of the
foot, catch it, and repeat as rapidly as
possible without fumbling.

Eskimo girls can play this one-girl sys-
tem for hours without tiring. When
they get three other "fellows" and two
balls, they play a square formation, pass-
ing the balls across and scoring.

The motley cover of an Eskimo foot-
ball is made by sewing bleached and
unbleached sealskin segments into a
pleasing pattern. Tufts of baby seal fur
are sometimes added for trimming. The
hard stuffed ball, slighdy weighted, is
heavier than a regulation football.

Eskimo boys like football, too, Mr.
Collins has observed, though they play
less than the girls do. Balls, he believes,
are the favorite plaything of Eskimo-
land.

When doting Eskimo parents hand a
brand-new doll and a toy stove to a
young daughter, or a shiny little har-
poon to the son and heir, they are pour-
ing out affection, but there's possibly an
ulterior motive, too, Mr. Collins thinks.
There usually is, when parents encour-
age the young to play with model things
of everyday life. There's a lurking hope
that the youngsters will gain familiarity
with useful duties, for the day when
they are grown ups.

DOLLS

Little Eskimo girls love their dolls. Usual-
ly boy dolls have up-turned mouths and
girl dolls have mouths turned down. Just
an Eskimo custom.

EsT<\rno Ten'\s.

^NDIAN CAMP AT FORT CHORCHIU

ESKIMO TENTS

^TrJ^ ^T*" ^".'- ^°- "P" fi« built on sand retained

I read with great interest in the within four green sticks nrov deH

March number of Field &ST,iUMj ample heat and in zero welher

tent. I have used several types of
canvas shelters in the North coun-
try and lived in several inhabited
by the Crce and Chippewyau In-
dians and the Eskimoes. Having
some gqodLphotos of the latter»i(
domiciles — the combination of tee-
pee and A-tent — I thought they
might prove of value to your maga

entrance ends of the wings of the
camp to keep one lying there quite
comfortable.

The enclosed photos show an-
other combination — two caribou-
skin teepees connected by an A-tent
open on the lee side.

This encampment was near Fort'
Churchill, on the Hudson Bay, and

....c-w H'"»^ "* vaiuc lu yuur maga- | v^nuitiiiu, on me nudson Bay, and
zine and so am enclosing them for erected on a wind-swept gravel
your approval. beach, exposed on all sides to the

One of the most comfortable Arctic breezes,
camps I ever spent winter seasons Owing to the scarcity of timber
in was made up of a large central in that barren region, the poles
teepee with three A-tents attached that support the teepees are ear-
as wings, two facing each other ried by the natives on all their
and the third at right angles to journeyings, except in winter
these. The fourth side of the tee- time, when the more seasonable
pee contained the entrance. An igloo, or snow house, is used. I

.enclose, also, a photo of the latter,

built on the edge of the Barren

- Lands. In mid-winter no other

; form of shelter provides such

f. warmth and protection from Arctic

blizzards as does the Eskimos'

igloo.

.UjCT^*^

{ /^^ y y.^^

^^H ",

GROUND PLAN OF INDIAN ENCAMP-
MENT

^ve\A a.TxA Slreamj^.'iCi ^Mavj. \<\\5r.

GEOORAPHICAL PUBLICATIONS

321

The main theme of the book is the historical account, and in this the geographer
may find interesting and capable discussions of physical and social controls. Two
chapters ohjy are instanced: one on the struggle for the ascendancy of the Persian
Gulf, which, -as a strategic point in trade, has been under five European powers since
Dias rounded the Cape of Good Hope in 1487; another on the art pgrttaying the genius
of Persia which fs ^o strongly impressed in ceramics, textiles, and metal work.

Persia in recent, years has been constantly before the public, and comprehensive
and authoritative hooka dealing with the Persian point of view have not been within
our reach. This void seems now to have been filled. It is strange, however, in dealing
with a country which has been the seat of so much turmoil within a few years to pub-
lish in 1915 a book on the histt)ry of Persia which^s no further down to date than the
granting of a constitutional go\rarnment by tha/rffiah Muzaffar-u-Din in 1906.
^ ^ ^ ^ "- Egbert M. Brown.

Casanowicz, I. M. A colored draWng of the Medeba mosaic map of Palestme
in the United States National Miw^m. Map. Proc. U. 8. Natl Museum, Vol. 49,
1916, pp. 359-376. Smithsonian Ij^itution/^ashington.

Cyprus, Salt from. M^l of the Imperial Inst,, Vol. 14, 1916, No. 1, pp. 37-

41. [Suggests the possibilii^ of expanding theNmcient local salt trade of the island.]

Hodge, E. M. Histyftal geography of Bibl^Xands: A manual for teachers,
xxi and 53 pp.; maps^^harles Scribner's Sons, New^ork, 1915. 11x8. [Teacher s
manual, with refer encJlls, for a course in ''geography as a^E^torin Bible history."]

L[aunay], L^^JIe]. Les petroles sur le front de I'lrifc^. Map. La Nature, No.
2227, 1916, Juj^3, pp. 359-360. \

RooME, ore. Impressions of Persia and Mesopotamia. Viatic Eev,, No. 21,
Vol. 7, 19^ Jan. 1, pp. 58-62. X^^^

SEiJiTTN-BROWN, Arthur. Ancient Mesopotamia and the irrigatiolh4i3c^tem that
macL^t a fertile territory. Map. Scientific American Suppl., No. 2106, Vol. 81,
Ma/13, p. 309.

POLAR REGIONS

^ — Arctic

PoRSiLD, M. P. Studies on the material culture of the Eskimo in West Greenland.
Diagrs., ills., bibliogr. Meddelelser om Ch'pnla/nd, Vol. 51, No. 5 (=pp. 113-250).
Copenhagen, 1915.

Apparently because the Eskimo 's life is generally thought to be simple and primitive
even the best of the current textbooks tell little more than the geographies of fifty years
ago. Yet his life is not simple, and as an adaptation to environment it is still wholly
untold save in memoirs like the one under review. Geographic writers should seize the
wealth of available material and make it their own. ^ ,

Between pages 131 and 140 is an extraordinary description of the vital intimacy
between the Eskimo and his fiords and ice-fields. The exact hunting methods adopted
depend upon the ice, whether old or new; the surface, whether snow-covered or glassy;
the sun, whether low or high ; the currents, icebergs, headlands, and th3 degree of cold.
Certain types of boots fit one set of conditions and not another; and so it is with the
rifle, bow and arrow, net, club, harpoon, kyak, and likewise the exact method of attack.
In a storm, for example, the sleeping sea otter is easy prey because the new-fallen snow
deadens the footsteps of the hunter. Higher grades of skill must be attained in bunting
under difficult conditions, until at last the most expert may hunt in that mf erno of risk
and toil, the feeding grounds at the edge of the glacier ice at the fiord head where calving
icebergs, open water, and tidal eddies take their steady toll of life.

A settlement has not merely a chance location nor is it made with respect to shelter
alone. What is the habit of the ice, of the current, of the game? Where are the head-
lands? Will there be open water at the right season and near shore? What are the
supplementary resources of the land? Is there driftwood? These are the persistent
inquiries of a tribe in seeking a new location. There are no trees, hence the driftwood
is from far distant sources. It follows that it is broken and small, and a single piece
will rarely serve for a bow. Now a bow must have two qualities — rigidity and elasticity.
To secure the one, pieces of wood, generally three, are bound tightly together ; to secure
the other, strips of walrus hide are fastened on either side. Porsild calls the result one
of the greatest inventions of our (sic) time. They have nets of split whalebone and use
them through and under the ice. A surplus of light and heat is their idea of luxury.

322

THE GEOGRAPHICAL REVIEW

^. m.

This is only attained when nature conspires against the game to man^s benefit. Here is

paradise :

*^\Vhen severe cold sets in suddenly, and with calm weather, it frequently happens
that a school of white whales, or narwhals, is cut off from the open water by a broad belt
of ice. The whales soon become exhausted owing to the difficulty of breathing, and if
they find an opening in the ice they all resort to it, and cannot leave it again. Here,
from twenty to several hundred animals may be found at such an opening. If this
opening is small the animals may lie closely together; the narwhals, for instance, pushing
their way to the edge and placing their tusks upon the ice. In calm weather their moan-
ing may be heard for miles around, and the steam from their breathing rises from the
hole into the air, so that such a savssat [as such a place is called] is soon discovered.
According to the hunting by-laws in force it is the joint property of the surrounding
settlements, and the finder gets a reward at the public expense, and everybody may secure
for himself the right of possession by thrusting a harpoon into an animal. As the
animal cannot get away, the form of the harpoon is quite immaterial, and it is only
necessary that a small piece of line be attached to it in order to identify it. One by
one the animals are killed — formerly with lances, now usually with guns — , drawn up, and
driven away on sledges, and this may be continued till the whole flock is captured, or till
the weather turns and the ice is broken up, when the animals are set free. ' '

There is also much on Eskimo migrations — a problem of growing interest; an admir-
able summary, pages 235-236; and a working bibliography that loses little in value
because it includes only those books which the author had with him in Greenland.

ANprFanTiTji Bi iii ■■grwidiian Arrtin Fvptiditfrnipi iqitiii -fan'^mf p^ff -^^-^^ -^^^-

vey *ofljanada for 1915, pp. 220-236. Ottawa, 1916. [See also items on ** Return of
the Southern Party of the Stefansson Expedition '' and ** Explorations in Ayctoria
Island'^ in the September Bevieio, pp. 232-233.]

[CHipkAN, K. G., AND J. R. Cox. Report of the Topographical Division J( Cana-
dian Arctit Expedition. Summary Bept. Geol Survey of Canada for 1915/ pp. 244
[original in^rrectly 424]-245. Ottawa, 1916. [See also items in the SJeptember
Eeview, pp. 2^2-233.] /

Expeditions polaires de Sverdrup et de Vilkickij, Radiotelegr^mmes des.

Bull, de VAcad>Jmp, des Sd. [de Petrograd], Ser. 6, 1915, No. 7, pp. 5^6-584. [In
Russian.] \ \ /

Galitzine, B. "vRapport sur la situation actuelle des expeditions polaires de
Sverdrup et de Vilkickij. Bull de VAcad, Imp, des ScL {de FetrogrdS,^, Ser. 6, 1915,
No. 3, pp. 193-196. C^n Russian.] \ - /

Koch, J, P. Vorlaufiger Bericht uber die wichtigsten glaziologischen Beobach-
tungen auf der danischen Forschungsreise quer durch Nordgronland 1912/13.
Map, diagrs., ills. Zeitsekr, fur Gletsclierkmde, Vol. 10, 1916, Noyl, pp. 1-43.

O'Neill, J. J. Geological reports, Canadian Arctic Expedition, 1915. Sum-
mary Bept. Geol. Survey of^ Canada for 1915, pp. 236-241. Qftawa, 1916. [See also
references in note on ^^Retuiti of the Southern Party of the SJfefansson Expedition '^ in
the September Beview, p. 232.} \ /

Rasmussen, Knud. Den V II. Thule-Ekspedition til Nord-Gr0nland. Map.
GeografisTc Tidshrift, Vol. 23, 1^15-16, No. 5, pp. 198-200. Copenhagen. [Detailed
plans of the 1916 trip, which werd'^summarized in the July Beview, pp. 65-66.]

WORLD AS A WilOLE AND LARGER PARTS

Scott, W. B. A history of land msunmals in the western hemisphere, xiv and

693 pp.; ills., index. The MacmillaK Co., New York, 1913. $5. 9y2 x6y2.

The author says: '*The western portion of North America has preserved a marvel-
ous series of records of the successive assemblages of animals which once dwelt in this
continent; and in southernmost South America an almost equally complete record was
made of the strange animals of this region.'' A wish to make this history intelligible
led to the preparation of this book.

The work is primarily intended for the layman, yet it cannot fail to be of interest
to those zoologists who are interested in evolutionary theories. The first four chapters
discuss methods of studying rocks and fossils, the classification of mammals, and the
geographical development of the Americas in Cenozoic time. The geographical dis-
tribution of mammals receives very adequate treatment. Among the factors that
determine the presence or absence of any species of animals, the author mentions
climate, mountains, plateaus, rivers, deserts, and preoccupation by another species.

264

Journal of American Folk-Lot e
BOOK REVIEW

The People of the Polar North. A Record by Knud Rasmussen,
Compiled from Danish Originals, and edited by G. Herring. Illustra-
tions by Count Harald Moltke. Philadelphia, Lippincott, 1908.

This book is a translation and adaptation of the two Danish books, " Nye
Mennesker" and "Under Nordenvindens Sv0be," two of the best books on
the Eastern Eskimo that have appeared in a long time. The editor under-
estimates previous work when saying that "the Eskimos as a race are an
unexplored and unexploited people,'' and does an injustice to an eminent
scholar when claiming that Rink, our best authority on the Greenland Eskimo,
did not know the Greenlandic language; but he has put ethnologists under
obligations by making the book accessible to the English-speaking public.
The first of the two books had been translated before into German, but with
the omission of some of the interesting traditions recorded by Rasmussen.
The first part of the book is taken up with graphic descriptions of Eskimo
life, which, while true to nature in their essential elements, still contain enough
of the individuality of the author to make them one of the best available
descriptions of Eskimo life from a literary point of view, but require at least
a slight amount of caution on the part of the ethnologist. The difference of con-
ception comes out clearly when these descriptions are compared to Mrs.
Signe Rink's simple records of Eskimo life as given by the Eskimo themselves
in her book " Kajakmanner." The second part, which contains primitive
views of life among the Smith Sound Eskimo, is replete with valuable ethno-
logical material, which shows clearly the close resemblance between the be-
liefs of the Smith Sound people and those of the west coast of Baffin Land.
The tales given in Part III are also quite in accord with those known in other
parts of Arctic America. A number of animal fables deserve particular men-
tion. These fables, which are so characteristic of the folk-lore of the Eskimo
and of some of the northern Indian tribes of America, have received some
attention since 1883, and samples have been collected from all parts of the
Arctic coast. A few of the tales given in this collection are identical with those
recorded by Dr. A. L. Kroeber in 1899 in this Journal, and collected fron^
the mouths of a number of Eskimo who visited New York. The second division
of the book is devoted to a translation of Rasmussen's descriptions cl West
Greenland, which in character are similar to his descriptions fror Smit'i
Sound ; while the last part is devoted to a description of the east coast 01 Green-
land, and contains some interesting notes on customs, shamanism, and a few
folk-tales. This material is of value as supplementing Holm's work on
Angmagssalik. The English edition contains a considerably larger number
of illustrations than either the Danish or the German editions. The illustra-
tions are from sketches by Count Harald Moltke. A comparison of the folk-
lore material contained in the German edition of the book and of the folk-
lore of Baffin Land will be found in vol. xv of the " Bulletin of the American
Museum of Natural History," pp. 567, 568.

F. Boas.

PHOTO BY V. C GAMBELL

ESQUIMAUX AND COD, ST. LAWRENCE ID., ALASKA

•PHOlO BY V. C GAMBELL

ESQUIMAUX HUNTING CAMP OF WALRUS HIDE

V>.X!^^iL^^

>-<l/v

-W^IJtl;,

>« II 1 1 III puimi iji

»>-^^» ■ -*-«" 4

«*fc MiMri.^.iif .fcj.. ■».

OUTSIDE of "Eskimo pie" the
Eskimo really have some unique
delicacies and oddities of food,
and which it is very unlikely will
ever appear on either our soda fountain
ads or restaurant menus!

It is quite true that the Eskimo, as
well as most every other native peoples,
very quickly adopt the foodstuffs of their
white brothers in preference to many of
their own dishes, although many of the
rather unusual food concoctions, an ap-
petite for which has been cultivated
through a long line of generations, will
no doubt always be in evidence and favor.
No matter how far his well-meaning,
white brother shall, in superficially edu-
cating, elevate him in the eye of society,
he will ever have those inclinations and
will indulge in the tastes of his ancestors.

THE Eskimo's palate seems to crave
such tastes in his daily menu as are
the most obnoxious imaginable to the
white man. Of course "ripened" meats
are considered quite the thing in our
own best families, and everyone knows
how long an Englishman 'angs a chicken
before he considers it fit to eat. But the
Eskimo is so far ahead of any of this
that "blue" chicken is a breath of sweet
perfume as compared. In the first place,
the seal meat which is really the Eskimo's
own staff of life, has an odor and flavor
in its freshest days that it takes a truly
ineffective stomach to withstand. I have
eaten seal meat that was specially pre-
pared for me, when this obnoxious flavor
was almost entirely absent; but I have
also eaten it (better, tried to eat it) when
though even fresh, it was prepared in the
purely native fashion, and was nigh im-
possible I Nor is the native even satisfied
with this most obnoxious of all meats in
its fresh state— it must " 'ave a bit o'
'anginV* as the Englishman would say.

WHEN a seal is taken it is usually
dragged into the "vestibule" of the
native's house ("colladore" the Aleut calls
it) where it is left to lie untouched and
out of reach of the dogs until considered
at a ^proper stage when fit to eat. Then
the "lady of the house" proceeds to skin
the animal, and the feast is started. The

What

fiSLiek

Harold McCracken

seal meat is usually cut up in large chunks
and boiled in a big pot, with anything add-
ed that is at hand, though the meat is gen-
erally prepared without any garnishings.

I have gone into Eskimo huts when the
seal-pot was at its height, and it produces
quite the same effect upon one as to step
into a room filled with ammonia fumes !
If you do not happen to have an especi-
ally sturdy stomach — well, do not venture
into an Eskimo hut at such a time. The
place will undoubtedly be very much
lacking in ventilation at best; it will be
as hot as a bake-oven ; and that heavy
air so supersaturated with the odors of
the seal-pot, is enough to knock over most
any healthy man ! The natives will prob-
ably be sitting around on the floor (though
they may have boxes or even chairs in
the place) stripped naked to the waist.
Possibly the "Old Lady" will be rolling
a cigarette for the "Old Man"; possibly
she will be diligently working over a
parka or fur coat, or he will be carving
a cribbage board from the tusk of a
walrus ; or, their next door neighbors may
be in, and they are all indulging in a sing
song game of cards. The while the rich
odor of the seal-pot tends to fill the room
like gas in a toy balloon.

THEN when the meat is thoroughly
cooked the whole pot is set on the
floor and the feasters gather round to
fish out the choice hunks. No doubt they
will have some bread that has been cooked
in a frying pan, and a big pot of tea or
coffee to go with it. A chunk of meat
will be grabbed in one hand, and with an
oolo or half -moon shaped knife gripped in
the other, the gentle art of seal meat eat-
ing is begun. The teeth are sunk into
the meat, and with a slash of the knife
it is severed from the bulk. And why it

IS that there are not a goodly number of
noses and lips cut off in the process, I've
never quite been able to figure out!
With the perspiration rolling down their
faces, and grease smeared from ear to
ear, they will sit there and jabber and
slash and grin and seemingly thoroughly
enjoy it all.

But when it comes to real delicacies,
they have one which I have heard them
call *'tik chik/' that is a winner. During
the latter part of the summer when they
are gathering their store of salmon to
dry for the winter, the women take a
lot of the fish heads and dump them into a
hole in the ground, which when well filled
is covered with grass and then with dirt.
These are then forgotten until winter;
when, upon auspicious occasions they are
dug out and brought forth as a main in-
gredient for their tik chik. The meat,
which is well ripened to say the least, is
raked off the bone into a large bowl.
Then it is mixed with a rich dressing of
rancid seal oil and berries, and chopped
and well mixed, and eaten with all due
relish.

THEN the Eskimo have a custom in
their eating, which to my mind is the
height of economy in labor and fuel, no
doubt the outgrowth of a people who like
to "do nothing/' and where fuel is in
truth scarce. There is an abundance of
fine clams along most sections of the Ber-'
ing Sea coast. But the manner of eating
clams most liked by the natives, is after
a walrus has partly "cooked" and digested
the same for them. That is, when a '
walrus is killed the natives cut open his
stomach and rake out the clams to be
found therein, and eat them with quite
the enjoyment that most of us would
fish a smaller one out of a daintv cocktail
glass. I have even heard of natives who
upon finding a dead walrus (when food
was unusually scarce) have cut open his
stomach and thus indulged.

T^HEN they have their rancid bear
-^ grease mixed with berries and served
sliced cold, with a dressing of rancid seal
oil; then there are the fish-ducks, sea
gulls, and on down the line to the "gray
backs" that frequent their own anatomy.

BOOK REVIEWS ^^7

Nordics This is a rather complicated mathemaUcal problem, but
such figures would seem to me to indicate that practically everyone
in Getpiany had a greater or lesser amount of Nordic blood. The
Alpines are said to form only 20 percent of German blood, but this
low estim\te is accounted for by attributing 15 percent to Dinaric
blood Oniv two percent of German blood is Mediterranean. This
seems incrediHje. Mongol blood forms 3 percent and in the east is

as high as 6 to »»oercent. ^

According to OOnther only 6 to 8 percent of the Germans are pure
Nordics, 3 percentWe pure Alpine, and 2 to 3 percent are pure
Dinaric. This meansVat approximately 85 percent of the German
people are of mixed ra^l origin. Estimates for Nordic blood are
always based on pigmenWion although there is growing evidence
that all reductions of pigmeWare not Nordic in origin.

From Germany the auth^roceeds to the rest of Europe and
gives a brief discussion of the racfcg of Europe for the most important
European countries. Another section deals with race mixture and

^^ After a short discussion,/the very early types of man in Europe
the author enters the more speculative field of the early history of
the Nordics and attegapts to allocate racially some of the famous
historic figures, suchAs Aristotle, Caesar, etc.

The concluding^hapters deal with the racial prospects of Germany
and the author>ncludes that Germany's hope for the future lies
in the Nordic race which forms the backbone of the nation.

There iaippended a long section dealing with the Jews and the

Jewish p^^ Tuch of interest and value in the book. Some of the

man/Tre especially interesting. The photographs will be valuable

_jja^^«fse''nlaolieac!r&riihtoT£>o\o^y. — — Louis R. Sullivan

AMERICA

The Ammassalik Eskimo, Contributions to the Ethnology of the East
Greenland Natives. In two parts. Second part: No. 1, Hjalmar
Thuken, On the Eskimo Music; No. 2, William Thalbitzer
AND Hjalmar Thuren, Melodies from East Greenland: Meddel-
elser om Gr^nland, vol. xl, Copenhagen, 1923.
In these two papers Messrs. Thalbitzer and Thuren have pre-
sented a large number of songs comprising not only those collected

158

AMERICAN ANTHROPOLOGIST

[n. s., 27, 1925

BOOK REVIEWS

159

by Mr. Thalbitzer from the natives of various sections of Greenland
either from direct dictation or from transcribed phonograph records'
but also those collected and published by R. Stein in an article en-
titled Eskimo Music, which appeared in The White World New
York for 1902, which the present authors have transposed and
reproduced for the purpose of comparison with their own material
In the first section of the paper Mr. Thuren discusses the literature
hitherto published on Eskimo music, and presents an analytical
study of the songs of a number of tribes, including those from East
Greenland which he and Mr. Thalbitzer collaborated in transcribing
from the phonograph records. His analyses and the results he derives
from them have the unusual merit (for musical studies) of being
exceedingly clear and concise. They would have been a little more
complete had he shown by tables or discussed more fully the rhythmic
development of the songs, since he speaks with enthusiasm concerning
the consistent rendering of rhythmic patterns which he considers
far more complicated than the average European can adapt himself
to. He employs no measure bars, using three degrees of accent signs,
a plan which has its merits, but the absence of measure bars hampers
the quick grasp of such metric and rhythmic peculiarities as may
exist and he has not shown them in any other way. It is not clear
whether he has tested the rhythmic accuracy through a number of
renditions of the same song by the same singer and by different
singers, although he states that the pattern prevails through different
strophes in the course of the song. Mr. Thalbitzer says that the
same song sung by different singers always varies, while in the few
examples where the same general rhythmic or melodic idea occurs
more than once in any song it appears to me that accuracy in
repeating the pattern appears only sporadically and the majority
of strophes change s ightly. In the repetition of the same word
phrases there is usually apt to be a general rhythmic structure
which could as easily be followed by a chorus as by an individual.
The melodic rhythmic structure in much primitive music is liable
to be controlled by the speech rhythms although Mr. Thuren says
that this is not always the case in these Eskimo songs. Mr.
Thuren says:

Text strophes and refrain strophes follow one another in definite order,
and the subdivision of the refrain constantly returns in the same form, or
at any rate with quite inconsiderable change. The text strophes in a song

use the same melodic basis, and however different the text may be, the singer
always seeks to fit it into the framework of the melody once chosen, so that
the length of the single melodic period and the principal rhythm are preserved
as far as possible throughout the song.

But fitting any text to the same melodic framework and main-
taining the same time value for a given phrase of melody are two
different things, and an attempt to follow the principal rhythms as
far as possible still leaves great latitude for variation. The adherence
to the same melodic framework with different texts, and, as a natural
sequence, a rough similarity in rhythms belonging to the melodic
pattern as first introduced, are common to the music of many Amer-
ican Indian tribes; but, unless the total time values for any melodic
phrase are maintained almost exactly even when accompanied by
different texts, this need not argue for high or artistic rhythmic
development. With the exception of one or two songs, there is nothing
in the present collection to indicate that, regardless of text, pro-
portionate time values for the melody tones are maintained in more
than casual fashion. It is unfortunate that Mr. Stein's melodies
were written in abbreviated style, with merely letter indications with
prime marks to represent the repetitions of the same melodic phrase
with variations. Mr. Thuren was necessarily hampered by this
condition.

The music is also studied not only from the standpoint of scales
but from that of melodic composition or phrase structure, a side
which most writers on exotic music are inclined to dismiss lightly
or overlook altogether. From the scale analyses it is found that
intervals larger than a half step are preferred, namely whole, 5/4 or
3/4 steps. Melodically the Eskimo have not developed, Mr. Thuren
thinks, to the degree that they have rhythmically. There is one prom-
inent tone which the author calls the tonus currenSy and usually one
below it, ranging from a third to a fourth downward, usually a fourth.
There are two or three tones above the tonus currenSy close to it,
particularly in the East Greenland melodies. Such a tonal table
is comparable to that encountered in the chant music of some of
the Polynesians and other peoples whose music is but little advanced.
The Eskimo melodies reveal a very constant relation between the
total range of each song and the number of pitches composing its
melodic structure, showing that with the exception of the skip of
the fourth from the tonus currens down to the lowest tone the intervals
used are about one degree in magnitude. The most common scales

160

AMERICAN ANTHROPOLOGIST

[n. s., 27, 1925

in East Greenland music have, in order of pitch, the first, fourth
and fifth or the first, third and fifth.

Smith Sound melodies appear to be lesp definitely formed than
those of East Greenland and employ a larger number of scales, with
a marked tendency to connect dissimilar melodic motifs. Some songs
have only one motif, repeated indefinitely with slight variations.
While the interval of the perfect fourth is the melodic basis of most
of the tunes, they differ from those of East Greenland in grouping
other tones close about the lowest rather than the highest limit of
the prevailing interval. The East Greenlanders employed in addition
to their real songs a kind of a recitative, lying between real melody
and speech. The Smith Sound Eskimo have recitatives, but weave
more melody into them, and the impression has been gained that
in that locality the music has felt some foreign influence.

In North Greenland the pentatonic scale prevails and the music
has been more influenced still by European melodies, yet there is a
resemblance to the Smith Sound songs. The joining of dissimilar
melodic themes extends to choosing quite different levels. The
Southwest Greenlanders have been even more influenced by European
music and their scales tend to be diatonic.

Mr. Thuren concludes that the songs of the Smith Sound Eskimo,
Northwest Greenlanders, and Central Eskimo, (based on Dr. Boas'
work), are related, while those of the East Greenlanders are much
less developed melodically.

Mr. Thalbitzer's article. Melodies from East Greenland, gives in
full the material which he collected and on which Mr. Thuren based
his study of the music of that region. The collection is prefaced by
introductory remarks on the source of the melodies and on the singers,
on the value of the phonograph as compared to recording in notation
from direct dictation,and the desirability of combined efforts of two
transcribers in deciding upon the written form. He mentions par-
ticularly the extent of emotional expression achieved by the Eskimo
in their songs, as comparable to that in European music, and the art
revealed in rendering children's songs, necessitating the finest mod-
ulations of the voice.

It appears that the same melody does not travel among very
many tribes, so that it is impossible to conclude whether such melodies
as have been collected have remained unchanged for generations. Mr.
Thalbitzer feels that the relatively high development apparent in the
music of the East Greenlanders argues a growth of hundreds of years
uninfluenced by any but Eskimo ideas. Helen H. Roberts

. 1

524

$■'

FOREST AND STREAM ^^^^.^.^j^j

Sll

The "Inviting-W Feast of the Alaskan Eskimo

In the winter of 1911-12, I was located at
St. Michael, Alaska, as government teacher in
charge of the Unaligmiut Eskimo of that
vicinity. When, in January, it was rumored
that a great mask festival was to be celebrated
in conjuction with the neighboring^ Unalaklit,
Malemiut from Norton sound, I immediately be-
came interested, particularly since the natives
informed me that it was to be the Aithukaguk,
or "Inviting-In" Feast: a native festival which

By Ernest William Hawket.

is situated on an island near the mouth of the
Yukon river. On account of its convenient
position at the mouth of the river, it is the chief
port for the Yukon trade, and was selected as
such by the Russian-American Fur Company.
As a result of long occupation the Unalit be-
came mixed with the Russian traders, so that
at the present time a majority bear Russian
names, and belong to the Russian church, al-
though still practising their ancient religion.

be seen on a little island in St. Michael bay.
It is very probable that the present good feeling
between the tribes may be due to help received
against the Yukon raiders; at any rate, the Male-
miut and Unaligmiut mingle freely in border vil-
lages like Shatolik and Unalaklit, ihence it i-s not
surprising that, for many years, they have cele-
brated the great inter-tribal feasts together.

But my anxiety to witness the feast nearly
came to grief owing to the over-zealous action

t»*i *

t &*». >ii..Jlj^^ « <-'^ a -it ■

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fi^ ;*'

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had not, to my knowledge, been witnessed by
scientific observers before.

The Aithukaguk, or "Inviting-In'* Feast, is ob-
served in the month of January, after the local
rites— the Aiyaguk, or Asking Festival, and the
Bladder Feast (Tcauiyuk)— have been com-
pleted. The '*Inviting-In" Feast is a matter of
great moment to the Eskimo, for on it depends
the success of the hunters. It differs from the
Bladder Feast in that while the latter placates
the spirits of animals already slain, the Aithu-
kaguk is an appeal to the spirits represented by
the masks, the totemic guardians of the per-
formers, for future success in hunting. In the
Eskimo ritual, this festival is only equalled in
importance by the Aithukatukhtuk, the Great
Feast of the Dead. One supplies tbe material
wants of the living, the other the spiritual needs
of the dead.

The Eskimo village of St. Michael, or Tat-
cck, where the celebration was to take place,

Setting Out the Decoys.

The Unalaklit, on the contrary, have kept
their blood and customs pure. They are counted
as a model Eskimo tribe, and look down on
their unfortunate neighbors, who have been un-
able to resist the encroachment df the white
man, and its inevitable result— native deteriora-
tion. The Unalaklit are the southernmost branch
of the Malemiut; the largest and most warlike
tribe of Alaskan Eskimo.

The early home of the Malemiut was on
Kotzebue sound; but in following the wild rein-
deer which formerly covered the interior of
Alaska, they spread across Seward peninsula,
crowding back the weaker tribes— the Kavaig-
mint and Unaligmiut.

The Unalit never resisted the encroachment
of these powerful invaders, as they were con-
tinually harassed by the Magemiut of the lower
Yukon, and in most encounters came off second
best. The remains of one of their villages,
which was wiped out by the Magemiut, can still

of the young missionary in nominal charge of
the Unalaklit. He scented some pagan per-
formance in the local preparations, and promptly
appealed to the military commander of the dis-
trict to put a stop to the whole thing. Con-
sequently, it was a very sober delegation of
Eskimo that waited on me the next day— in-
cluding the headmen and the shaman who had
been hired to make the masks and direct the
dances— to ask my assistance. They said that
if they were forbidden to celebrate the feast
on the island they would take to the mountains
of the interior and perform their rites where
they could not be molested. But if I said they
could dance, they would go on with their prepa-
rations. They also asked me to use my influence
with the military commander. To this I readily
consented.

I found the captain a very liberal man, not at all
disposed to interfere with a peaceful native cele-
bration, which had lost most of its religious signi-

iicance, and which was still maintained mainly for
its social significance, and as offering an opportu-
nity for trade ^between two friendly tribes. The
last day of the festival he was invited to attend,
as the Eskimo wished him to see the dances
for himself, and form his own opinion. On
this occasion the Unalaklit chief made a remark-
able speech, in which he summed up the native
attitude toward the dance. The Eskimo is not
given to public speaking, as is the Indian, and
usually expresses himself in the shortest pos-
sible manner; but under the stress of strong
emotion even he becomes eloquent.

'To stop the Eskimo singing and dancing," he
said, "was like cutting the tongue out of a bird.
It was as natural for them to dance as it was
for the white man to eat and sleep. They had
danced long before the white men came, and
would not know how to spend the long dark
winters if their only form of amusement was
taken away.

'They did not dance for pleasure alone, but

FOREST AND STREAM

I f an>'thing about them was bad they would stop
them, but if not, they would never brook any
interference again."

The old Unalit chief arose and explained that
the dances also supplied the wants of the Es-
kimo. The interchange of gifts at the festivals
resulted in each tribe getting what they needed
most. At the conclusion of the feast the sur-
plus was distributed among the needy natives.
He smote his breast as he sat down, declaring
that his heart was good.

At the conclusion of the feast I asked the
old man for the masks which had been used in
the dances. They are usually burned by the
shaman after the ceremonies are over. I was
much surprised the next day when the old fel-
low appeared with the masks and the whole
paraphernaliat of the dancers. The people were
grateful, he said, for the assistance I had given
them. I believe he got around the religious diffi
culty by supplying an equal amount of wood 'for
the sacrificial fire. I also was ohliged to make

525

a child he must gain admittance by gifts to the
people, and to the kazgi inua, the spirit which
is master of the kacgi. In manhood he takes
his seat on the inlak, or platform, according to
his age and rank. Even in death he is represent-
ed by a namesake in the kasgi. Who feeds his
shade and extols his virtues at the Feast to the
Dead.

The kacgi is usually built on a larger scale
than the native home or inne, and, for conven-
ience sake, is located near the center of the
village. It has, as a rule, a winter and a sum-
mer entrance, the former being used by the
shamans and dancers, and the latter by the public.

This arrangement, however, is only for con-
venience, and guests and dancers mingle freely in
the festivals.

The arrangement of the kazgi is similar to
that of the ordinary native house, with the ex-
ception that the family quarters which mark
the latter are absent. The fireplace in the center
of the rooim, which is used in the sweat baths,

to attract the game, so that their families might
be fed. If they did not dance, the spirits (inua)
who attended the feast would be angry, and the
animals would stay away. The shades of their
ancestors would go hungry, since there would
be no one to feed them at the festivals. Their
own names would be forgotten if no namesake
could sino; their praises in the dance.

"T-iiere was nothing bad about their dances;

' which made their hearts good toward each other,

and tribe friendly with tribe. If th<» dances were

stopped, the ties between them would be broken,

and the Eskimo would cease to be 'strong.'

'They were as little children before the white
men, who could see if their dances were good.

Gathering in the Spoils.

gifts to the other headmen, so that the kazgi
inua — the spirit which sits in the posts and
presides over the kazgi— might not be offended.
THE KAZGI, OR DANCE-HOUSE.
The kazgi (or kacim, as it is known among
the Yukon Eskimo) is the communal house of
the village. It is the club house, town hall, bath
house, and dancing pavilion, all in one. Here,
the unmarried men— termed kazgimint, or kazgi
people— make their home; here, tribal meetings
are held; here, the men gather for the sweat
bath; and here, strangers are entertained and
the annual dances and festivals held. In short,
the kazgi is the center of the Eskimo's life. As

tMemoir 45, Anthropological Series, 1914. Ottawa.

is much wider and deeper. It is kept covered
by the floor planks when not in use. In this
chamber the spirits are supposed to sit and en-
ioy the dances given in their honor, and offer
ings of meat and drink are placed here for them,
or delivered to them through the cracks of the
floor.

The inlak, or bed platform, runs around the
room on all four sides, at about the height of
the shoulders. Entrance is made through the
agvcak, or tunnel, and the visitor pops up through
the pugyarak, or floor hole, in the center of
the room, like an enlarged edition of a ''jack-
in-the-box." Having safely emerged, it is cus-
tomary to wait until the headman assigns you.

526

FOREST AND STREAM

The kaan, or rear portion, of the house is the
place of honor, and is accorded to the headmen,
the best hunters, and visitors of distinction— the
kaaklitn; the rigiit and left are the second best;
while the oaklitn, or front part, the coldest part
of the kasgi being near the entrance, is given the
worthless and homeless, who contribute nothing
to the support of the village. Directly a'bove the
fireplace is the ralok, or smokehole, which is
covered with a strip of walrus intestine. Often
the shaman makes a spectacular entrance by this
means. It is also used as a window when the
kasgi is overcrowded, people standing on the top
of the house and looking through.
THE NASKUK, OR MAKER OF THE

FEAST.
The maker of the feast is known as the
nashuk, or head. With this feast in view, he
saves for years, as he has to feed the entire
tribe of visitors during the first day of the fes-
tival. But although he often beggars himself,
he gains great fame among the Eskimo, and lays
all his guests under lasting obligation to him.
In this respect the "Inviting-In" Feast resembles
the potlatch of the Alaskan Indian; and is often
confused with the same by the white population.
The naskuk, having announced his intention
to the villagers assembled in the kazgi, 2l messen-
ger is chosen — usually at the nomination of the
naskuk— ^io carry the invitation to the visitors.
There is considerable rivalry for this position
among the young men, as the messenger is
newly clothed from head to foot. In a new
squirrel-skin parka, plentifully trimmed with
wolverine, reindeer boots, and sealskin leggings,
he presents a brave appearance.

In his tend he bears the aiyaguk, or asking-
stick. This is a long slender wand with three
globes, made from strips of wood hanging from
the end. When the messenger delivers the in-
vitation, he swings the globes to and fro in
front of the person addressed. The asking-stick
as the symbol of the wishes of the tribe, is treat-
ed with scrupulous respect by the Eskimo; and
it would be a lasting disgrace for anyone to dis-
regard it. During the ceremonies it is hung up
over the kajsgi entrance. The messenger re-
ceives the asking-^stick from the hands of the
naskuk, together with an intimation of what
presents would be acceptable to his tribe. As
most Eskimo festivals result in more or less
trading, it is usually some skins or other article
of which the tribe is in need. In this case it
was a request for ugruk (bearded seal) skins,
which are general in use for mukluk (boot) soles.
Having arrived at the visiting tribe, he en-
ters the kazgi on hands and knees, and presents
the asking-stick to the village headman, with
the message from his tribe. If the answer is
favoraible he is raised to his feet, and after he
has learned the wishes of his visitors, is feasted
to his heart's content, and sent home loaded
with presents.

In the meantime, the home tribe gathers night-
ly in the kazgi, awaiting his return. When it
is rumored that he is near, the vigil continues
day and night. On his arrival, he crawls into
the kazgi and presents the asking-stick to the
naskuk, with the answer. If the answer is
favorable, preparations begin immediately, and
the village is scoured for the necessary gifts.
It IS a point of honor between the tribes to ex-
ceed the requests as much as possible. The visit-
ing tribe also has the privilege of demanding

any delicacy of the naskuk during the first day's
feast which fancy may suggest. This usually
takes the form of meat out of season, or Eskimo
"ice-cream"— a concoction of reindeer tallow,
blueberries, and chunks of whitefish kneaded
in the snow until it is frozen. Sometimes the
naskuk is hard put to it, but he must produce
the necessary articles, or be disgraced forever.
THE DANCE SONGS.
When the feast has been decided upon, the
people gather nightly in the kazgi to rehearse.
The songs are the property of some old man,
the storehouse of tribal tradition ; and he "sells"
them to the different dancers, as the Eskimo
say, which means that he teaches the people the
proper dances for the festival, and they make
him presents in turn. When the villagers have
assembled, the oil lamps are extinguished, and
the people sit in darkness, while the old man
gives out the songs — a few words at a time.
Weeks are consumed in learning them properly;
in acquiring every rise and fall, proper shade,
and intonation. The drum is the only instru-
ment employed. It is shaped like a tambourine,
about two feet in diameter, and covered on one
side with a thin membrane of the bladder of
the walrus or seacl. It is held by the handle
level with the face, and struck with a flat thin
stick. The northern tribes strike the back of
the rim; but the Yukon tribes the face of the
drum.

With the Eskimo, rhythm is everything. The
songs are based on the double drum-'beat: two
quick beats, then a pause, then two more. At
any moment the leader drops an octave or
changes the key; but the others follow instinct-
ively, and there is no break or discord.

The chorus usually consists of six men, led
by the old man, who acts as prompter, calling
off the words of the song a line ahead. The
measure begins softly to a light tapping of the
drums; then, at a given signal, comes a crash-
ing double beat; the leader announces the dance
in stentorian tones, the song thunders out, soar-
ing high until the voices of the singers crack;
then drops to lower pitch and breaks off
abruptly in the middle of the measure. Every
one is privileged to join in after the song has
been started; and the shrill treble of the women
and children can be distinctly heard above the
shouting of the men and the thumping of the

drums.

The Eskimo dances naturally and enthusias-
tically, stamping each foot twice in succession,
and jerking his arms to the double beat of the
drums. The women dance differently, swaying
the body from the hips, and waving the arms
with outspread palms. Both sexes have dances
of their own, but occasionally dance together,
the woman being the central (figure and the men
dancing around her. Nothing pleases the Es-
kimo more than exaggerated imitation by one
oif their clever actors of the woman's dance.

The northern style of dancing differs as much
from the southern as does the beating of the
drums. The northerners leap and bound and
stamp out their lines with tremendous vigor;
while the southerners sit on the floor of the
kazgi, and, adorned with fillets and masks and
feathers, wave their hands in graceful unison.

The "Inviting-In" dances partake somewhat
of the nature of the nith contests of Greenland.
Each party puts forth its best actors, and strives
in every way to outdo the other. During the

first day, when the comic dances are on, the
tribe succeeding! in making the other laugh
can demand anything of them they wish. The
best dancers receive valuable presents.

The actors themselves go through the same
general motions as the ordinary dancers, never
losing a step or a gesture, at the same time fit-
ting their movements to the character in hand.
As much as possible they strive to make every
gesture expressive, and succeed so well that a
stranger could tell the part they represent, even
if the prompter did not call it out at the be-
ginning of the song. In fact, I have often
wondered if they were not possessed by the
spirit of the animal they depicted when dancing,
as the Eskimo believe.

The actor's outfit consists of a face mask,
armlets, finger masks, and fillets. In certain
dances the actor also carries a staff. The masks
are of two types— those intended to excite merri-
ment and good feeling among the guests, and
those worn to honor the inua of the animals in
whose honor the dance is given. They are made
by some noted shaman employed by the tribe,
who also has general directions of the dances.
They are very clever representations and will
be described as they occur in the dances.

The -finger masks are diminutive masks with
an animal head in miniature. They are plentiful-
ly adorned with feathers; which give the idea
of flying as the dancers' arms sweep through
the air. The women (supporting dancers) use
plain handlets of woven grass and feathers. The
armlets and fillets are of fur or feaithers corre-
sponding to the animal represented.

COMIC DANCES.

First Day. The dances the first day are of a

comic character. If, during the day's dances,

the home tribe can succeed in making the visitors

laugh, they can ask of them anything they wish.

Entering the kazgi, I noticed that the walls

and inlak had been hung with white drilling

(katuktokuozvitklok), as a gift to the visitors;

who, in their turn, had covered the floor with

ugruk (bearded seal) skins. Shortly after the

people began to file in.

As each man entered he threw down a small
gift before the naskut, as is customary on such
occasions. As soon as every one was settled,
the dances began. Strange noises were heard
in the tunnel, gradually approaching the room.
Then a horrible-looking wooden face was thrust
up through the entrance hole, worn by the chief
comic dancer of the Unalit. The mask wj
made lop-sided, with* one cheek higher than
the other, and the mouth and eyebrows twisted
to one side. One eyelet was round, the other
being in the shape of a half moon. A stubby
moustache and beard of mink fur, and labrets
of green beads, completed the ludicrous effect.
He gazed around the audience in silence for a full
minute, throwing the children into fits of mingled
terror and delight. Then the leader commenced
the dance invitation, and the pantomime began.
Sitting in front of the hole, the actor gesticu-
lated with his feather handlets after the usual
manner of the Eskimo; occasionally turning his
head from side to side with the foohsn ^\re
of a crazy person. But the Malemiut visitors,
though their eyes twinkled, never cracked a smile.
Then he disappeared through the hole, com-
ing up with a hideous green mask, with a longl
nose, and a big red streak for a mouth. Sur-|
(Continued on page 55i.)

THE "INVITING-IN" FEAST OF THE ALAS-
KAN ESKIMO.

(Continued from page 526.)
rounding the mask was a bristling bush of rein-
deer hair. He sat down solemnly, and all his
motions were slow and sad. Every gesture,
while keeping in perfect time with the music,
expressed the profoundest dejection. As a serio-
comic, this was even more funny than tl»e other,
and the Unalit, who could safely do so, fairly
roared. But the cautious visitors sat as solemn

as owls.

Then the Unalit trotted out their champion,
a little old fellow, wonderfully graceful and im-
pressive in his movements. He wore a mask
adorned with feathers and an enormous nose,
which I was told was a caricature of the Yukon
Indian. The Eskimo have lost none of their
old hatred for their former foes, and still term
them in derision inkilik, ''louse-eaters" ; from the
fact of their long hair being full of these pests.
Neither is the Eskimo, with tonsured head, free
from the same affliction ; as I learned more than
once, at a crowded dance, to my temporary afflic-
tion.

The old man took his place in the center of
the floor amid perfect silence. With head oti
his breast and hands at rest on his lap he seemed
sunk in some deep reverie. Then he raised his
hand to his head and cracked a louse audibly.
This was too much for tlie Unalaklit, and they
howled with laughter. Then, having won the
day by this ruse, the old man began his dance.
Two women with feather handlets stepped forth,
and accompanied him, imitating his every move.
Higlier and higher he swung his hands,
like the rapid upward wheel of a carrier pigeon.
Then the dance stopped as abruptly as the
others; the day was won.

Immediately the food for the feast was
brought in. It consisted of a strange and be-
wildering array of native delicacies ; ancient duck
eggs, strips of walrus bluibber, frozen seal-meiat,
boiled entrails, kantags of blueberries and
lichens, and various otlier dishes which appeal
to the stomach of an Eskimo. Not having any
particular desire to partake of the same, I took
my departure.

GROUP DANCES.

Second Day. Entering the kasgi the second
day, I noticed that the floor was covered with
small heaps of skin and calico. As the Unalaklit
came in, each man added to the pile. This, I
was informed, was the price of the first day's
defeat, and that they were looking for ample
revenge the second day.

They began with a "muscle" dance. This con-
sisted mainly in comic posturing and in a droll
display of the biceps. Occasionally the dancers
would glance down the heaving muscles of the
back and shoulders or extend their arms and
make the muscles quiver. The Unalit, in their
turn, attempted to imitate the same, and outdo
the visitors, but although their big clown dancer
exhibited his enormous arms and legs to good
advantage, they were evidently outdone. Noth-
ing daunted, they began another series, the con-
test consisting in the ability of the opposite
side to guess the meaning of the dances. To
this end, ancient dances which have fallen into
disuse or been forgotten, except by the old men,
are resurrected and practised in secret.

A young woman appeared tn the center of the

FOREST AND STREAM

floor wearing a white reindeer parka and a girdle
of reindeer hair tied around her waist. She
began the conventional motions of the woman's
dance, glancing nervously round her. Then men
dancers, wearing fillets and armlets of wolf-
skin, leaped down from the inlak and surrounded
her, jumping about and howling hideously. As
the dance-song quickened, they became more and
more excited, until the floor became one con-
fused mass of shaggy heads and wildly tossing
arms. The drums redoubled the beat, until the
kasgi fairly rocked under the volume of sound
and the stamping feet. Then, as suddenly as
the pandemonium began, it ended.

This was easily guessed as the wolf-pack
pulling down a reindeer.

Not to be outdone, the Unalaklit presented a
very ancient dance from their old home, Kotze-
bue sound. This dance, I was told, was two hun-
dred years old, and the old-style dance of the
Malemiut. Strangely enough, no drums were
used, 'but the chorus consisted of a double row
of men who used ivory clappers to mark the
time. Instead oif stamping, the dancers bounded
up and down on the balls of their feet, holding
the legs arched and rigid. No one was able to
fathom this dance. It was different from any
Eskimo dance I have ever seen. It might be an
earlier form, or borrowed from the Dene. So
the visitors won the honors of the second day,
and left the kasgi in high good humor.

TOTEM DANCES.
Third Day. The third day the contest reached
its climax. The best dancers of each party were
put forth, and the interest became intense. For
months they had been trained in their parts, until
every movement had become almost instinctive.
Each appeared in full regalia of armlets, fillets,
and handlets, adapted to their part. Their ap-
pearance was the signal for a demonstration on
the part 6i their friends and every new turn
or movement which they introduced into their
dance received attention.

551

great impression, put forward their best dancer
in the celebrated Crow Dance.

The dancer entered from behind the press of
the crowd, stooping low and imitating the caw-
ing of the raven. The cries appeared to come
from above, below, in fact, everywhere in the
room. Then he appeared in all his glory. He
wore a raven mask with an immense beak, and
bordered with fur and feathers. Labrets and
fillets of wood adorned the sides, and a spotted
black and white design covered the forehead.
He bore a staff in his hand decorated with a
single feather. After pirouetting around the
room in a ridiculous fashion, he disappeared in
the crowd and appeared dragging a (bashful
woman, who was similarly attired. They danced
for a short time together, the raven continuing
his amatory capers. Then, evidently tiring of
her charms, he disappeared into the crowd on
the opposite side^ of the kasgi and reappeared
bearing in tow another bride, evidently younger.
After squawking and pirouetting^ around her
for a while, the three danced, the two women
supporting him, making a pleasing background
of waving arms and feathers. At the conclu-
sion of the dance, he. seeks again his first love,
and is angrily repulsed while seeking to embrace
her. This greatly amuses the audience. Then
the three leave the scene, quarrelling and push-
ing one another.

This concluded the dances proper. Then the
shaman donned au inua mask, and began run-
ning around the entrance hole in ever lessening
circles. He finally tumbled over and lay in
trance, the while he was communing with the
spirit-guests (so the Eskimo told me) in the
fire-place below. After a time he came to and
informed the hunters that the inua had been
pleased with the dances and promised their fur-
ther protection for a successful season.

After appropriate offerings of meat and drink
and tobacco had been made to them through the
cracks in the floor, the celebration broke up, and
the Unalaklit started home.

The first actors were women, who went
through the household occupations of the Es-
kimo in pantomime, illustrating the curing and
dressing of skins, the sewing and making of
garments, adapting the movements to the
woman's dance.

Then a Unalaklit man took the floor and de-
picted the life of a walrus.

He wore a very life-like looking walrus mask,
and enacted the features of the walrus hunt,
modifying the usual gestures. In pantomime he
showed the clumsy movements of the great ani-
mal moving over the ice, the hunter approach-
ing, and his hasty plunge into the water, then
the hunter paddling furiously after him, the
harpoon thrust, and the struggles of the dying
walrus.

Next two young Unalit gave the Red Fox
dance. They wore the usual fur trimmings and
masks, and the leader flourished a fox foot with
which he kept time to the music. This dance
depicted the cunning habits of the little beast,
and his finish in the trap of the hunter. The
Unalaklit responded with the White Fox dance,
which was quite similar, showing a fox stalking
a ptarmigan. One actor represented the fox
and the other the ptarmigan. The stealthy
movements and spring of the fox were cleverly
given.
The Unalit, on whom the dance had made a

RETURN OF SALMON AFTER SPAWNING^

4 Park St., Boston, Mass^
Editor Forest and Stream:

I wonder if one of your correspondents
given us the clew to that matter? He pojj
that in a certain short river the salm<
'back to the sea. We know that in tl
long river they don't. Now, considj

Madame Salmon has lived on t]
sea for years. She doubtless nej
what it meant to go without
Privation means naught to hej
the mating instinct she starj

intended maternity 'hospital

thought.

No'w, the way up is s1

is an object, and s/he

ably swept clean of

intents and purposej

find any. Days

comes the stren]

her "gastados'J(

Food might

any. How^

without i\

Life en<
But-

a fo<

Hunting Seals and Polar Bears

on Bering Strait'^^'^irrx^

Capt. F. E. Kleinschmidt

PART II— CONCLUSION.

The usual sights on entering an Es-
kimo igloo are: On the wall opposite
you, a steamer-like berth covered with
skins — the sleeping quarters of the fam-
ily ; underneath, or in front, sit one or
two women, busily sewing; to the right,
a man making hunting gear. Never
will you find an Eskimo family idle.
All occupants are naked to the waist,
sometimes only covered with a loin
cloth. Along the wall on either side
burn several lamps. These lamps are
shallow soapstone basins, filled with the
oil of the seal, whale or walrus; along
the edge is placed a little ridge of moss
which answers the purpose of the wicks
in our lamps. The lamps do not smoke
and, besides illuminating, throw a great
heat. Above the flame hangs a piece of
blubber to replenish the oil; also a tea-
kettle.

You are cordially invited to take off
your things and stay awhile. This
means disrobing to the same extent, for
the air is foul and the temperature that
of a Turkish bath. If you come dur-
ing mealtime, which is at any hour of
the day, you are cordially invited to
partake; you decline and no offense is
given. If the meal consists of frozen
fish, blubber, or something they know
that white man abhors, some Joker will
especially entreat you to Join his dish
and then there is a great laugh all
around. The Eskimo loves to laugh,
play practical Jokes on his friends, re-
spond to witticisms, and is of a happy,
childlike disposition. Treachery, steal-
ing and lying are practically unknown
among them ; the two latter only since
some of them have imitated the white
man. (I am not including the Siberian,
Greenland or Labrador Eskimo.)

In the evening I was invited to at-
tend their ceremonies, songs and dances
held in a large igloo built for that pur-
pose and called "kosga." Here the men
congregate in the daytime, exactly as
we do at a club, play games, talk over
business, hunts and work. Shortly after
close of navigation, usually during De-
cember, feasts and festivities are in-
dulged in here in the "kosga." Some-
times to such excess that winter sup-
plies are exhausted in a short time.

About 6 o'clock I was escorted to the
"kosga" with my presents (a box of
crackers, canned fruit and meat) by
the chief and several men in their best
furs and finery. Entering thru a long,
high tunnel, I waited until announced;
then I was bidden to enter thru a hole
in the floor. This igloo, or "kosga,"
was a large log cabin, 40x50 feet, built
under ground. About 120 men iind
women were closely crowded along the
walls or sitting on shelves surrounding
the walls. One wall was taken up by
sixteen musicians sitting in two tiers;
they were beating drums made of seal-
skin stretched over a fan-shaped frame,
in a slow measure, but keeping perfect
time. The seal-oil lamps and two large
Rochesters cast flickering and dancing
shadows over celling and walls; the
chanting noise of the large crowd in
this small space, the beating of the
drums, the swaying and nodding forms
of the naked musicians, the strange cos-

cooking DINNER on ice, USING SEAL OIL FOR FUEL. AUTHOR ON LEFT.

tumes, grotesque head-dresses and the
expressions on the dusky, perspiring
faces made a wild and weird scene
never to be forgotten. The opening
dance was a grand march by all the
men and women around the hall, ac-
companied by a swaying of arms and
bodies, keeping perfect time with the
drums and chant.

The next dance, performed by two
men, was an illustration of the rabbit
hunt, one man hopping around imitat-
ing the rabbit coming out of his hole,
the other man was the hunter stalking
and killing the rabbit, all done by Jerk-
ing and stretching of arms, legs and
head like a mechanical toy and in per-
fect unison and time with each other,
the drums and the chant. I saw at once
the meaning the actors tried to convey.
Then followed a dance, in like manner,
hunting the Polar bear, with the diver-
sion of tITe fierce growl and snarl of
the bear. Next followed a dance by

two masked men, which was so gro-
tesque and comical we held our sides
for laughter. Then followed the salmon
dance and a number of others In which
the men and women brought in furs
swinging in their hands, then meats and
fish, which were all deposited in a pile
in the center. Finally, nearly worn out
with continuous dancing, stamping a^nd
chanting, all sat down to consume the
dainties and exchange the furs.

It was 2 a. m. when I stepped into
the open, clear starlight night, 20 de-
grees below zero. Never before seemed
air so pure to me as when coming from
that crowded, stifling, ill-smelling room.

Five hours* sleep and we were off
again for another hunt. When we
neared the edge of the shore ice a dif-
ferent view presented itself to us than
on the previous day. As far as we
could see the ice was one level plain.
The walking figures of hunters a mile
or two distant seemed to float in the

ESKIMOS ON THE LOOKOUT.

Outdoor Life

|lr on clouds of vapor high above the
re. Now they would take on fantastic
Ihape, rise to gigantic heights, then
llirt away and gain*in breadth. Some-
limes a head would be cut off and
raised high in the air, then the body
^ould follow, leaving the legs far be-
low striding over the ice. The Diomede
Islands and the distant shore also would
'lirt, waver and change like the cur-
tain of the aurora, or change form like

kaleidoscope.

The ice had grown eight Inches in
thickness over night, presenting the
Tandest boulevard for motoring in the
Iworld. No trouble to cross Bering Strait
Ion a day like this. We had traveled
labout half a mile out to sea when we
saw a front of ice eight inches thick
coming to meet us, sliding along over
the top of the ice we were walking on
at the rate of a slow walk. We jumped
I on top of it and took a ride. A little
farther out the same thing was re-
peated; layer upon layer came sliding
inshore, pushed by the onshore wind,
and if they had been large enough we
should have gone backward instead of
forward. There being no chance for
bear on this young ice we took a seal
hunt. To the left we heard a fusillade
of shots, the dearest music to a sports-
man's ear. There came the loud, can-
nonlike roar of the .45-90 and the lesser
barks of the .38-55, old .44 mingled with
the whiplike crack of the .30-30, .30-40
and .303.

We could see in this direction patches
of blue sky. Indicating open water, and
found several rents or open lanes in
the ice. After a half hour's wait a seal
showed its head near the chief. He
missed it four times, all good line shots,
but not being used to his new .30-40
light front balance compared with the
under-the-barrel magazine Winchester,
he overshot every time. An Eskimo
came rushing up and killed the seal
right before the chief's nose. Sports-
man's etiquette seems to be unknown
to them. The rule is, get the game,
no matter how. As I came around to
the chief, he expressed his Indignation
at the new rifle, but, having had the
same experience, I told him not to fret
but to keep on practicing and get used
to the gun.
We then sat down together on the

edge of the ice and, while the native
thre\y out the pear-shaped piece of
wood on the long rawhide to pull in
the seal, the chief explained to me how
this instrument was an invention of a
Diomede Island native and only about
twenty years old, or since they had
used firearms. The way this inventor
realized on his patent is interesting.
He saw the usefulness and indispensa-
bility of the implement, took a friend
into his confidence and sold the first
hook for $15, its real value being but
an hour's work. He continued this un-
til it became so widely known that his
patent ran out and its value now is nil.
All at once two shots rang out. A
bullet zipped past us and another
chipped a piece of ice from the blind
behind which we were sitting. Oack-
ba-ock made a lightning side-jump and
his rifle flew to his cheek, covering a
hunter behind us. I hastened to do the .
same, but saw Immediately that no
harm was meant* A lane had opened
behind us and two hunters had squatted
on the edge, firing at a seal coming up
in line between them and us. Some
heated words were exchanged and then
we resumed our seats. There was no
more story-telling. Oack-ba-ock sat si-
lent, studying the ice between his feet;
his dark face and contracted brows told
me his brooding thoughts. It was here
on the ice and in a similar manner he
had avenged his brother's death, then
ran for his life home; then the barri-
cading and siege of his igloo for a week
by E-re-he-ruck's family. Every time
a garment or a dummy was thrust out
of the igloo it was riddled with bullets
till finally the sentiment of the village
overcame the enmity of the other fam-
ily and they moved to another settle-
ment.

To arouse him I whispered, **Ougar-
uck" (big seal), pointing over the wa-
ter. He had his rifle up in a flash,
aiming at— nothing! Then, looking at
me, he saw the joke and was the jovial
fellow again. Shortly afterwards he
killed a seal, but the day being fine
and top early to go home, he hung the
carcass in the water to prevent it from
freezing stiff, hence too difficult to drag
home. Later on he got another large
one and, with the assistance of an-
other hunter, dragged both home. Now,

instead of each native taking a seal,
Oack-ba-ock hitched both seals to his
shoulder strap; then his companion
took a longer line, hitching it to Oack-
ba-ock's line and then pulled ahead of
him into the village. This is the eti-
quette, showing that the second man
has killed both seals.

I was sitting alongside of a small
lane which other hunters had deemed
too small, for the seal is wary and,
coming up, keeps away from the edge of
the ice, when a bristled head appeared
not siipty feet away. I promptly sent
a ball thru it, then seizing my spear and
line hurried closer and hurled the dart
into it before it could sink. It was an
"ougaruck," or sea lion, which has not
sufficient blubber to keep afloat when
killed. He was so large I could only
raise his head on the ice, so I gave the
long-drawn hoot of the Eskimo, which
means, help wanted — danger. Immedi-
ately a hunter came running over the
ice, and, like descending vultures, four
others were drawn to the scene. A cer-
tain hoot close after a shot usually
means bear or large seal, and conse-
quently meat. We put lines around the
carcass and hoisted it on the ice. Then
it was cut up in eight pieces weighing
about 200 pounds each. I received the
head. The liver is as fine as any calves',
but having no receptacle to carry it
home I asked one of the natives to
carry it home for me. He answered,
"All right; you give me 50 cents." I
felt like taking all the meat aw^ay from
him and throwing it and him into the
water. Thus, altho having just received
200 pounds of meat, the sense of grati-
tude never enters the mind of an Es-
kimo when dealing with a stranger.

When entering the village I took the
place of honor, second in line, the man
with the tail bringing up the rear.

Ice conditions change very rapidly
here in Bering Strait Every morning
required new tactics in hunting and
every day different obstacles and dan-
gers had to be overcome. One morning
the ice was a mass of slush, only here
and there a small floe or hummock pre-
senting the appearance of an oasis in
a vast, wide expanse of a foggy, mist-
covered, clammy, white desert.

In this slushy, mushy ice there are
no open spaces of water, and it can be

ETIQUETTE SHOWING SECOND MAN HAS KILLED BOTH SEALS.

THE long winter evenings inspire
the dyed-in-the-wool recreationist
to reminiscences of the past, and
to a delightful anticipation of
formulating plans for next season's joy.
As spring opens, the wanderlust permeates
his whole being at the accidental mention
of a name which savors of the wilderness
or mayhap by running across some item
of duffle which brings out the old outfit
and from then on delightful hours are
spent in rehauling in preparation for use.
Never a season has been spent without
alteration — some pet foible dropped from
the list of supposedly necessary items and
some new wrinkle substituted which boils
the equipment down to that irreducible
minimum which the touchstone of experi-
ence has taught is irrevocable.

Usage is the only truthful dictator as
to what is essential for greatest utility.
Sporting goods catalogues are useful for
learning where to get things, but what to
get is best governed by ideas gained by
followers of the trails themselves — facts
gleaned from hard experience. In such
a consideration utility should be the
slogan, never cotivention. I have adopted
equipment which serves me well; yet,
there are many sportsmen who have not
the courage to use some items just be-
cause they are unconventional.

ANEW clothing idea gleaned from
Arctic experience and one which bids
fair to be widely adopted by the outdoor
fraternity, is the hooded shirt called the
Parka. When John Chinaman
wore his shirt in the customary
loose waist fashion and appeared
before his employer one cold
morning saying "Belly cold," he
was admonished that if he would
wear his shirt inside his pants his
**belly wouldn't get cold" ; he sim-
ply suggested something to an in-
dividual which upset conventional
ideas of dress. The Parka is
worn outside and for very good
reasons it won't let the wearer
get cold.

The average sportsman empha-
sizes his choice of food more than
that of clothing and bedding, yet
a wilderness trip necessitates a
proper selection of all if he be
ready for any exigency that may
arise. Several sorts of weather
are in the category of the camper
and for protection against all with
as little weight and bulk of clothes
as is possible is the problem that
is solved by adopting the Parka.
One may be in active exercise in
dry, still 4S-below-zero cold ; again
he may be physically inactive in
a 20-below-zero gale on open
water, or again, caught in a day-
long cold rain, wet snows and
sudden weather changes when
travel is absolutely necessary and
each demands ample protection
which the Parka furnishes if it
is made of proper materials to
suit the purpose.

DID it ever occur to you that
clothing you wear does not
"per se" produce warmth — neither
heavy wool nor any weight of
cotton produces heat — it is the
human body that manufactures
heat: clothes merely act as heat
retainers — they are envelopes to
prevent rapid emanation of heat
and insulate the body temperature
against outside changes which
would influence the dissemination
of heat.

The

Indispensable
Parka

Claude

P.
Fordyce

The secret of body warmth then is to
secure non-conducting fabrics whose in-
dex of absorption is lowest and these are
always of animal origin — fur is the best,
woolens next, silk is good and cotton
lowest. Fur holds a great amount of con-
fined air as does also loosely woven wool.
In fur we get the desirable dead air
spaces, in several layers of thin wool fab-
ric we get the same, but cotton rapidly

The Alaska Parka.

draws out the heat and moisture from
beneath and emanates it to the outside.

THE production of body heat is ample
when a man is in active exercise. Our
problem is to conserve it and it is best
done thus : Next the skin wear loose wool
and to prevent the wind and low tem-
peratures striking this wear a windproof
Parka of cotton drill or pongee silk. If
you wish an ideal rainproof garment
make the Parka of balloon silk — white,
tan or green. It won't protect your pack
but the pack-sack should be waterproof
also.

Interesting experiences with the Pai
under guise of its various aliases in JBf-
ferent portions of the Land of the Gitat
White Silences are related. Dr. Frapk
Russell in his explorations in the Flat
North describes a rain frock seen at Ca^
Tchaplin, called the Massinka Rain Coat?
It is a frock of seal intestine ornamented
with narrow strips of the fur seal on the
shoulders and hood and with the hair of
the young seal sewed upon the outside
of the seams elsewhere. The hood is
small and close-fitting. The strips of in-
testine are four inches wide and six feet
long — ^the garment being three feet across
at the waist. There are eight breadths' in
front, making it 32 inches long. It is
very light and flexible and perfectly
waterproof.

THE Kooletah or fur jacket with no
buttons, going on over the head, is a
description given by Robert E.
Peary .^ In summer it is made of
sealskin and in winter of fox or
deer skin. His own was made
of Michigan sheepskin. Attached
to this jacket is a hood, and
around the face is a thick roll
made of fox tails. Pouting of
Captain Scott's Antarctic Expedi-
tion says that for the Antarctic
wool is better than fur, and this
should be covered with a thin
windbreak. The Parka is here
again suggested as the ideal body
covering.

All properly made clothing for
extremely cold countries should
be very large and adjusted so it
can be readily removed, is the ob-
servation of Lieut. Waugh. The
fur Parka is a garment made like
a large hooded shirt coming to
the knees, the edge of the hood
having a ruff of wolverine, wolf
or bear to protect the face (wol-
verine being the best as it is the
only fur upon which the breath
will not congeal) and it is the
most practical garment yet de-
vised for Arctic work. This
Parka is made of reindeer sum-
mer skin( the winter skin sheds
too badly) or squirrel skin. It is
worn with the fur outside and
is lined with fur or some ma-
terial which will allow it to slip
off and on easily,

THE drill Parka, which is used
to break the wind, is made on
the same model only larger as it
is at times worn as the outermost
garment of all. These fur Parkas
are seldom used by those who are
experienced. When working on
the trail they are held in reserve
until camp is reached or until the
trail is good and riding is possible.
When pushing on handle bars or
running behind the sled, the
Parka would be too hot and would
cause perspiration to start — the

cause of inevitable chilling for nearly
every death in the Arctic is from get-
ting too warm or wet and not from
excessive cold.

Anthony Fiala uses a Parka of pongee

silk which successfully keeps out flying

drift and wind. During halts he takes

off his Parka and puts on another heavier

fur shirt and then the Parka over all.

There should be no opening in front as

cold air goes in between the flaps. It is

*)est to use a llama wool sweater and over

t a light closely woven pongee silk Parka

ike the hide of fur to keep the heat in

nd the cold out. Parker on his Mount

ir.Kinley climb wore such a one and

pnd it quite satisfactory.

NY seamstress who can cut and make

an ordinary work shirt can make an

.dickey (Parka) if your outfitter can-

Aiot supply you, Dillon Wallace asserts.

llThe garment is slipped over the head

I like a shirt and has a hood attached to

f draw on over the cap as a neck and head

i protection. The neck opening is large

enough to permit the head to pass through

it without the necessity of a buttoned

opening in front for, no matter how close-
ly buttoned a garment may be, drifting
snow will find its way in. In length the
Adickey reaches half-way between the hip
and knees and is made circular at the
bottom. The hood should be of ample
proportion to pull over the cap loosely
with a drawstring encircling the front by
which it may be drawn snugly to the face.
A fringe of muskrat or other fur around
the face increases the comfort — the fur
acting against the drifting snow. While
Hudsons Bay Kersey Cloth is a favorite
fabric for <his garment, it may be made
of any woolen duffie or similar cloth.

OVER the kersey Adickey another
Adickey of some smooth faced strong
material (preferably moleskin) should
be worn. This outside Adickey should
be, of course, just enough larger than
the kersey or blanket Adickey to fit over
it loosely. The Adickeys may be worn
singly or together, according to the de-
mands of the weather. In far Green-
land the natives wear an Adickey of
caribou skin hairside out called the "Kulu-
tah"— in Labrador the "Kulutuk."

So good a mountaineer as Miss Dora
Keen recommends that the drill Parka
become a necessary addition to the equip-
ment of all serious alpinists. On knap-
sack trips and woods cruising as well as
in general mountaineering I have used
the Parka and it "stays in" as an in-
tegral part of my high efficiency pack kit
and I am thus ready for any weather
emergency which the Red Gods may pit
me against. The weight of 25 ounces is
of slight consequence and when worn it
allows freedom of movement and ample
body protection equaling many pounds
of blankets.

THE unconventional Parka costume
savors of generations of trail mushers
in the region of the Great White Si-
lences. It was born of necessity just
as the old rivermen and lumberjacks
"stagged" their pants and shirts; just as
the Alaska miner used sour dough in-
stead of baking powder: as Nessmuk
made his famous dope for the **no see
ems" and the Indians fashioned their
teepee tents so they could use fires within.
Necessity is the mother of invention.

«^»

A typical buckshot pattern at SQ^ards

The deer would receive pioo very slight
zvounds, and 'would run/iway as if noth-
ing had happened, y^ch pellet has an
energy of only WA/foot pounds. A .30-30
bullet hits ahoijyclcvcn times as hard at
the same raj

ORE than three hundred years
ago, when firearms were just
beginning to supplant spears
and arrows as weapons of the
chase, buckshot made its appearance. The
crude smooth-bore blunderbuss was loaded

The
Case

ains

Bud

Edwin

O.
Perrin

slugs, in order to increase the chance of
hitting the game.

Two centuries later the rifle came into
general use for hunting big game, and the
smooth-bore was loaded with fine shot for
birds. But larger pellets, or buckshot,
were still used in smooth-bore guns for
shooting large animals. And even to-day,
in nearly every locality where deer are
hunted, buckshot is frequently employed.

The inefficiency of buckshot, as com-
pared to the rifle, has long been recog-
nized. Nearly all the leading gun authori-
ties denounce its use on the ground that
it cripples more deer than it kills. As

A typical buckshot pattern at 40 yards

The deer would be badly wounded, but
woidd probably get away. The two pel-
lets fu the flank are too far back to prove
fatal, }md the one in the shoulder wo'ild
fail to o>^ak the heavy bones. The other
shot zvoiitti make only a trivial wound.
Each pellet\has an energy of 139 foot
pounds, sommihat less than c .25 rim fire
rifle bullet, jj^ich is considered about
right for rabbits.

of the greatest deerNhunters that ever
lived, wrote that he considered the use of
buckshot "an outrage anoS^i sin."

^ BOOK REVIEWS 151

Grammatical Fundamentals of the Innuit Language^ as Spoken by the
Eskimo of the Western Coast of Alaska, By Francis Barnum,
SJ. Boston: Ginn & Co., 1901. xxv + 347 pp., 8°.

Among the aboriginal languages of North America scarcely one is
richer in grammatic forms than the Eskimo. In this language but little
distinction is made between the noun and the verb; that which we call
the verb in Eskimo is inflected like a noun and comes nearest to the
participle of Aryan languages, the subject pronoun preceding it being
not a predicative but a possessive term. Thus, tikipu-kut^ '*we have
arrived," in Greenland Eskimo, is literally ''our having arrived."
From almost every Eskimo noun one or more verbs can be formed by
appending verbifying suffixes.

Although spoken throughout a vast territory, the Eskimo dialects do
not differ extremely among themselves, although the contrary might be
assumed from the great distances which separate them. The syntax is
based on the possessive idea and not on the predicative as with us; the
subjective and the objective cases (of the direct object) differ but little
one from the other, but the cases referring to space (locative) are well
defined and numerous, for we have the localis in -me^ the ablative in
-mit^ the vialis or prosecutive in -kut^ the terminalis in -mut, the modalis
in -mik^ and the comparative in -tut. Besides these cases the nominal
inflection has a genitive. All this refers to the Greenland dialect,
whereas in the Tununa the case suffixes are somewhat different. Con-
sidering that these endings differ for the plural, again for the dual, and
again for the transitive or objective form and for the intransitive, it may
truly be said that these Eskimo dialects are well provided with cases.

The Tununa dialect of Eskimo, to which the following data refer, is
the subject of the work of Father Barnum, who resided as a missionary
for eight years on Nelson island, opposite Nunivak, on the eastern or
Alaskan coast of Bering sea. Father Barnum uses an alphabet of fif-
teen vowels, three diphthongs, and seventy-one consonants for the'
purpose of transcribing the Eskimo, and with four or five exceptions
these eighty-nine sounds seem to be readily pronounceable by us. The
alphabet is in part Father Barnum's own invention, but he states that
he would have used that of the Bureau of American Ethnology had it
reached him in time. The consonants do not occur in profusion, and
in the spoken sentence they are perfectly balanced by the vowels ;
therefore this northern dialect is rather soft and smooth, and in every
respect is more musical than the Tinne or Athapascan dialects of the
Canadian interior ; indeed, it is even more pleasing to the ear than
English.

152

AMERICAN ANTHROPOLOGIST

[n. s., 4, igo2

To record all the forms of verbal inflection in any Eskimo dialect is
a herculean task; but Father Barnum accomplished it, although not
entirely to his satisfaction. His list of verbal modes (that is, adverbial
or other elements modifying, specializing, or determining the function of
the verb and of nouns derived from the verb), is another noteworthy
accomplishment. But we become familiar with the very life of the
idiom when we read the native stories with their translations and the
compiler's commentary where personified animals are introduced. The
vocabulary, comprising five thousand or more words, appears in syllab-
icated form, with the emphasis noted on each vocable.

In Tununa there is no distinction between masculine and feminine
gender in the pronoun, noun, or verb. Reduplication of the radical
syllable, the great root-builder in other aboriginal American languages,
is not known in Tununa, which also does not have any prefixes or in-
fixes to the root, suffixion being the only means of ** developing *' the
radix. Emphasis has a tendency to keep itself in the middle of the
longer words, though accentuation of the first syllable is not unusual.
The numeral system is quinary-vigesimal.

A. S. Gatschet.

Notas (Turn pae as creanfas, Bernadino Machado. Coimbra : Im-
prensa da Universadade, 1901. 511 pp.

These "Notes of a Father*' are written in pleasing style with epi-
grammatic comments on the adult phenomena corresponding to the
facts and fancies of childhood. They are imbued with the true scien-
tific and democratic spirit. The author is professor of anthropology in
the University of Coimbra, Portugal, and one of the best known edu-
cators and men of science in southern Europe. He has also been a
cabinet minister, and his knowledge of political life adds to the wit and
wisdom of the book, which is well worth reading for its genial humanity
alone, quite apart from its contributions to the study of the child.

Alexander F. Chamberlain.

Nov. 1896] THE ESKfMO AND THEIR WRITTEN LANGUAGE 369

THE ESKIMO AND THEIR WRITTEN LANaUAQB

CHARLES HALLOCK

The name Eskimo, which is applied to the Iiinuit of the cir-
cumpolar region, is the Danish way of spelling a word of the
Abnaki Indians of Lower Canada, which, in the language of that
tribe, signifies " Eaters of raw meat." The early French ex-
plorers spelled it Esquimaux, as first given by Father Charle-
voix, a pioneer missionary, who emigrated to Canada, which was
then called New France, in the seventeenth century, but the
Danish orthography has gradually supplanted it and will here-
after stand, as it is phonetic, simpler, and quicker to write. Be-
sides, the Danish civilization has been dominant for many years
in those regions, with which traders and travelers are most
familiar.

It would appear that some Abnaki Indians, among whom the
Reverend Charlevoix had settled, chanced to wander as far north
as upper Labrador, and upon their return they reported to the
father the finding of a new race of people, whose distinctive
characteristic was, as has been stated, that they ate their meat
raw. This is the origin of the appellation, according to Father
Barnum, an eminent linguist and missionary, who has been en-
gaged during the last five years among the Innuits of western
Alaska in the important and stupendous work of reducing the
Innuit tongue to a written language, a work which, in the rev-
erend gentleman's own words, is scarcely begun. His vocabu-
lary, so far as he has prepared it, already embraces upward of
7,000 words, and his grammar covers 250 closely written pages
of foolscap. He declares that the language of the Innuits is dis-
tinctly sui generis, and has not the slightest resemblance to any
other known language in the world. He says :

" In reducing: it to a written tongue we have adopted the Latin alphabet
as far as possible, but there are certain sounds which are next to impos-
sible to produce with any combination of vowels and consonants, either
in Latin or English. One peculiarity of the language is the marvelous
regularity of its verbs ; there is but one form of them, and an irregular
verb is something we have yet to find. Their favorite letter is ' k,' and
the most used syllable is ' ok." A glance over any of the books we have
recently hud printed in their tongue will show either one or the other,

370

THE AMERICAN ANTHROPOLOGIST

[Vol. IX

r«:a:T:t;Sur:tL:and^airlya in .metaphorical expres-

language 18 ve,y g beautiful and capable of expressing much

sions, ™^^^»"8;*, X*7,'^^^t,,e subject is invariably of nature, mther than

TfirSase The tmTare a weW sort of chant, and possess a peculiar

Wvi have never heard in any other country. I can scarcely hope

rtlL the wk for many years to come, but trust when it is completed

U lmt^:^^J^r.^^^^^^^ otlver languages of the world and be of use

to the generations as yet unborn."

Dniibtless it will prove of equal value with the invention of
th^lraSype by Rev. Dr Eli and Hon.an Hallock, missionary
nrinter to Smyrna in the early part of this century.
^Dur.; Mr Barnum'3 residence at Akularak inlet on the
Yukon delta, which is only two hours' journey from Bering sea,
he has laboi-ed unceasingly to better the condition of those
among whom he lives and for whom he seems to have a far
Wher respect than whalers, sealers, traders, and chance explor-
e shave been accustomed to accord to them-a people, he says,
who are a race as distinctively as are the English or French
Assessing a language of their own and abounding in traditional
Cnds and foildorl It is commonly believed that the Innuits
wSe originally from Japan, but Reverend Barnum insists tha
IbTstheory can be easily exploded, and that they are beyond
Jl^l reasonable doubt one of the oldest races in the world, and as
such should be entitled to the respectful consideration ot ev^ry
ethnological student. Evidently he is much impressed. Atall
events he is likely in the course of his deep philologica research
Ibe able to establish some of his postulates as facts if they can
be established at all, for the father speaks not only the language
o the country, but Greek, Latin, English, French, German
Snani^h Polish, and Russian, and it was through his facility n
Wng angu^ges that he has been prompted to under ake
it 4ll probably prove a life-work. He has an ecclesiastical
commission from the head of the Greek Church.

Feb. 1898]

NOTES AND NEWS

sMids in its rays at times and suffuses these grottoes with tu4ts
ofWle green or rose, rivalling in beauty the Blue Grotto of C/pri,
an(l\hanging the cave into a veritable fairy-land. At various
placAbarricade walls impede the progress of the visito/ which
were, i^s said, constructed in times of war. The Pet^fcody Mu-
seum senVits first expedition to explore this wondepftil recess in
November\888, the second in December, 1890, /len Marshall
H. Saville. n^ a scientist of the New York Anjferican Museum
of Natural Hisfcory, assisted Mr Thompson in/the explorations.
Photographs werV^secured in ample numbec/here (as well as in
the chultunes of Dvbna) to fix all the ini{5ortant details of the
objects seen or disc\ered. The vertic4 wall of one chamber
was covered to the height of 6 feet witMines of hieroglyphs, and
single calculiform characters are visible everywhere on boulders,
niches, cavities, and wall-)torners,yhich may at a future day
disclose the date or chronolVy of the earliest engravings. The
objects of art and manufactu^e^Sbund in the chambers are balls,
potsherds, bone-needles, discs^d beads of all shapes and dimen-
sions, obsidian and flint kni^es\nd scrapers, flint arrowheads,
perforated stones, mullersy^nd hVnan teeth. Upon the eight
photographic plates of th/fascicle ndt only the more noteworthy
finds of implements ar/ reproduced\but especial care was de-
voted to the renderina^f the inscriptions, these being the most
important objects to/the Maya archeolo^^t ; their surroundings
are not wanting in/i>icturesqueness ; the rW of stalactites from
inscription chamber No. 3 forms quite an aWaction.

r(«e«.-Memoij/(of the) Peabody Museum of AWrican Archseology
and Ethnology/Harvard University. Cambridge : tainted by the Mu-
seum. 1897. /Quarto. Illustrated.

Vol I Nq/s : Cave of Loltun, Yucatan. Report of ExpWtions by the
Museum', ;?88-'89 and 1890-'91. By Edward H. ThompsoiVy Pp. 24 and
8 plates..

VolA No S : The chultunes of Labnil, Yucatan. Report of"^xplora-
tionAy the Museum, 1888-'89 and 1890-'91. By Edward H. Thdj^pson.

Pp. 20 and 13 plates.

A. S. Gatschet.

An Eskimo "Kashim."— Nearly all of the extensive coast line
which Alaska presents was originally held by various Eskimo

r
/

56 THE AMERICAN ANTHROPOLOGIST [Vol. XI

tribes. All along the northern and western coasts, throughout
the Aleutian islands, stretching away off to the southwest, and
up the southern coast the Eskimo held undisputed sway until
they reached the mouth of Copper river and the region around
Mt St Elias. Here they were met by Indian tribes who held
the remainder of the southern coast and the archipelago to the

southeastward.

Under the Russian occupancy of Alaska all the natives along
the southern and southwestern coasts and on the adjacent islands
were completely subjugated. Those peoples now living on the
last-named coasts and islands are known as " Creoles "—a cross
between the native and the Russian. It is seldom that a full-
blood native is seen. Likewise it is seldom that one can find
a custom now practiced that is purely native in all its features.
The old Eskimo traditions and customs and the traditions and
customs brought over by a low grade of Russians seem to be in-
termixed.

But if a traveler goes up the western and northern coasts, as
well as inland, he gets farther and farther away from Russian
influence, until at last the native Eskimo or Indian is found.
At old Fort St Michaels, 700 miles up the western coast of Alaska,
ia an Eskimo village. The people are to a great degree still
purely Eskimo in their physical organizations as well as in their
traditions and customs. This is the first village in which a reg-
ular Eskimo " kashim " or dance-house is to be found. Even
here this old relic of barbarism is rapidly falling into decay
through neglect and lack of repairs.

This northern Eskimo " kashim " corresponds in some respects
to the " estufa " of our southwestern Indians. In villages un-
touched by white men the males, when not at work, all congre-
gate in the kashim to sleep and while away the time, leaving the
native houses in the possession of the women, who carry food to
their lords and masters in the kashim, but enter at no other times
except for certain dances. Strangers and visitors— men-live in
the kashim, cook their own food there, or are served by some
women in the village. I had hard work to find this particular
building, for the natives will not tell a white person which one
of the many dugouts is their kashim. However, I found it to
be a trifle larger than their ordinary house and, what seemed
strange, no apparent opening into the building.

Feb. 1898]

NOTES AND NEWS

The structure itself is about 8 feet high, half under ground,
about 15 feet square, flat roof, with a square hole in the center
covered with transparent seal intestine. A walrus skin is often
thrown over this window, thus excluding light as well as air, for
there is no other direct opening into the building. The sides
above the ground are built up of sod and dirt, and the roof is
simply dirt heaped over poles which are laid closely together.
In front of the kashira a low, narrow, and dark entry or passage-
way is built out for 8 feet. As one enters this passageway
through the narrow door and goes with bent shoulders to the
other end he runs plump up against the solid wall ; no door is
there. In the floor of the passageway, however, is a round hole
somewhat larger than a man's body and about 4i feet deep. A
man drops into this hole, squats down, and then crawls on his .
hands and knees through an underground tunnel, somewhat
sloping, emerging finally into a good-sized square hole which is
dug down into the ground in the center of the kashim. This
hofe or pit also serves as a fireplace, and the tunnel as a chim-
ney and air-draft. As roaring big fires are built in there, the
smoke partially fills the building. Around this pit is some sort
of a floor or hard earth surface, where the men walk and stand.
Built all around the four sides are raised benches of earth, cov-
ered with boards or walrus hide, on which the men sit and sleep,
each person having his own skins or sleeping bag. Four lamps,
one on each side of the pit, are supported by slender stems of
bone or wood stuck firmly into the ground floor. On top of
each stem is a rounding bowl for seal oil or whale blubber. A
moss wick is put into the bowl and then lighted at one end.

Just imagine being in this den with no light excei)t that com-
ing through the intestine window, or more likely coming from
the rancid oil lamps, a big fire in the pit, the room full of smoke,
too hot to wear fur clothing, the benches crowded with naked
jnen— it is a regular smoke and steam bath.

When the time comes for a big dance they get the room in-
tensely hot and close, an outsider rakes all the fire and ashes
out through the flue or tunnel, and the pit is covered with boards
or with poles covered with moss and grass matting, thus making
an entire floor. Musicians (always men) with their tom-toms
sit tailor-fashion on the bench on one side of the room. The
dancers, usually men, though at certain times women, stripped

THE AMERICAN ANTHROPOLOGIST

[Vol. XI

to the waist or entirely nude, stand around the side or dance in
the center, one at a time, until nearly exhausted. The dance
usually lasts all ni^rht or longer, for it is protracted just so long
as tlie dancers can stand up. Either just before the dance or
while it is in progress the men take a hath. They have bowls
hollowed out of wood, each holding about two quarts, filled witli
urine, which has been saved up for days for this purpose. The
men bathe in this, holding a mouth-piece between their teeth to
keep the ammonia out of mouth and nostrils, meanwhile strik-
ing their bodies with a bunch of a dozen and more twigs or
switches tied together. This mouth-piece is made by taking a
slender piece of wood, a little longer than the mouth, notching
it for the. teeth, and then twisting a large bunch of dry grass all
around the wood, except the side, which is left free to be grasped
between the teeth. The tom-toms are a sort of rude tamborine
with handles, having seal intestine tightly stretched across the
round frame of wood or bone. The musician holds the tom-
tom up in one hand and beats it with a slender club, his monot-
onous " yi-yi-yi-yi " and slight swaying of the body keeping time
with his beating.

A dance had been held in the St Michael's kashim but a short
time before I entered it. There were some ashes and half-burnt
wood in the pit, a little oil in one lamp, a bowl partly full of
urine, and a number of mouth-pieces and switches lying about.
The men have also made an easier way to get into and out of
the kashim. The tunnel is still there, but a hole on a level with
the ground, and just large enough for a person lying on his
stomach to wiggle through, has been made at the end of the
passage\vay through the dirt wall of the kashim.

Anna Fulcomer.

A STRIKING peculiarity in the Nicobarese system of numera-
tion is that in counting cocoanuts, money, and birds'-nests the
natives of the central and southern groups reckon by pairs, scores,
and four-hundreds. Some of the other groups reckon also by
two-hundreds, two-thousands, four-thousands, and twenty-thou-
sands. The counting by pairs is due to the practice of tying
two cocoanuts together by means of a strip of the husk of each
for convenience in carrying. — Indian Aniiquary, August^ 1807.

■ vMiii^i. .m > "

X^^^^XA.^^ \vv«.ZJj(cJa^-^^^- ^'^^'2.

UPERNAVIK, GREENLAND, THE

NORTHERNMOST CIVILIZED TOWN, IS ABSOLUTELY ISOLATED FROM THE REST OF

THE WORLD.

£L*^i

'■jf-

■^*': ♦•'•

■A -^^

:^-^mmn4^mSg&::^^Si^^^f^

THE rEOPLE OF THE FAllTllEST NORTH.

By Frederic k A. Cook, M.D.,

Author of "Thron<z;li tlio First Antarctic Niu'ht.

A BOY OF FOUR.

HUMAN life differs
somewhat, but
not fundamentally, with
the parallels of lati-
tude. The man who
lives near the Equator
appears at first sight a
very different creature
from the one who exists
near the North Pole,
but upon closer ac-
quaintance one finds
the dift'erence mostly
superficial. The deeper
human sentiments and
physical characteristics
are very much the same
among all kinds and
conditions of men, from
pole to pole. The dif-
ferences so readily de-
tected by the eye-
such as color, size, and
temperament— are due
mostly to the race ten-
dencies, and are only
slightly changed by cli-

mate or environment.
The negro in the Arctic
retains all of his native
peculiarities, and I be-
lieve the Eskimo, if
compelled to live at the
Equator, would remain
essentially an Eskimo
in all of his important
race qualities.

Lieutenant Peary,
in his present effort
to reach the North
Pole, has pitched his
most southern camp
among the people far-
thest north. In the
work of the gallant
Peary and his assist-
ants, the finer qualities
of these northernmost
people have been
brought out in a re-
markable manner. So
superior have been
their hai)its of life to
those of the white

GIVE ME SOME CANDY?

EVERYBODY'S MAGAZINE

THE PEOPLE OF THE FARTHEST NORTH

OOTONIAH, A GREAT HUNTER, AND FAITHFUL FRIEND AN ESKIMO MAIDEN AT THE AGE OF TWELVE, WHEN

OF LIEUTENANT PEARY. SHE BEGINS TO RECEIVE MALE ATTENTION.

men in the Arctic, that Peary, his men,
and even his colored helper have grad-
ually adopted the Eskimo mode of life.
They wear Eskimo clothing, use Eskimo tac-
tics in hunting, travel with Eskimo sledges
and outfits, and even eat Eskimo food.
These same people, the Eskimos, have been
regarded as dwarfs, mentally, physically,
and morally. Their manner of life has al-
ways been viewed with an air of disgust, but
one finds gems, even in the muddiest places.
The northern Eskimos number two hundred
and fifty souls. They are isolated from all
the rest of the world by stormy, ice-encum-
bered waters, and an over-land sea of ice,
and though immensely inquisitive about other
people and other countries, their super-
stitions and limited means of transportation
are such that they are held within narrow
confines. They roam about from rock to
rock, and from ice to ice, along the shore-
line of Greenland, from the seventy-sixth
to the seventy-ninth parallel. The land is to
them only a resting-place ; their real habitat
is upon the frozen sea. In the few months of
summer, when the heat of the sun sends gla-
cial streams in falls and torrents from the
icy heights, they live in skin tents. In win-
ter, through the long dayless nights, they live
under banks of snow, in an underground hut
made of stone, bone, and turf. In the spring

and fall, when in the chase of seal and walrus,
they construct a hut with blocks of snow ; thus
they overcome the tendency to a monotonous
life by constant changes in their camps.

Their Eskimo home, viewed from the
standpoint of local needs, is a well- organ-
ized institution. Indeed, it is about the
only part of their life which can be said to be
organized and systematized, since disorder,
freedom from conventionalities, and inde-
pendence are characteristic traits of every
Eskimo. As we first saw this wilderness
of domestic life, we were heartily disgusted
with our neighbors. We could not under-
stand how human beings could subsist and
extricate anything worth living for, in an
irregular dungeon, less than ten feet in its
longest diameter, hardly affording standing
room, and with bits of stone and ice for
furniture. The luxurious Caucasian loses
all sense of proportion as he first views this
home, but after he is compelled to undergo
the life of hardship and suffering which is
the lot of his Eskimo friends, he learns to
regard this dark chamber as a kind of para-
dise. He forgets his own palatial home,
and feels real comfort and spiritual elation,
snugly tucked under furs, as the freezing
wind and snow rush over his head. After
all, everything in life is good or bad by
comparison. In the tropics, the main am-

bition is to find a cool place, but in the
polar regions a heaven would be a sheltered
place with a fiery breeze, instead.

We can best understand the function of
this home life by following a family in one
of its periodic migrations. A man by the
name of Ingapodoo, regarded as a great
hunter by his comrades, decided to pitch
his winter home far away to the northward.
He had always been fairly successful in the
chase, and his neighbors shared with him
the benefits of his spoils (for such is the
custom of the people), but during the pre-
vious season ill-luck had followed him. His
fellow-friends had secured seals, reindeers,
bears, and foxes, but Ingapodoo had bagged
next to nothing. He ascribed his failure
to the influence of certain spirits, supposed
to be directed by a neighbor who was not
very friendly with him.

SOUTH GREENLAND WOMAN AND CHILDREN.
New styles in decoratiou.

SOUTH GREENLANDERS— MAN AND WIFE.
The first touch of civilization afifects the dress.

Late in September the last birds went
southward, and early in October the ice was
sufficiently thick to carry a train of sledges.
Ingapodoo was a man with a large family,
and he had always been a liberal provider,
proud of the fat, well-fed appearance of his
wife and children in their warm fur gar-
ments. The family had a new suit every
year, but now the awful winter, with its
cold and darkness, was upon them. They
shivered in their old skin-bare furs, while
their more fortunate neighbors were dis-
playing their new suits of blue fox and white
bear. Such poverty was new to him, and
his wild pride was such that he would not
ask or accept help from his friends. Fired
by a wounded vanity, he packed all of his
belongings upon two sledges, and without
even hinting to his friends, without a part-
ing good-by or a hand-shake, he harnessed
his five dogs one moonlight night, slipped
down over the ice-pack, and started on a
march of three hundred miles to the more
desolate, but more promising North Land.

As the shadows of the huge cliff faded,
under which he had so long camped, the

EVERYBODY'S MAGAZINE

rilK PEOPLE OF THE FARTHEST NORTH

POO-AD-LUNA, A BOY OF EIGHTEEN, ONE OF THE LIONS OF THE FAR NORTH.

village dogs sent up a blood-chilling howl,
which woke up the town people. Soon
there appeared before each little white
mound, which marked the site of an igloo,
a series of black dots. These were inquisi-
tive Eskimos, half-dressed, who came out
to see the cause of the canine commotion.
Quickly it was understood that Ingapodoo
had left ; that the happy family, so long a
part of their limited circle, had gone else-
where to seek their fortunes, but not one
knew of their prospective destination, not
even Koo-loo-ting-wah, a rising youth, whose
hear t was set on Tung-wing-wah, a coy maiden
of fifteen who vanished with the parting

A STRANDED ICEBERG, PHOTOGRAPHED AT MIDNIGHT. family.

t tS^J

•U.

•V ';*yi

INGAPODOO, FATHER OF POO-AD-LUNA.

Im-nong-a-nome, the old home with its
cherished delights, faded away as the sledges
slipped over the new ice beyond the first
headland. Now the great white surface of
the frozen sea rose from point to point, the
moon gradually sank northward, and a cheer-
ful pink glow streamed over the icebergs
southward. The father with the oldest
daughter walked behind the first sledge. To
this sledge were attached three dogs. The
second sledge was drawn by two dogs and
driven by Poo-ad-luna, a boy of eighteen.
By his side walked the mother, Ey-too-sach-
soe, carrying upon her back a girl of two
years, while two little boys, lashed to the

■•I

ONE OF MILLIONS OF ICEBERGS WHICH DRIFT OVER THE

ARCTIC SEA.

^r^-

iXn^LO

THE PEOPLE OF THE FARTHEST NORTH

«•- »

r ^

A GLACIAL STREAM, THROUGH ROCKS AND FLOWER-BEDS, NEAR PEARY*S NORTHERNMOST BASE ON THE

GREENLAND SIDE.

« «

sledges, completed the family group. Thus
the father, mother, five hungry children,
and five famished dogs snaked around the
hummocks with eager eyes in every direc-
tion for game.

They urged the dogs on, and pushed at
the sledges and walked over the endless ex-
panse of ice without food or drink for forty-
eight hours. At noon the train halted ; the
dogs sank restfully upon the ice. The
mother got out a stone dish, upon which
blubber was burned, and over this a stone
bowl was suspended full of snow. It took
about two hours to melt enough snow for
a tiny sip of water for each. During this
time the family bunched themselves closely
together, and in the feeble, slanting rays of
the parting sun, they dozed with an air of
peaceful contentment. Drink and sleep are
indispensable in the Arctic. One can do
without food for a time, but water must
always be at hand, and an occasional sleep
must ease the overworked body ; otherwise,
life would become quite hopeless.

Soon after two o'clock the sun groped
under the ice-sheeted land southward ; then
follov/ed the long purple twilight, which is
the warning of the coming winter night.

The air, which had been fairly warm during
the noon sunbursts, now became icy, and in
order to keep from freezing they must now
stir along at a lively pace. In the silvery
moonlight, which crept softly on them after
the long twilight, the dogs suddenly scented
a fox track, and quickly followed it seaward
over the dangerous new ice. But when
the dogs found a bear track, their excite-
ment was beyond control. The women
and children were left behind a hummock.
With tails and ears up and noses down the
dogs followed the track to the edge of the
pack-ice, where a sight of the roaring sea
ended the chase. With ears now drooping,
tails down, and heads up, the hungry crea-
tures turned landward. Soon, however,
they stopped short and sniffled the air,
turned their heads toward the east, and lis-
tened. Only Ingapodoo and Poo-ad-luna were
on the sledges, and they, too, were anx-
iously watching. A little later they heard
the breathing of a seal, pufling like a steam
jet through a small opening in the new ice.
The dogs were loosened from the sledges
and tied to a post of ice. Then the father
crept slowly and quietly to the seal-hole,
and after the concealed animal blew again,

THE KAYAK, OR SKIN CANOE.

THE ARCTIC COAST IN SUMMER.

EVERYBODY'S MAGAZINE

THE PEOPLE OF IlIE FARTHEST NORTH

IN BLUE FOX-SKIN GARMENTS. MANE AND HER TWO-
YEAR-OLD BABY.

he located him and sent
his harpoon through the
little blow-hole into the
seaFs back. Holding
the wiggling victim, he
beckoned to his son to
come. With a knife the
ice was chipped about the
hole until it was large
enough, when the seal
was dragged out and
placed upon the sledge,
and the hunters proudly-
returned to the hum-
mock, where the rest of
the family waited. The
ice was such here that
they could not camp to
satisfy their empty stom-
achs, so they continued
their march to a safer
place.

It was nearly eleven
o'clock the next day be-
fore the sun rose. In the
twilight preceding, In-
gapodoo had noticed,
under the flush of the
dawn, a spot on the land
where there seemed to
be snow of a sufficiently

substantial character to permit the con-
struction of a snow house. But on closer
approach the snow proved to be too soft to
make solid blocks. The old skin tent was
then unpacked and pitched upon a rock.
Together they all made preparations for a
great feast, a sort of recompense for a fast
of seventy-two hours. The seal was un-
dressed and distributed, the dogs receiv-
ing their portion first, the women and chil-
dren next, and the hunters last. For nearly
a week the family camped here. They ate,
drank, and slept heartily, which means per-
fect happiness to the Eskimo. The family
indulged in this luxurious absorption until
the last of the seal was gone, cheerfully
oblivious of the famine which was sure to
come. This is typical of Eskimo life ; they
are satisfied and contented while food lasts,
but it is not until the famine has actually
begun that they begin a serious hunt.

Now, again Ingapodoo started his train
over the frozen sea, but the light was f ad-
i ng, the darkness was thickening fast, and
the cold was so intense that it was difficult

.>.

IN A BIRD-SKIN SHIRT.

to stop even at midday to melt snow for a
drink. Their food was gone, and for three
days their search for game was unsuccess-
ful. On the fourth day they followed a
bear track, which took them to Netulume,
a town of three underground houses, inhab-
ited by twenty Eskimos.
This was near a point of
land where the ice was
greatly fissured, and here
whales and walrus were
now to be captured dur-
ing most of the winter.
The Netulume people had
been lucky enough to se-
cure several large ani-
mals, which gave them
food and fuel in abun-
dance for many months.

Ingapodoo came along
with his family in miser-
able clothing, his dogs
so starved that they no
longer kept the traces
tight even while walking.
The starved human fig-
ures staggered along as
be;-it they could. The
village dogs announced
the coming visitors with
the usual howl, and quick-
ly every man, woman, and
child hurried out of the
long passages from the
huts and stood outside
watching the coming Es-
kimos. The poor crea-
tures, who had been for
days without food, were
hardly able to mount the
ice pack from the sea to
the land, but curious
enough, not one of the
fat, well-dressed natives
above offered to help the
newcomers. Later, as
they met face to face, not a word of greet-
ing was exchanged, nor were the visitors
invited into the homes out of the icy wind,
then blowing in gales. It was well known
that Ingapodoo and his family were starv-
ing ; still, not a morsel of food was offered
them by their new neighbors from their
overstocked larder. These people were
friendly to each other, and there was no
reason for this apparent inhospitable treat-
ment. This suspicious neutrality in meet-

ing betrays a curious series of Eskimo
traits. There are no parting or salutatory
greetings, and visitors are never invited to
partake of neighborly hospitality. If an
Eskimo is hungry he must help himself or
ask for food. This being done, however,

A YOUNG MOTHKR.
ONLY A HOOD
HER MOTHER.

IN THE HOOD IS A VERY YOUNG BABY, WHICH WEARS
FOR THE FIRST YEAR, AND RESTS AGAINST THE SKIN OF

the last strip of meat will be given a visitor
even if their own starvation be inevitable.

At Netulume, Ingapodoo lived well, and,
like a camel, he laid a good stock of fat and
muscle under his skin. With bodies well
rounded, but still badly clothed, Ingapodoo's
family continued their weary march north-
ward. Now the sledges carried meat and
fat in abundance. The sun had by this time
vanished entirely. The long night had be-
gun, and even the moonlight was of a short

EVERYBODY'S xMAGAZINE

THE PEOPLE OF THE FARTHEST NORPH

duration. At the end of this day's march
they reached the North Land of promise,
and here, near a prominent headland, where
there is open water nearly all winter, they
built snow houses. Soon there came other
families, and long before midnight (the Arc-
tic midnight — about Christmas time), there
had come many others. A couple of walrus
fell victims to the combined efforts of the
harpooners, and when these were landed.

there was a plentiful supply of food and
fuel for the balance of the long night.

The sun rose again February 16th, after
an absence of one hundred and thirteen
days, and as the golden rays darted from
peak to peak, the lethargy and depression
of the inhabitants of the snow village gave
place to a boundless enthusiasm. During
the night they slept much, ate little, and
wore nearly nothing by way of clothing.

Even when visitors came to the snow-house
tenants, they received them, as is their cus-
tom, in sleeping garments. With the re-
turning sun there came visitors from far
and near, and the scene of death and silence
of the night was quickly transformed into
one of hilarity. The children, suddenly

awakening from their sleep of a hundred
days, rolled about in the snow, playing foot-
ball with each other, laughing, jumping,
howling, and bursting out into all sorts of
passions, while the men sharpened their
weapons and again prepared for the hunt.
The women now for a brief period aban-

THE OLDEST COUPLE, A HAPPY PAIR WHO HAVE STRUGGLED AGAINST STORMS FOR SEVENTY YEARS.

A VERY YOUNG COUPLE OF FIFTEEN AND TWENTY-THREE

::tr^y

EVERYBODY'S MAGAZINE

-.-V-'r*.- ■^'

.i>.;'Vli

EVERY ESKIMO WOMAN HAS A BABY ON UEK BACK.

doned their neutral attitude to the men,
and made themselves as agreeable and lovely
as possible. They do not wear new gar-
ments, nor do they attempt to look pretty
in any way; they do not even wash their
faces, but by a charm of manner, by catchy
use of their eyes and a fascinating run of
conversation, peculiar to this time of the
year, they simply bring all the men smiling
to their feet. Marriage relations are al-
ways easy, and, at this period, all matri-
monial bonds are broken. During the bal-
ance of the year the women are the slaves
of the men. The drudgery of house-work,
the dressing of skins, the making of cloth-
ing, the preparation of the game, and, in-
deed, most of the hard and uninteresting
tasks fall to woman's lot, while the men
pursue the chase.

Love-making progresses with the advance
of daylight. By the time the sun remains
above the icy horizon two months hence the
young people are all mated and some of the

f ■

TUNG-WING-WAH, A COY MAIDEN OF FIFTEEN, THE BELLE OF THE ARCTIC HIGHLANDERS.

l.^

p:verybody's magazine

older ones remated.
As the courtship
progresses the
snow village is
abandoned, new
tents are made,
and the various
couples, with their
dependents, seek
new delights in
other places. Thus
new villages are made each season of the
year, the family relations change, the food
is changed, the ambitions and emotions are
changed— in a word, change is the law of
Arctic life. This does not apply, however,
to clothing, which is changed but once a year.
These northernmost people, almost inhu-
man in their manner of living, are still, in
their relation to each other and to the rest
of mankind, very human. They have a deep
sense of honor, a wholesome regard for the
rights of their fellows, and a sympathetic
temperament. Thefts are almost unknown,
cheating and lying are extremely uncommon.
Quarrels, though frequent, are restramed

because of a well-developed habit of sup-
pressing all emotions. Morally, even when
measured by our own standard, they are
superior to the white invaders of their own
country. Physically and mentally they are
dwarfed, but sufficiently developed to satisfy
their needs. One of the most interesting
problems of Eskimo life is involved in the
attempt to study in each man the main-
spring of his ambition. It must take a
strong spark to fire the furnace of human
effort against the awful odds of the polar

elements.

What is it that drives a man through
storm and snow over ice into freezing water
on into a world of cold misery ? The super-
ficial observer will quickly say, '* It is the
need of food, clothing, and shelter.'' A
more careful search into Eskimo elements,
however, proves that these are only acces-
sory to the main ambition of life. The real
pivot upon which all his efforts are based is
the desire to be rated well among his col-
leagues, and inseparably linked with this is
the love of some feminine heart. Is not
this also the inspiration of all the world ?

AN OUTGKOWN PLAYMATE.

By Alberta Bancroft.

rn HERE'S a cave in the haystack where sometimes I sit
And play that I'm Robinson Crusoe.
My calf was man Friday; but now she won't fit:
There's no room. She's a cow, 'cause she grew so.

•^^■^

TKe I!18>astrtt.ted

m^'

r;\ I '•VfJ »:r''."')l'i|«fl'«("'

©Miiteriyid

s^s>

JANUARY. 1913

some of tha ladies heightened the excitement b^ taking an active
part in the sport. Hauhng in 50 fathoms of line with five pounds
of lead and oiae or two 20-Ib. codfish or hahbut on one end is more
than sport fon a pair of small gloved hands. After the first ex-
clamation of the bite and hooking, the enthusiasm dies/nown to
hard work, anm when the line begins cutting into tender hands
their owners pedr over the side. "Oh, is there no /end to the
line?" Then when the catch, with the help of an /bliging pas-
senger, is hauled on deck, there comes a shudder fi'om the femi-
nine shoulder, a wrinkling of the nose and an "Oh,/sn't it an ugly,
slimy thing? Phew! Oh, let me try once more, /please."

Leaving Dutch Narbor we entered Behmig Sea and soon
commenced to battle with the terror of the north — the arctic ice
pack. From the crow'^nest the Captain \vpuld direct the course
of the vessel into open leads, or find a vulnerable place in a floe,
where the ice could be cnacked and pusKed aside. The bells in
the engine room clangedXcontinuousIy, giving orders to slow
down, to ram, back up andVam agaii/ If a specially heavy floe
had to be cracked the orderVwould yCome "Hook her on," and at
full speed she would crash into the4loe. Then look out for your
balance, else you may measures the deck with your length or per-
form "en miniature" rammings)^ith your head.

Sometimes our progress wolila be stopped for days and we had
to wait for an opening in the pack. Lying thus encased in the
ice, we embraced the oppottunityVto take a seal or walrus hunt
on the ice, for we had ta^n our guns with us in our staterooms.
The scientific part of our trip commenced here by securing two of
the rare Kittlitz murr/lets, a Pomari\e jaeger and several kitti-
wakes.

Though the resy of the passengers \^ere fretting at the delay
and impatiently walking the deck whenever progress was barred,
we hugely enjoyy^d every stop and would^e down the ladder in
no time and wjxh guns and camera be off'Wer the ice.

On June third we reached Nome, or rather the ice in front of
Nome. Dog teams came out to meet us and we "mushed" the
five miles over the ice into town.

Here we lost no time getting my twin screw motor boat the
Diamond L ready for action, and for a week were immersed in
paint, gasoline and the oily machine shop.

As soon as the ice left the Nome beach we launched the Dia-
mond L, but had to defer our trip to Siberia for two weeks, for

Eskimo grave at Nelson's Island

the loosening of the ice off" the northeast coast of Siberia is three
weeks later than on the American Behring Sea side. We decided
to make a trip to the unexplored and uncharted region between
the mouth of the Yukon and the Kuskoquim. This is the great
breeding ground for all kinds of land and water fowl, and the
home of some of our rarest North American birds.

Eskimos braiding fish — northern cold storage

_^ TKe Il1>istra*«d _

JANUARY, 1913

■■W

The rooks and air full of birds

The Yukon flats are very shallow, extending for many miles
into Behring Sea. We could touch bottom in three feet of water,
yet there was no land in sight. The bays are equally shallow
and this is the reason they have not as yet been charted and ex-
plored. The Diamond L with her shallow draft was therefore
admirably adapted to our purpose.

The Eskimos of this region we found singularly ignorant com-
pared with others only 200 miles away at Nome or St. Michaels.
They have had but little intercourse with white men and were al-
most exclusively using bow and arrow, harpoon and spear. This
time of the year is a season of great plenty for them, for the air is
full of wild fowl and the salmon are running in great hordes in the
streams. A great part of their diet consists of eggs, and they
brought baskets full of them aboard to trade.

The red and northern phalarope were breeding here in great
abundance. All over the marshy tundra they would have their
little nests, a rounded hollow in a tuft of grass or in a bunch of
moss. The beautiful Sabine gulls would deposit their eggs on
the level grass without pretense of making a nest or hiding the
eggs. Colonies of graceful terns, with nests but a few feet apart,
would strenuously resent our intrusions by swooping fiercely down
upon us, filling the air with their harsh, grating cries.

On a lake, a Pacific loon was living in a modern houseboat.
His nest of grass bore two eggs and floated near the end of a pen-
insula in three feet of water. There was not the least shelter for
miles to aid us in getting a photo of the wary bird, so I had to be
satisfied with a picture of the nest alone.

Great ingenuity was displayed in the building of a nest by
Steller's eider. Near the edge of a pond in a tussock of dry
grass the nest had been built, then the tall blades of grass had been
bent like an arbor completely screening the eggs. The nest was
approached by a covered winding path from the water's edge four
feet distant. It was plainly evident that the birds had trained
the dry blades of grass above them to screen the nest and en-
trance. The nest itself appeals immensely to an observer because
of its coziness. First was a heavy layer of dry grasses, then a
thick lining of the exquisite soft eider-down, plucked by the
parent birds from their breasts. In this snug, cozy bed the four
eggs were laid with the small end to the center.

The Eskimos coming aboard our boat with fish, birds and
eggs, begging for "shian" (tea?, thought we were a crazy lot in
more than one respect, when they saw us refusing to buy already
cooked duck and goose eggs, or, blowing out others, preserve the

shell and then throw the contents away. We would also pre-
serve the skin of a gull, jaegar or hawk, and throw the meat away.
For hours and hours they would darken the entrance to the cabin
or press their noses flat against the glass of thie port holes watch-
ing us work or eat. Surely a white man's ways must seem strange
and wonderful to their naive minds.

At Nelson's Island we found them busily at work fishing for
smelts. Tons of these little, oily fish were raked up on the beach
and then taken in hand by the women, braided with grass into
long strings and hung up to dry. On the side hill back of the
village their interesting grave yard was located.

When an Eskimo dies, his spirit is supposed to go to another
world. According to their belief it is a very material world and
he should be well equipped for his journey and future existence;
therefore his worldly possessions are deposited on the grave, and
you can distinguish the poor from the well-to-do corpse in an Es-
kimo graveyard by the same evidence to be found in the white
man's cemetery in the small tombstones on one hand and the
elaborate marble shafts and mausoleums on the other.

The body of the dead is dressed in the usual hunting costume
of artega and mucklucks, wrapped in his blanket or deerskin
sleeping bag, which in turn is wrapped in his tent or some canvas.
This is placed in a box or bundled in an old walrus hide and placed
upon a platform, elevated on sticks, or on the surface of the
ground in a box. Under or alongside the grave are placed the
hunting paraphernalia, spears, traps, bow and arrows of the de-
parted, sometimes even a good rifle to enable him to enter his new
life well equipped for the hunt; some pots to melt snow and plates
and cups to eat his meals; a pipe, tobacco and matches. Most of
the latter smaller articles are brought there by his friends to help
him along in the next world and also as tokens of love and respect
just as the whites employ flowers. If the deceased is a woman,
pots, pans and sewing articles are seen on the grave. It is a de-
plorable, superstitious practice, for they will hang a brand new
rifle and shotgun on the grave to rust to pieces while the children
of the deceased go hungry for the want of the use of the weapon.
On Nelson's Island a nice lamp and can of coal oil stood on a
newly made grave, while the departed one's children were sitting
by a miserable seal oil lamp.

On the return trip to Nome we found a dead walrus bull float-
ing high above the water. We stopped and cut off* a pair of long
shiny ivory tusks measuring two feet.

(Continued on page 106)

OCTOBEB 15, 1909]

SCIENCE

535

identical with that of others from Java as to
suggest an ethnic or historical aflSnity between
their makers. This close identity between in-
struments of distant countries, discovered
after an interval of years, bears strong testi-
mony at once to native skill and to the accu-
racy of the methods employed in these studies
and to the competence of the students.

To much non-European music the word
primitive is wholly inapplicable. An immense
development has led up to the isotonic octave.
The choice of seven steps is referred by Pro-
fessor Stumpf to mystic ideas of number ; but
he also suggests that a diatonic scale, the re-
sult of tuning by a chain of fourths, may have
preceded the Siamese order. If so, the Euro-
X)ean scale, which still approximates such a
tuning, is the less developed of the two. That
of eastern Asia is a modification too radical
to have completed itself in less than ages of
progress.

Besides its frequent high refinement and
artificiality, non-European music has an ar-
tistic rank of which it is hard for us to con-
vince ourselves. Rank to its makers, be it
added at once; and herein lies the widest les-
son of the whole inquiry. This may be de-
scribed in a phrase as the discovery of how
great a part is played by the mind in appre-
hending a work of art; and how little of the
veritable creation can often be grasped by an
alien. Professor Stumpf cites a striking ex-
ample. Since c-e-g on our instruments is a
major chord and e-g-b a minor, the two sound
to us major and minor, respectively, on a Siam-
ese xylophone, where they are, nevertheless,
identical combinations. In like manner a
comparison of the tone-material in phono-
graphic records with the same melodies heard
currently makes it apparent that Europeans
apprehend all music in the diatonic terms
familiar to their ears. From the first employ-
ment of the instrument doubt began to be
thrown on the earlier notations by ear which
exhibited exotic music generally as a poor
relation of the European family. Psycholog-
ically, the value of these results as a notable
instance of the dependence of sense on fancy
is very great. As a discipline in liberal cul-
ture compelling us to seek for the standpoint

of other minds, they will be invaluable to all
privileged to follow them. It is our own ears
that are oftenest at fault when we hear in
exotic music only a strident monotony or a
dismal uproar to be avoided and forgotten.
To most non-Europeans their music is as pas-
sionate and sacred as ours to us and among
many it is an equally elaborate and all-per-
vading art.

The influence of European music becomes
every day more audible in the singing and
playing of non-European i)eoples. The time
seems not far off when the task of dissecting
out aboriginal elements will become impos-
sible. As the ornament in Queen Ti's tomb
fell to dust at the entry of the explorer, so
exotic music is already dying on the ears of
its discoverers. The life of the science has
inexorable limits, and if it is to yield what it
might, the number of those who pursue it and
the money at their command must at once be
greatly increased. The results of a few years*
work by a few students suflSciently show the
absorbing interest and the wide-reaching value
of the study; and should bring out both ma-
terial and personal aid in plenty from lovers
of music, of ethnology and of the humanities.
What men of means or of science will offer
their fortunes or themselves for this impera-
tive labor ? Benjamin Ives Gilman

Museum of Fine Abts,
Boston

THE relationships OF THE ESKIMOS OF EAST

GREENLAND

Dr. W. Thalbitzer describes in the " Med-
delelser om Gr0nland,'' Vol. XXVIII., the
Amdrup collection from east Greenland,
which comprises objects found between the
sixty-eighth and seventy-fifth degrees of north
latitude. The publication is of great inter-
est, because it brings out conclusively the
close relationship between the culture of the
northeast coast of Greenland and that of Elles-
mere Land, northern BaflSn Land and the
northwestern part of Hudson Bay. The simi-
larities are so far-reaching that I do not hesi-
tate to express the opinion that the line of
migration and cultural connection between
northeast Greenland and the more southwest-

536

SCIENCE

[N. S. Vol. XXX. No. 772

erly regions must have followed the shores of
Ellesmere Land, the northern coast of Green-
land, and then southward along the east
coast. One of most suggestive types found in
Dr. Thalbitzer's publication is the needle-
case figured on page 421. I have called atten-
tion to the distribution of this type of needle-
case in my paper on the "Eskimo of Baffin
Land and Hudson Bay,"' and in a discussion
of the decorative designs of Alaskan needle-
cases.' The specimens described in these two
publications are from Frozen Strait in Hud^
son Bay, Ponds Bay and Smith Sound. Later
on I published another needle-case of the same
type from Rawlings Bay in Ellesmere Land.
Among these specimens only those from
Ponds Bay and Smith Sound are found in
actual use, while the others were collected
from ancient house-sites. Two similar speci-
mens are figured by Dr. Thalbitzer (p. 52Y).
These were found in the region of northwest-
ern Greenland, that is, near the island of
Disco. It is important to note that the orna-
mentation on the large specimen here figured
is identical with the alternating spur decora-
tion which was discussed by Stolpe in his
studies of American ornament, and by myself
in the discussion of Alaskan needle-cases be-
fore referred to. The same ornament occurs
in the ornamentation of a comb shown on
page 472 of Dr. Thalbitzer's publication.

Among the other specimens, sealing-stools
(pp. 430, 431) seem to be particularly impor-
tant. They are very similar in form to a
specimen found by Peary in Grinnell Land.*
The ice-scraper of bone figured on page 438
must be compared with the set of implements
shown on page 409, " Eskimo of Baffin Land
and Hudson Bay." Even the perforation for
suspending the scraper agrees with those of
specimens from Southampton Island. There
seems to me little doubt that the hammer-like
implement illustrated on page 442 of Dr.
Thalbitzer's publication is a blubber-pounder

^Bulletin American Museum of Natural His-
tory, Vol. XV., part 2, p. 433.

^Proceedings of the U. 8, National Museum,
Vol. XXXIV., p. 326.

«" Eskimo of Baffin Land and Hudson Bay,"

p. 463.

similar to those made of musk-ox horn illus-
trated on page 402 of my paper on the "Es-
kimo of Baffin Land." The bone heads of
adzes* agree fairly well with those shown on
page 381.* The decoration on the handles of
the bodkins* may perhaps be compared to the
handles of the wick-trimmers from Melville
Peninsula.^

All these types which show close correspond-
ence in form are so much specialized that
they must be considered as evidence of old
contact or of sameness of origin. So far as I
am aware, none of these types have been found
in the region between Disco and Cape Fare-
well, nor do they occur in Angmagsalik. LE
this is true, the conclusion seems unavoidable
that the Eskimos reached the northeast coast
of Greenland by way of the north coast.

C. Eyder has called attention to the similar-
ity of some of the east Greenland types to
those from Alaska, and Thalbitzer again calls
attention to the similarity of the harpoon-
shafts to those of Point Barrow (p. 444). I
have called attention to several other similari-
ties of this kind, particularly the alternating
spur decoration, to which Thalbitzer also re-
fers (p. 472), and the forms of several speci-
mens.* Similarities between the Ponds Bay
region and the western regions have also
been pointed out by Dr. Wissler in his de-
scription of a collection made by Capt.
Mutch at my instance in that region.' The
distribution of types suggests very strongly
that a line of migration or of cultural
contact may have extended from the Mac-
kenzie region northeastward over the Arctic
Archipelago to north Greenland, passing
over the most northerly part of Baffin
Land, and that the culture of southwestern
Greenland, and that of southeastern Baffin
Land and of Labrador, must be considered as
specialized types. Franz Boas

♦Thalbitzer, p. 449.

*Boas; compare also ibid., p. 416.

• Thalbitzer, p. 399.

^Boas, p. 403.

» Boas, pp. 461-464.

•Anthropological Papers of the American Mu-
seum of Natural History, Vol. II., Part III., pp.
316-318.

DECEMBER. 1912

THE STORY OF THE BLOND ESKIMOS

With Photographs By Vilhjalmur Steffansson

Vilhjalmur Steffansson, explorer and ethnologist

AFTER four years of travel, with many perils and hard-
ships in the Arctic, Vilhjalmur Steffansson, ethnologist
and explorer, has returned to civilization and announced
the remarkable discovery of a "new people" on the top of the
world. The indefatigable explorer actually lived many months
and became good friends with these newly found Eskimos who had
never before seen a white man. The most startling and note-
worthy feature of this expedition was the finding a tribe of some
2,000 **bIond" Eskimos who showed surprising and unmistakable
traits of Caucasian blood. The finding of these isolated, Euro-
pean-like people in Victoria Land, a large island that juts out into
the Arctic Ocean, hitherto marked "uninhabited" on modern
maps, makes the discovery one of the most surprising and im-
portant of recent times, adding as it does a new chapter to knowl-
edge of the inhabitants of Arctic North America. The coming
upon the mysterious band of "white Eskimos," having blue eyes,
light eyebrows and a few reddish with beards, isolated thousands
of miles from civilization, and living practically in the stone age,
has aroused both popular and scientific interest.

This magazine is able to present an authentic narra-
tive of the main details of this discovery, together with a series
of representative photographs taken by Mr. Steffansson, showing
picturesque groups of these strange "blond" people and some of
their primitive hunting weapons, household utensils, knives,
clothing etc. This Arctic expedition was organized and financed
jointly by the American Museum of Natural History, New York,
and the Geological Survey of the Canadian Government. Asso-

ciated with Mr. SteflFansson was Dr. R. M. Anderson, a biologist.
The party left New York in the summer of 1908, and proceeded
to Herschel Island at the mouth of the Mackenzie River. Here
they expected to pick up supplies, but for the first time in 20 years
ships were unable to penetrate the summer ice to the east of
Point Barrow. As it was impossible to proceed without tea and
other necessities, a sledge journey of several hundred miles had to
be made to Point Barrow to secure food stuffs. The first year
was spent in perfecting equipment and in obtaining supplies for
a protracted stay in an unknown country, probably destitute of
food. In April, 1910, Mr. Steffansson, with three Eskimo com-
panions and dog sledges, started east from Cape Lyon, the most
easterly point known to have been visited by Alaskan Eskimos.
The goal of the expedition was the coast and mainland of Vic-
toria Island, an unknown country and a vast region to the east
supposed to be uninhabited, a "terra incognita," of which science
and the outside world had no knowledge of any existing tribes
or its geology, fauna, or flora.

On the first stages of the journey between Cape Lyon and
Cape Bexley traces were found of ruined villages pointing to a
former occupation by Eskimos and thought to have been aban-

A blond Eskimo—the Caucasian cast of features is apparent

'.BW iliVrl

DECEMBER, 1912

THE STORY OF THE BLOND ESKIMOS

With Photographs By Vilhjalmur Steffansson

Vilhjalmur Steffansson, explorer and ethnologist

AFTER four years of travel, with many perils and hard-
ships in the Arctic, Vilhjalmur Steffansson, ethnologist
and explorer, has returned to civihzation and announced
the remarkable discovery of a "new people" on the top of the
world. The indefatigable explorer actually lived many months
and became good friends with these newly found Eskimos who had
never before seen a white man. The most startling and note-
worthy feature of this expedition was the finding a tribe of some
2,000 **bIond" Eskimos who showed surprising and unmistakable
traits of Caucasian blood. The finding of these isolated, Euro-
pean-hke people in Victoria Land, a large island that juts out into
the Arctic Ocean, hitherto marked "uninhabited" on modern
maps, makes the discovery one of the most surprising and im-
portant of recent times, adding as it does a new chapter to knowl-
edge of the inhabitants of Arctic North America. The coming
upon the mysterious band of "white Eskimos," having blue eyes,
hght eyebrows and a few reddish with beards, isolated thousands
of miles from civilization, and living practically in the stone age,
has aroused both popular and scientific interest.

This magazine is able to present an authentic narra-
tive of the main details of this discover}', together with a series
of representative photographs taken by Mr. Steffansson, showing
picturesque groups of these strange "blond" people and some of
their primitive hunting weapons, household utensils, knives,
clothing etc. This Arctic expedition was organized and financed
jointly by the American Museum of Natural History, New York,
and the Geological Survey of the Canadian Government. Asso-

ciated with Mr. Steffansson was Dr. R. M. Anderson, a biologist.
The party left New York in the summer of 1908, and proceeded
to Herschel Island at the mouth of the Mackenzie River. Here
they expected to pick up supplies, but for the first time in 20 years
ships were unable to penetrate the summer ice to the east of
Point Barrow. As it was impossible to proceed without tea and
other necessities, a sledge journey of several hundred miles had to
be made to Point Barrow to secure food stuffs. The first vcar

was spent in perfecting equipment and in obtaining supplies for
a protracted stay in an unknown country, probably destitute of
food. In April, 1910, Mr. Steffansson, with three Eskimo com-
panions and dog sledges, started east from Cape Lyon, the most
easterly point known to have been visited by Alaskan Eskimos.
The goal of the expedition was the coast and mainland of Vic-
toria Island, an unknown country and a vast region to the east
supposed to be uninhabited, a "terra incognita," of which science
and the outside world had no knowledge of any existing tribes
or its geology, fauna, or flora.

On the first stages of the journey between Cape Lyon and
Cape Bexley traces were found of ruined villages pointing to a
former occupation by Eskimos and thought to have been aban-

A blond Eskimo — the Caucasian cast of features is apparent

* 0

DECEMBER, 1912

they will obtain a few specimens and turn them into a small
woodland about the beginning of spring, spreading grain of some
sort for them daily. The turkeys will stay where the food is
abundant, and where there is a little brush in which to retire and

rest.

Some hunters, or rather some writers, claim that the only
time the wild turkey should be hunted is in the autumn and win-
ter, and not in the spring. I have a different idea altogether,
and claim that the turkey should not be hunted before November,
if then, December being better. By the first of November the
young gobbler weighs from seven to nine pounds, the hens from
four to seven pounds; in December and January the former weighs
twelve pounds and the latter nine pounds. There you are.
But suppose you did not hunt in the spring at all. How many
old, long-bearded gobblers (the joy and dehght above every sort
of game on earth to the turkey hunter) would you bag in a year,
or a lifetime? Possibly in ten years you would get one, unless
by the merest accident, as they are rarely, if ever, found in com-
pany with the hens or young gobblers, but go in small bands by
themselves, and from their exclusive and retiring nature it is a
rare occasion when one is killed except in the gobbling season.

Take away the delight of the gobbling season from the turkey
hunter, and the quest of the wild turkey would lose its fascina-
tion. In so expressing myself, I do not advise that the gobblers
be persecuted and worried all through the gobbling season, from
March to June, but believe they could be hunted for a limited
time, namely, until the hens begin to lay and the gobblers to
lose their fat— say until the first of April. Every old turkey
hunter knows when to stop, and does it without limitation of law.
Old gobblers are in their best condition until about the first of
April, then they begin to lose flesh very rapidly. At this time
hunting them should be abandoned altogether.

In my hunting trips after this bird I have covered most of
the southern States, and have been interested to note that all the
Indians I have met called the turkey " Furkee " or " Firkee";
the tribes I have hunted with include the Choctaws, Chickasaws,
Creeks, Seminoles and the Cherokees, who live east of the Mis-
sissippi river and the Alabams, Conchattas and Zuni of the
west. Whether their name for the bird is a corruption of our
turkey, or whether our bird is a corruption of their " Furkee,"
I am not prepared to state. It may be that we get our name di-
rect from the aboriginal Indians. All of the Indian tribes I have
hunted with have legends concerning the turkey, and to certain
of the Aztec tribes it was an object of worship. An old Zuni
chief once told me a curious legend of his people concerning this
bird, very similar to the story of the flood. It runs:

Ages ago, before man came to live on the earth, all birds,

beasts and fishes lived in harmony as one family, speaking the
same language and subsisting on sweet herbs and grass that grew
in abundance all over the earth. Suddenly one day the sun
ceased to shine, the sky became covered with heavy clouds and
rain began to fall. For a long time this continued and neither
the sun, moon nor stars were seen. After a while the water got so
deep that the birds, animals and fishes had to either swim or fly
in the air, as there was no land to stand on. Those who could
not swim or fly were carried around on the backs of those who
could, and this kept up until almost every living thing was almost
starved. Then all the creatures held a meeting and one from each
kind was selected to go to heaven and ask the Great Spirit to send
back the sun, moon and stars and stop the rain. These journeyed
a long way and at last found a great ladder running into the sky;
they climbed up this ladder and found at the top a trapdoor lead-
ing into heaven, and on passing through the door, which was
open, they saw the dwelling place of the man, and before the door
were a boy and girl playing, and their playthings were the sun,
moon and stars belonging to the earth. As soon as the earth
creatures saw the sun, moon and stars, they rushed for them and,
gathering them into a basket, took the children of man and hurried
back to earth through the trapdoor. In their hurry to get away
from the man whom they saw running after them, the trapdoor
was slammed on the tail of the bear, cutting it off". The blood
spattered over the lynx and trout, and since that time the bear
has had no tail, and the lynx and trout are spotted. The buffalo
fell down and hurt his back and has had a hump on it ever since.
The sun, moon and stars having been put back in their places,
the rain stopped at once and the waters quickly dried up. On
the first appearance of land, the turkey, who had been flying
around all the time, lit, although warned not to do so by the other
creatures. It at once began to sink in the mud, and its tail stuck
to the mud so tight that it could hardly fly up, and when it did
get away the end of its tail was covered with mud and is stained
mud color to this day. The earth now having become dry and the
children of man now lords of the earth, each creature was obliged
to keep out of their way, so the fishes took to the waters using
their tails to swim away from man, the birds took to their wings,
and the animals took to their legs; and by these means the birds,
beasts and fishes have kept out of man's way ever since.

Before dealing with the wild turkeys as they are today it will
be well to make a short study of their prehistoric and historic stand-
ing; this has been ably done for me by Dr. R. W. Shufeldt, of
Washington, D. C, who has very kindly written for this work the
next two chapters entitled " The Turkey Prehistoric," and '' The
Turkey Historic."

{To be continued)

Sunrise above the clouds at Mt. Tamalpais

PECEMBER. 1912

' 1 -••'•••• -ft'
^•' ' ■* -. f >

The itinerary of the Steflansson Arctic Expedition from April, 1910, to AprU, 1911. Victoria Island, ^here^he blond Eskimos were
ine "•'^^^^^^g^^ jg gj^adgd near Coronation Gulf, where the lost race lives upon the ice during the long Arctic winter

Primitive bow and arrow of drift wood with which caribou, almost their sole food supply, are shot. Arrow tipped with copper

-i.'it'TrfT'i'miO'MU"--

©imMtar

ssta>

DECEMBER, 191^

:.<fj

crude implements of the blond Eskimos co^^s^ in the main ^

^'^ surface of the land, f^f^^^f^'^^ \Xn? anf thi little used^is made up of driftwood

doned 50 years ago. The inhabitants of these dwellings had been
engaged in whaling, to judge by the number of whale vertebrae
scattered about. As Steffansson and his companions journeyed
farther east the evidences of a more recent occupation of the
territory became stronger. At Point Wise, was found the first
proof, pieces of wood cut in two and portions carried off doubt-
less as material for sledges and bows. In May, at Cape Bexley
a village of over 40 snow houses, was come upon. 1 hese had
apparently been recently abandoned. After an hour on the sled
trails which were found leading northward, another village was
found with snow houses built out into the middle of the frozen
water of Dolphin and Union Straits. Here, in the distance,
people were seen out sealing on the frozen ice. . , . ^

^ The first encounter of Steffansson with a member of this Ls-
kimo tribe, who had never seen a white man before, is graphi-
cally told by him as follows: "Through neglecting the conven-
tional peace signal of the central Eskimo (extending the arms
horizontally), my Eskimo messenger who preceded me by a lew
hundred yards came near being knifed by the man whom he ap-
proached, who took his attitude (the arms down) for a chal-
Tenge, or rather a posture of attack. After the first Parley. how-
ever, everything was most friendly and we found them kind y,
courteous and generous people. We stayed at this village for
several days and were fed with the best they had, choice parts
of freshly killed seals and huge musk ox horn flagons of steaming
blood soup. There was no prying into our affairs or into our
baggage; no one entered our house unannounced, and when alone
at home the first visitor always approached our house singing so

that we had several minutes warning of his coming. At this time
they had not enough meat to give their dogs more than half rations,
yet ours never wanted a full meal, and our own days were a con-
tinual feast. There were 39 people in this village. Neither they,
nor their forefathers so far as they knew, had ever seen a white
man. or an Eskimo from the west; none of them recognized me
as white, considering me the older brother of one of my Eskimo

assistants. « . . t t

The meeting with this first band of isolated aborigines was

followed in a few days by the most extraordinary find and
climax of the Expedition's work, the important and significant
discovery of the "blond" Eskimos of Victoria Land north from
Cape Bexley. Although this is the first time the coast of this
region has been traversed in winter, it has been four times skirted
bv water, by Dr. Richardson in the twenties and again in the
forties, and Captain Collinson in the fifties of the last century
and by Amundsen in 1905. Amundsen saw little of the land and
reported no inhabitants. Steffansson visited 1 3 groups, numbering
some 2,000 people belonging to this remarkable colony or lost
race" of Caucasian-like Eskimos, made a careful study of their
habits and customs, and obtained many photographs, some ot
which are here reproduced.

Of much ethnological and popular interest is the possible
origin of these strange, uncontamlnated Arctic people completely
isolated from all civilizing influences, preserving unchanged cus-
toms and traditions that are perhaps centuries old. Although it
is much too soon to reach a positive opinion as to their descent.
Mr. Steffansson has brought forward as the most reasonable ex-

T^Jt IM-oastrr.ted

^IP

DECiEMBER, 1912

planation, that the observed admixture of blood is the result of
intermarriage with the early Scandinavian colonists in Green-
land. No more definite conclusion can now be formed.

Mr. Steffansson's own story of the origin of the "new people "
is timely and interesting. He says: "They are markedly dif-
ferent from any American aborigines I have seen; they suggest,
in fact, a group of Scandinavian or North European peasants.
Perhaps better than my characterization of them was that of my
Alaskan Eskimo companion, who has worked for ten or more
years on a whaling vessel: They are not Eskimos, they are fo'-
c'sle men.' Some of them had full chin beards to be described
as light, tending to red; every one had light eyebrows. The
Eskimo physical type varies considerable from Greenland to Si-
beria. It may be that all these variants are due partly to blood
mixture, and that the earlier, purer type was more 'European'
in character than we have been thinking. On the other hand,
there may have been direct admixture of European blood. In
the fifteenth century there disappeared from Greenland the Ice-
landic (Norse-Teutonic) colony in its entirety. This colony had
a bishop of the Church of Rome, two monasteries, a nunnery,
fourteen churches and over three thousand inhabitants, who at
one time sailed their own ships to Norway, to Iceland and to
America. (Leif Ericson was one of these Greenlanders, and to
the general public best known of them all.)

"This colony was in fairly prosperous condition as late as

i'-'-

1412 and we have Catican documents of a later date referring to
if when Hans Egede came there in the seventeenth century he
found only house ruins to tell the story, and no sure trace of
Scandinavianism in the language or blood of the Greenland Eski-
mos Either the colony had been massacred by the Eskimos, had
disappeared through famine or pestilence, or had emigrated ma
body. This last view many scholars have favored from the
first and if they did emigrate they may be represented in part
by the present inhabitants of Victoria Land. The sum of the
evidence secured by our expeditions and the folklore collected by
Knud Rasmussen in Smith Sound, by Prof. Boas m Baffin Land
and the Hudson Bay region, seem to me to point strongly to the
probability that the Norse colony in Greenland was never entirely
exterminated, but that the larger portion of it escaped, and it is
their descendants, mixed with the descendants of the Eskimos of
their time, whom we now find in Victoria Land. We realize
fully that there are several theories that might explain the pre-
sence of 'blond' Eskimos; we merely consider that this is the

most probable one."

The " blond " Eskimos are migratory and build no permanent
houses of any kind; this fact mainly counts for their relative
freedom from contagious and other diseases. They live m snow
houses during the winter and tents during the summer. Their
camp sites are, therefore, hygienic, as they never remain long m
one place but move on before a dwelling can become unsanitary

Man's clothes of caribou skin

Woman's dress. The bags at the side are for clothes

£if"iff?"li^l?'?*'

^^^

SPfe»L ^J^^^i^saflSiBg

?Kft Ilhistra;te4

DECEMBER. 1,912

7 ^^^^^^^H ^^^^B ■ ^^^^L^_

^igfe,

|br*4a

An Eskimo group

The explorer and his dog- team

Parent and child

and before disease germs have a chance to spread. Their food
supply is practically confined to seal in the winter and caribou in
the summer, although in summer they spear a few fish. During

the long winters they camp on the ice, thirty or forty miles off
shore, and live on seals. During the summer they go inland to
hunt caribou, ranging south to Bear Lake and north to the mid-
dle of Victoria Land.

Their clothing is chiefly made of caribou skin and shoes of
sealskin. One of the new and valuable mineral discoveries was
copper in great abundance. This is picked up almost anywhere
by the natives from Victoria Land through the whole Coronation
Gulf district, each family having its favorite place to search and
mine this material for knives and arrows. They possess no
modern fire-arms and their chief hunting weapon is the primitive
bow made of drift wood, strengthened with sinew. Arrows are
tipped with copper in most cases, though some are pointed with
iron, stone or bone. Most of the knives are of copper with bone
handles; a few, however, are made of scraps of iron obtained
through inter-tribal trade. They are successful caribou hunters
and shoot the animals at a range of 40 to 50 yards. Now that in
the interest of science the territory of the "new people" has been
brought to the notice of civilization, one of the important objects
Explorer Steffansson hopes to accomplish, through the co-oper-
ation of the Canadian Government, is the protection of the cari-
bou.

"So long as the Eskimos hunt with bows and arrows there is
no danger of the extermination of the caribou in that region,"
he says; "but if repeating rifles should be introduced the story
would be a continuation of what happened in Alaska — the wanton
killing of this inoflfensive animal for the sake of the skins. I
will argue for the protection of the caribou for the sake of the
preservation of the "blond Eskimos," for it is upon the caribou
that they must depend for their food and raiment. They are in-
dependent, prosperous, hospitable, and well-satisfied with their
environment. The cutting off of their valuable food supply will
be a contributing factor in the decline of the population."

Mr. Steffansson intends to return next Spring to the scenes
of his recent discoveries for the purpose of makmg additional
researches. He will then be equipped for taking a large number
of color photographs of his fair-skinned friends.

As this magazine goes to press corroboration of the discovery
of the "blond Eskimos" is furnished by the arrival at San Fran-
cisco on the whaler Belvedere of Dr. Rudolph Martin Anderson
of Forest City, Pa., Steffansson's partner in the expedition. He
was accompanied by Prof. E. De Koven Leffingwell of Pasadena,
Cal., who has spent three and a half years making observations
in the vicinity of Flaxman Islands and surveying and mapping
about 150 miles of the coast line.

Of the "blond Eskimos," Dr. Anderson says:

"First we came on a deserted snow village and finally an in-
habited village with a population of forty.

"Many of the men had light mustaches and b^^ards and light
hair covered their heads. The eyebrows of these men and their
eyes were light. Some of the women — not all — had fair skins
and rosy cheeks; but their hair was dark, oily and tangled.

"There were none of the flat-nosed Eskimos of the true Mon-
golian type among this people. Their features bore the charac-
teristics of the Caucasian race. They do not know where they
came from and no one else knows.

"They have no records, no history, no legends and their
language, a peculiar tribal dialect, was extremely hard to under-
stand. As to their origin there can be only a guess. They may
be survivors of the expedition of Sir John Franklin lost to the east
of their present locality in 1840 or thereabouts, or they may be
descendants of the inhabitants of an early Icelandic colony.

"Among these people there is no hope, no thought worth
registering, no ideals, no particular purpose in life. For six months
of the year they simply exist, living in snow houses and eating
seal meat. In the summer they move to the mainland and sub-
sist on caribou. They have no religion and no marriage ceremony,
although there is fidelity as a tribal characteristic. Through
other Eskimos they do some trading, but precious little, for their
needs are not great."

•ef^^^^'^&Ci^itL-'-**-

^.V'i- *:'■**

L^^^

L^^

^^>^ri^f:fZtf^2ti.

DECEMBER. V»12

f-<a7^^.

rm-.r

Hfi

^^B^B^^^^^^^^^^^Kp^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^bl ^ v^^^^^^^^l^l

L*^

^wS' ^^^^

An Eskimo group

%4f pSRHmI^ii

The explorer and his dog- team

^ ^\

Parent and child

and before disease germs have a chance to spread. Their food
supply is practically confined to seal in the winter and caribou in
the summer, although in summer they spear a few fish. During

the long winters they camp on the ice, thirty or forty miles off
shore, and Hve on seals. During the summer they go inland to
hunt caribou, ranging south to Bear Lake and north to the mid-
dle of Victoria Land.

"So long as the Eskimos hunt w^ith bows and arrows there is
no danger of the extermination of the caribou in that region,*'
he says; "but if repeating rifles should be introduced the story
would be a continuation of what happened in Alaska — the wanton
killing of this inoffensive animal for the sake of the skins. I
will argue for the protection of the caribou for the sake of the
preservation of the "blond Eskimos," for it is upon the caribou
that they must depend for their food and raiment. They are in-
dependent, prosperous, hospitable, and well-satisfied with their
environment. The cutting off of their valuable food supply will
be a contributing factor in the decline of the population."

Mr. Steffansson intends to return next Spring to the scenes
of his recent discoveries for the purpose of making additional
researches. He will then be equipped for taking a large number
of color photographs of his fair-skinned friends.

Of the "blond Eskimos," Dr. Anderson says;

"First we came on a deserted snow village and finally an in-
habited village with a population of forty.

"Many of the men had light mustaches and beards and light
hair covered their heads. The eyebrows of these men and their
eyes were light. Some of the women — not all — had fair skins
and rosy cheeks; but their hair was dark, oily and tangled.

"Among these people there is no hope, no thought worth
registering, no ideals, no particular purpose in life. For six months
of the year they simply exist, living in snow houses and catinp;
seal meat. In the summer they move to the mainland and sub-
sist on caribou. They have no religion and no marriage ceremony,
although there is fidelity as a tribal characteristic. Through
other Eskimos they do some trading, but precious little, for their
needs are not great."

OCTOBEE 15, 1909]

SCIENCE

535

identical with that of others from Java as to
suggest an ethnic or historical affinity between
theh;^ makers. This close identity between in-
strum^irts of distant countries, discovered
after air^terval of years, bears strong testi-
mony at onte to native skill and to the accu-
racy of the in^hods employed in these studies
and to the compHteice of the students.

To much non-Bi|Topean music the word
primitive is wholly Ink^licable. An immense
development has led ^pHp the isotonic octave.
The choice of seven stepsSte referred by Pro-
fessor Stumpf to mystic idea\of number; but
he also suggests that a diatonikscale, the re-
sult of tuning by a chain of f ourtl^ may have
preceded the Siamese order. If scvti^e Euro-
pean scale, which still approximates Hgich a
tuning, is the less developed of the two. ^¥hat
of eastern Asia is a modification too radftol
to have completed itself in less than ages oK
progress. ^

Besides its frequent high refinement and
artificiality, non-Euroi)ean music has an ar-
tistic rank of which it is hard for us to con^
vince ourselves. Kank to its makers, be .it
added at once; and herein lies the widest les-
son of the whole inquiry. This may hO de-
scribed in a phra|e as the discovery ^ how
great a part is played by the mind jji appre-
hending a work of art; and how liliile of the
veritable creation tcan often be g^tasped by an
alien. Professor Stumpf cites i striking ex-
ample. Since c-^g on our ilistruments is a
major chord and <^g-b a mip^r, the two sound
to us major and m^nor, respi^ctively, on a Siam-
ese xylophone, w|iere thjey are, nevertheless,
identical combinations^ In like manner a
comparison of tpe tjbne-material in phono-
graphic records With the same melodies heard
currently makes p apparent that Europeans
apprehend all mlsic in the diatonic terms
familiar to theijr' ears. From the first employ-
ment of the instrument doubt began to be
thrown on the eai|ier notations by ear which
exhibited exotic iiusic generally as a poor
relation o^ the European family. Psycholog-
ically, the value of these results as a notable
instance of the dependence of sense on fancy
is very great. Asia discipline in liberal cul-
ture compelling us to seek for the standpoint

of other minds, thejy will be invaluably to all
privileged to follows them. It is our/6wn eara
that are oftenest a^ fault when w'e hear in
exotic music only ^ strident mohotony or a
dismal uproar to \e avoided ^imd forgotten.
To most non-Europfeans thei^music is as pas-
sionate and sacred 1|^ oura^to us and among
many it is an equally ^borate and all-per-
vading art. y ,''

The influence of European music becomes
every day more aui^ble in the singing and
playing of non-E|ito|ean peoples. The time
seems not far off w)ian the task of dissecting
out aboriginal 'elements will become imiK>s-
sible. As t^ omai^ent in Queen Ti's tomb
fell to du^ at the ^i^try of the explorer^ so
exotic mji^ic is alrejidy dying on the ears of
its disotSverers. Tht life of the science has
inexqjpiable limits, ana if it is to yield what it
. might, the number oi those who pursue it and
^1^ money at their command must at once be
ffewtly increased. The results of a few years'
/work^Jbj a few studjpnts sufficiently show the
absorbhig interest aild the wide-i'eaching value
of the stif% ; and si^ould bring out both ma-
terial and pd^onal ^d in plenty from lovers
of music, of etliilplo^ and of the humanities.
What men of meaM or of science will offer
their fortunes or th^ba^elves for this impera-
tive labor? BENJlimr Ives Gilman

Mus

tOSTON

♦,^»*^'v'**' •<C » i«». A^

THE RELATIONSHIPS OF THE ESKIMOS OF EAST

GREENLAND

Dr. W. Thalbitzer describes in the " Med-
delelser om Gr0nland,'' Vol. XXVm., the
Amdrup collection from east Greenland,
which comprises objects found between the
sixty-eighth and seventy-fifth degrees of north
latitude. The publication is of great inter-
est, because it brings out conclusively the
close relationship between the culture of the
northeast coast of Greenland and that of EUes-
mere Land, northern Baffin Land and the
northwestern part of Hudson Bay. The simi-
larities are so far-reaching that I do not hesi-
tate to express the opinion that the line of
migration and cultural connection between
northeast Greenland and the more southwest-

536

SCIENCE

[N. S. Vol. XXX. No. 772

eily regions must have followed tke shores of
Ellesmere Land, the northern coast of Green-
land, and then southward along the east
coast. One of most suggestive types found in
Dr. Thalbitzer's publication is the needle-
case figured on page 421. I have called atten-
tion to the distribution of this type of needle-
case in my paper on the "Eskimo of Baffin
Land and Hudson Bay,'" and in a discussion
of the decorative designs of Alaskan needle-
cases.' The specimens described in these two
publications are from Frozen Strait in Hud-
son Bay, Ponds Bay and Smith Sound. Later
on I published another needle-case of the same
type from Eawlings Bay in Ellesmere Land.
Among these specimens only those from
Ponds Bay and Smith Sound are f oimd in
actual use, while the others were collected
from ancient house-sites. Two similar speci-
mens are figured by Dr. Thalbitzer (p. 527).
These were found in the region of northwest-
ern Greenland, that is, near the island of
Disco. It is important to note that the orna-
mentation on the large specimen here figured
is identical with the alternating spur decora-
tion which was discussed by Stolpe in his
studies of American ornament, and by myself
in the discussion of Alaskan needle-cases be-
fore referred to. The same ornament occurs
in the ornamentation of a comb shown on
page 472 of Dr. Thalbitzer's publication.

Among the other specimens, sealing-stools
(pp. 430, 431) seem to be particularly impor-
tant. They are very similar in form to a
specimen found by Peary in Grinnell Land.'
The ice-scraper of bone figured on page 438
must be compared with the set of implements
shown on page 409, "Eskimo of Baffin Land
and Hudson Bay.'' Even the perforation for
suspending the scraper agrees with those of
specimens from Southampton Island. There
seems to me little doubt that the hammer-like
implement illustrated on page 442 of Dr.
Thalbitzer's publication is a blubber-pounder

^Bulletin American Museum of 'Natural His-
tory, Vol. XV., part 2, p. 433.

^Proceedings of the U. 8, National Museum,
Vol. XXXIV., p. 326.

*" Eskimo of Baffin Land and Hudson Bay,"
p. 463.

similar to those made of musk-ox horn illus-
trated on page 402 of my paper on the " Es-
kimo of Baffin Land." The bone heads of
adzes* agree fairly well with those shown on
page 381.* The decoration on the handles of
the bodkins'^ may perhaps be compared to the
handles of the wick-trimmers from Melville
Peninsula.*

All these types which show close correspond-
ence in form are so much specialized that
they must be considered as evidence of old
contact or of sameness of origin. So far as I
am aware, none of these types have been found
in the region between Disco and Cape Fare-
well, nor do they occur in Angmagsalik. K
this is true, the conclusion seems unavoidable
that the Eskimos reached the northeast coast
of Greenland by way of the north coast.

C. Ryder has called attention to the similar-
ity of some of the east Greenland types to
those from Alaska, and Thalbitzer again calls
attention to the similarity of the harpoon-
shafts to those of Point Barrow (p. 444). I
have called attention to several other similari-
ties of this kind, particularly the alternating
spur decoration, to which Thalbitzer also re-
fers (p. 472), and the forms of several speci-
mens.* Similarities between the Ponds Bay
region and the western regions have also
been pointed out by Dr. Wissler in his de-
scription of a collection made by Capt.
Mutch at my instance in that region.' The
distribution of types suggests very strongly
that a line of migration or of cultural
contact may have extended from the Mac-
kenzie region northeastward over the Arctic
Archipelago to north Greenland, passing
over the most northerly part of Baffin
Land, and that the culture of southwestern
Greenland, and that of southeastern Bafiin
Land and of Labrador, must be considered as
specialized types. Franz Boas

* Thalbitzer, p. 449.

"Boas; compare also ibid,, p. 416.

• Thalbitzer, p. 399.
^Boas, p. 403.

■ Boas, pp. 461-464.

•Anthropological Papers of the American Mu-
seum of Natural History, Vol. II., Part III., pp.
316-318.

^ey\Vv.^V% 'Vv-^r^ ^^-^* ^^'^

THE FIELD OF ART

MURAL DECORA TION IN THE AMERICAN
MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY

1^ CIENCE has once more accepted the ser-
^^ ^/ices of Art as collaborator, — and a new,
^^^ and very extensive, field is thrown open to
the enterprise of the mural painters. How ex-
tensive may be inferred from the recent depar-
ture of the Natural History Museum in Central
Park West in mounting on three of its walls in
the great Esquimo Hall on the ground floor a
long painted frieze devoted to the Frozen
North. The length of the walls in halls and
corridors in this Museum building is very
great, as hundreds of weary sightseers have
discovered, — it is proposed, we believe, to ex-
tend this building over the whole area of the
little park, from Seventy-seventh to Eighty-
first Streets, and from Eighth Avenue to
Ninth. Since a beginning has been made, it
is perhaps permissible to look forward to the
ultimate decoration by skilful painters of all
the walls of this ultimate building, and conse-
quently of all these great scientific museums!
The museums of art are much less adaptable
for mural paintings, as conflicting in many
Vol. XLV.— 28

cases with the exhibits themselves, but the mis-
sion given this Arctic frieze of Mr. Frank Wil-
bert Stokes is to demonstrate the possibility
of supplementing the material objects exhibi-
ted by a sort of painted synthesis or compre-
hensive presentation on the walls.

In this mission it may be said to succeed, —
the visitor, entering this large rectangular hall,
takes cognizance of the particular aspect of
man's relations with Nature here illustrated,
and immediately afterward perceives these in-
cidents repeated on the wall but fitted into the
cosmos. Consequently, he contemplates the
sled, or the harpoon, with a clearer vision.
The painter was fortunate in this, for the usual
justification of a mural decoration — that it
completes the color harmony of the interior —
was quite denied him in this Polar omnium
gatherum. His difficulties were further in-
creased by the whiteness of the walls left un-
decorated and of the ceiling, but hopes are en-
tertained that this may be moderated while
attending the final covering of the walls with
the paintings.

The general harmony of a picture, as a

253

t'opyri^/tt np8 f>y Frattk ll'ilbert Stokes.

whole, may be fairly judged by its first effect
on an intelligent eye, or by turning it upside
down — as Turner was content to have one of
his remain when so placed by a blundering
hanging committee. From the central entrance
of the hall the visitor perceives immediately in
front of him on the opposite wall, beyond the
multitudinous exhibits in cases and otherwise,
a great burst of luminous color, a sunrise, in
the centre of a long Arctic landscape, and then
two great visionary figures drifting through
this sunrise. This is the painter's Esquimo
mythology, to which the scientific mind was at
first inclined to demur as /<?(7much of an innova-
tion, but to which it speedily became reconciled.
As the province of a museum is to instruct, the
usual objection to a picture which requires an
explanation falls to the ground, and the printed
circular provided by the authorities is very ac-
ceptable. From it we learn a new scheme of
heaven and earth, or, at least, new to most of
us.

It seems that the benighted hyperboreans
accept the personification of the sun as female
and of the moon as male, in what is known as
the Sedna myth, or cycle, by ethnologists, Sed-
na being one of the names of a goddess or
nymph personifying the sun. She is also, in
this myth, a young girl wooed and won by a
fulmar gull who takes her to his igloo, or hut,

254

to live. Mr. Stokes has pre-
sented the particular form of
this myth most familiar to
him, that of the Esquimos
from Alaska to Labrador
and Baffin Land, — he having
been a member of the Peary
Relief Expedition in 1892, and of the Peary
North Greenland Expedition, 1893-94, as well
as of Dr. Otto Nordenskjold's Antarctic Ex-
pedition, 1901-02. In this version, the moon
is forever in love with his sister, the sun,
and chases her through the heavens, each
carrying a lamp, she attended by light, sum-
mer and plenty, and he, by the long Arctic
night. As Mr. Stokes has represented her, she
is in the Esquimo summer costume, uncovered
to the waist, and followed by a great flight of
birds, two fulmar gulls flying before her; be-
low, the little Arctic puffins range themselves
in military ranks on the ice-floe, and two harbor
seals lift their heads and cry to her, the "Mother
of the Seals.'' She is a part of the cumulus, or
summer-cloud which may be seen around her
head, while her pursuer is the advance of the
great night-cloud sweeping backward from his
head. He is in full winter costume of furs and
attended by his dogs and sledge; the lamps or
torches of both are parhelia or sun dogs, which
appear generally at sunrise and sunset, and
beyond them are the reds and gold of the mid-
night sun, just seen on the sea horizon. His
name is Ahn-ing-ah-neh, and hers, Suk-eh-
nuk; when he finally overtakes her and clasps
her in his embrace it is the end of the world.

This great central group appears in the cen-
tre of the north wall, over and on each side of a

i!t4

•■ . \

\ . *»*• '-_

4 '^

.•^-f* ■w- '•••

*> ^

square topf>ed doorway lead-
ing into a corridor, — as shown
in the illustrations on this and
the preceeding page — and the
theme is carried on each side
to the end of the wall and
round on the east and west
walls for the space of three panels at present.
The painter feels that to present it properly,
the whole length of these side walls will not
be too much. Immediately behind the hunter
moon comes the two-months-long glowing twi-
light of the approach of winter, gradually dark-
ening to the end; and before the fleeing maid,
that of the coming summer, of the same length.
The two seasons which divide the year are
represented by the changing landscape and by
the appropriate episodes of human life. The
dividing line is the gap between the two central
promontories in which appears the glow of the
midnight sun, "untruthful," says the artist,
"only in its lack of the brilliant intensity of
nature." This we may believe, considering
that such phenomena are practically unpaint-
able, and that he was further handicapped by
his surroundings and by the glaring white
placard which the Museum occasionally hangs
in the doorway, immediately below the paint-
ing. To the left of Suk-eh-nuk appears the
gradual lightening over land and sea which at-
tends her re-appearance after the long night,
one of the many color effects of this twilight;
near the end of the wall, to the left, we are
shown in the distance an iceberg, and beyond
it a glacier with a typical bell-shaped rock
called nunatak, "land rising above the ice."
In the foreground, an Innuit is stalking two

ring seals which are basking in the sun, crawl-
ing slowly toward them, lance in hand, over
the ice-floes, stopping when they look around,
whisding softly, until he gets within striking
distance. (See illustration on page 253.) To
aid in preserving the unity of the long com-
position, the sea line is maintained at the same
level on all three walls, rounding at the south-
em extremities for terminals. On the west
wall, continuing the summer, and brilliant in
color, the first panel gives in the foreground
an Innuit hunter stalking a little group of rein-
deer, the nearest of which is white, and great
bunches of blue and purple Arctic flowers grow
in the recesses of the rocks below him. In the
central panel, the largest, the Heart of Sum-
mer, another hunter, in his canoe, spears a
narwhal; and in the third is seen in the rocky
foreground a summer village at Cape York,
Melville Bay. For all these details the painter
can cite chapter and verse, showing his cos-
tumes and weapons, his sketches made on
the spot, and full of light and color.

In the winter twilight, behind Ahn-ing-ah-
neh, we see in the foreground a bear hunt, the
great white beast at bay with an arrow in his
shoulder, and surrounded by the dogs while
the hunter watches for his opportunity to
finish him with a lance thrust. (See illustra-
tion on page 256. On the east wall, con-

255

Lopyri^ht JQOe oy J- rani- U'iihert Stokes.

tinuing, the mountains catch the last rays of
the sun; in the foreground of the first panel
the hunter's family turn out of their snow
igloo, the winter habitation, to welcome his
return with his spoils; in the central, the Night,
we find him boldly attacking the walrus on
the sea-ice; in the third, he brings the wel-
come supply of walrus meat on his sled to
the little white igloo village. This myth of
the pursuit of the sister by the brother, we are
told, is not only an allegory of the great Arc-
tic Day and Night, but also of man's cease-
less search after the unattainable, — which may
tend to enlarge our ideas concerning the Es-
quimo mind.

All this material was accumulated by the
painter only by constant observation and un-
tiring industry, under the usual unfavorable
circumstances of Arctic life, while his palette
thumb scorched in the summer sunshine and
his palette fingers froze in the shadow under-
neath. In his studio at Bowdoin Bay, 77° 44'
N., he worked for fourteen months, accom-
modating himself to the primitive conditions of
Esquimo life.

As it is not possible with pigments adequately
to represent the utmost splendor of light and
color, such as blazes in the Polar skies and
glows in the Polar, translucent ice, the most
that can be justly lequired of the painter is that
he suggest these unutterable things, and to this

credit Mr. Stokes is quite entitled For his
trying task he, fortunately, had had sound
training, — under Thomas Eakins in the Phila-
delphia Academy of the Fine Arts; under
Gerome in the Ecole des Beaux- Arts, at Cola
Rossi's under Raphael Collin, and at Julien's
under Boulanger and Lefebvre. During his
residence at Paris he exhibited at the Salons
for several years; he joined the Peary Relief
Expedition as artist for the house of Charles
Scribner's Sons, and was the official artist of
the Peary North Greenland Expedition. That
strong craving to return to the North, which
seems to take possession of all Arctic explorers
in time, having visited him on his return, he
sought to obtain means to fit out an expedition
of his own, and, failing in this, funds were
secured for this mural decoration through the
generosity of Mr. Arthur Curtis James, with
the hearty corporation of the late President
of the Museum, Mr. Morris K. Jesup, and
that of the Director, Mr. H. C. Bumpus,
the Museum furnishing the canvas and the
stretchers.

In his list of honors is recorded a member-
ship in the Anthropological Society, in the
Academy of Natural Sciences of Philadelphia,
the Geographical Society of Philadelphia, the
Geographical Society of Paris, the Arctic Club,
and the silver medal, the prix Alphonse de
Montherot. William Walton.

256

^^^ mooney: the Greenland Eskimo

long as broad; the furrow margin is about equal to the edge adjoining
the 4rst adambulacral; the furrow series consists of seveft^hort blunt
spines, stouter than those on the adambulacraW of #& the inner-
most is bro^d, flat, and trapezoidal; justbjsbitfcrthe two terminal spines
in this series we two large tubeixls&j^ remaining portion of thesur-
tXr*". ^ n^ot»Jb Platesi^i*^^ about 18 spaced polygonal
soSatkf^>^^ *^' ^'^'"'^^ intermediate plates^ut
The colop^rfalcohol is\4nte.

2-iI^^^fM^^- ^^^lirf^L^- ^■' ^'•^"^ "Albatross" Station
^sy^fijulf of Mexico, in 347 fathdms.

ANTHROPOLOGY.— Tfee Greenland Eskimo: Pastor Frederik-
sen's researches. James Mooney, Bureau of American
Ethnology.

The great Arctic island of Greenland is held by Denmark
having been first colonized by the Norse about the year lOOo'
and re-occupied from Denmark in 1721, the first colony having
become extinct long before, possibly through inroads of the
Eskimo. Since the second occupation Lutheran and Moravian
missionaries, under the auspices of the home government, have
labored with such devotion and success among the aborigines
that of approximately 10,000 Eskimo of pure or mixed blood all
but a few hundreds along the most remote coasts are civilized
Christianized, self-supporting, and able to read and write iri
their own language, while hving on the best of terms with the
handful of colonists. So carefully has the Danish government
safeguarded their inter.ests that famine, intemperance, and foul
diseases which are so rapidly destroying the race in Alaska and
British America are virtually unknown in Greenland, as well as
wars and rumors of wars with their white neighbors. Since 1861,
with a few breaks, there has been published at Godthaab
(Ntingme) on the west coast, a small monthly journal, the
Atuagagdliutit or "Reading Miscellany," entirely in the Eskimo
language, which for press-work, illustrations, and Hterary con-
tent IS fairly equal to anything of the same size in this country
Another mission monthly journal, the Avangnamiok, is pub- '
hshed under the supervision of Rev. V. C. Frederiksen, resident
missionary at Holstensborg, one of the northernmost outposts of

CLARK: EXTENDED RANGE OF GENUS LYDIASTER

143

alternating rows of seven or eight each, becoming less numerous dis-
taily; the granular area is confined to the median portion of the plate
though in the interbrachial arc it may reach the proximal border'- in the
interbraohial arc nearly all the superomarginals bear near thefr actinal
border a yery small deeply sunken spatulate pedicellaria;.a narrow
border of fattened squarish granules surrounds each superomarginal.

1 he inferomarginals are essentially similar to the superomarginal •
viewed actinally they are seen to decrease in size from the center of the
interbrachial arc to the arm bases, thence much more gradually to the
armtips; in the interbrachial arc in lateral view the inferomarginals
are only half as high as the superomarginals (2.5 mm.), but they rapidlv
increase m height so that on the outer half of the arm the plates of the
two series are nearly equal. The inner portion of the inferomarginals is
everywhere horizontal, and the inner border is everywhere convex A
border of small squarish granules similar to that on the superomarginals
IS found on the mfercwnarginals, and the same granular ornamentation
occurs on their surface, though the granules are rather more numerous
in the interbrachial arc the inferomarginals usually carry small exca-
vate spatulate pedicellariae just within the upper border, and one or
two additional on the ventral (actinal) surface; pedicellariae of both
series occur irregularly to the terminal portion of the arms

The actmal intermediate areas are extensive; the row of actinal
intermediate plates adjacent to the adambulacrals, which extends to the
sixteenth superomarginal (the distal third of the arm), is regular and the
next row IS regular to the arm bases; a partial third row may be traced,
but withm the triangular area between this and the inferomarginals the
plates, which decrease in size, tend to become arranged in columns
perpendicular to the inferomarginq,ls.

In the center of each of the actinal intermediate plates is a large
pedicellaria which resembles those on the adambulacrals, and is more
or less proportionate in size to the plate; on the larger plates this is
surrounded by several large rounded tubercles, beyond which are the
lower tubercles forming the bordering series of the plates; on the smaller
plates only the latter occur.

The adambulacral plates are oblong, from one-third to one-half
again as broad as long, with a very slightly curved furrow margin which
IS not quite parallel to the groove, the proximal end being slightly more
distant. The furrow series consists of five stout subequal truncated
spines, mostly rounded-quadrate in section, the most proximal of which
IS so situated that it overlaps the most distal of the preceding series.
Behind the furrow spines is a series of three or four tubercles, the most

K;ll'"Pi ^ ^*^^^.^'?^'*,' ^""i ^^^^'^^ ^^^'^ ^ l«ng' lo^. Hippasteria-
like b valved pedicellaria placed somewhat diagonally with its distal end

slightly nearer the mid-radial line. Beyond the pedicellaria is a series
TmlTZ ".' K T f i^'^^rf les,. and beyond these a series of several
smaller tubercles which, with similar tubercles, at right angles to the
two ends of this series, delimit the borders of the plate

The mouth plates are triangular and inconspicuous, about twice as

mooney: the Greenland Eskimo

145

cm ization and well within the Arctic circle. Between pastoral
visits and sick calls in an open skin kayak, or by dog sledge
rom one to another of the small native settlements scattered for
three hundred miles along the dangerous west coast, this de-
voted missionary-whose only white companions are his wife
and two children and a couple of assistants-has found time to
give to his charges in their own language a volume of church
hymns a brief history of Greenland, and several literary trans-
lations, besides making some important archeologic explorations
In a paper upon "Eskimo Migrations," published originally
in the native language in Atuagagdliutit, Mr. Frederiksen arrives
at the conclusion, from linguistic, geographic, and archeologic
evidence, that the Eskimo tribes reached Greenland from an
original nucleus body in the extreme west. He believes that they
traveled southward around the coast to the east, the Eskimo of
the East Greenland coast representing the oldest migration, and
decreasing in number toward the north by reason of the scarcity
of game and of building material. The houses also dwindle in
size as we proceed northward along the east coast. The Norse
occupation about the year 1000 made a wedge of separation be-
tween the Eskimo of the east and west coasts for several cen-
turies, but with the extinction of the Norse colony about 1490,
probably from attack and final absorption by the natives, some
of the eastern bands again moved down toward the south. Of
those who remained behind, the most northerly, beyond Angmag-
salik, finally became extinct by starvation through the gradual
diminution of the whale and seal, while the more southern
tribes were saved from the same fate only by the kindly care
of the later Danish colonists. The Eskimo of South Greenland
have probably a considerable strain of the old Norse blood,
which may help to account for their superior capacity for
civilization.

The prevailing early house type of the South Greenland
Eskimo, on both the east and west coast, as shown by the ruins,
was rectangular, but about Sukkertoppen and Holstensborg, 65°
to 68° N., Mr. Frederiksen has discovered numerous remains
of semi-subterranean houses of circular form, always in groups.

146

michelson: an archeological note

sometimes of twenty together, resembling those about Cape York
in North Greenland and about the mouth of the Mackenzie and
westward. These round houses he considers to represent a later
migration or period; in fact, in one instance he found the
ruins of the round house within the remains of a larger rect-
angular house. The stone lamps found in these round houses
have always a partition wall, as among some of the far west-
ern Eskimo, to separate the oil from the blubber. Other objects
found, obtained from whaling ships, would indicate a period
not earlier than 1700. The modern Greenland house type is
also rectangular, except in the extreme north. In the same
neighborhood he found also the remains of a great circular struc-
ture, of the type of the assembly house of the Alaskan Eskimo.

ANTHROPOLOGY.— An archeological note. Truman Michel-
son, Bureau of American Ethnology.

Squitir and Davis in their Ancient Monuments of the Mississippi
Valley, pages 249, 250, discuss a gray sandstone pipe now depos-
ited in the museum of the Historical Society of New York. They
show quite clearly that this is the original of the drawing by
Choris in his Voyage Pittoresque; and they demonstrate that there
must be some mistake as to the provenience of this pipe, for there
are no ancient tumuli in Connecticut. The purpose of this note
is to elucidate this last point. I call attention to the fact that
the Sauk pipe shown in the plate at the end of volume 2 of Bel-
trami's Pilgrimage belongs to the same culture as the one shown
in figure 149, page 249, in the work of Squier and Davis. I have
seen a photograph of the original of the latter, and it is far closer
to the Sauk pipe than the drawing indicates. If the drawing of
Beltrami is no closer to the original than is that of Squier and
Davis to its original, it is possible that the originals of both are
the same. Even if they are not the same, I think the above will
have made clear that the provenience of the pipe shown in the
work of Squier and Davis must be the upper Mississippi region,
near the Rock river, where the Sauk had their principal encamp-
ment when Beltrami visited their country, viz., 1823.

INVESTIGATIONS IN ALASKA

Alaska, like Greece, had its golden age, when the
people attained the high point of their culture and then
dropped to a less admirable level. Evidence of this
prehistoric golden age in the Arctic has been brought
back to the Smithsonian Institution by Henry B. Col-
lins, Jr., who conducted an expedition to St. Lawrence
Island this summer for the Smithsonian and for the
American Association for the Advancement of Science.
On the narrow strip of land called St. Lawrence
Island, Mr. Collins found a remarkable mound about 20
feet high and large enough to be the site of a compact
village. The mound was composed of trash, the refuse
and sweepings from an entire village over a period of
many centuries. Animal bones and broken tools, bits
of ivory and whalebone, pieces of wood carved in fan-
tastic design, all were mixed in with a binding of earth
and permanently hard and frozen from the cold climate.
The most surprising moment in the digging came
when the frozen bodies of some of the oldest inhabitants
were discovered encased in ice. Six children had teen
buried there in the side of the mound, each one dressed
carefully in his fur and feather garments. The place
where they lay happened to become filled with water
which froze, thus preserving the bodies through so many
centuries. This is the only time that human bodies have
been found in such condition, Mr. Collins states.

Euins of houses made of driftwood and whalebone
were in the top layer of the great mound, Mr. Collins
said, in describing his excavation of the site. Digging
to the bottom of the mound, he found the ruins of the
homes of the oldest inhabitants. To reach the most
deeply buried deposit, where the oldest layer of ruins
lay, Mr. Collins had to dig six feet below the reach of
the ptorm tides. In other words, he explains, the land
has sunk since those houses were built on the beach, and
this in itself indicates the passage of considerable time.
This oldest layer of houses dates back to pre-Eussian
days, the ethnologist declares. They are surely 300
years old, and more likely are nearer to being eight
centuries old. The village is the most extensive Eskimo
settlement ever excavated.

Many harpoons and other tools and weapons were
brought back to the Smithsonian collection. Objects
displaying the finest art in carving and design were taken
from the lowest and oldest level of the mound. These
were made in the days of the highest Eskimo culture.
The precision of the lines and the fine designs used in-
dicate that these inhabitants were far more clever with
their hands and had a keener sense of beauty than any
of their descendants in the Arctic. Whether they were
some of the ''first Americans," some pioneer Asiatics
who brought knowledge and skill to the new world, can
not yet be stated, Mr. Collins says. But it is certain
that the Eskimos of historic times have lost a heritage
of^finer things, as the simpler carvings in the top layers
of the mound show.

Present-day Eskimos, possibly direct descendants of
the artists, came to the island and helped the scientist
excavate. In some cases they were able to enlighten
him as to the use of the peculiar articles discovered in
the deserted village.

NOTES AND NEWS 597

Society of New South Wales last year,' although the names of %e sec-
tions composing the groups at^^en^ly different.

For the particulars from wl>r?r^-have prepared the tables given in

this article, I am indebted chiefly to Mr R. H. Shadfoi:th.

R. H. Mathews.

Sinew-working at Point Barrow— Sinew is used by Eskimo
men and women of Point Barrow, Alaska, for making all sorts of
thread, string, and heavy lines. It is taken from the neck, back, and
shoulder-blades, as well as from the legs of the deer, then cleaned
and soaked in water. When in straits, the Eskimo will use any
sinew he can get. In summer time the back sinew is dried on a board
until it falls off ; in winter it is soaked and put on a block of ice to dry.
That dried on the board is the better. The leg sinew is not spread on
a board, but is merely hung up and dried for future occasion.

The back sinew is used for sewing, needle- work, etc. The women
shred it as needed, stripping off a filament, drawing the end through
the mouth, rolling it on the cheek or on the thigh, after the manner of a
shoemaker with his waxed end, threading the needle with it.

The leg sinew is used for a great many purposes ; it is first pounded
and then shredded into the finest fiber and tied in bunches or hanks.
It is plaited in the form of sennit for sewing together the skins that
form the boat, and for sewing soles on boots. It is used also for
cording watertight seams. They plait it into round sennit like a whip-
lash, sometimes as much as eight- or sixteen-ply. A short piece plaited
and rove through the hole in the harpoon head forms a four-ply line ;
then they form a loop, braiding all the eight strands together and mak-
ing a line often many fathoms long by adding more filaments. For
sewing water-proof clothing they use two-ply sinew thread, in making
which the woman uses no other implement than her fingers. After
twisting and laying up a few feet, she forms a ball which operates as a
fly-wheel to twist the rest until she has a ball as large as her head.
This twine is used for making fish-nets. Their nets originally came
from the Hudson Bay Company. Charles Brower.

A Sokotra Expedition— In the Bulletin of the Liverpool Mu-
seums there has recently appeared a teport of a biological and geo-
graphical expedition to the Isl^id o^kotra (in 12° north latitude and
54° east longitude), 600 miles ^ji^theastward from Aden, under the
joint auspices of the British Mrfse^i and the Liverpool Museums. It
was found that the true Sok(>terians ai^nly poorly civilized Mohamme-
dans, living in caves or rilde cyclopean huts, and possessing but few

» Journal of the Royal Society of New South Wales, vol. xxxii, p. 73.

856

, , THE AMERICAN

1 898, ^vmi>442-150.— Watson (A.)
Sciopodes. kWqu^rv & Illiistr.
Archseol.. Lond., 18?5S>Hi,.^).--
"Weber. Ueberdie Bedeutung
J)egeneration8zeichen. Allg. ZtscJ
f. Psychiat., [etc.], Berl^J^iW^*^lv,
164. — W'eingart^^^.^J^Kr^Spiritisten
vor deiix.,JkrfT3gerjcht Dresden.
h^;a— Wllku. — Kllld^H-

aNthropologIst [Vol. Xl

iiiuiinrjti Diutui'voilien
wart und Vergangeiiiidt^ Globus,
Brnschwg., l^ii^rlxxiv, 211-213.—
Worce^^Se^fl). C.) Notes on some

ive Philippine tribes. Nat.

Mag., Wash., 1898, ix, 284-
301.— 2trt?«i€a4;glli (A.) L'antro-

pologia neiravvetrrm^aitopreyfiis-
Zola. Anomalo, NapoUT^BOQ^j^i ,
■ 1Q9"141.

Were the Ancient Eskimo Artists? — Having previously
expressed the opinion that, before the coming of the white man,
the Eskimo did not etch to any extent upon bone, antler, horn,
wood, or ivory, I have lately had this opinion confirmed by ex-
amination of a large collection of ancient relics from the island
of Attn, which is the farthest west of the Aleutian chain. It
does not need more than a superficial glance to convince the
student that the artistic expression of the Eskimo, in the line of
etching, is exactly parallel to the extent to which he has come
in contact with white men ; first, with the sailor and the whaler,
with their rude and often clever scrimshaw work, and, finally,
the Russian and American jewelers with their exquisite tools.

The people of Attu are Aleutian islanders, and the women are
extremely expert in the manufacture of all sorts of fine needle
work and basketry.

The men do not lack talent, because, after the Russian occu-
pancy, their later forms of ivory tools and weapons are exqui-
sitely made and decorated ; but on the old objects taken from
the graves by Lucian Turner, covering quite a large variety of
functions, especially of weapons, there is not a dot, circle, or any
other conventional etching, or any attempt to carve the figure of
a man or beast. The effort, therefore, to derive the Eskimo from
an artistic people on the eastern hemisphere, on account of their
later performances, is made at great hazard.

O. T. Mason.

Eskimo alongside ship

Pi.ovr":H Bav. Sibkhia

/ 48 Joc^e-.l-jij

TRAVEL

FIVE THOUSAND MILES THROUGH ARCTIC WATERS

The Annual Cruise of the Northland — Fighting the Ice in the Bering Sea —

How America Aids the Alaskan Eskimo

By Robert Frothingham

Photographs by the Author

FULLY equipped for her multifarious responsibilities a3
judge, jury, policeman, jail, physician, suigeon, dentist,
pharmacist, hospital, li f e-saver, mail-carrier, expressman,
freighter, weather-prophet, charterer of unknown reefs, ice-
breaker, statistician and sup-
plies-provider, as well as
hunter of lost whaling ships,
bootleggers, over-due ex-
plorers and scientists and
fugitives from justice, the
U. S. Coastguard cutter
Northland leaves San Fran-
cisco the first week in May
on her annual six months'
cruise in the Arctic and the
Bering Seas, Captain E. D.
Jones commanding with a
crew of ninety-three men.
The Northland has been su-
perbly equipped for her par-
ticular task. A single-screw
vessel, built especially for
Arctic service at Newport
News, Virginia, in 1927, she
has as wide a cruising radius
as any vessel afloat: 17,000
miles. Two Diesel electro-
drive engines and three
auxiliary engines take care
of all mechanical activities
above and below decks. A
welded and riveted steel
plate one and one-quarter
inches thick extends com-
pletely around the hull, three
feet above and six feet be-
low the water line for pro-
tection in the ice. Her bow,
which is cut away below the
water line, permits her to
ride upon an ice-floe and

This amuict is used
by St. Lawrence
Islanders to ward
off evil spirits.
Amulets are often
placed on a staff
and stuck in the
ground near places
where children are
at play.

break it down with her weight if it resists the iinpact of her
reinforced stem. Three inches of cork insulation line the living
quarters of officers and men as a protection from the Arctic cold.
Include a modern hospital and a dental hospital equipped with

X-ray service, and three sets
of radio of high and low
frequency, with four guns
mounted fore and aft on
both sides of the ship, and it
may be said that the North-
land is in a class by herself
without reference to any
other vessel either in the
Coastguard or the Navy.
The Northland is the succes-
sor to the Bear, a veteran
oak-ribbed vessel retired
after forty years of service
in Alaskan waters.

Reaching Seattle on May
ninth, the Northland took
on the usual winter's accu-
mulation of mail for Nome,
consisting of nearly seven
hundred bags, and points
north. Here the writer
boarded her for ninety days'
experience diflferent from
anything he had ever known,
after twenty-five years of
travel, including a year's
holiday encircling the globe.
Our immediate destination
being the harbor of Una-
laska on Unalaska Island, in
the Aleutians, where we
were to lie until the Nome
roadstead was clear of ice,
Captain Jones decided that
the Inside Passage was as
desirable a route as any to

'^«U.^

RETURNING TO KING ISLAND

The tiny settlement of the King Islanders clings to the rocky face of the bleak
and inhospitable cliff toward which this oomiak is bound. There are less than
two hundred King Islanders but they are among the most interesting and
intelligent tribes in Alaska. In their frail oomiaks they make the annual trip

of ninety miles in the open sea to Nome.

When he invokes
the good will of the
spirits the shaman
of the Point Hope
Eskimos uses a
crudely carved
death mask. These
masks are often
hung over graves to
ward off evil.

m\\

TRAVEL

Jvockics we were obliged to ship by train-
Jfcrry ninety miles from Kevelstoke to
(ioUlcn. This was an easy job, however,
'and the scenery along the railway contin-
ued magnificent. At Golden we drove
for twelve miles over perhaps the nar-
rowest, highest, most dangerous l)it of
grade on the entire trip. It w\'is soon
over, but while it lasted we got cjuite a
thrill. We found Emerald Lake en-
chanting, with its nestling little group of
chak'ts, and stayed there some days
trami)ing over the trails and enjoying
that vast wonderland of the Yoho, Fiekk
and the Takakkaw district. Once along
the trail we encountered two bears with
their young, and also a magnificent
mountain sheep. ^

The roadways through the high Rock-
ies we found in excellent shape. At
I'antT Si)rings a brisk game of tennis, a
Avaltz, and a delightful plunge added to
the zest of the journey.

On, then, from the eastern edge of the
j^^ockies into Calgary during the Stam-
p.ede, or rodeo, which was in itself an
adxenture. Pendleton, Oregon, ranks
the rest of the United States in the mat-
ter of rodeos, but Calgary's, I think, is
even better than that. It is a real show ;
a genuine bit of the Old West come to
life — and a ])hase of the West that is
(lying far too fast.

Crossing the open prairies in stormy
v.eather was all that it had been cracked
lip to be. It would have been more com-
fortable to have cut far south to the
Yellowstone Trail in the United States,
hut we wanted to prove to some particu-

Courtesy Canadian Pacific Railways

EMERALD LAKE IN BRITISH COLUMBIA

Emerald Lake is one of the many beauty spots in Yoho National Park, one of the majestic mountain
play-rounds of the Canadian Rockies. At Yoho, Banff and Kootenay National Parks there are
panoramas of mountain scenery that are as magnificent as anything to be seen on this continent.

..: 1

Lounaay Lunaaian JSaUonal iiauwayn

THREE SISTERS ROCK ON THE GASP£ PENINSULA

The long motor trail across Canada ends on the historic Gaspe Peninsula in the province of Quebec Here
acques (Trt er anded in 1534 and it was in this re^c^ion that many of the early French colonists made their
hom'es For centuries the Gaspe Peninsula has been famous for ^ts fishing industry whi^
Greenlanders and Icelanders came to these shores in the twelfth century, ^oday Gaspe old fishing v^^^^^^^^
are among the most charming places in Canada. Scenically. the peninsula, with its high cliffs, its bays, harbors

and sandy beaches, is as impressive as any section of the Atlantic seaboard.

larly smug people that we c^ould
get across Canada in a heavy,
fast car. Road information in
Calgary was not particularly
helpful; in fact, a ''hohhy" at
one of the principal corners of
the town answered a query as to
how to get out of the city, thus :
'*rve hved here twenty-three
years, sir, hut I've never left the
city limits.''

Near Medicine Hat we ran
into our first I)it of really had
hick. Here the roads were of
natural clay and sand. We tried
to race an evil-looking thunder
storm, hut the slickness of the
highway soon changed our minds
for us and we spent fourteen
hours in a nasty httle ditch, out
of which many i)assing flivvers
tried in vain to extricate us. Our
electrical system went dead in
the storm, which was intense,
and later, when w^e had heen
towed thirty-five miles into
town, I learned that all our v/ir-
ing had heen stripped and that
the i)eople at the garage *'l)e-
lieved'' our car had heen struck
hy lightning! I had always
heard that this was itnpossihle on
account of the ruhher tires on
cars, hut T learned differently at
{Continued on page 66)

1931

WOMEN OF THE ALASKAN SEACOAST

To the casual observer there is very little difference between these three Eskimo -.en yet t^^^^^ S^C^jlrie'&K^ t^^^^

customs. Se 7.an -^^^^^^^^ In the center, displaying a dish

Lawrence Island, iler cheeky '^^^l^^^^^^ unPaiMe whale blubber, in which the Eskimo delights, is a native of Point Barrow.

the north and much to be preferred to an eight-day run, out of
sight of land, as the crow might fly from Seattle. Needless to
say Captain Jones is a man of discrimination and excellent taste.
Twenty years' cruising, off and on, in Alaskan waters has not
dulled the edge of his appreciation of the scenic magnificence of
that matchless waterway, the world-famous Inside Passage.

Through Clarence Strait, past Cape Decision, into Chatham
Strait with the towering cliffs of Admiralty and Chichagof
islands on either hand, we found our way out into the Alaskan
Gulf; passed Cape Spencer on
sixth day, en route for Icy Bay
at the foot of Malaspina Gla-
cier, the largest glacier in the
world with its fifteen hundred
square miles of ice, excepting
only the North and South Pole
ice-caps. Next morning brought
us under the shadow of sky-
piercing Mount St. Elias, with
its elevation of 18,000 feet. The
mountain appears to extend out
to the water's edge; actiially it
is twenty-four miles inland.
Thirty miles to'the westward of
the mountain rises Cape St.

Elias, a beetling headland rising

sixteen hundred feet above the

sea. It is separated by half a

mile from a needle-like pin-
nacle off-shore, projecting itself

five hundred feet into the air,

like a vigilant sentinel, warning

passing vessels from too close

an approach to one of the most

dangerous spots on the whole

coastline.

Proceeding west to the
mouth of Cook Inlet, we turned
south through Shelikof Strait,
past Afognak and Kodiak Is-

lands, threading our way through the Shumagin group, past lofty
Pavlof and smoking Shishaldin volcanoes, through Unimak Pass
to the Bering Sea and into one of the most beautiful, land-locked
harbors on that precipitous coastline. Here the ancient native
Aleut village of Unalaska nestles on a crescent-shaped beach at
the foot of a snow-capped range of mountains— population two
hundred and seventy-five natives and twenty-five whites. And
thus the Northland finished her "first leg' —a distance of ap-
proximately twenty-three hundred miles in ten days, through

summer seas, with an occa-
sional flurry of rain or mist.

No one knows the age of pic-
turesque Unalaska, which the
Russians discovered in 1790
and "fortified'* with four di-
minutive brass cannon each
about three feet long, still
pointing out to sea in mute an-
ticipation of an invasion by a
foe Russia had good reason to
fear one hundred and twenty
years ago. Since the American
occupation, however, Unalaska
has been an important tradini;-
post for the natives of the sur-
rounding islands. It also figured
as an indispensable half-wa\
house for belated gold-seekers
on their way north in the day
of '98, who arrived after winter
had set in. Many the frail
"sternwheeler" that was built at
Unalaska in those tumultuous
days and sent up through the
Bering Sea to St. Michaels un-
der her own steam, at the break
of spring, for service on the
Yukon. Some of them never
reached their destination.

ESKIMO VISITORS ON THE NORTHLAND

The chief of the Eskimos on Little Diomede Island visited the Northland

to enter a complaint about Siberian natives who ^^^^^V^yj^.^" S

land. The Little Diomede chief, standing second from the left is talking

to Padre La Fortune, a missionary who lives on King Islana.

■'a^ggMjNMBgjjfenje

THE CLIFF-DWELLERS OF THE NORTH

The fragile houses of skin of the Eskimos of King Island are built on stilts and
anchored to the only section of the rocky is and on which foothold pa" ^^ *»""«
'^he uDoer oicture shows a general view of the strange little island village and the
lower pictu?"shows the homes in which these hardy people pass the cruel Arctic
winter^. It is a miracle that these flimsy habitations can survive {he terrible wind
of the Bering Sea. In the center picture, one of the oomiaks in which the islanders

make long journeys is being put into commission.

The last day of May found us lying in Dutch Harbor, just
TOSS the hay from Unalaska, taking on sufficient supplies to last
IS for the balance of the cruise. June first greeted us with our
•irst fog— a regular, simon-pure JJering Sea product, m which we
proceeded under reduced speed northwards with the expectation
.f raising Nunivak Island sometime the next morning, if the fog
ifted That was our only stop en route for Nome, eight hundred
.liles distant, and the fog broke away shortly before noon, dis-
using ancient Nunivak about thirty miles distant to the eastward
k1 somewhat astern. After a short stop at Nash Harbor, we
t out once more for our goal, blanketed again by fog. it was
.■■)t long before we discovered the reason for it: we were directly

()

(••

in the pathway of a vast ice-field, floating out of Norton
Sound on its way south. Strange, dirty-looking ice it was
— the offscourings of the vast and shallow Yukon, which
had been frozen to the very bottom and ^^tarred" with its
silt. Under reduced speed, the Northland steamed
through that mighty ice-field all day long, now in fog, now
in weak, anemic sunlight, now plowing through thousands
of acres of slush, now taking a solid floe, with an area of
a city square, head-on with its sturdy stem. When the ice
cracked, we would push our way slowly through the chan-
nel we had ourselves opened. When the floe proved thick
enough to resist the impact of the ship, her bow would
slide gracefully up over the edge and the ice would either
break or it would not. Often, the ice did not break, with
the result that in one instance we spent an hour trying to
force our way through a floe of great thickness that re-
sisted every attack until the skipper had to cry quits and
work his way around it. From six a.m. until after mid-
night, that day, the Northland logged about forty miles.
Scores of seals were scattered over the ice near convenient
air-holes, flocks of duck rose from the open leads, clumsy
puffins tumbled here and there like wounded birds, wing-
ing their way out of the vessel's course. It was a day of
days. The fact that in the ensuing sixty days we did not
encounter anything to equal it in the way of ice traffic

speaks for itself.

Plowing through a Bering Sea ice-field is not as simple
a matter as it would appear. The ever-present danger is
that a heavy chunk dislodged from a floe may drift into
the propeller, in which event damage is almost inevitable.
Then there is that most subtle of all difficulties : a change
in the wind which is likely to envelop a ship so completely
in the ice that she cannot make headway in any direction.
Boatswain Hans Berg of the Northland, who served on
the cutter Bear and who has spent thirty years in the
Coastguard, tells with great gusto of the spring the Bear
was caught in the Bering Sea ice-field and imprisoned
there, helpless for over six weeks, being carried about
hither and thither until the wind broke through and helped
the old veteran out of limbo.

From whatever angle the visitor views the town of
Nome, it is bound to be more than ordinarily interesting.
Stretched out for a mile along the sea-beach from which
30,000 argonauts placer-mined millions of dollars worth
of gold in '98, the Nome of today does not suggest the
departed glories of its past. However, it would be diffi-
cult to find a more enthusiastic group of people than the
thousand inhabitants who make up the city's population.
Inasmuch as successful gold-mining is still being carried
on out in the hills through the medium of mammoth
dredgers, with no prospect of a let-up, it would seem as if
that cheery optimism radiated by every resident, old and
young, was justified. Not a ^'Sourdough" in the town
but looks forward with confidence to another strike one
of these days, and— running true to form— there isn't a
merchant, a clerk, a restaurant-keeper or truck-driver but
has a "prospect-hole" off in the hills somewhere, in the
ultimate profit of which he has the most unquestioning
,:onfidence. Meantime, he goes serenely on his way doing
his daily stint, whatever it may happen to be, with a cheer-
fulness and independence of spirit that is a constant
challenge to pessimistic views.

As in every Alaskan town, Nome's women are proud to
be numbered among those who put their shoulders to the
wheel along with their men-folk. There are no loafers in Alaska
—male or female. One may sit opposite a well-groomed young
woman at a bridge party this afternoon and be waited upon by her
in a restaurant the next day. Young marriages are the rule be-
cause both parties thereto are already in the class of bread-winners
and there are no delays on account of possible lack of funds. Do-
mestic help is rare because each woman prides herself on doing
her own work and '^tending store" as well, not to mention caring
for a youngster or two. Nobody *'high hats" anybody else^ in
Alaska— it just isn't done. The doctrine of *1iye and let live" is
practically universal and the grouch eliminates himself.

The one great event of the year at Nome is the arrival of the

* -^>»

1931

TRAVEL

Northland, Notwithstanding a lot of loose, moving icc,
there wasn't a local craft in the roadstead hut found its
way out, two miles off-shore, to roar the heartiest kind of
welcome to the first ship from the ^'Outside," as all the
States are colloquially known to the Alaskan.

At Nome, the NorthlamVs amazing medical service he-
gan. The ship's surgeon and dentist, in the course of
three months, involving from one to three days each at
twenty-five different native villages, rolled up the astound-
ing record of 3,670 treatments to 1,352 people, of which
the grc^t majority were natives. The treatments included
operations for the removal of tonsils, vaccinations and
dental X-rays, covering a general prevalence of tul)ercu-
losis, rheumatism and tonsillitis in the order named. The
dentist found an amazingly healthful condition in the
teeth of the elders, owing to the constant necessity for
mastication of whale and seal meat and the ahsence of
sweets and starches. Conversely, he found a correspond-
ingly unhealthy condition in the teeth of the younger gen-
eration hy reason of the complete change in diet frqm that
of their elders.

The infiltration of white blood among the Eskimos in
Nome has just a1)out done away with the sw^arthy, squat-
nosed maiden with high cheek-l)ones wdio used to amuse
visitors by chewing blubber which she cut off from the
main chunk with a native knife, the while she held the
other end in her teeth. While she continues the use of her
fur-lined parka, or slip-over cloak that falls to the knees,
she will seldom be found with the fur-trimmed hood over
her head, especially if there should hapi:)en to be white
folk around. It was strange to see a young girl climb
out of a skin boat and up the ship's ladder, in her parka
and mukliiks, disappear from sight behind some dunnage
on deck and re-appear, minus the parka and muklnks,
clothed in short skirt, silk stockings and high-heeled
slippers, with a bunch of bobbed hair blowing in the
breeze. The eternal feminine! With the exception of
denim overalls, here and there, the clothing of the men
and boys has altered not at all.

Despite the fundamental changes that are going on,
however, wherever the white man's influence is seen, the
native population is increasing from three to five per cent
annually and the births exceed the deaths a'l through the
Seward Peninsula and in the Arctic as well. Incidentally,
one would look a long time for a more attractive and
pretty young woman than the Eskimo half-breed. I saw
one woman at Point Lay with blonde comjolexion, light
brown hair and l)lue eyes and two equally attractive
babies. It was little less than startling. She was mighty
])roud of her white husband and the additional fact that
her children were more like "white folks" than natives.
An odd world, indeed, north of fifty-three.

While the Northland's ultimate destination was Point
Barrow, she dared not venture that far north until the
Polar ice had broken away from the shore-line, which
rarely takes place until the latter part of July or early
August. Accordingly, she had approximately thirty days
to spend in the vicinity of Nome and the islands of the
Bering Sea, the most ancient and interesting of which is
St. Lawrence. Midnight of June seventeenth, bathed in
the eff^ulgent rays of the setting sun, found us bucking a
vast ice-field off the Northeast Cape of the island, about
twelve miles off-shore, looking for a chance to get in to Gambell,
the largest village. A more thrilling scene than a horizon on fire,
its flames lighting up the endless ice-pack, can scarcely be imag-
ined. The northern coast of the island was blockaded with ice
and we swung southeast accordingly, with a view to encircling it

from the south.

Here we had our first sight of walrus, about five hundred in all,
disporting themselves on the ice-floes, mostly asleep, in all manner
of grotesque attitudes, as they appeared through the binoculars,
and utterly oblivious of our presence until the rhythmic beat of
the ship s propeller would awaken them and they would roll and
slide sluggishly off into the sea. Great, huge, clumsy creatures,
weighing from fifteen to twenty-five hundred pounds each, they
had been swept down from the Arctic by wind and tide, through

WORK AND CUSTOMS IN THE ARCTIC

The women on St. Lawrence Island, one of whom is seen at work in the upper
picture, are very skilful with the skinning knife. They can easily split or flense a
twelve-foot square of walrus hide into one twice that size. The center picture
shows how the Eskimos dismantle their kayaks and oomiaks when they are not in
use. The curious white streamers dangling from the pole in the lower picture are
drying strips of blubber from the white whale. The native holds two of the in-
flated seal skins that are used as buoys or markers or as containers for seal oil.

Bering Strait. Later they would be carried back by wind and tide.
En route around the southeastern end of St. Lawrence, we
passed one of the smallest and most ancient islands in the Bering
Sea : Punnuk, so small that it isn't even given a place on the map,
known for its kitchen middens, telling of an occupation anywhere
from five hundred to one thousand years ago. Punnuk, a mere
volcanic pin-head upthrust in that waste of waters, afYorded a
day's interesting sport to a few of us who went ashore on a suc-
cessful hunt for beach ivory: walrus tusks which have been buried
in the sandy beach for immemorial centuries and which are dis-
interred and washed up by successive storms. Coated with a
deposit of lime, they look like so many bleached bones, but a bit
of work with a rasp, sand and emery paper brings out a variety
of exquisite colors and tints produced by mineral impregnation.

TRAVEL

JUiNE

thankful
for the

Next day found us
anchored oflF Gambell,
with a troop of aihng
natives surrounding thi*
cutter in their oomiaks,
or skin boats—old and
young, all with a
'misery'* of some sort,
beyond words
appearance of
the ship that meant so
m u c h to pain-racked
bodies and toothaches
that had persisted for
nearly a year. Some of
them had to be swung
over the side of the ves-
sel in an improvised
chair, owing to their in-
ability to climb the ship's
ladder. It was a never-
to-be-forgotten sight.
And they all came aboard
with smiling faces and
l)atient spirits, finding a
place to sit down on the
deck until the doctors
got around to them. It
was two A.M. before either of the doctors had
his first let-up and the next day they went
ashore and ministered to those who were too
ill to l)e moved.

St. Lawrence Island, with its Eskimo
])opulation of a scant two hundred and fifty
souls, lies but forty miles from the Siberian
coast and is believed by scientists to have
been one of the stepping stones over which
the Asiatic migration of early man to the
North American Continent took place. The
islanders are descendants of the more aborig-
inal Chukchis of Siberia, with whom they
keep in touch by occasional visits, despite the
well-known objections of the Soviet Govern-
ment. Their superstitious beliefs, devil-wor-
ship, primitive fashion of tattooing (which
obtains in no other section of Eskimo occu-
pation), folk lore, domestic customs, hut and
igloo construction, in which the split walrus
hide figures, etc, are precisely after the same
methods now in vogue along the Siberian
coast. They are intrepid and fearless hunters
of both whale and walrus and live a com-
munistic Hfe.

The village of Gambell was founded by an

American school-teacher by

that name some fifty years ago.

Civilizing influences have

l)rought the natives very real

benefits of which they have

taken full advantage. How-

c\'er, they still adhere to their

tribal beliefs with such tenacity

ibat no missionary has ever

i)(!en able to make any headway

among them. Despite their

Satanic cult, which differs from

tliat of all other tribes, they are

more amenable to the white

man's way of living than any

of their neighbors. Their

women are experts with the

skinning-knife and can split or

ilense a twelve-foot-square wal-
rus hide into one measuring

twelve by twenty-four feet,
hey sell their fox skins and

CELEBRATING THE FOURTH AT NOME

Blanket tossing, which is a favorite sport among the Eskimos, is one of the liveliest
features of the Fourth of July celebration at Nome. This exhibition is being given by

the King Islanders.

A MAMMOTH'S TUSK

A dredger at work near Candle,
Alaska, unearthed this huge relic of
one of the mammoths that roamed
through Alaska in prehistoric times.
The tusk measures nine and a half
feet in length and six inches in

diameter.

LOOPING THE LOOP IN A KAYAK

The King Islanders are amazingly dexterous in handling their fragile

kayaks. One of their most spectacular stunts is being demonstrated

here. The Eskimo who has capsized his boat will make a complete

revolution under water and right himself without losing his seat.

walrus ivory at the mar-
ket prices in Seattle and
are not influenced by
dickering of any kind.
They are most efficient
reindeer breeders and
herders and set an ex-
ample for thrift to every
other Eskimo settlement
in the Bering Sea and
the Arctic, notwithstand-
ing all of which they
have some barbarous
tribal customs.

For instance, if a
woman gives birth to
twins, the islanders be-
lieve that to be conclu-
sive evidence of there
having been two fathers,
one of which, of course,
must have been outside
the pale. Accordingly,
one of the new-born ba-
bies disappears — prefer-
ably the girl, should
there happen to be one
of each sex. Who makes
away with the luckless infant or precisely .
what is done with her no one knows and
the matter is not one for comment or asking
any questions. This is particularly mystifying
because they never bury their dead, believing
that disease follows the interring of a corpse
in the ground. They enclose the remains in
a strong wooden box and place it on top
the ground in the village burying ground.
But no one has ever found a new-born twin
baby so disposed of.

Tattooing of the chin — slightly converging
lines from the lower lip downwards — is com-
mon among the older generation all over
Alaska and indicates a married woman. Ex-
cept on St. Lawrence, however, the present
generation is abandoning the custom. The
St. Lawrence Island married woman tattoos
not only her chin but her cheeks and the
backs of her hands as well.

Next to St. Lawrence, the '*clif¥-dwellers''
of King Lsland are, perhaps, the most inter-
esting and intelligent tribe in Alaska. There
are but one hundred and seventy-three of
them and they build their frail skin houses
on stilts, anchored to the steep, rocky face

of the only portion of that in-
hospitable and bleak island
upon which a human dwelling
can find a foothold. They are
natural athletes, fearless sailors
and hunters and highly gifted
carvers and etchers on walrus
ivory. The chances they take
every year in their tribal pil-
grimage in their frail skin boats
for ninety miles over the open
sea to Nome, would give a
white man pause. The whole
tribe — men, women and chil-
dren— with their household
goods and food, embark in five
thirty-foot oomiaks, about July
first, and spend the summer on
the beach just outside Nome,
carving bizarre cribbage-boards,
ingeniously decorated by the
{Continued on page 60)

Photo, by Lomen

Nov. 13, 1909]

FOREST AND STREAM.

775

An Eskimo Pipe.

In these days when the Arctic regions are so
much in the public eye, anything about the North
possesses an unusual interest. We hear now,
and are Hkely to hear much about the Eskimo,
people whose ways of life while familiar enough
to the ethnologist are much less so to the man
on the street.

Not so many years ago these Eskimo were
genuinely primitive, capturing their food— the
wild creatures of their wilderness— by means
of primitive weapons— made largely of stone or
bone — lances, harpoons, bows and arrows, fish-
ing tackle, and by various traps. Now, like all
the other wild people of the globe, they have
been corrupted and of late years demand in
trade breechloading rifles of modern type. They
wish also rum and tobacco. This last is one of

a pipe would not last long, and we may pre-
sume that a very few draws would exhaust it.
The smoke was of course taken into the lungs.

Below will be seen an engraving of a
large and handsomely carved Eskimo pipe of
walrus ivory from Northwestern Alaska. On
each side of the pipe, that is to say on four
more or less long flat surfaces, are pictured
scenes from the daily life of the Eskimo. Of
these the two sides on the right hand of the
pipe, as it is held in position for smoking, ap-
pear to represent the period of cold weather,
later autumn, winter and early spring, while
those on the left hand side of the pipe repre-
sent the summer life of the Eskimo.

Taking up first the upper row of sketches
which we suppose depict summer life, and read-
ing from the pipe bowl toward the mouth piece,
we see a couple of birds, one standing and one

umiak removed from the water as usual and
turned upside down and resting on a raised
scaffold. Further along toward the mouthpiece
seem to be fishing weirs, at which men are at
work, and still further toward the mouthpiece
half a dozen persons are indulging in a dance.
The figure of a dog and three birds end up the
scene.

The right hand side of the stem represents
a number of the land hunting and trapping
operations of the Eskimo. Close to the mouth-
piece on the upper section is a drying pole from
which hang pieces of meat or fish. A bird is
perched on one of the uprights supporting the
pole. Further along are three winter houses
with persons busy about them. Then come the
two trees, which may be a line of division rep-
resenting a change of scene, and beyond the
trees are the head and horns of a caribou, a

WALRUS TUSK PIPE— LEFT AND RIGHT HAND VIEWS.

their especial needs. They smoke and chew it,
and men, women and children alike are devoted

to its use.

The pipes used by the Eskimo are quite dif-
ferent from those of any other North American
race, and in the shape of the bowl more re-
semble the opium pipes used by the Chinese than
anything else. The old pipes were very small
in the amount of tobacco that they would hold,
for in former days tobacco was extremely scarce
and in its use was most carefully husbanded.
There was, therefore, a wide flaring margin to
the pipe to catch any grains of tobacco that
might be spilled in filling it; then there was a
hollow which would hold a pinch of tobacco
half as large as an ordinary pea and a rather
wide hole passing down through the base of
the bowl which fitted into the pipe stem. The
bowl of the pipe was of ivory, stone, brass or
copper. The pipe stem was curved and had a
mouthpiece. It is said that the small hole run-
ning down through the base of the bowl and
into the pipe stem was usually plugged with
caribou hair to save any grains of tobacco that
might otherwise have passed down through this
aperture and so be lost. The smoking of such

flying; a dog following a woman who is carry-
ing water toward the summer house, in which
there is a fire and three individuals. Before the
house stands a pole on which are hanging fish.
A woman with an axe or maul seems to be
breaking up a piece of drift wood. Three per-
sons are fishing with hook and line, but in the
etching the fish are giants compared with those
actually caught in this manner by the Eskimo.

Next we see a great blackfish which has been
struck by a harpoon, and at the end of the line
attached to the harpoon is a "dan'* or float made
of an inflated seal skin. Before the blackfish is
a boat in which stands a person about to throw
another harpoon and holding the float in the
hand. Then comes an umiak in which are four
persons, three of them paddling hard to over-
take a great spouting whale that is swimming
away, while a man standing in the bow is ready
to throw the lance.

On the lower section of the left side of the
pipe stem is shown a group of walruses being
attacked by two parties, each of five men in
two umiaks. In each case the bowman is about
to throw a lance and holds in the other hand
a dan or float. On the shore is a skin boat, or

man with a bow shooting at a flying goose, and
a caribou and young being shot at by another
person. Another tree is followed by a caribou
lying down and another standing, while three
more caribou of different ages and sex are run-
ning toward two men armed with bow and
lance, while over the caribou are six geese in
flight. On the lower section of the same side
are represented different animals— a fox, a wolf
and a bear. Then there is a tree, a weasel and
three traps sprung and each containing a small
animal. Beyond them a caribou is being shot
by a man, while still further along three mei
are dragging home the carcass of a bull caribou
over the snow toward three winter houses near
which stand a tree and toward which a woman
is bringing water.

The pipe has every appearance of age and
long use. The ivory is yellow and cracked and
checked in many places.

The Eskimo are known to be extremely skill-
ful in the representation of scenes and objects,
while the Indians of Queen Charlotte's Sound
and generally all the natives of the Northwest
coast of America are famous for their carving
in wood and in a black slate.

— I

rv»%

:c>

FOREST AND STREAM.

[Nov. 13, TQOQ.

Wise Dogs I Have Owned.

Babylon, L. I., x\ov. 6.— Editor Forest and
Stream: Several setters and pointers that 1 have
owned at different times have shown an inteUi-
gence which 1 beheve will be interesting to the
lovers of dogs and readers of Forest and

Stream.

1 was owner of a red Irish setter named Rose
who showed reasoning powers in a high degree.
1 frequently shot over a piece of cultivated land
adjoining a heavy piece of scrub timber not far
from my home. Quail flushed in the open usually
made for this scrub and scattered in all direc-
tions. After resting the birds I would send Rose
into the timber when she would commence quar-
tering the ground in large circles, covering all
the space where the birds might lie. In this
manner she seldom failed to locate most of the
covey. In December the quail were late in feed-
ing, so my time for shooting was limited, and
I shot at any bird I could get a glimpse of.
Feathers floating back often gave an indication
of a chance hit, when I would send Rose to seek
the dead bird. If I had killed clean she would
return with the dead bird, otherwise she would
return and look at me in a puzzled manner.
When the light was poor I would sometimes re-
turn after shooting a number of times with only
a half dozen birds. She would come to heel
and follow me home reluctantly. The next
morning I have found as many as three quail
on my piazza.

Did she bring them all home at the same time,
or make three different trips of a half mile dur-
ing the night, or why did she place them on my
front stoop? So that I could not fail to » see
them in opening the front door next morning, of
course.

dogs. My friend was not in form and missed
a number of shots. Grant not being told to fetch
dead birds got restless and then began to hunt
on his own account, finding and flushing coveys
ahead of the other dogs. I asked the man what
he did then. "I brought him in and gave him
a good thrashing. After that he would stay at
heel and would not work at all." I told him
the dog had never been whipped before in my
three years' shooting over him. It took me some
weeks to get back his confidence. This dog on
finding birds in thick cover would back out and
return to me, then slowly going forward, would
lead me to the birds and to a stiff point some
five hundred yards away, perhaps in th^ middle
of a thick swamp.

Pete and Pan, red Irish setters, could almost
talk. They were, as a brace working together,
hard to beat. Pan was a wonderful marker of
dead birds and seldom failed to retrieve when
called upon to do so. I killed a quail which we
both saw fall. He returned without the bird
with a woeful look. We both searched for the
quail, but without success, so I decided to try
for another. Not so Pan ; I lost him for a few
minutes, then found him pointing with his nose
pointed in the air. I found the bird had lodged
in the fork of a tree about twenty feet above
the ground.

Grant was an English setter dog named for
the President during his second term. He was
a ticked roan belton, a little coarse in coat, but
of grand make as to form and eyes which, when
on birds, fairly shone and started out of his
head. I was shooting for English snipe vvith a
friend who owned a bench show field trial winner,
and the dogs were about equal as to pointing,
dropping to shot and wing and retrieving. A
brace of snipe flushed in front of my friend.
He killed the first, but missed' the second. I
killed this bird high up in the air as it quartered
over me to the left. Grant saw the bird fall.
Although the meadow was free of all tall grass,
he failed to retrieve the snipe. After both dogs
had been over the ground we gave the bird up,
although it seemed a clean kill. We worked the
dogs over another piece of snipe ground, then,
to my surprise, Grant started on the back track
to the old piece of meadow where I had killed
the snipe; no whistling or calls would induce
him to return. I saw him cast over the old spot
where he had seen the bird fall, then commence
to paw the mud on the edge of a hole, when he
brought the snipe to the surface and triumph-
antly returned to me with the snipe in his mouth.
I never saw a more satisfied dog as he held up
the bird to me, wagging his tail with a look of
I setter contempt for the bench show winner.

I loaned Grant to a friend who needed a dog

for a quail shooting trip to Norfolk, Va. He

[returned the dog saying he was worthless. I

llearned that the dog had found nearly all the

coveys the first day, beating three other good

Dash was a setter dog of unknown pedigree,
a fine dog in the field, and very clever at doing
a number of retrieving tricks for my amusement.
He would return and fetch my gloves left on
purpose at a friend's house, find my knife, or
any article thrown in high grass or stubble, untie
a handkerchief from a limb of a tree or top of
a picket fence when told to return and fetch it,
even though the place selected might be a mile
away from my house. He would retrieve any
number of eggs placed in a line on my piazza,
gently dropping each in my hand without break-
ing a single one ; would fetch my slippers or any'
article that he was accustomed to bring on com-
mand to do so. His reasoning powers were
fully developed.

One other tale of dog sense, then I will let
some other sportsman brother have the floor. A
shooting friend owned a pointer dog which be-'
yond doubt was one of the finest dogs in Vir-
ginia. On a cold and rather stormy day my
friend flushed a covey of quail on the edge of
a narrow but deep brook. He killed a bird which
fell on the opposite bank. The dog saw the bird
fall, but to the despair of the owner no per-
suasion would induce the dog to take the trail.
His shooting companion said: *Throw him in
and he will swim over and get the bird." When
thrown in the dog swam over and on reaching
the other bank he went directly to the spot where
the bird fell, picked it up, brought it to the bank,
then in full view of the two shooters, chewed
it up and returned to take his punishment. Up
to this time he had never been known to mouth
a bird or ruffle a feather, and although he has
been in the field for the past two seasons, he has
never been known to mouth or ruffle a feather

smce.

. I have owned a number of dogs that have
shown intelligence in an equally high degree as
these ll*re described. C. D. B. W.

Mixed Bags in Nebraska.

Omaha, Neb., Nov. 6.— Editor Forest and
Stream: Notwithstanding the fact that the
long continued almost phenomenally mild
weather which has prevailed throtighout Ne-
braska this fall has militated largely against
good wildfowl shooting, ir.any fine bags have
been made in different sections; in fact, in
some places the birds have not been so plentiful
in years. While the ducking has been and is
still good, and will grow better during the chill
days to come, along the lakes and marshes in
the northern part of the State, at Niobrara,
Lugenbeel, Cody, Gordon and Merriman, it
has been but mediocre throughout the central
and southern sections. Along the rivers, the
Platte, the Elkhorn, the Loups and the Republi-
can there has been but a meagre flight of birds.
The shooting was capital all over the State,
however, as long as the locally bred ducks
lasted, but it fell off tremendously after these
were shot out, and ever since bags have been
both infrequently and attenuated. The northern
birds in their southward migration stopped
along the northern fringe of lakes and as yet
but few have come as far south as the middle

of the State.

The bluewing teal shooting was extraordi-
narily fine while it continued, but that was only
through September, and just now there is but
little real animated sport to be found south of
the Middle Loup. But we are all waiting for
the late boisterous November weather.

There is bound to be a quick and sudden
change before many more days, and when that
occurs it will bring the birds dov/n in battalions
and the shooting will be great along the legend-
ary old Platte and throughout all the southern
part of the State.

So far but few geese have come down. Even
the October flight of Hutchins' geese w^s a
slender one, compared with former years, and
so far as the Canadas are concerned, they are
even more backward. Even a flock along the
famous old Platte or the riotous Loup has so
far been a rarity, and there is little likelihood
of any real sport on these royal fowl before
the middle of December. Harry Welch, while
at Clarks, on the Platte, last Wednesday, killed
six Canadas out of three bunches that came in
to his decoys in the early dawn, and one Canada
and one white goose in the evening, and that
is the banner bag on geese reported to me this
season. Sam Richmond, of FuUerton, on the
Loup, killed two Canadas yesterday out of a
flock of fourteen he succeeded in calling in, but
he says— and he is the greatest goose hunter I
know— that he does not look for the main body
of geese until well into December. As with the
Hutchins' geese, so it has been with the white
and speckled-fronts; they have been unwontedly
scarce. The fact is, however, that the geese are
decreasing rapidly with each recurring season,
and it will not be many years until they are
known no more forever, even along that glory of
the geese in the olden days, the sprawliog Platte.
There are 5,000 men who go hunting now where
twenty years ago there was one, and this is not
exaggerated in the slightest degree. Despite the
higher sportsmanship that is rapidly marking the
age, despite our splendid protective laws and
despite the feasible propagation possibilities, I
expect to see the day — and I am way on the

ANTHROPOLOGY

Ancestors of Eskimos Found
In Minnesota Lake Varves

DISCOVERY in Minnesota of an
ancestor of the Eskimos has been
announced in Science by Dr. A. E.
Jenks, professor of anthropology at the
University of Minnesota.

The skeleton, which offers a new
problem for scientists who are trying to
find out how long men have inhabited
America, was found in the silted
depths of an extinct lake, in Ottertail
County. The human bones lay twelve
feet beneath layered silt, formed at the
end of the glacial age. In that remote
time, as the ice sheet retreated north,
the silt flowed into and filled various
lakes in this part of Minnesota. The
period when this occurred, according to
latest geological estimate, would be
18,000 or 20,000 years ago.

Examining the skeleton of the "Min-
nesota Man," Dr. Jenks pronounces it
that of a youth under twenty years of
age. The youth was a primitive creature,
who. Dr. Jenks says, "must have been
of an American ancestral type." He had
markedly protruding jaws, and unusu-
ally large teeth. The nose had primitive,
even ape-like characteristics, described
by the anthropologist in the words:

"The nasal aperture has distinctly
simian sill and borders."

From the present stage of measure-
ments and reconstruction. Dr. Jenks
finds that the man revealed is more akin
to Eskimo than Indian in physical type.
With the skeleton lay a crude dagger
of antler, and a large pendant of shell.
Each has a hole for a leash, by which
the youth fastened the articles to his
person.

Science News Letter, June 25, 1932

ICSOLV^iVWO

The Code of a Hunting Tribe

George R. Belton

HERE are not many
tribes of people on
the face of the earth
now who Uve entire-
ly by hunting.
There may be a few
of the pygmy tribes
of Africa who
though small are
mighty hunters and live by the chase
alone; but their numbers are few and
they are going the way of the animals
from which they once made a good
living. The pot hunter and the
commercial greed of civilised man has
made it impossible for such tribes jof
men to^exist in any region that can
support the race in modern style.

But there is still a hunting tribe
even in North America; in Canada
and under the same flag as the Cana-
dian loves. The Esquimo of the
north are still a hunting tribe getting
their food and their clothing as well
as their home furnishings and their'
utensils of war and peace from their
prowess in the hunt. It is reported
that of late they are getting high,
power rifles and taking after the way
of the white man in killing for com-
mercial sale and even for "sport."
What effect this will have upon them
as well as upon the game is a matter
for conjecture only. Will they go
the way of other aboriginal peoples
when this gets too far into their blood?
Most people will hope not. Yet this
may be a break into their ways and
customs that will be fatal to them as
communities and even as a people.

They had their stern laws before the
white men came to them. One of
these has been interfered with directly
by the white man, according to their
understanding of the case; and though
they are wrong in this assumption
there may be some trouble in the
north among the hunting lodges over
the matter.

Ouangwak, an Esquimo, killed two
men at or near Chesterfield Inlet.
Now I will not tell you where that is;
look it up and get some idea of how far

north the laws of your country run.
Ouangwak was caught by the Mount-
ed Police after a long hard chase, and
was brought to The Pas for trial, for
that was the nearest court. But no

Ouangwak, Esquimo hunter

witnesses were brought that long
distance for the trial and the author-
ities ordered him taken back to Ches-
terfield to be tried under the inspector
of the Mounted Police there.

ROD AND GUN IN CANADA

1141

ROD AND GUN IN CANADA

1143

reeling animal, — a rip of a horn, and
his entrails were hanging out.

Running with the bunch, the hunter
would insert the nozzle of the powder
horn into the muzzle of his rifle, let
the powder run while he turned the
horn once around , then spit in a bullet ,
cock and fire. Almost at every jump
of the horse he would drive home a
big lead ball, and his trail far away
across the plain was strewn with dy-
, ,ing buffalo.

Abandoning the chase when his

ammunition became exhausted, and
returning along the line of hunt he
would find the camp pitched at the
nearest water to the centre of the
carcass strewn plain, and the small
boys racing around on the colts and
cart horses butchering, with fiendish
glee, any buffalo that still showed
signs of life. Pots would be boiling
and fresh meat roasting by the time
he got back to camp, and stretched
in the shade, by the teepee fire he
would gorge till his sides were sore.

Forms and Properties of Mushrooms

T. Ware

Lycoperdon cyathiforme (natural size), edible.

I have found this plant quite frequently in stubble fields.

The body of the plant does not rest on the ground as in (L. giganteum) but it is some-
what pear shaped, rounded above and tapering below. They are from two to six inches in
diameter, white when young or sometimes pinkish, changing to brown then purple. Like all
other puff balls they are only fit for food when young and white all through.

The plant has a curious habit of breaking up at the top and when the spores have all been
blown away the outer covering is left in the shape/ of a cup giving it the common name of
•^Breaker Puff ball."

> I

When Ouangwak came back to
Chesterfield there were murrnurings
of surprise and indignation amongst
the Esquimo who felt their ancient
exact sense of justice was outraged.
They had their own law strict and
stern, and by it the council of old
men would have met to deal with
Ouangwak's case and appointed an
executioner to make him pay the
penalty. But they had seen the
Mounted PoUce come amongst them
with the laws of the land they are
adopted into and had left the matter
to the "Great White King" for dis-
posal. Now they see the man
brought back and they cannot accept
the explanation of Father Turquetil,
the resident missionary, that he will
be tried there and if guilty will be
executed. They gave him up to
justice and their childlike minds can-
not see w^hy he was not killed at once.
He had confessed to killing one of
these men to aei his wife.

Father Turquetil, who recently
returned from Chesterfield Inlet t )
The Pas says he did all he could to
explain the matter but fears the
Esquimo did not accept his explana-
tion and that the tribe may take the
matter into their own hands. They
may over-power the little handful of
police there and take Ouangwak and
deal with him according to the law of
the hunting tribes as existing since
they were a people in the dawn of
human life when perhaps our Saxon
and Celt forefathers were under laws

and customs similar to those of the

Esquimo, hunting in the woods of

Britain and Gaul "with their bodies

stained by juices" instead of clothes,

Caesar says that, after stating Gaul

is divided into three parts in opening

of Latin troubles for all students.

It will be interesting to see how the
hunting tribe ends this matter.

Ontario Game Exhibit

The Department of Game and Fisheries in
the Government Budding at the Canadian
National Exhibition Yast autumn, brought
convincing proof this ye'dr that Ontario is
the world's sporting pai^adise. While our

different distr>(!fs with rod and gun eclipses
anything th^t could be accomplished in that
directiop with the aid of books or pamphlets.
Amojrg the live animals were also several Can-
aitfan black bear and grey and black squirrels.

neighbors to the south meaWe their hunting >The latter are protected until 1923.
grounds in acres, the province of Ontantf The part of the exhibit that hits home to

., ... >. r .• all _ _ 'J _x _r r\^i. :^ ^-. 11 ^11

measures the vast virgin expanse ^sipracUp^lly
unexplored territory in square mubfiv^

Lord Burnham and Lord Cave, narotfeers of
the Imperial Press Conference
the exhibit, expressed themseKes in words
admiration at the originrfity and beauty
of the display and at oiWjC suggested that the
Government take steps to bring this display
over to Great Britaih for the British Domin-
ions* Exposition in London in 1923. This,
more than anything else, would bring home to
the sportsmen of the whole world the possi-
bilities of Ontario as the greatest fur market
and the best stocked fish ponds in the whole
world.

The actual demonstration of what the
lover of the outdoors may find in a hundred

every resident of Ontario, as well as all
sportsmen, was the fish showing. Trout
from the famous Nipigon waters, while fish
and sturgeons brought alive a thousand miles
,in the province, brook trout from the Ontario
Ti^tcheries and a splendid exhibition of black
bass/ \^hich made the mouth water of all
anglers who looked at it. The work and
activity of liie Department of Game and
Fisheries are well shown in the fact that there
are over fourteen thousand trappers and over
1,800 fur dealers in the province of Ontario to
whom they sell. It is estimated that furs to
the value of three million dollars are annually
sold in the province.

Last year there were twenty thousand hunt-
ing licenses issued and the number of licenses

1141

ROD AND GUN IN CANADA

-r

O
CM

W
.2

a
U

«*^

(-1

• >^

S3
CO

(-4

issued to non-resident anglers was 12,000.

This year the department has restocked
provincial waters with over seventy million

fish of different kinds, and in the coming year
it is proposed to increase this number by fifty
million.

OAKLAND TRIBUNE MAGAZINE, NOVEMBER 16, 1924

Mian Woman

Bp BELLE DORMER.

THE GOOD OLD BEAR.

Retire the Bear? Send her to the
SL rap-heap f Let her rot like a pile
of worthless jnnkf

Bif the great horn spoon, the north-
ern lights y and all of the ronstellations
ty which sailors i*v:ear^ thai wouLd-
be a scurvif trick! Suppose *?/t^ is a half
hundred years old? Theg haven't
learned to make them better and the
experiences of those fiftJf years ought
to stand for somethinff.

She^s hofne 'noia. In the peat few
weeks there has heeiH an ftr.jumcnt on,
one city and one t her (\ aiming the
Bear, In their pride of her perform-
ance thcif are- anxious now to coil her
their ou:n. But the Bear does noi biy-
long to a city; she fpefongs to the Nortii.
To ikp, ice floes, and t! -3 winter-
gripped rommnnitfcs, lo the mail
raittp.f, (tvd the Int'riiwss of earning
supfAics. She heu.nqs to Nom^ and
Unalaska^ to the Kotsebup. the Bering
Strait}* fifHl the hr tad Priifi^\ Site
belongs to traditvin.

With two propeller hindrs gone she
made good time nmlenf s^ml and w
home in, Oakland hetrhi^r for repmirs.
Out of a department in Washrn/rtow

Life Imp hsm D

♦rliibe. In the coiikt were tons of
ivory tusks, pile3 of walrus hides, old
ivory, brown and ^Idon, piled on tables^
and throu^li : nd over it all an odor o#
th<* far north never to be mistaken.
It waii Ci? plain Ballenprer of the Cut-

**She be<:^an to
TS^cave them irdo J12
intricate pattern
she had cbos'

has come the atnuial story that she is
not to go back, Sailormcn read the
story and grunt.

The Bear will go back to the North,
ah right. She is built for that job and
there* isn't a ship that can take tier
place.

*^Junk herV asks Commander
Co eh ran. ''Junk this ship? Not if my
recommendation carries weight with
the 'Treasury Department/^

THE above editorial from the Oakland
TRIBUNE brought to mind most
vividly a story told me by Mr. Black-
well in his curio store at Nome Alaska
some 3'ears ago.

A party of 300 or more tourist3 just
come ashore from the steamer Victoria
were "milling" about the place "paw-
ing*' over and pricing the baskets and
otlx^r curios with which the store was
supplied.

One woman picked up at random, a
beautiful basket, examined its sale tag,
$75, and tossed ft back on the counter,
bi!t not the same counter from which
it canle.

There it lay, like a golden lily, "shoul-
der to shoulder with the common herd."
Dowir through a smudgy window came
the July sunshine resting full upon its
gorgeous coloring^ its^ soft silky fabric,
and its exquisite workmanship.

I lost no time in making the rescue.
Taking it by the top and bottom as one
does a Panama hat, I straightened it
out, rolled it softly in m^^ hands and
counted out the money.

Black well looked up quickly, omiled
at me and said, "You recognize the work-
manship. Do you know its history?"

I shook my head.

"Come back this evening and I will
tell yoii."

Sitting in the igloo of Happy Jack,
a moon-faced Eskimo boy of 20 or 25,
in the back room of the big store, watch-
ing him as he carved pictures of men in
parkas, and mucklucks, of dog teams
and bears, and flocks of wild birds on
shining white tusks of ivory, and listen-
ing to the story of the little blind basket
maker far away on the wind-swept Attn
Island made a picture never to be for-
gotten.

About us on the floor were grouped
a dozen Eskimos in native garb, sweating,
whittling, sandpapering and polishing
the ivory for Happy Jack, who alone
could do the carving that brought the
big prices from the tourigts who came
each year from every part of the round

ter Bear avIio told Black well that on
one of ills many trips to the Aleuuan
Islands he had called as usual at Attu
Island and had found the natives in a
deplorable condition. Cold, hunger and
sickness had brought them to the verce
of stan-ation.

The captain did what he could to re-
lieve their suffering and told them when
next he visited New York, a city beyond
the big water, he wollld tell a beautiful
lady (Helen Gould) of their condition,

and she would send them a shipload of
food and clothing. He suggcjsted that
on his return trip from the north they
should send one of their beautiful bas-
kets to the lady across the big water.

When the Bear had sailed away they
called a meeting and talked it over.
Among their women were many clever
basket-makers, but one artist, and she
was old, very old, and blind and feeble.
Could she make another basket? They
doubted it. But in return for a ship-
load of food and dpthing they could
not send an old basket, or one that was
poorly made.

On the ffoor of her igloo, wrapped in

mCC TI lAWe^IVINC'DAY IWENyS.

Thahksgiving is a home day in most
f amilies/N^d the ; dinner depends upon
financial^ Bconon^ical and social con-
ditions, but g^ie^ally, g^n old-fashioned
feast finds f av ^

^ u.

ato Soup
Potatoes
urnip Celery
anberr^ Jelly,
e

grease, and it is rotoxly if soup is desired
or for use next di|y. /

and aspai

r
tur-
lor
bird on\ils
so the jii

Cre&iq^ of
Turkev, Glaz
Boiled Onions

Pickles and
Celery an

Mince and] Pumpkin
Cheese doffee C

Have the sinew J drawn from
key legs, boil and cliop the gi
the gravy, and roast the
breast instead of fits back,
may run into thel white breast meat
stead of weeping {away in the pan.

For the dinner! in small quarters, one
must begin befoi4hand to get things
ready if a real hime dinner is desired,

Salmot Canapes /

Roast Boned Tuitey, Cranberry JtWy.

Celery Canciicd Sweet Potatoes

Pickles RcJ^ls Asparai>^us

Alliigator Pear Salfid

Plum Pudding, Hard Sau^

Coffey Cider

The sidmon com^s^t of a can. Drain,

bone, skin, flake^^nd moistens it with

mayonnaise, .iui^:of an onion, juice of

half a small Jeiioh, a little red pepper,

a tablespoon^ul ot seeded and chopped

olives, andra hardr boiled egv: put through

the ricQi.' Mix lightly and spread on

fresh 4bast rouncls.

Bone the turkey, stuff and roll it thr
day before. Boil the bones and trim-
mings with a vegetable soup bunch and
seasoning. Strain, set aside, remove tbl

Jelly
canned, as well

Two of the allil
salad for six peoph
dressing.

Should the prep:

;us can b^- gotten
the puddipfe.
:ator pe^ malce a
with xi^ lettuce and

•aticjn of the turkey

be too much for smldl quarters it is pos-
sible to buy one a| the delicatessen, or
get the baker to riftst the bird.

Ifixu.

Oysters on the Hall-Shell with a Relish

Filet of/SoIe| Tartar Sauce

/ PotatJ Puffs

i^oast Turkey, |hestnut Stuffing

. dazed Swfeet Potatoes

B^cd Onions I Fried Parsnips

Celery, ^ Olivet, Salted Nuts

lijntree of Swectbrfads an<l Mushrooms

En Cisserole
Dinncf Rolls
Cheese and Tomato Salad
Mince Vit' Froz(»i Pumpkin Custard

NCoffee ICider Cup
The fillet cliestnii filling is made up
boiling a pd^ind of mY'io swoot chestnuts
after pcelfng^^nd bj^ncliing them. When
soft, mash th^, a|d a heaping table-
spoonful of biittv, |[)cp]>er, salt to taste,
a teaspoon ful ofSeigar, and a gill of
svcet cream. Beal very light with a
fork. Then add ar\npful of chopped
raisins, a hall-cupfi| ofsjv'hitc celery tops,
chopped, the juice jbf a Nirge otiion and
dry crumbs enougl? to firm the mass.
Then cut in unoVij^r heapin^i^ tablespon-
ful of butter, and pdd a sal t>*|joon fill of
curry powder. Parboil and dice the
sweetbreads, saute the mushroom^^ Add
seasoning, crumbs, a beaten ef:sr. and a
little sweet cream. Bake ten minutes.

fur robes beside the little huivri of burn-
ing oil they found her a. i. p. iJently
they awrtkened her and told btr ihe ;:ood
news. With brown hands tl!iU.:':ug Hke
autumn leaves, she reached mit aU'l found
tiieir hanilii and laughed, ami told them
how giaJly she would make the baisket.
She lovc!d the work and wa< anxious to
begin. They couM gather for her the
long, many-c*olon*tl grai» roots that grew
in sheltei-ed nooks among the n)cks hid
away from the tossing of wild wav^ that
Leut upon their wind-swept island home.

So it was agreetl, and the big basket
wa:i brongiit iu and two-thirds filled with
broken lee. R^cks were made hut in seal
Oil lires iuid plitced upon tlie' ice, and'
when the wider was made warm enough
the old artist b4»gan her woi*k, her hand*
wUl under the water.

An Attu baaket, like a Panama hat, is
never taken from the warm water from
the time of itt* Iwginning uutd it is ea-
tirely linisiied.

With young girls seated eacli side of
her, placing in liur hautb tile diiferent
shades, pink, green, brown, red, golden
and cream, nature's own coloring, that
she began to weave them into the inirieate
pttttem she had chosen for this, her last
and must beautiful baslu't.

For many days the people of the little
island brougut her the longest, bnghtest-
eoioredy glossiest thread-like grass roots
they could lind. Yovua^ girla gave her
the right colors, and instinctively she
wrought the pattern her mind's eye cpuld
so plainly sec.

When she was tired they gave her food,
denying themselves, and watched while
she slept, fearful that she might die
before her task was finished. ,

And then came the last dxiy. The
basket was all b-at finished. The brown
fingers faltered, coxdd not find tiieir way.
The gray head drooped, but she smiled at
them and finished her work. Then they
wrapped her about in warm furs and
placed her in the back of her little igloo

and with sorrowing hearts went out to
tell the others that the little blind artist
had gone where there was no more cold
and hunger and suffering. They found
the air was full of wild shouting, "The
Bear is coming. The Bear is here."

The little band of natives swarmed to
the water's edge, bringing the basket with
them. They told the captain the story of
the little blind artiiit, and how she had
worked to make a basket so beautiful that
the lovely lady across the big water would
surely send her people the shipload of
food and clothing to keep them alive dur-
ing the coming winter.

The captain had a table placed on deck
and over it a scarf of purple velvet that
the basket might have a proper setting.

And every man aboard the Bear came
to admire, and every native on the island
came to see for the last time the work of
their beloved artist.

The captain, true to his word, carried
the basket to Helen Gould and told her
the story of its making. And she in turn
sent the promised shipload of food and
clothing to the natives on the far-away
Attu Island.

And this is the story told me by Mr.
Blackwell in the Blackwell curio store in
Nome, Alaska, as we sat watching the
natives cutting and carving the ivory
tusks that but yesterday were tossing
about in the wind-swept waters of Ber-
ing Sea.

"The basket you bought today," said
Blackwell, "was made by the same
woman before she lost her eyesight."

"Who taught you to do this beautiful
carving?" I asked of Happy Jack as I
paused to admire his work. For a
moment his face took on a puz/led look.
Then be smilingly tapped his head and
sai'l "Up here," and went on with his
work.

ffi A VilRl lA'V I^OOKIMji \OSW

CAJV

^1^

Bi: V4>l ItM

rrades Model No.
25 cu*iecis now ^
all ill - shn|u(i ^
noses <|ni*'kly, **>
F»aifi!*'.ssly. po'r
man* ntly sa'!
<oiMf«»rtj«l»ly a t
lioii'v. It *U the vji
onlj ^ufe and ^
{? 11 a r a 11 t e e «1 •*
patent d c v t r e j^L
that wii! aciiiuMy m
;.'ivt» you a per- ♦;
f»*ci looUinic iiove. '.f
Over ST.Ouu mit V

ii»ffo<l iK'rri*. For Si^

jr e a r s recoiu
Model 25 Jr. for childrea m<-ude<l by phy
siciaiis, 10 ycara of ex|>ori<'nce In inauu

S! pcr» is at

^ fafturin^ Nos« S! pcr» is at jour i^ervlce.

:»^.: Write for free b<X)klet, which tril you bow j&l

5»;^ to a»>ta:n a perfect lookintj nose. S*

W M. TRILETY. Specialist -J

;•' Dcpt, 22« Binphamton N. Y.

*^-"

^^-" 'M«^».

^sm)^Xtoai^.>^iet.y^

hlc^c^p

^L^

C. Hart Morriam

Papars

BANC MSS

80/18 c

Hunzapa. A former ChTRftl^an village
near Santa Barbara, Cal. <>9f

Huixapa.— Bancroft, Nat. Races, i, 459, 1874.
Hunxapa.— Taylor In Cal. Farmer, Apr. 24. 1863.

Hnocom. A former Costanoan village
near Santa Cruz mission, Cal.—Taylor in ^
Cal. Farmer, Apr. 5, 1860. ^ T/

Hupa. An Athapascan tribe formerly
occupying the valley of Trinity r., CaL,
from South fork to its j^nctioi^rwith ,
the Klamath, including Hupa Vrfllfey.f
They were first mentioned by Gibbs in
1852; a military post was established in
their territory in 1855 and maintained

Qhe-mah-re-ko

Sally Noble (full bloolj^and widow
of Steve Noble) tells me that her people

and neighbor ing Hoopah used to hum the
brush every 3rd or 4th year to keep the
forest floor clean and free from big
fires. This made it easier to gather
acx)rns and berries. In those days there
was plenty of green grass in the open

places

§LiJI5L- U-.a.jL.^ f^.,^ ^|-^c^ Vl«-x.

BULL. 301

HUNTLATIN HUPA

581

striking, bruising, or breaking bones, in-
cluding stones held in the hands, clubs
with grips, and hard objects at the end
of a line or handle, like a slung shot.
The N. Pacific tribes took great pains
with their clubs, carving on them their
symbolism.

(4) Sla^^hing or stabbing with edged
weapons. The Indians had little to do
with metals and were given almost alto-
gether to the use of stone, bone, reeds,
and wood for stabbing and slashing.
Both chipped and ground weai)ons were
used, either without a handle, with agrip,
or at the end of a shaft. Every Eskimo
had a quiver of daggers for use at close
quarters, and so had the Indian his side
arms. Edged weapons, however, were
not so common as the weapons of the
Tipxt class

(5) Hunting with piercing weapons,
the most common of all Indian methods
of taking animals. The implements in-
clude the pointed stick or stone, the lance,
the spear, the harpoon, and the arrow
(q. V. ). Weapons of this class were held
in the hand, hurled from the hand, shot
from a bow or a blowgun, or slung from
the throwing stick. Each of the varie-
ties went through a multitude of transfor-
mations, depending on game, materials 7
at hand, the skill of the maker, etc.

(6) The use of traps, pits, and snares
(see Traps). The Tenankutchin of
Alaska capture deer, moose, and caribou
by meansof a brush fence, extended maiiy
miles, in which at intervals snares are
set; and the same custom was practised
by many other tribes in hunting the
larger game. The Plains tribes and the
ancient Pueblos captured deer, antelope,
and wolves bv means of pitfalls.

(7) Capturing game by means of dogs
or other hunting animals. Indian tribes,
with iew exceptions, had no hunting dogs
regularly trained to pursue game, but the
common dog was very eflacient. Fowls
of the air, marine animals, and especially
carnivorous animals, such as the coyote,
by their noises and movements gave the
cue which aided the cunning and obser-
vant hunter to identify, locate, and follow
his game. (See Domeslicaiion, )

(8) Hunting by means of fire and
smoke. In America, as throughout the
world, as soon as men came into posses-
sion of fire the conquest of the animal
kingdom was practically assured. The
Indians used smoke to drive animals out
of hiding, torches to dazzle the eyes of
deer and to attract fish and birds to their
canoes, and firebrands and prairie fires

for game drives.

(9) Takmg animals by means of drugs.

The bark of walnut root served to asphyxi-
ate fish in fresh-water pools in the South-

ern states; in other sections soap root
and buckeyes were used.

In connection with hunting processes
there were accessory activities in which
the Indian had to be versed. There were
foods to eat and foods tabued, clothing
and masks to wear, shelters and hiding
places to provide, and not only must the
hunter be familiar with calls, imitations,
decoys, whistles, and the like, but ac-
quainted with the appropriate hunting
songs, ceremonies, and fetishes, and with
formulas for every act in the process, the
time for the chase of the various animals,
the laws for the division of game, and the
clan names connected with hunting. Be-
sides, there were num berless em ploy ments
and conveniences associated therewith.
In order to use the harpoon it was neces-
sary to have a canoe, and with every
method of hunting were connected other
employments which taxed the ingenuity
of the savage mind. There were also
certain activities which were the result of
hunting. Questions presented themselves
regarding transportation, receptacles, the
discrimination of useful species, and the
construction of fences. A slight knowl-
edge of anatomy was necessary in order
to know where to strike and how to cut
up game. All these ^ave excellent train-
ing in perception, skill, and cooperative
effort. See Buffalo, Fishing, Food, Fur
trade, Horse, etc., and the various sub-
jects above referred to.

Consult Allen, Rep. on Alaska, 138,
1885; Boas, Central Eskimo, 6th Rep. B.
A. E., 1888; Catlin, N. A. Inds., i-ii, 1844;
Dixon in Bull. Am. Mus. Nat. Hist, xvii,
pt. 3, 1905; Hoffman, Menomini Inds.,
14th Rep. B. A. E., 1896; Mason, various
articles in Rep. Smithson. Inst, and Nat.
Mus.; Maximilian, Travels, 1849; Mur-
doch, Ethnological Results of the Point
Barrow .^.xped., 9th Rep. B. A. E., 1892;
Nelson, Eskimo about Bering Strait, 18th
Rep. B. A. E., 1899; Schoolcraft, Indian
Tribes, i-vi, 1851-57. (o. t. m.)

Huntlatin. A division of the Tenan-
kutchin on Tanana r., Alaska.
Hautlatin.— Dawson (after Allen) in Rep. Geol.
Surv. Can., 203b, 1887. Huntlatin.— Allen, Rep.
on Alaska. 137. U

( •«

— .■

582

HUPA

I B. A. K.

until 1892; an<l a rff^ervation IJiii. 8(|uare,
indiKling nearly all the lliipa habitat, was
get ai>art in Au^., l^fH. The i)opulation
in 1888 wa<« jriven as 650; in 1900, 430;
in 19a5, 412. They are at present self-
Pupi>ortin^, (le|)en(lin<; on agriculture and

HUPA WOMAN. (gOODARo)

stock raising. Wlien they first came in
contact with the whites, in 1850, the Hupa
were all under the control of a chief

Miskut, Takimilding, TleMing, Toltsas-
ding, and Tsevvenalding. Powers (Cont. -
N. A. Ethnol., in, 73, 1877) gave Chail-
kutkaituh, Wis8oinanchuh,and Misketoi-
itok, which have not been identitied with
any of the foregoing; Gibbs (MS. on
Klamath river, B. A. E., 1852), on infor-
mation furnished by the Yurok, gave
Wangullewntlekauh, Wangullewatl,
Behachpeva,and (Schoolcraft, Ind. Tribes,
III, 139, 1853)Ta8huanta, Sokeakeit(8ok-
chit), and Meyemma.

The houses of the Hupa were built of
cedar slabs set on end, the walls being 4 ft
high on the sides and rising to more than
6 ft at the ends to accommodate the slope
of the roof, inclosing a place about 20 ft
scjuare, the central part of which was ex-
cavated to form the principal chamber,
which was about 12 ft siiuare and 5 ft
deep. The entrance was a hole 18 or 20
in. in diameter and about a foot above
the ground. This was the storehouse for
the family goods and the sleeping place
of the women. The men occupied sweat
houses at night. The Hupa depended
for food on the deer and elk of the moun-
tains, the salmon and lamprey of the

HUPA MAN. (gODDARd)

river, and the acorns and other vegetal
foods growing plentifully about them.
They are noted for the beautiful twined
baskets produced by the women and
the line pipes and implements executed
by the men. The yew bows they used

BULL. 30 J

HUPA

583

to make, only about 3 ft long, ntrength-
ened with sinew fastened to the back
with Hturgeon glue, were effective up to
75 yds. and could inflict a serious wound
at 100 yds. Their arrows, made of sy-
ringa shoots wound with sinew, into
which forcshaftsof juneberry wood w^ere
inserted, f< athered with three split hawk
feathers and pointed with sharp heads
of obsiilian, flint, bone, or iron, some-
times passed entirely through a deer.
The hunter, disguised in the skin of the
deer or elk, the odor of his body removed
by ablution and smoking with green fir
boughs, simulated so perfectly the move-
ments of the animal in order to get with-
in bowshot that a panther sometimes
pounced upon his back, but withdrew
when he felt the sharp pins that, for the
very purpose of warding off such an at-
tack, were thrust through the man's hair
gathered in a bunch at the back of the
neck. The Hupa took deer also with
snares of a strong rope made from the
fiber of the iris, or chased them into the
water witii dogs and pursued them in
canoes. Meat was roasted before the fire
or on the coals or incased in the stomach
and buried in the ashes until cooked, or
was boiled in water-tight baskets by drop-
ping in hot stones. Meat and fish were -
preserved by smoking. Salmon were '
caught in latticed weirs stretched across
the river or in seines or poundnets, or
were speared with barbs that detached
but were made fast to the pole by lines.
Dried acorns wereground into flour, leach-
ed in a pit to extract the bitter taste, and
boiled into a mush.

The men wore ordinarily a breechclout
of deerskin or of skins of small animals
joined together, and leggings of painted
deerskin with the seam in front hidden
by a fringe that hung from the top, which
was turned down at the knee. Moccasins
of deerskin with soles of elk hide were
sometimes worn. The dance robes of
the men were made of two deerskins sewn
together along one side, the necks meet-
ing over the left shoulder and the tails
nearly touching the ground. Panther
skins were sometimes used. The hair
wastied into two clubs, one hanging down
on each side of the head, or into one
which hung behind. Bands of deer-
skin, sometimes ornamented with wood-
peckers' crests, were worn about the head
in dances, and occasionally feathers or
feathered darts were stuck in the hair.
The nose was not pierced, but in the ears
were often worn dentalium shells with
tassels of woodpeckers' feathers. A quiver
of handsome skin filled with arrows was
a [)art of gala dress, and one of plain
buckskin or a skin pouch or sack of net-
ting was carried as a pocket for small
articles. Women wore a skirt of deer-

skin reaching to the knees, with a long,
thick fringe hanging below and a short
fringe at the waist. When soiled it was
washed w^ith the soap plant. At the
opening of the skirt in front an apron
was worn underneath. The skirts worn
in dances were ornamented with strings
of shell beads, pieces of abalone shell,
and fiakes of obsidian fastened to the
upper and of shells of pine nuts inserted
at intervals in the lower fringe. The
apron for common wear was made of long
strands of pine-nut shells and braided
leaves attached to a belt. The dance
aprons had strands of shells and pendants
cut from abalone shells. Small dentalium
and olivella shells, pine-nut shells, and
small .black fruits were strung for neck-
laces. A robe of deerskin or of wildcat fur
was worn with the hair next to the body
as a protection against the cold and in
rainy weather with the hair side out. The
hea(l covering was a cap of fine basket
work, which protected the forehead from
the carrying strap whereby burdens and
baby baskets were borne. Women, ex-
cept widows, wore their hair long and
tied in (lueues that hung down in front
of the ears, and were ornamented with
strips of mink skin, sometimes covered
- with woodpeckers' crests, and shell pen-
' dants, and sometimes perfumed with
stems of yerba buena. From their ears
hung pendants of abalone shell attached
to twine. All adult women w^ere tattooed
with vertical black marks on the chin
and sometimes curved marks were added
at the corners of the mouth.

The imagination of the Hupa has peo-
pled the regi' »ns e., w., s., and above with
mortals known as Kihunai. The under-
world is tlie abode of the dead. ^ Their
creator or culture hero, Yimantuwdngyai,
dwells with Kihunai across the ocean to-
ward the N. A salm(m feast is held by the
southern divison in the spring and an
acorn feast by the northern division in
the fall. They formerly celebrated three
dances each year: the spring dance, the
white-deerskin dance, and the jumping
dance. They have a large and varied
folklore and many very interesting med-
icine formulas. See Goddard, Life and
Culture of the Hupa, Univ. Cal. Pub. ,1903;
Hupa Texts, ibid. , 1904. ( p. e. g. )

Cha'parahihu.— A. L. Kroeber, inf n. 1903 (Shasta
name). Hich'hu.— Kroeber, inf'n. 1903 (Chima-
riko name). Hoopa.— Gatschet in Beach. Tna.
Miscel., 440, 1877. Hoo-pah.— Gibbs in Sehoolcruft,
Ind. Tribes, in, 139, 1853. Ho-pah.— (Jibba, MS.,
B. A. E., 1852. Hupa— Powers in Cont. N. A.
Ethnol.,iii. 73, 1877. Hupo.— Gatschet in Beach,
Ind Miscel.. 440, 1877. Kishakevira.— Kroeber,
inf'n, 1903(Karok name). Nabiltse.— Gibbs, Na-
biltse MS. vocab., B. A. E., 1857 (trans, 'man').
Nabil-tse.— Gibbs in Schoolcraft, Ind. Tribes, ni,
423, 1853. Nabittse.— Latham in Proc. Philol.
Soc. Lond., VI, 84, 1854 Natano.— Ray in Am.
Nat., 832, 1886. Noh-tin-oah.— Azpell, MS., B. A. E.
(own name). Num-ee-muss.— Ibid. ( Ynrok name).
Trinity Indians.— McKee (1851) in Sen. Ex. Doc.

584

HURON

[b. a. e.

-'^.

'Jf^N.^

4, 32d Cong., spec, sess., 161, 1853. TJp-pa.— Hazeii
quoted by GibOH, Nabiltse MS. vocab., B. A. E.

Huron (lexically from French hure,
*bri8tly,' * bristled/ from hure, * rough
hair * (of the head), head of man or beast,
wild boards head; old French, * muzzle of
the wolf, lion,* etc., *the scalp/ *a wig';
Norman French, hurey * rugged'; Rou-
manian, hureCj * rough earth,' and the
suffix -oily expressive of depreciation and
employed to form nouns referring to per-
sons). The name Huroriy frequently with
an added epithet, like vilairiy * base,' was
in use in France as early as 1358 ( La Curne
deSainte-Palaye in Diet. Hist, de 1' Ancien
Langage Frangoise, 1880) as a name ex-
pressive of contumely, contempt, and in-
sult, signifying approximately an un-
kempt person, knave, ruffian, lout, wretch.
The peasants who rebelled against the
nobility during the captivity of King John
in England in 1358 were called both
Hurons and Jacques or Jacques bons horn-
mesy the latter signifying approximately
* simpleton Jacks,' and so the term Jac-
querie was applied to this revolt of the
peasants. But Father Lalement ( Jes. Rel.
for 1639, 51, 1858), in attempting to give
the origin of the name IluroUy says that
about 40 years previous to his time,
i. e., about 1600, when these people first
reached the French trading posts on the -
St Lawrence, a French soldier or sailor, }
seeing some of these barbarians wearing
their haircropped and roached, gavethem
the name Hurons, their heads suggesting
those of wild boars. Lalement declares
that while what he had advanced con-
cerning the origin of the name was the
most authentic, ** others attribute it to
some other though similar origm." But
it certainly does not appear that the re-
bellious French peasants in 1358, men-
tioned above, were called Hurons because
they had a similar or an identical manner
of wearing the hair; for, as has been
stated, the name had, long previous to
the arrival of the French in America, a
well-known derogatory signification in
France. So it is quite probable that the
name was applied to the Indians in the
sense of *an unkempt person,' *a bristly
savage,' *a wretch or lout,' *a ruffian.'

A contederation of 4 highly organized
Iroquoian tribes with several small de-
" T>endent communities, which, when first
tnown in 1615, occupied a limited terri-
tory, sometimes called Huronia, around
L. Simcoe and s. and e. of Georgian bay,
Ontario. According to the Jesuit Rela-
tion for 1639 the names of these tribes,
which were independent in local affairs
only, were the Attignaouantan (Bear peo-
ple), the Attigneenongnahac (Cord peo-
ple), the Arendahronon (Rock people),
and the Tohontaenrat (Atahontn'enrat or
Tohonta'enraty White-eared or Deer peo-
ple ) , Two of the dependent peoples were

the Bowl people and the Ataronchronon.
Later, to escape destruction by the Iro-
quois, the Wenrohronon, an Iroiiuoian*
tribe, in 1 639, and the Atontrataronnon, an *
Algonquian people, in 1644, sought asylum
with the Huron confederation. In the
Huron tongue the common and gen-
eral name of this confederation of tribes
and dependent peoples was Wendat (8en-
dat), a designation of doubtful analysis
and signifi(»tion, the most obvious mean-
ing being *the islanders' or * dwellers on
a peninsula. ' According to a definite tra-
dition recorded in the Jesuit Relation for
1639, the era of the formation of this con-
federation was at that period compara-
tively recent, at least in so far as the date
of membership of the last two tribes men-
tioned therein is concerned. According
to the same authority the Rock people
were adopted about 50 years and the
Deer people about 30 years (traditional
time) previous to 1639, thus carrying
back to about 1590 the date of the immi-
gration of the Rock people into the Huron
country. The first two principal tribes
in 1639, re^rding themselves as the orig-
inal inhabitants of the land, claimed that
they knew with certainty the dwelling
places and village sites of their ancestors
m the country for a period exceeding 200
years. Having received and adopted the
other two into their country and state,
they were the more important. Official ly
and in their councils they addressed
each other by the formal political terms
* brother' and * sister'; they were also
the more populous, having incorporated
many persons, families, clans, and peo-
ples, who, preserving the name and mem-
ory of their own founders, lived among
the tribes which adopted them as small
dependent communities, maintaining the
general name and having the community
of certain local rights, and enjoyed the
powerful protection and shared with it
the community of certain other rights,
interests, and obligations of the great
Wendat commonwealth.

The provenience and the course of mi-
gration of the Rock and Deer tribes to
the Huron country appear to furnish a
reason for the prevalent but erroneous
belief that all the Iroquoian tribes came
into this continent from the valley of the
lower St Lawrence. There is presump-
tive evidence that the Roc^ and the Deer
tribes came into Huronia from the middle
and upper St Lawrence valley, and they
appear to have been expelled therefrom
by the Iroquois, hence the expulsion of
the Rock and the Deer people from lower
St Lawrence valley has been mistaken
for the migration of the entire stock from
that region.

In his voyages to the St Lawrence in
1534-43, Jacques Cartier found on the

^. ^t*^ '

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Full text of "C. Hart Merriam papers relating to work with California Indians, 1850-1974. (bulk 1898-1938)"

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