a sheaf of good indian stories from history.

i. an indian stratagem.

during the revolutionary war, a regiment of soldiers was stationed upon the confines of an extensive savanna in georgia. its particular office was to guard every avenue of approach to the main army. the sentinels, whose posts penetrated into the woods, were supplied from the ranks; but they were perpetually surprised upon their posts by the indians and borne off their stations, without communicating any alarm or being heard of afterward.

one morning, the sentinels having been stationed as usual over night, the guard went at sunrise to relieve a post which extended a considerable distance into the wood. the sentinel was gone. the surprise was great; but the circumstance had occurred before. they left another man, and departed, wishing him better luck. "you need not be afraid," said the man, with warmth, "i shall not desert."

the sentinels were replaced every four hours, and, at the appointed time, the guard again marched to relieve the post. to their inexpressible astonishment the man was gone. they searched around the spot, but no traces of him could be found. it was now more necessary than ever that the station should not remain unoccupied; they left another man and returned to the guardhouse.

the superstition of the soldiers was awakened and terror ran through the regiment. the colonel, being apprised of the occurrence, signified his intention to accompany the guard when they relieved the sentinel they had left. at the appointed time, they all marched together; and again, to their unutterable wonder, they found the post vacant, and the man gone. under these circumstances, the colonel hesitated whether he should station a whole company on the spot or whether he should again submit the post to a single sentinel. the cause of these repeated disappearances of men whose courage and honesty were never suspected must be discovered, and it seemed not likely that this discovery could be obtained by persisting in the old method.

three brave men were now lost to the regiment, and to assign the fourth seemed nothing less than giving him up to destruction. the poor fellow whose turn it was to take the station, though a man in other respects of incomparable resolution, trembled from head to foot.

"i must do my duty," said he to the officer; "i know that; but i should like to lose my life with more credit." "i will leave no man," said the colonel, "against his will." a man immediately stepped from the ranks and desired to take the post. every mouth commended his resolution.

"i will not be taken alive," said he, "and you shall hear of me at the least alarm. at all events, i will fire my piece if i hear the least noise. if a crow chatters, or a leaf falls, you shall hear my musket. you may be alarmed when nothing is the matter; but you must take the chance as the condition of the discovery."

the colonel applauded his courage, and told him he would do right to fire upon the least noise that he could not satisfactorily explain. his comrades shook hands with him, and left him with a melancholy foreboding. the company marched back and awaited the event in the guardhouse.

an hour had now elapsed and every ear was upon the rack for the discharge of the musket, when, upon a sudden, the report was heard. the guard immediately marched, accompanied, as before, by the colonel and some of the most experienced officers of the regiment.

as they approached the post they saw the man advancing toward them, dragging another man on the ground by the hair of his head. when they came up to him, it appeared to be an indian whom he had shot. an explanation was immediately required.

needle parker

"i told you, colonel," said the man, "that i should fire if i heard the least noise. that resolution i took has saved my life. i had not been long at my post when i heard a rustling at some short distance; i looked and saw a wild hog, such as are common in the woods, crawling along the ground, and seemingly looking for nuts under the trees, among the leaves.

"as these animals are so very common, i ceased to consider it seriously, but kept my eyes fixed upon it, and marked its progress among the trees; still there was no need to give the alarm. it struck me, however, as somewhat singular to see this animal making, by a circuitous passage, for a thick grove immediately behind my post. i therefore kept my eye more constantly fixed upon it, and, as it was now within a few yards of the coppice, i hesitated whether i should fire.

"my comrades, thought i, will laugh at me for alarming them by shooting a pig. i had almost resolved to let it alone, when, just as it approached the thicket, i thought i observed it give an unusual spring. i no longer hesitated; i took my aim, discharged my piece, and the animal was immediately stretched before me, with a groan which i thought to be that of a human creature.

"i went up to it, and judge of my astonishment when i found that i had killed an indian. he had enveloped himself with the skin of one of these wild hogs so artfully and completely, his hands and his feet were so entirely concealed in it, and his gait and appearance were so exactly correspondent to that of the animals, that, imperfectly as they were always seen through the trees and bushes the disguise could not be detected at a distance, and scarcely discovered upon the nearest inspection. he was armed with a dagger and a tomahawk."

the cause of the disappearance of the other sentinels was now apparent. the indians, sheltered in this disguise, secreted themselves in the coppice, watched for the moment to throw off the hog skin, burst upon the sentinels without previous alarm, and, too quick to give them an opportunity to discharge their pieces, either stabbed or tomahawked them. they then bore their bodies away and concealed them at some distance in the leaves, which were thick on the ground.

ii. the mohawk's last arrow.

when the grand monarque, louis xiv., ruled france, he appointed one of his favorite courtiers, the chevalier de frontenac, governor-general of new france, or konnedieya. {fn} some years after count de frontenac became viceregent, the war-like five nations (afterward six), "the romans of america," proved themselves soldiers of the highest order. this they did not only by carrying their arms among the native tribes a thousand miles away, and striking their enemies alike upon the lakes of maine, the mountains of carolina and the prairies of missouri; but they had already bearded one european army beneath the walls of quebec, and shut up another for weeks within the defenses of montreal, with the same courage that, half a century later, vanquished the battalions of dieskau, upon the banks of lake george.

{fn} since corrupted into canada, "beautiful water," probably so called from the amber-like color of many of its streams.

to punish the savages for their "insolence," and bring them under subjection, the commander-in-chief, the veteran governor frontenac, organized an expedition to invade the country of the five nations, and marshaled his forces at la chine on july 4, 1696. the aged chevalier was said to have other objects in view besides the political motives for the expedition.

it seems that many years previous, when the five nations had invested the capital of new france and threatened the extermination of that thriving colony, a beautiful half-blood girl, whose education had been commenced under the immediate auspices of the governor-general, and in whom, indeed, m. de frontenac was said to have a parental interest, was carried off, with other prisoners, by the retiring foe. every effort had been made in vain during the occasional cessations of hostilities between the french and the iroquois, to recover this girl; and though, in the years that intervened, some wandering jesuit from time to time averred that he had seen the christian captive living as the contented wife of a young mohawk warrior, yet the old nobleman seems never to have despaired of reclaiming his "nut-brown daughter." indeed the chevalier must have been impelled by some such hope when, at the age of seventy, and so feeble that he was half the time carried in a litter, he ventured to encounter the perils of an american wilderness and place himself at the head of the heterogeneous bands which now invaded the country of the five nations, under his command.

among the half-breed spies, border scouts and mongrel adventurers that followed in the train of the invading army was a renegade fleming of the name of hanyost. this man in early youth had been made a sergeant-major, when he deserted to the french ranks in flanders. he had subsequently taken up a military grant in canada, sold it after emigrating, and then, making his way down to the dutch settlements on the hudson, had become a sojourner among their old allies, the mohawks, and adopted the life of a hunter. hanyost, hearing that his old friends, the french, were making such a formidable descent, did not hesitate to desert his more recent acquaintances and offer his services as a guide to count frontenac the moment he entered the hostile country. it was not, however, mere cupidity or the habitual love of treachery which actuated the base fleming in this instance. hanyost, in a difficulty with an indian trapper, which had been referred for arbitrament to a young mohawk chief, kiodago (a settler of disputes), whose cool courage and firmness fully entitled him to so distinguished a name, conceived himself aggrieved by the award which had been given against him. the scorn with which the arbitrator met his charge of unfairness stung him to the soul, and fearing the arm of the powerful savage, he had nursed the revenge in secret, whose accomplishment seemed now at hand. kiodago, ignorant of the hostile force which had entered his country, was off with his band at a fishing station, or summer camp, among the wild hills, and when hanyost informed the commander of the french forces that by surprising this party his long-lost daughter, the wife of kiodago, might be once more given to his arms, a small but efficient force was instantly detached from the main body of the army to strike the blow. a dozen musketeers, with twenty-five pikemen, led severally by the baron de bekancourt and the chevalier de grais, the former having the chief command of the expedition, were sent upon this duty, with hanyost to guide them to the village of kiodago. many hours were consumed upon the march, as the soldiers were not yet habituated to the wilderness; but just before dawn on the second day the party found themselves in the neighborhood of the indian village.

the place was wrapped in repose, and the two cavaliers trusted that the surprise would be so complete that their commander's daughter must certainly be taken. the baron, after a careful examination of the hilly passes, determined to head the onslaught, while his companion in arms, with hanyost to mark out his prey, should pounce upon the chieftain's wife. this being arranged, their followers were warned not to injure the female captives while cutting their defenders to pieces, and then, a moment being allowed for each man to take a last look at the condition of his arms, they were led to the attack.

the inhabitants of the fated village, secure in their isolated situation, aloof from the war-parties of that wild district, had neglected all precaution against surprise, and were buried in sleep when the whizzing of a grenade, that terrible but superseded engine of destruction, roused them from their slumbers. the missile, to which a direction had been given that carried it in a direct line through the main row of wigwams which formed the little street, went crashing among their frail frames of basket-work, and kindled the dry mats stretched over them into instant flames. and then, as the startled warriors leaped, all naked and unarmed, from their blazing lodges, the french pikemen, waiting only for a volley from the musketeers, followed it up with a charge still more fatal. the wretched savages were slaughtered like sheep in the shambles. some, overwhelmed with dismay, sank unresisting upon the ground, and covering up their heads, after the indian fashion when resigned to death, awaited the fatal stroke without a murmur; others, seized with a less benumbing panic, sought safety in flight, and rushed upon the pikes that lined the forest paths around them.

many there were, however, who, schooled to scenes as dreadful, acquitted themselves like warriors. snatching their weapons from the greedy flames, they sprang with irresistible fury upon the bristling files of pikemen. their heavy war-clubs beat down and splintered the fragile spears of the europeans, whose corslets, ruddy with the reflected fires amid which they fought, glinted back still brighter sparks from the hatchets of flint which crashed against them. the fierce veterans pealed the charging cry of many a well-fought field in other climes; but wild and high, the indian war-whoop rose shrill above the din of conflict, until the hovering raven in mid air caught up and answered that discordant shriek.

de grais, in the meantime, surveyed the scene of action with eager intentness, expecting each moment to see the paler features of the christian captive among the dusky females, who ever and anon sprang shrieking from the blazing lodges, and were instantly hurled backward into the flames by fathers and brothers, who even thus would save them from the hands that vainly essayed to grasp their distracted forms. the mohawks began now to wage a more successful resistance, and just when the fight was raging hottest, and the high-spirited frenchman, beginning to despair of his prey, was about launching into the midst of it, he saw a tall warrior who had hitherto been forward in the conflict, disengage himself from the melee, and wheeling suddenly upon a soldier, who had likewise separated from his party, brain him with a tomahawk before he could make a movement in his defense. the quick eye of the young chevalier, too, caught a glance of another figure, in pursuit of whom, as she emerged with an infant in her arms, from a lodge on the further side of the village, the luckless frenchman had met his doom. it was the christian captive, the wife of kiodago, beneath whose hand he had fallen. the chief now stood over the body of his victim, brandishing a war-club which he had snatched from a dying indian near. quick as thought, de grais leveled a pistol at his head, when the track of the flying girl brought her directly in his line of sight, and he withheld his fire. kiodago, in the meantime, had been cut off from the rest of his people by the soldiers, who closed in upon the space which his terrible arm had a moment before kept open. a cry of agony escaped the high-souled savage, as he saw how thus the last hope was lost. he made a gesture as if about to again rush into the fray, and sacrifice his life with his tribesmen; and then perceiving how futile must be the act, he turned on his heel, and bounded after his retreating wife, with arms outstretched to shield her from the dropping shots of the enemy.

the rising sun had now lighted up the scene, but all this passed so instantaneously that it was impossible for de grais to keep his eye upon the fugitives amid the shifting forms that glanced continually before him; and when, accompanied by hanyost and seven others, he had got fairly in pursuit, kiodago, who still kept behind his wife, was far in advance of the chevalier and his party. her forest training had made the christian captive as fleet of foot as an indian maiden. she heard, too, the cheering voice of her loved warrior behind her, and pressing her infant to her heart, she urged her flight over crag and fell and soon reached the head of a rocky pass, which it would take some moments for any but an american forester to scale. but the indefatigable frenchmen are urging their way up the steep; the cry of pursuit grows nearer as they catch a sight of her husband through the thickets, and the agonized wife finds her onward progress prevented by a ledge of rock that impends above her. but now again kiodago is by her side; he has lifted his wife to the cliff above, and placed her infant in her arms and already the indian mother is speeding on to a cavern among the hills, well known as a fastness of safety.

kiodago looked a moment after her retreating figure, and then coolly swung himself to the ledge which commanded the pass. he might now easily escape his pursuers; but as he stepped back from the edge of the cliff and looked down the narrow ravine, the vengeful spirit of the red man was too strong within him to allow such an opportunity of striking a blow to escape. his tomahawk and war-club had both been lost in the strife, but he still carried at his back a more efficient weapon in the hands of so keen a hunter. there were but three arrows in his quiver, and the mohawk was determined to have the life of an enemy in exchange for each of them. his bow was strung quickly, but with as much coolness as if there was no exigency to require haste. yet he had scarcely time to throw himself upon his breast, a few yards from the brink of the declivity, before one of his pursuers, more active than the rest, exposed himself to the unerring archer. he came leaping from rock to rock, and had nearly reached the head of the glen, when, pierced through and through by one of kiodago's arrows, he toppled from the crags, and rolled, clutching the leaves in his death agony, among the tangled furze below. a second met a similar fate, and a third victim would probably have been added, if a shot from the fusil of hanyost, who sprang forward and caught sight of the indian just as the first man fell, had not disabled the thumb joint of the bold archer, even as he fixed his last arrow in the string. resistance seemed now at an end, and kiodago again betook himself to flight. yet anxious to divert the pursuit from his wife, the young chieftain pealed a yell of defiance, as he retreated in a different direction from that which she had taken. the whoop was answered by a simultaneous shout and rush on the part of the whites; but the indian had not advanced far before he perceived that the pursuing party, now reduced to six, had divided, and that three only followed him. he had recognized the scout, hanyost, among his enemies, and it was now apparent that that wily traitor, instead of being misled by his ruse, had guided the other three upon the direct trail to the cavern which the christian captive had taken. quick as thought, the mohawk acted upon the impression. making a few steps within a thicket, still to mislead his present pursuers, he bounded across a mountain torrent, and then leaving his foot-marks dashed in the yielding bank, he turned shortly on a rock beyond, recrossed the stream, and concealed himself behind a falling tree; while his pursuers passed within a few paces of his covert.

a broken hillock now only divided the chief from the point to which he had directed his wife by another route, and to which the remaining party, consisting of de grais, hanyost and a french musketeer, were hotly urging their way. the hunted warrior ground his teeth with rage when he heard the voice of the treacherous fleming in the glen below him; and springing from crag to crag, he circled the rocky knoll, and planted his foot by the roots of a blasted oak, that shot its limbs above the cavern, just as his wife had reached the spot, and pressing her babe to her bosom, sank exhausted among the flowers that waved in the moist breath of the cave. it chanced that at that very instant, de grais and his followers had paused beneath the opposite side of the knoll, from whose broken surface the foot of the flying indian had disengaged a stone, which crackling among the branches, found its way through a slight ravine into the glen below. the two frenchmen stood in doubt for a moment. the musketeer, pointing in the direction whence the stone had rolled, turned to receive the order of his officer. the chevalier, who had made one step in advance of a broad rock between them, leaned upon it, pistol in hand, half turning toward his follower while the scout, who stood furthest out from the steep bank, bending forward to discover the mouth of the cave, must have caught a glimpse of the sinking female, just as the shadowy form of her husband was displayed above her. god help thee now, bold archer! thy quiver is empty; thy game of life is nearly up; the sleuth-hound is upon thee; and thy scalp-lock, whose plumes now flutter in the breeze, will soon be twined in the fingers of the vengeful renegade. thy wife—but hold! the noble savage has still one arrow left!

the mohawk's last arrow

disabled, as he thought himself, the mohawk had not dropped his bow in his flight. his last arrow was still gripped in his bleeding fingers; and though his stiffening thumb forbore the use of it to the best advantage, the hand of kiodago had not lost its power. {fn} the crisis which it takes so long to describe had been realized by him in an instant. he saw how the french-men, inexperienced in woodcraft, were at fault; he saw, too, that the keen eye of hanyost had caught sight of the object of their pursuit, and that further flight was hopeless, while the scene of his burning village in the distance inflamed him with hate and fury toward the instrument of his misfortunes. bracing one knee upon the flinty rock, while the muscles of the other swelled as if the whole energies of his body were collected in that single effort, kiodago aims at the treacherous scout, and the twanging bowstring dismisses his last arrow upon its errand. the hand of the spirit could alone have guided that shaft! but waneyo smiles upon the brave warrior, and the arrow, while it rattles harmless against the cuirass of the french officer, glances toward the victim for whom it was intended, and quivers in the heart of hanyost! the dying wretch grasped the sword-chain of the chevalier, whose corslet clanged among the rocks, as the two went rolling down the glen together; and de grais was not unwilling to abandon the pursuit when the musketeer, coming to his assistance, had disengaged him, bruised and bloody, from the embrace of the stiffening corpse.

{fn} the english mode of holding the arrow, as represented in the plate, is not common among our aborigines, who use the thumb for a purchase.

what more is there to add. the bewildered europeans rejoined their comrades, who were soon after on their march from the scene they had desolated; while kiodago descended from his eyrie to collect the fugitive survivors of his band, and, after burying the slain, to wreak a terrible vengeance upon their murderers; the most of whom were cut off by him before they joined the main body of the french army. the count de frontenac, returning to canada, died soon afterward, and the existence of his half-blood daughter was soon forgotten. and—though among the dozen old families in the state of new york who have indian blood in their veins, many trace their descent from the off spring of the noble kiodago and his christian wife—yet the hand of genius, as displayed in the admirable picture of chapman, which we reproduce, has alone rescued from oblivion the thrilling scene of the mohawk's last arrow!

iii. audubon's night of peril.

"on my return from the upper mississippi," said john j. audubon, the celebrated ornithologist, "i found myself obliged to cross one of the wide prairies which, in that portion of the united states, vary the appearance of the country. the weather was fine; all around me was as fresh and blooming as if it had just issued from the bosom of nature. my knapsack, my gun and my dog were all i had for baggage and company. the track that i followed was an old indian trail, and as darkness overshadowed the prairie, i felt some desire to reach at least a copse in which i might lie down to rest. the night-hawks were skimming over and around me, attracted by the buzzing wings of the beetles, which form their food, and the distant howlings of wolves gave me some hope that i should soon arrive at the skirts of some woodland.

"i did so; and almost at the same instant a fire-light attracted my attention. i moved toward it, full of confidence that it proceeded from the camp of some wandering indians. i was mistaken. i discovered by its glare that it was from the open door of a small log cabin, and that a tall figure passed and repassed between it and me, as if busily engaged in house-hold affairs.

"i reached the place, and presenting myself at the door, asked the tall figure, which proved to be a woman, if i might take shelter under her roof for the night. her voice was gruff and her attire negligently thrown about her. she answered in the affirmative. i walked in, took a stool and quietly seated myself by the fire.

"the next object that attracted my attention was a finely formed young indian resting his head between his hands, with his elbows on his knees. a long bow rested against a log wall near him, while a quantity of arrows and two or three raccoon skins lay at his feet. he moved not—he apparently breathed not.

"accustomed to the habits of the indians, and knowing that they pay little attention to the approach of civilized strangers (a circumstance which in some countries is considered to evince the apathy of their character), i addressed him in french, a language not unfrequently partially known to the people in that neighborhood.

"he raised his head, pointed to one of his eyes with his finger, and gave me a significant look with the other. his face was covered with blood. the fact was that about an hour or so before this, as he was in the act of discharging an arrow at a raccoon in the top of a tree, the arrow had split upon the cord and sprung back with such violence into his right eye as to destroy it forever.

"feeling hungry, i inquired what sort of fare i might expect. such a thing as a bed was not to be seen, but many large untanned bear and buffalo hides lay piled up in a corner. i drew a fine timepiece from my breast and told the woman that it was late and that i was fatigued. she had espied my watch, the richness and beauty of which seemed to operate upon her feelings with electrical quickness. she told me that there was plenty of venison and jerked buffalo meat, and that on removing the ashes i should find a cake. but my watch had struck her fancy, and her curiosity had to be gratified by an immediate sight of it. i took off the gold chain that secured it from around my neck and handed it to her. she was all ecstasy, spoke of its beauty, asked me its value and put my chain around her brawny neck, saying how happy the possession of such a watch would make her.

"thoughtless, and, as i fancied myself in so retired a spot secure, i paid little attention to her talk or her movements. i helped my dog to a good supper of venison, and was not long in satisfying the demands of my own appetite.

"the indian rose from his seat as if in extreme suffering. he passed and repassed me several times, and once pinched me on the arm so violently that the pain nearly brought forth an exclamation of anger. i looked at him; his eye met mine, but his look was so forbidding that it struck a chill into the more nervous part of my system. he again seated himself, drew his butcher's knife from its greasy scabbard, examined its edge as i would do that of a razor suspected dull, replaced it, and again taking his tomahawk from his belt, filled the pipe of it with tobacco, and sent me expressive glances whenever our hostess chanced to have her back toward us.

"never until that moment had my senses been awakened to the danger which i now suspected to be about me. i returned glance for glance to my companion, and rested well assured that whatever enemies i might have, he was not one of their number. i asked the woman for my watch, wound it up, and under pretense of wishing to see how the weather might probably be on the morrow, took up my gun and walked out of the cabin. i slipped a ball into each barrel, scraped the edges of my flints, renewed the primings, and returning to the hut, gave a favorable account of my observations. i now took a few bearskins, made a pallet of them, and calling my faithful dog to my side, lay down, with my gun close to my body, and in a few minutes was to all appearances fast asleep.

"a short time had elapsed when some voices were heard, and from the corner of my eyes i saw two athletic youths making their entrance, bearing a dead stag on a pole. they disposed of their burden, and asking for whisky, helped themselves freely to it. observing me and the wounded indian, they asked who i was, and why that rascal (meaning the indian, who, they knew, understood not a word of english) was in the house. the mother—for so she proved to be—bade them speak less loudly, made mention of my watch, and took them to a corner, where a conversation took place in a low tone, the purport of which it required little shrewdness in me to guess. i tapped my dog gently; he moved his tail, and with indescribable pleasure i saw his fine eyes alternately fixed on me, and raised toward the trio in the corner. i felt that he perceived danger in my situation. the indian exchanged a last glance with me.

"the lads had eaten and drunk themselves into such condition that i already looked upon them as hors de combat, and the frequent visits of the whisky bottle to the ugly mouth of their dam i hoped would soon reduce her to a like state. judge of my astonishment, reader, when i saw this incarnate fiend take a large butcher's knife and go to the grindstone to whet its edge. i saw her pour the water on the turning stone, and watched her working away with the dangerous instrument until the cold sweat covered every part of my body, despite my determination to defend myself to the last. her task finished, she walked to her reeling sons and said, 'there, that'll soon settle him. boys, you kill the indian and then for the watch!'

"i turned, cocked my gunlocks silently, touched my faithful companion, and lay ready to startup and shoot the first that might attempt my life. the moment was fast approaching, and that night might have been my last in this world, had not providence made preparations for my rescue. all was ready; the infernal hag was advancing slowly, probably contemplating the best way of despatching me whilst her sons should be engaged with the indian. i was several times on the eve of rising and shooting her on the spot; but she was not to be punished thus. the door was suddenly opened, and there entered two stout travelers, each with a long rifle on his shoulder. i bounced upon my feet, and making them most heartily welcome, told them how well it was for me that they should have arrived at that moment. the tale was told in a minute. the drunken young men were secured, and the woman, in spite of her defense and vociferations, shared the same fate. the indian fairly danced with joy, and gave us to understand that as he could not sleep for pain, he would watch over us. you may suppose we slept much less than we talked.

"the two strangers gave me an account of their once having been themselves in a somewhat similar situation. day came, fair and rosy, and with it the punishment of our captives. they were quite sobered. their feet were unbound, but their arms were still securely tied. we marched them into the woods off the road, and having disposed of them as regulators were wont to treat such wretches, we set fire to the cabin, gave all their skins and implements to the young indian warrior and proceeded, well pleased, toward the settlements.

"during upward of twenty-five years, when my wanderings extended to all parts of our country, this was the only time at which my life was in danger from my fellow-creatures. indeed, so little risk do travelers run in the united states that no one born there ever dreams of any to be encountered on the road; and i can only account for the occurrence by supposing that the inhabitants of the cabin were not americans."

iv. an hour of terror, and midnight feast.

the following story, though somewhat similar to the foregoing, had a very different termination:

the year 1812 was one of anxiety and alarm to the frontier settlers of our country, for the indians, incited by british emissaries, were sullen, and in many portions of the ohio valley and on the canadian border openly hostile to the americans.

three families dwelling in a little settlement on the banks of a small stream which emptied into lake erie had refrained in every way possible from giving offense to their indian neighbors, the miamis of the lake, whose nearest village was thirty miles distant. however, to be safe, they built a block-house surrounded by a tall stockade, and always had their guns and other weapons ready for use.

one dark night, minor spicer, who lived in one of these isolated cabins, heard some one call in front of his house. it was late, and spicer's family, with the exception of himself and wife, had retired. seizing his rifle, minor, in spite of his wife's entreaty that he should pay no attention to the hail, opened the door and stepped outside.

a large indian, mounted on a big raw-boned gray horse, with a deer across the withers, and a rifle in each hand, confronted the settler.

"what do you want?" the white man asked. the indian replied in the wyandotte tongue, a language perfectly unintelligible to spicer.

"speak english! speak english!" shouted spicer, "or as sure as a gun is iron i will draw a bead on you."

the indian was not alarmed by this threat, since he understood not one word of it. but he knew three english, words, and now used them to good purpose. pointing to the cabin, he exclaimed, "injun tired, cold, sleepy," and minor understood at once that he desired a night's lodging.

now, among the frontiersmen, hospitality was universal. the latch string literally hung on the outside. no matter how humble the guest, and whether friend or foe, shelter was never denied, and even the last crust would be divided with the stranger. in the present instance the request was promptly granted, spicer showing the indian where to put his horse, and then, it must be confessed with inward misgivings, leading the way into the house, the indian bringing in his venison.

the good woman fairly trembled with terror as she looked upon the towering form and forbidding face of their savage guest, as he hung up his venison with an air of proprietorship after which he placed his guns and tomahawk in a corner of the backroom which served as kitchen.

with his scalping-knife the indian now cut a large piece from the venison and intimated by signs that he was hungry and desired mrs. spicer to cook it for him. mrs. spicer complied with the request, her husband standing near, his rifle always within reach, watching every movement of the sullen-faced guest, regretting more and more that he had permitted him to enter. he consoled himself with the thought that had he refused he would have incurred his undying hatred, and resolved, while seemingly at ease, to be on the alert for treachery, and repay it with death.

the wife broiled the meat upon the coals, seasoned it well with pepper and salt, and motioned the indian toward the table. he ate only a few mouthfuls, and when he thought he was unobserved, slyly slipped the greater portion of it in his pouch, clearly refuting, according to the watchful white man's mind, his claim that he was hungry, and convincing spicer that mischief was intended.

the host and hostess signified their intention of retiring, and the indian lay down before the fire. mr. and mrs. spicer retired to the front room, which opened through a door from the kitchen, which was occupied by the indian. of course, sleep was impossible, for their own lives and that of their children, and indeed the fate of the whole settlement, might depend upon their vigilance.

the door of the room they occupied was left wide open, so that the indian was in full view. would the tall warrior, who had gained entrance to their home under pretense of being weary and hungry, attempt to murder them himself, or would he, when he thought the family sound asleep, unbar the door to admit his confederates to assist him in his bloody work? the husband and wife said nothing to each other regarding their fears, but the necessity of remaining awake was fully understood and agreed upon between them.

the bed upon which spicer and his wife lay was without the circle of the firelight, and in heavy shadow; and their faces were not discernible in the gloom. they breathed deeply to deceive the indian, whom they believed to be as wakeful as they themselves, although he lay perfectly still for an hour. at the end of that time he raised himself upon his elbow and listened. all was silent, and he sat upright, and again listened as before. no sound disturbed the silence but the deep breathing of the sleeping children in the loft above him and the regular respiration of spicer and his wife, who were watching the indian with mingled feelings of anger and alarm, for now his evil intention seemed about to be made known. rising to his feet, the indian stepped as swiftly and softly as a panther to the corner where his weapons were piled.

lone wolf

"shall i shoot him in his tracks?" thought spicer, whose hand was now upon his gun. "no, i can't shoot a man in my own house whose back is toward me, but if he draws the bolt of the outside door, or makes a motion to attack us, he will find me ready."

by this time the savage had reached the corner, and stood silently listening to see if he had awakened any one. satisfied that he had not, he took up his glittering scalping-knife. mrs. spicer shuddered as he passed his fingers across the edge of the blade to assure himself of its keenness. already she seemed to feel the cold steel upon her naked flesh. she touched her husband's hand as if to urge him to shoot. he gave her hand a reassuring pressure, and grasped his gun, awaiting the indian's onslaught.

the savage, however, seemed in no haste, and instead of turning toward the door of the cabin, or the room in which spicer and his wife lay, he quietly stole toward the opposite corner of the room. surprised and puzzled, spicer and his wife watched the indian's mysterious movements, which in another minute explained themselves.

reaching the corner where the venison hung, he took it down, and laying it upon the floor, deftly cut off a piece weighing a pound or two, and then made his way back to the fire and placed it on the embers. carefully wiping his scalping-knife and placing it again with his weapons, he sat down before the fire, watching his meat cook, and, when it was done to his satisfaction, he devoured it with much apparent relish, and lay down again and was soon sleeping the sleep of the weary.

indians as a rule (especially those around the great fresh-water lakes) dislike salt and pepper, and mrs. spicer had so seasoned the venison she cooked for her guest that it was unpalatable, and with innate delicacy he attempted to conceal the fact that it was not done to his liking by slipping it into his pouch. both spicer and his wife knew in an instant that this was the case, when the indian, unconscious how near his dislike for pepper and salt had brought him to death sat down to watch his venison broil. their minds at ease, they too, were soon peacefully sleeping.

afterward, when the indian, who came season after season to visit spicer and his family, learned enough english to speak quite well, he told them that upon the occasion of his first visit to their cabin he had lost his trail, and had been guided to their door by the light from the window. he had left his father, who was too tired to travel farther, in an abandoned hunting-hut they found in the woods, and had given him his blanket. the other rifle was his father's, and the next morning he went back to him, and the two found their trail and went onward to their village.

every spring and autumn the indian, who called himself "heno," which is the wyandot for "thunder," used to call at the cabin of the spicer's with gifts of game and skins, and when the settler, upon one of these visits, told him of the hour of terror he spent watching his movements the first night of their acquaintance, heno, who was a merry fellow in spite of his looks, chuckled softly to himself, the humor of the situation evidently striking him forcibly.

heno became very fond of the spicer children, and upon his visits to their home they would importune their father to tell again the tale of heno's midnight raid upon his venison, the indian accompanying the narrator with expressive pantomime, which much delighted himself and his auditors.

v. story of an honest indian.

the inhabitants along the north shore of lake superior are nearly all indians, who are largely dependent upon the fisheries for their living; when these fail or are good, so is their general condition. it has been my good fortune, writes stanley du bois, to spend many summers there.

my custom is to get a large mackinac boat, the white man's improvement on the birch bark canoe, to put into it my tent, stores, camping and other equipment, and, together with a couple of indians, to sail along the north shore of the great lake, usually making a new camp every night, not bound by any hard and fast rule to do so; staying longer if it is agreeable or too stormy to make sailing safe or pleasant. sometimes i have to anchor and ride out a heavy swell, for there are hundreds of miles of shore line where the rocky cliffs come down to the water's edge, and if there is any surf there is no such thing as landing from a boat. one evening, having made a landing, pitched the tent, and had a good supper, while sitting alone, the indians busy about the boat hauled up on the narrow beach, a huge dog came stalking up to me. he was in a pitiable condition. evidently he had been in a fight with a bear or lynx, or some other fierce, powerful creature, for nearly half his scalp had been torn loose from his skull and hung down over his face, completely blinding one eye. at first i was uncertain how to act, but i soon saw that he meant no harm, really in dog language he very plainly gave me to understand that he looked to me for relief. going into the tent i got a needle and thread, and together we went down to the water's edge, where i washed the dirt and vermin out of the great wound, and then placing the skin back where it belonged sewed it up. the indians pricked a quantity of balsam blisters, and after smearing that plentifully over the edges of the wound, we gave the dog his supper. during the night he disappeared.

the indians and myself finished the season according to our pleasure, and the incident of the dog was fast becoming a fading memory. two years later, with these same two indians, i was again sailing along the north shore of lake superior. seeing a little wooden pier put out into the water we headed for it. as soon as we came near, some twenty-five or thirty half-wild, savage dogs stormed out on the pier and threatened to eat us alive! an elderly indian came down from the shore, and with a stout club beat them mercilessly and drove them to the shore; all except one, who, changing his bark of anger and defiance to yelps of delight, fawned and whined on me most unaccountably, and despite blows and commands refused to leave.

"now i know who fix my dog; come to my house. i too wish to thank you as well as my dog." that was the greeting i received, and the first i had heard of the mutilated dog of two years previous.

the house was a log hut of one room only on the ground floor, with a low, dark loft above; no luxuries and few comforts anywhere. his wife busied herself to get us something to eat; it didn't take long, and when dinner was called we sat down to the table. reverently bowing their heads he asked god's blessing on what was before us, a broiled whitefish and a bucket of water, that was all, for the season's fishing so far had been a failure. the man and children could speak fairly good english, his wife could not speak it at all. after our meal i gave him a little bag of smoking tobacco. it was the first he had used for several months, and you can hardly know how happy he was. moved by its influence and of gratitude for my care to his dog, he told me a strange experience that had come into his life. i have taken the liberty of altering his broken english and idioms into plain talk, but the facts are just as he told me that beautiful summer day, with the hum of the wind through the great pine trees over and back of his home, and the wash of the waves on the rocky shore in front. but for the little group around that home it was a grand solitude for hundreds of miles in every direction. this is his story:

"some thirty years ago there came to my cabin a young englishman, not a hunter or a fisherman, but one who would sit for hours at a time on that old bent tree yonder, and make the strangest and sweetest music i ever heard. i never saw an instrument like his. he made me forget myself, and sometimes when he would play i would cry just like a dog. then he would put that aside and go off into the woods alone, taking with him a stranger and even more curious instrument. what he was trying to do i do not know, but he looked into it, and then made marks in a book. i said he went alone, but that is hardly true; no white man went with him, only one of my little boys. they are men grown now, and have families of their own. one day a sailboat came to my little pier, and a gentleman called out, 'hello baker! you must go back with me right away,' and after a few minutes' talk he called out to me, 'i am going away, but will be back again. keep what is mine till i return,' and they sailed away.

"that was more than thirty years ago, and he has not returned yet. if you care to see what he left with me i will show it to you."

we went back into the cabin, and his wife climbed into the loft overhead and passed down a violin case, a theodolite, and a small, silver-trimmed leather grip. opening the case he took out as fine a violin as it has ever been my pleasure to handle. there was no name of maker or owner on it. the strings were loose, but after tuning it up as best i could after so long a time out of use, i found it had a marvelously pure, sweet, strong tone. the theodolite was of london make, and had seen much hard usage, but was in good condition. opening the grip, which was not locked, we took out and laid on the table a surveyor's memorandum book, a few pencils, a silver telescopic pen holder with a gold pen in its end, and an intaglio seal cut in a red stone in the other end, the letter b, some postage stamps, some sheets of paper and envelopes, and a small copy of shakespeare's plays. turning to the fly leaf of the book i read the name in pencil, "s. baker."

"this is not all," said the indian to his wife, and she went up to the loft again and brought down a canvas bag. it would have held about a quart. untying the string which closed it, he turned the contents out on the table, gold and silver coins. we counted it. sixty-two sovereigns and a few small pieces of silver, all english money.

to say that i was amazed but mildly expressed my thoughts at the time. here was an indian family, poor as poverty, yet with over three hundred dollars in gold for years in their cabin, and knowing its purchasing power perfectly well all the time. i asked him why he did not use it to buy necessities at such a time as this. he gave me a look of mingled sorrow and wonder that i would so much as suggest such a thing, and said that these things were left with him for safe keeping, and that he would sooner starve than betray his trust. they were starving then, and it was not the first time so either. i tried to persuade him to use it, but he said "no," and put it all back into the bag, and everything belonging to the young stranger was taken up and put away in the loft.

the next day i went away. my summer trips took me elsewhere for several years, but this past summer i was back to the north shore of lake superior again. having a mind to look up my old indian friend, i went to the place where we had parted company, but the little pier was wholly gone. we made a landing and soon came upon the ruins of the house. the roof had fallen in and the walls were partly rotted down. the little garden patch was a tangle of briers and weeds; desolation reigned everywhere.

a couple of days later, still sailing along the shore, we came in sight of a long, strong, handsome pier, with a tall flag staff on its outer end. back of it, about a hundred yards up the shore, was a tiny indian village of maybe two hundred souls. landing at the dock, a handsome young man greeted me and called me by name. he was a grandson of my old indian friend. i immediately asked him of his grandfather.

"come and see where we have laid him," was his answer; and taking me by the hand he led me to a beautiful little grassy plot, surrounded with a neat white paling fence. there, beside the wife of his youth, who had shared with him his privations, his joys and his sorrows, there his children had reverently laid him away.

we then went to the home of the young indian. he had a neat story-and-a-half house, nearly covered with trailing vines. it was well furnished, a cabinet organ, a sewing machine, some books and pictures, a gasoline stove, carpets, curtains and other furniture of civilization. he was a prosperous lumberman, and a full-blooded indian.

i asked him regarding the violin, theodolite, books, money, etc. the money had been used after his grandfather's death, the other articles he has in his possession now.

going back as well as we could we came to the conclusion that they originally belonged to the man who afterward became sir samuel baker, but we could not be certain. of this we are sure, that the keeping of the money and other valuables so many years was a rare example of fidelity. and the strangest part of it all is, that my knowledge of it, and yours, should come about through kindness to a dog in distress. i have had considerable experience with indians, from the far north of our land to south america, from the atlantic to the pacific. times without number have i trusted my person and valuables to them, and in not a single instance was the confidence misplaced.

vi. "go!" a story of red cloud.

the new el dorado was in sight, writes calkins. gordon's party of twelve tired frontiersmen had mounted the high divide which separates the sources of the running water from those of the cheyenne. for five weeks the men had shoveled drifts, buffeted blizzards and kept a constant vigil among the interminable sand-hills. by means, too, of stable canvas, shovels, axes, iron picket-pins and a modicum of dry feed, they had kept in good condition the splendid eight-mule team which drew their big freighter.

in fact "gordon's outfit" was a model one in every respect, and probably no similar body of men ever faced our snow-bound, trackless plains, better equipped for the adventure. and now the muffled marchers cheered as "cap" gordon halted them and pointed to a blurred and inky upheaval upon the far rim of a limitless waste of white. the famous black hills, a veritable wonderland, unseen hitherto by any party of whites save the men of custer's expedition, lay before them.

two more days and the gold-seekers would gain the shelter of those pine-covered hills, where their merry axes would "eat chips" until shelter, comfort and safety from attack were secured. out of the bitter cold, after weeks of toil and danger, into warmth and safety—no wonder they were glad.

as yet they had seen no sign of the hostile sioux, but their frosty cheers, thin and piping, had hardly been borne away by the cutting wind when a moving black speck appeared on the western horizon.

the speck drew nearer, and resolved itself into a solitary horseman. could it be that a single sioux would approach a party of their strength? they watched the rider without anxiety. they were so near the goal now that no war party of sufficient strength to become a menace was likely to be gathered. they were equipped with an arsenal of modern guns, with fifty thousand rounds of ammunition, and had boasted they were "good to stand off three hundred sioux."

nearer and nearer drew the horseman, his pony coming on in rabbit-like jumps to clear the drifts. speculation ceased. it was an indian—probably a hunter strayed far from his village, half-starved and coming to beg for food. well, the poor wretch should have frozen bread and meat, as much as he could eat they could not stop to give him better fare.

it was as cold as greenland. the bundled driver upon the great wagon slapped his single line, and yelled at the plodding mules. eleven buffalo-coated, fur-encased men with feet clad in snow-packs, marched at the tail of the freighter. in such weather their cold "shooting-irons" were left in the wagon, nor did they deem it necessary now to get them out.

they were prepared for a begging indian, but the apparition which finally rode in upon the monotony of the long march seemed to them a figure as farcical as savage. as the sioux horseman confronted them he lowered his blanket, uncovering his solemn, barbarian face, and stretching out one long arm, pointed them back upon their trail. "go!" he said, and he repeated the command with fierce insistence.

the freight wagon rattled on, but the footmen halted for a moment to laugh.

kiowa annie

the indian stretched his lean arm and shouted, "go!" still more savagely. it was immensely funny. gordon's men jeered the solitary autocrat, and laughed until their icicled beards pulled. they bade him get into a drift and cool off; asked him if his mother knew he was out, and whether his feet were sore, and if it hurt him much to talk, and if he hadn't a brother who could chin-chin washitado?

his sole answer to their jeering, as he rode along side, was "go! go! go!" repeated with savage emphasis and a flourish of his arm to southward.

the footmen were plodding a dozen rods in the rear of their freight wagon, and still laughing frostily at this queer specimen of "injun," when the savage spurred his pony forward. a few quick leaps carried him up to the toiling eight-mule team. his blanket dropped around his hips, and a repeating carbine rose to his face. both wheelers dropped at the first shot, killed by a single ounce slug. a rapid fusillade of shots was distributed among the struggling mules, and then the sioux was off, shaking his gun and yelling defiance, his pony going in zigzag leaps and like the wind.

men ran tumbling over each other to get into the wagon and at their guns. the teamster and two or three others, who, despite the cold, carried revolvers under their great coats, jerked their mittens and fumbled with stiff fingers for their weapons. they had not been nerved up with excitement, like the sioux, and before they could bring their guns to bear, the savage was well out upon the prairie.

and when these men tried, with rifle or revolver, to shoot at the swiftly moving erratic mark presented by the cunning sioux and his rabbit-like pony, the cutting wind numbed their fingers and filled their eyes with water, the glistening snow obscured their front sights, and they pelted a white waste harmlessly with bullets.

the anger which raged in them when they knew the sioux had escaped scot-free was something frightful. six mules of the splendid eight lay weltering in blood; another was disabled, and only one had come off without hurt. half the counties of northwestern iowa had been scoured to get together "gordon's pride," as this fine freight-team had been named before the party left sioux city.

the blight of their hopeful expedition, the frightful peril of their situation, were lost sight of in the absorbing desire for revenge which burned in every man of them as they gazed upon the stricken, stiffening heap of animals. all were for giving chase immediately. they believed they could easily overtake the sioux among the drifts of the lower lands, where creeks and snow-filled ravines must cause him to shift his course continually.

"boys," said gordon, when some of them had hastily begun to strip for the chase, "boys, this is my particular affair. you make camp and fix it for fightin'. i'll either get that sioux, or he'll fetch his tribe back an' get us."

cy gordon was their captain. he had been a hay and wood contractor for many years in the sioux country, and his word was law to this little band.

there was no need to argue that no man could have even guessed at the daring and disaster they had looked upon. the performance had been too appallingly simple and easy. it had come as unexpectedly as the flood of a cloudburst or the bursting of a gun.

while his men stood vengefully watching the flying sioux, gordon stripped himself of superfluous wrappings, stocked his pockets with frozen bread and cartridges, slipped on a pair of snowshoes kept for emergency, tightened his belt, and launched himself in pursuit.

horse and rider were again no more than a speck upon the vast snowfield. gordon, with an "express" rifle under his arm, took the long, swinging stride of the accomplished snowshoer. in an hour the speck upon the snow had not grown smaller.

at high noon, by the sun, upon a broad flat where tall grass held the snow, gordon came almost within bullet range of the sioux. an hour later, among a tangle of drifted ravines, there was an exchange of shots, and the sioux's pony dropped in its tracks. the indian dodged out of sight, and gordon pushed wearily on with a grin of hate under his icicles.

he took up the sioux tracks, and noted with satisfaction that the indian's moccasined feet punched through the light crust at every other step. in just a little while!

but he followed an hour or more among a seemingly interminable tangle of gullies without catching a glimpse of the wary dodger. then he emerged into a wider valley, to find that the artful rascal had escaped out of range and out of sight upon a wind-swept stretch of river ice.

gordon ground his teeth and swept over the smooth surface, sweating, despite the sharp cold, from fierce exertion. at a turn in the river he saw the sioux; but there were others, more than a score of them, mounted and approaching the runner. the mule-killer's camp or town was close at hand.

exhausted from his long run, gordon, in his own language, "threw up the sponge." he hastily sought the cover of river-drifts, and scooped himself a kind of rifle-pit. then, with a pile of cartridges between his knees and slapping his hands to keep his fingers ready for action, he waited, meaning to do what execution he could before the end.

there was considerable parley among the sioux, and then only a single indian advanced toward the white man. this one came on foot within gunshot, then stopped and shook his blanket in token that he wanted to approach and talk.

gordon laughed. the situation seemed to him grimly humorous. he motioned to the indian to come on, and kept him well covered with his rifle. a moment later, however, he lowered his gun.

whatever fate awaited gordon, he knew that he stood in no danger of a treacherous stroke from the approaching sioux. it was the chief, red cloud.

gordon arose, and the chief came forward with a hand out-stretched. "my young man has killed your mules," was red cloud's greeting in the sioux tongue.

gordon understood. "yes," he said, "and i will not take your hand until you have done right."

the grave old chief drew his blanket about his shoulders with a shrug. "now listen," he said. "if one of your soldiers had approached a party of my soldiers and had killed all their horses, and so crippled them and escaped, your people would have made him a big captain. it is so. my young man is very brave. he did as he was told. you can not come here and take my country—not yet. i have watched your advance and complained to your soldiers at white river. when i saw they did not go out and catch you as our great father has said they should do, i sent my young man to stop you. you will find your soldiers at the three forks of white river. now go!"

and without another word, red cloud turned upon his heel and stalked away.

this time gordon was glad enough to obey the injunction to "go." three days later his little party filed in at the military camp on white river, and when, some time afterward, their boxes of freight had been recovered, not so much as a blanket or a pound of sugar had been taken by red cloud's sioux.

vii. mcdougal and his kind indian neighbor.

one james mcdougal, a native of argyleshire, having emigrated to upper canada, from anxiety to make the most of his scanty capital, purchased a location where the price of land was merely nominal, in a country sparsely settled, and on the extreme verge of civilization. his first care was to construct a log house in which to live, and a barn for his few domestic animals, consisting of cattle, sheep and hogs. this task finished, he busily employed himself in bringing a few acres of ground under cultivation, and, though his task was hard and slow, yet he became in a rough way fairly comfortable, as compared with the poverty he had left behind.

his greatest discomforts were distance from his neighbors, the church, the markets and even the mill; and along with these the suspension of those endearing charities, and friendly offices, which lend such a charm to social life.

on one occasion, mr. mcdougal found it necessary to take a sack of grain to the nearest mill, about fifteen miles distant, over a rough country. he got an early start, hoping to make the journey and return by sunset of the same day. in his absence, the care of the cattle devolved on his wife, and as they did not come up to the barn as usual at the close of day the careful matron went in quest of them.

beyond the mere outskirts of the cleared land there was a forest, which to her, unpracticed in woodcraft, became a terra incognita; tall trees arose on every side—"a boundless contiguity of shade"—and with neither compass nor notched trees to guide her, it is not surprising that she soon found herself completely lost. having wandered aimlessly until almost exhausted and completely discouraged, she dropped down by a large tree and wept bitterly.

at this moment the noise of approaching footsteps was heard. her heart almost ceased beating with terror, for she knew that fierce wild beasts roamed through that forest. it proved to be neither bear nor panther, but what has been designated as "the still wilder red man of the forest." an indian hunter stood before her, a veritable "stoic of the woods, a man without fear."

mrs. mcdougal knew that indians lived at no great distance, but as she had never seen a member of the tribe, her emotions were those of terror, quickening every pulse and yet paralyzing every limb. the indian's views were more comprehensive; he had observed her, without being observed himself. he recognized her person, knew her home, comprehended her mishap, divined her errand and immediately beckoned her to follow him. the unfortunate woman understood his signal, and obeyed it, as far as terror left her power; and after a lengthened walk, which added not a little to her previous fatigue, they arrived at the door of an indian wigwam.

her conductor, by signs, invited her to enter; but this she persistently refused to do, dreading the consequence, preferring death in the open air to the tender mercies of cannibals within. perceiving her reluctance, and surmising her feelings, the hospitable indian rushed into his wigwam and held a hasty consultation with his wife, who, in a few minutes, also appeared, and, by certain signs and sympathies known only to females, calmed the stranger's fears, and induced her to enter their lowly abode. venison was instantly prepared for supper, and mrs. mcdougal, though still alarmed at the strangeness of her situation, found the food well cooked, and, in her hungry condition, delicious. aware that their guest was weary, the indians stretched two deerskins across the wigwam, thus dividing it into two apartments. mats and soft furs were then spread upon the floor of each, and the visitor was given to understand that the further room from the entrance was for her accommodation. but here again her courage failed her, and to the most pressing entreaties she replied by signs, as well as she could, that she would prefer to sit and sleep by the fire. this determination seemed to puzzle the two entertainers sadly, often they looked at each other and conversed softly in their own language, and, at last, the red took the white woman by the hand, led her to her couch and became her bedfellow. in the morning she awoke greatly refreshed, and anxious to depart, without further delay—but her host and hostess would on no account permit it. breakfast was prepared—another savory and well-cooked meal—and then the indian conducted his guest to the very spot where the cattle were grazing. these he kindly drove from the woods, on the verge of which mrs. mcdougal saw her husband running about everywhere, hallooing and seeking for her in a state of mind bordering on distraction. great was his joy, and great his gratitude to her indian benefactor, who was invited to the house and treated to the best the larder afforded, and presented on his departure with a suit of clothes.

some time after this the indian returned and endeavored to induce mr. mcdougal to follow him into the forest. but this invitation was positively declined—and the poor savage went on his way obviously grieved and disappointed. but again he returned and renewed his entreaties, yet without effect. at last he hit upon an expedient, which none save an indian hunter would have thought of.

the mcdougals had a nursling in the crib only a few months old, a fact the indian failed not to observe. so, after his pantomimic eloquence availed nothing, he approached the crib, seized the child, wrapped a blanket around it, and darted out of the house with the speed of an antelope. the alarmed parents instantly followed (as he knew they would) supplicating and beseeching at the top of their voices. but the indian's resolves were as fixed as fate—and away he went, slow enough to encourage his pursuers, but still in the lead by a good many paces. the indian was in no hurry, only aiming to keep out of the reach of mcdougal's arms, and glancing back now and then to see that his pursuers were still following. the parents noticed, too, that the indian carried the babe very gently and took pains to keep the blanket carefully wrapped around it. they now realized that he meant no harm to the child, but they were still puzzled to know what he did mean. after traveling in this manner several miles the savage stopped abruptly on the margin of a most beautiful little prairie, teaming with the richest vegetation and comprising several thousand acres of choice land.

when mcdougal and his wife reached the indian, he quietly restored the babe to its mother, and spreading both hands toward the little paradise, he uttered the only english word he had acquired, which was, "look!"

the shrewd scotchman did look with astonishment and delight, and the more he examined it the better he liked the prospect. he found the soil to be of the best quality of black prairie loam, which would need but the tickle of the plowshare to make it laugh with the golden harvest. as mcdougal had sufficient cattle to break it, he could begin farming operations at once without the slow, laborious process of cleaning up forest. moreover a good sized stream gushed out of a near-by cliff, affording abundance of never failing water for flocks and herds, and a fine mill site. it was one of the most beautiful and fertile spots in all canada, and the white man immediately saw the propriety of the advice given by the untutored one.

by a sort of tacit agreement, a day was fixed for the removal of the materials of our countryman's cabin, goods and chattels; and the indian friend, true to his word, brought a detachment of his village to assist in one of the most romantic "flittings" ever undertaken. in a few days a roomy log house was erected near the headwaters of the beautiful little stream, just in the edge of the prairie, with a forest on the north for a windbrake. a garden was enclosed, and preparations made to break the virgin prairie.

mcdougal was greatly pleased at the change—and no wonder, seeing that he could almost boast a bodyguard as bold and true as the bowmen of robin hood. his indian friend speedily became a sort of foster brother, and his tribe as faithful as the most attached tail of gillies that ever surrounded a highland chieftain. even, the stupid kine lowed, on finding themselves suddenly transferred to a boundless range of richest pasture, and soon began improving rapidly in condition and increasing in numbers.

the little garden was also smiling like a rose, the over-abundant grass gradually giving way to thriving crops. the indians continued friendly and faithful, occasionally bringing presents of venison and other game, and were uniformly rewarded from the stores of a dairy overflowing with milk and cream, and filled with butter and cheese.

in time a small grist and saw mill was built on the banks of the little stream, for the profit of the owner, and the accommodation of neighboring settlers. the indian friend who made all this prosperity possible was at length induced to form a part of the establishment in the capacity of head shepherd a duty he undertook most cheerfully, as it still left him opportunities for hunting, trapping and keeping in touch with his tribe.

let us hope, therefore, that nothing will occur to mar this beautiful picture of sylvan life; that the mcdougal colony will wax stronger, till every acre of the beautiful prairie is forced to yield tribute to the plow and sickle.

viii. story of se-quo-yah, the cherokee cadmus.

about the year 1763 a child was born to an indian woman in the old cherokee country of georgia. he was on his father's side the grandson of a german by the name of guess, or ghiest, and was given the name george guess, though he is better known as se-quo-yah. he was early impressed with the thought of the superiority of the white over the red race, and wisely concluded that much of this was due to the white man's learning, and ability to represent his thoughts on paper in a way to mean the same thing to every one who saw it; unlike the picture writing then in vogue among the cherokees, which was necessarily lacking in clearness and liable to misinterpretation.

he could neither read nor speak any language other than cherokee, but he was a close observer, and a mechanical genius, and determined to invent a system of writing his language. in some manner, se-quo-yah found out that the writing of the white man consisted in the use of characters to represent sounds. at first he thought of using one character for each word; but this was not possible because there are so many words it complicated matters too much. he finally concluded that as there were eighty-six syllables in cherokee, he would form a series of eighty-six characters to represent them. he found that these characters could be so combined as to represent every word in the cherokee language. many of these characters were taken from an english spelling-book which he managed to get hold of. some are greek characters, and others are letters of the english alphabet reversed, the rest were specially invented.

it happened, too, from the structure of the cherokee language or dialect, that the syllabic alphabet is also in the nature of a grammar; so that those who know the language by ear and master the alphabet, can at once read and write. owing to the extreme simplicity of this system, it can be acquired in a few days. some have even learned it in one day; which is certainly very remarkable.

so much for the invention. the reader is no doubt interested in knowing more of the history of the inventor of this wonderful alphabet, which has proven such a blessing to the cherokees.

the only remarkable thing about se-quo-yah's early years appears to have been his preference for playing alone and building houses of sticks in the woods, rather than to join in the sports of indian children of his age. his mother owned a few cows that furnished her the means of living. when her son was grown to be a sturdy boy he built a substantial milk house, where he helped his mother with the dairy work, showing himself an expert dairyman and adding materially to her profits.

he early displayed great interest in natural forms and unusual power of observation, and developed much skill in representing what he saw in drawing. his pictures were at first as crude as the common picture-writing of his people; but with practice his animals and men assumed more and more a living shape and an accurate expression of action. he became famed as an artist, and many visited his mother's cabin to see his pictures and to watch the wonderful process of their creation.

when he had reached early manhood this same artistic faculty led him to desire to create objects of beauty, and he turned his attention to making the silver ornaments so much prized by his people, such as armlets, brooches and clasps. there was great demand for these products of his hands, owing to the novelty of their design and the fineness of their execution. but se-quo-yah possessed a practical vein of artistic talent. not content with making silver trinkets, he became a blacksmith, and turned out from his forge the finest spades, rakes and hoes, which were highly appreciated by some of his tribesmen who failed to perceive the artistic quality of his silver work.

there was an individual quality about his hoes as well as his bracelets which he valued and desired to have the credit of, and he wished to put some mark upon his work that would prove it to be his own. with this thought in mind, he went to a white neighbor with whom he was on the most friendly terms, and asked him to write his name on paper. mr. lowrey wrote it, using his english name, george guess. from this se-quo-yah made a die with which he stamped all the articles of silver or iron that he made.

his work had not only put much money in his pouch, but was fast making him the most popular young man of the tribe. this popularity came near being his ruin. the young men flocked about him, praised his skill, and envied him the gain it brought him. he requited their flattery with generous entertainment, according to the fashion of his people. unfortunately contact with the white man had changed this fashion for the worse. indians of an earlier generation had entertained their friends with feasts of game and sweet potatoes; but the young braves of 1800 and thereabouts preferred rum, se-quo-yah would buy a keg of rum, and with a party of companions, would retire into the woods to remain until the rum supply was exhausted and they had recovered from its effects. the work of the forge stood still; money was getting low in the pouch.

through the efforts of his good friend, mr. lowrey, se-quo-yah was aroused to a sense of his folly and degradation before it was too late to break away from his bad habits; he gave up his idle companions, resumed his work with renewed industry and spent his leisure time among the more sedate and intelligent men of his tribe.

among the people in whose society he was now to be found, a frequent subject of discussion was the wonderful power possessed by the white man of making curious marks upon paper, which meant the same thing to every white man to whom they might be shown; unlike the indian's picture-writing, which meant this or that, according to the interpretation put upon it. some characterized it as sorcery; some reverently called it a gift of the great spirit to his favorite children; some believed it to be a mere trick, and with the object of detecting the fraud would show a written sentence to one white man after another, expecting some variation in the interpretation. se-quo-yah alone pronounced it an art which might be practiced by all men, if they had only the ingenuity. he expressed the belief that he could "talk on paper," and in spite of the ridicule of his friends set to work to make good his assertion.

in the woods he gathered birch bark which he separated into thin sheets; on these, with dyes extracted from plants, he painted pictures, each one of which represented the name of some natural object. this process was very laborious and he abandoned it when he found that he had accumulated a number of characters greater than he could remember, while the vocabulary of the language still remained far from complete.

he now procured coarse paper and made a rough book, in which he began another series of experiments. at this point he had some assistance from a collection of "talking leaves," as the indians called a printed page. an english spelling-book fell into his hands, but he could not read a word of it; he did not even know any english, but the "talking leaves" were covered all over with figures of distinct shape, such figures as he was taxing his ingenuity to invent. some of them he copied and adopted in his work, where, however, they play a part quite unlike that with which we associate them in the english alphabet. for instance, among the eighty-six characters of the alphabet invented by se-quo-yah, we recognize the forms of our w, h, b and other letters, but w stands for the sound la, and the others represent sounds just as far from their english equivalents.

after about two years' work se-quo-yah had the satisfaction of seeing that he had really achieved the end for which he had labored so patiently. he had made a complete alphabet of the cherokee language, an alphabet of which it may safely be affirmed that it is the most perfect in the world, since its characters represent exactly the sound for which they stand, unlike the letters of our english alphabet, which in many cases do not even suggest the sound of the word they spell. for example, a cherokee who read the letters b-u-t would take for granted that he had spelled the word beauty; reading l-e-g, he would pronounce it elegy. the consequence of this is that when a cherokee school boy has once mastered the alphabet he knows how to read without any further labor. there are no spelling lessons to learn. if he hears a word correctly pronounced he knows exactly what letters must be used to form it.

having composed his alphabet, se-quo-yah tested it by teaching it to his little daughter, six years old. to his joy, he found that as soon as she had become familiar with the characters she could form correctly any word he spoke.

it had taken him two years to perfect his method; it took him a longer time to convince his people of its value. during those years, his neglect of his forge and the chase, his idle dreaming over his "talking leaves," had aroused the ridicule and contempt of his neighbors and the head men of his tribe, and angered his wife, who resented finding her husband a lazy drone in place of the prosperous blacksmith she had married. the most kindly opinion expressed of him was that he was insane; even the children laughed at the madman and his "talking leaves." when he assured them that those "talking leaves" contained a secret of inestimable value to the cherokee nation, they only laughed the more and passed on, shaking their heads and saying, "poor old se-quo-yah!"

with considerable difficulty he persuaded his old friend, mr. lowrey to come to his cabin and make a test of his discovery. mr. lowrey consented from mere good-nature, not expecting to learn anything of interest. se-quo-yah asked him to dictate to him some words and sentences, which he wrote in his characters. he then called in his little daughter, who read without difficulty the sentences that she had not heard spoken. there was no possibility of doubting that here was a great discovery. mr. lowrey became se-quo-yah's earnest helper in his efforts to gain recognition. but the obstacles in the way were hard to overcome. prejudice against "white men's ways," distrust of a thing so contrary to the traditions of the tribe, fear of sorcery, all had to be met and conquered. at length the chiefs of the nation consented to a public test of se-quo-yah's claims. a number of the most intelligent young men of the tribe were selected and placed under his tuition. the result confirmed in the minds of the more superstitious their belief in the magical nature of se-quo-yah's characters. some of the scholars learned the alphabet in three days and were then able to read anything that se-quo-yah had written at the dictation of any of the judges. the triumph of the inventor was complete.

the tide once turned swelled to a flood. so many students flocked about the master that he could not teach them all. the youth of the nation were seized with a mad desire for knowledge of the "talking leaves." the old men began to grumble about the spell of enchantment that se-quo-yah had cast over the young braves, making them indifferent to the corn-dance and neglectful of the chase, while they spent their days poring over foolish bits of paper. but the objection of the conservatives was overruled by the enthusiasm of the more progressive party. study of the new art became general among the younger generation. schools were opened, text-books were prepared. english books were translated and printed in the cherokee character. one of the earliest translations made was of the third chapter of the gospel of st. john, which was prepared by a christian indian and printed before any other part of the scriptures.

se-quo-yah now made a journey to the west, visiting a portion of his tribe that had emigrated to arkansas. to them also he communicated his discovery and instructed them in the use of his alphabet. after his return to georgia, he held a correspondence with these disciples in the west that was eyed askance by the conservative elders as savoring too much of the black art.

during this absence in the west, his admirers in the east had secured from the council of the nation an appropriation of a sum of money to provide a medal to be presented to se-quo-yah in commemoration of his great achievement. this medal was made in washington. it was of silver and bore on one side the medallion portrait of the indian cadmus, on the other a complimentary inscription. during the remainder of his life he wore it constantly suspended about his neck, and took great pride in exhibiting it to his friends.

a natural consequence of the popular interest in the new art of reading and letter-writing was a demand for news—more news than could be had through personal correspondence. this demand was met five years after the nation had accepted the alphabet, by the publication of a newspaper, the first paper printed in the indian character. it was called the phoenix, and the editor was elias boudinot, a cherokee, who had received a liberal education at the north.

the paper was printed partly in the cherokee character and partly in english. another paper, similarly arranged, was started one year after the death of se-quo-yah by an appropriation of the national council, and is still issued weekly at tahlequah, indian territory.

this paper is called the cherokee advocate. a copy of it is on the author's desk as he writes this article, and he hopes some day to be able to read it.

in 1838, when the cherokees were removed from their old home in georgia, se-quo-yah emigrated with them to western arkansas. there he remained for about four years, extending the knowledge of literature among his people and enjoying his late-earned fame. here in the new west there reached his ears rumors from the still remote west of a people whom he believed to be a lost portion of the cherokee nation, and he felt a great desire to reach and extend to them also the benefits he had conferred upon the nation at large. he determined to go in search of these lost cherokees. the means to carry out this plan may have been secured through a grant made to him by the nation about this time of an annuity equal to the salary of a chief.

he fitted up a prairie wagon with camp equipage and added books, writing materials, and everything necessary for the instruction of any who might come to him to be taught.

this indomitable old man, now in his seventy-third year, started across the mountains and prairies en route for new mexico. his granddaughter, mrs. lucy keys, of woods, indian territory, writes, concerning this last journey: "i was about twelve years old when my grandfather, se-quo-yah, left his home in the cherokee nation in 1843.

"i remember well the morning they left. his son, teece, and several other men, i do not know their names, went with him. he limped a little as he walked, and coughed a great deal. it was said that he had the breast complaint. his friends thought a change of climate would help him. i was present when the men returned and reported his death.

"they told how his health began to improve, and they had great hopes of his recovery, until after passing grand river. then they found only bad water; and his health failed again; the provisions became scarce, and they depended entirely on game. it seemed that there was nothing for them. one of the men always stayed with se-quo-yah, until at last he sent them all to hunt. they remained over night, and on their return to the place next day where they had left him, he was gone, but had left directions for them to follow him to another place which he described.

"they hurried on, but found him dead. they put his papers with his body and wrapped it with blankets and placed it away, upon a kind of shelf, in a small cave, where nothing could disturb it. they said they marked the place so they could find it, but the men sent to bring the body failed to find the place."

in the council house of tahlequah is a marble bust of se-quo-yah, showing him a man of mild and thoughtful countenance. his true monument is the literature of his nation; the memory of his great achievement is perpetuated in the name of those giant trees that tower above the western forests as he over topped other men of his tribe.

shortly after the knowledge of se-quo-yah's system became general among his people, col. thomas l. mckenney made a report to the war department on the condition of the cherokee nation, in which he says: "the success which has attended the philological researches of one of the nation, whose system of education has met with universal approbation among the cherokees, certainly entitles him to great consideration and to rank with the benefactors of men. his name is guess and he is a native and unlettered cherokee; but, like cadmus, he has given to his people the alphabet of their language."

big tree

ix. john jaybird, the indian relic-maker, and the city dude.

a remnant of the cherokees remained in north carolina, georgia and tennessee, after the most of the tribe removed to indian territory. among these was a young man named john jaybird, known among both whites and indians as "the indian relic-maker." his chief employment is carving the images of men and animals in a kind of soft stone found near the little tennessee river, of western north carolina. with no other implement than a pocket-knife he can carve an exact image of any animal he has ever seen, or of which he has ever seen a picture. for these curiosities, or "indian relics," as he calls them, he finds a profitable sale among the whites. he lived on the banks of the little tennessee river, and when not carving was fishing.

e. e. white, the special indian agent, tells the following amusing story in which this young cherokee figured. he said "a dude came out from the city to visit mr. siler, a prominent young lawyer of charleston, north carolina. he professed to be fond of fishing, and from the first manifested great impatience to embark in that delightful pastime. he was very loud, and so extremely blustering and energetic that mr. siler's village friends stood off and looked on in amazement, and sometimes in great amusement also. but mr. siler was courteous and obliging and not disposed to be critical. nevertheless it was whispered about among his home friends that at heart he would be glad enough to get the dude off in the woods out of sight. at all events, he said, the dude should fish as much as he wished.

"equipped with bait and tackle they betook themselves to the river. to the dude's evident astonishment the fish refused to come out on the bank and suffer him to kill them with a club, and he shifted about too much to give them a chance at his hook. he could always see a better place somewhere else. he soon began to manifest disappointment in the fish and disgust for the country, and intimated that the people were shamefully deficient in enterprise and style, and in no respect what they should be. rambling on down the river, the dude leading and siler following—they came in sight of jaybird, who was also fishing. sitting motionless on a rock, with his gaze fixed on the cork on his line, he seemed the counterpart of 'the lone fisherman.'

"by jove! yonder's an indian," said the dude; "let's make him get away and let us have that place." "oh, no," replied siler; "that's john jaybird, one of the best fellows in the world. let's not bother him."

mr. siler and jaybird were close friends. "no," said the dude; "that's the most decent place i've seen, and i intend to have it; i do, by jove!"

"oh, no; don't do that," siler pleaded; "he wouldn't disturb us. besides, if we try to make him go, he's liable to get stubborn, and we had better not have any trouble with him. wait and i'll ask him to let you have the place; may be he'll do it."

"oh, get out," the dude ejaculated; "what's the use of so much politeness with a lazy, sleepy-looking indian? watch me wake him up and make him trot. by jove, watch me!"

swelling himself up to the highest tension, he strode up to jaybird, who was still unaware of their approach. slapping his hand down on jaybird's head and snatching his hat off, he exclaimed:

"here, you indian; clear out from here! by jove, clear out!"

jaybird looked up at the intruder, but with a face as barren of expression as the rock upon which he sat.

comprehending the demand, however, he replied: "yes; me no clear out. me heap like it, this place. me heap ketch him, fish."

"get out, i tell you! by jove, get out!" roared the dude, with visible signs of embarrassment and rage.

"yes, me no git out. me heap like it, this." before jaybird could finish the sentence the dude slapped him on the side of the head with his open hand. springing to his feet, jaybird uttered a whoop and ran into the dude, butting him with his head and shoulders instead of striking him. the dude's breath escaped from him with a sound not unlike the bleat of a calf, and he fell at full length on his back. jaybird went down on top of him, pounding and biting with a force and ferocity that suggested a combination of pugilist and wild cat. the dude tried to call siler, but jaybird put his mouth over the dude's and bit his lips half off. he bit the dude's nose, eyebrows, cheeks, ears and arms. he choked him and beat him from his waist to his head.

when jaybird thus sprung himself head foremost at the dude, siler fell over on the ground in a spasm of laughter. this did not escape jaybird's notice, and he jumped to a wrong conclusion as to the cause of it.

siler always said he had no idea the indian was hurting the dude half so bad, but that the turn the affair had taken was so absurd and ridiculous, he would have been bound to laugh any way. his friends believed that he was simply glad to see the dude get a whipping. possibly both these causes contributed to his hilarity.

but the conviction had fastened itself on jaybird's mind that this man siler, whom he had always regarded as a friend, was laughing because the dude was making him clear out. so, while the dude was performing that feat, jaybird kept one eye on siler and silently determined in his own mind what he would do for him when he got through with the dude.

the dude had scarcely raised a hand in resistance since this human catapult struck him, and now he lay there as limp and motionless as a dead man. siler had laughed until he was almost exhausted, and was leaning against a sapling, still laughing. suddenly jaybird uttered another whoop, sprang from the dude and rushed furiously on siler. before the hilarious lawyer could recover from his surprise, he was down on his back, rapidly being pounded and chewed into pulp himself.

the dude dragged himself to the root of a tree, carefully placed his single eyeglass, and began, as siler expressed it, "to hold an inquest on himself, and take an inventory of his bruises and mutilations!" siler called to him for help. he seemed surprised, and could repress his resentment of siler's conduct no longer. readjusting his eyeglass, and taking a closer look at jaybird and siler, he exclaimed in a tone of mingled revenge and satisfaction:

"ah, by jove! you're calling for help yourself now, are you? you played the deuce helping me you did, by jove! i hope he'll beat you to death and scalp you, and if it were not for the law i'd help him do it; i would, by jove!"

jaybird relaxed no effort until siler was as badly whipped as the dude. then rising and deliberately spitting on his bait afresh he resumed his seat on the rock, and again remarked in the same half deprecating tone, though with rather an ominous shake of his head: "yes, me no git out. me heap like it, this place. me heap ketch him, fish."

none of their bones being broken, siler and the dude were able to get back to charleston. the whole town gathered in to look at them, and the affair provoked many witty comments. the doctor said he could patch up their wounds well enough for all practical purposes, but he shook his head discouragingly when asked if they would ever be pretty any more.

mr. jaybird came out without a scratch, and siler said the last they saw of him he was sitting on the rock gazing at the cork on his line, precisely as he was when they found him.

it is certainly refreshing to read of one indian who had rights white men were bound to respect, and who knew so well how to maintain them. "may his tribe increase."

x. proof that the indian population of the united states is increasing.

in order to disprove the impression which prevails among a large majority of our people that the indians are decreasing constantly, we quote the following from the government report relative to the population of our reservations:

indian reservations in the united states and territories.

area in

acres. area in sq.

miles. indian

population.

arizona 15,150,757 23,673 40,189

california 406,396 635 11,341

colorado 995

florida 575

idaho 1,364,500 2,132 3,557

indian territory 19,513,216 30,489 86,265

iowa 2,965 4 385

kansas 28,279 44 1,211

michigan 8,317 13 7,557

minnesota 1,566,707 2,477 8,952

montana 9,500,700 14,845 10,076

nebraska 74,592 116 3,854

nevada 954,135 1,491 8,321

new mexico 1,667,485 2,605 9,480

new york 87,677 137 5,334

north carolina 98,211 153 1,436

north dakota 3,701,724 5,784 8,276

oklahoma 6,884,021 10,756 13,926

oregon 1,300,225 2,031 4,063

south dakota 8,991,791 14,049 19,212

texas 290

utah 2,390,040 3,186 2,115

washington 2,333,574 3,646 9,827

wisconsin 381,061 595 10,726

wyoming 1,810,000 2,828 1,642

miscellaneous or scattering 449

total in the year 1880 154,741,349 241,800 255,327

total in the year 1900 77,865,373 121,665 270,544

total gain of indian population in ten years 15,217

xi. rich indian maid.

annie dillion, a little kiowa girl, who is heiress to more than $1,000,000—saves a rich cattleman's life and he fittingly rewarded her—pretty and intelligent.

because she proved true to her white friend in his time of need, annie trueheart dillion, a little kiowa maiden, fourteen years old, has become the richest indian girl in all the west. annie is the daughter of chief black wolf and is heiress to the entire fortune of $1,000,000 and more left by john dillion, a rich cattleman. dillion was born and raised in ireland, and when he came to america he went to texas and worked on a ranch in that state as laborer and cowboy. by careful management he became rich. from his cattle ranch on the rio grande he shipped every year large herds of cattle to the indian territory to fatten upon the fine pasture lands of that favored region during the spring and summer. he had been in this business so long that he was pretty well acquainted with all of the kiowa chiefs and various members of the nation, and from the fact that he always had dealt fairly with his red brothers he was popular. he leased vast areas of pasture lands every year, and was always prompt in the payment of the rents. he was liberal, good-hearted and kindly disposed, but with one grave fault—he dearly loved a glass of grog, and as he grew older and his constitution began to yield to the hardships incident to his career he drank much. he enjoyed the company of his cowboys and cattlemen, and nothing pleased him better after a successful deal than to surround himself with a crowd of good fellows and make a night of it with plenty of red liquor. seven years ago a little affair of this kind came near ending his career. he had visited the territory to meet the agent of a big syndicate, with whom he expected to make a deal that would relieve him of several thousand head of steers. the deal was made and dillion was in a most felicitous frame of mind. at that time the old texan had in his employ a half-breed cherokee, bill hawk. this rascal happened to be present when dillion received a large sum of money in bills, which he saw the old man roll together and put in his pocket. the elated texan, after taking several more toddies, decided to go out to a pasture about ten miles from chickasha, where he had a fine herd of cattle that were being looked after by some of his favorite texan cowboys, and he asked hawk to hitch up a buggy and go with him. the man was eager to go, but his conduct did not arouse any suspicion at the time. the road to the pasture passed through a small indian village, where dillion had many acquaintances. when the old man reached this place several indians and half-bloods gathered about his buggy and begged him to stay over night to attend a dance. he did so and enjoyed himself to the utmost until he finally succumbed to slumber. late in the night the old texan felt something pulling his arm, and when he opened his eyes he found that a little indian girl was trying to wake him. as soon as the child saw that his eyes were opened she whispered: "dillion, now you go putty quick. hawk heap bad man. putty soon him come. him got big knife—kill white man—take boss—take heap money. me hear him talk. him heap drunk. you go now." the child ran away, and dillion slipped from under his blankets and rolled them together. after placing his hat at one end of the roll and his boots at the other he crawled away a short distance and lay down under a tree to watch for further developments. he did not wait long before he saw a man cautiously approach the pile of blankets. the drunken assassin was deceived by the hat and boots. he thought that his victim was at his mercy, and he drew a big knife from his belt and drove it into the roll of blankets with all his strength. the next instant hawk sprang into the air with a wild yell and fell dead across the blankets, with a bullet in his heart. dillion had killed him.

the old texan never afterward was the same man. he continued to attend to his business and make money, but it was easy to see that there was a cloud on his mind. he never suspected his friend, black wolf, or any of the indians of the village of having aided the assassin. he became attached devotedly to the indian girl who had saved his life, and he finally got the chief's consent to let him educate her and make her his heiress. she was to be given to him when she became fourteen years old, but he died a short time before she reached that age, and now the girl's future and fortune are in the hands of important persons. john rogers, of presidio, who was in the millionaire's employ for nearly a quarter of a century, is the executor of his will, and he says that the indian girl will inherit a fortune of $1,000,000 in cash that is with a safe deposit company in new york, and besides this, when she is of legal age, or when she marries, she will come into possession of a fine ranch on the rio grande that is well stocked with cattle, and one of the prettiest haciendoes in old mexico.

miss annie, who is now but fifteen years old, is at present a student at hardin college, mexico, missouri. when she completes the course there she will go to some eastern school for the finishing touches. she is a pure-blooded indian girl and few heiresses have come into their fortunes in a way more romantic.

xii. monuments erected to some of the famous indians.

will m. clemens, in writing recently for a chicago paper, says: "in the united states to-day are nine monuments erected by white men to perpetuate the memory of famous indians, and the nine great warriors of the early wilderness thus remembered are miantonomoh, uncas, keokuk, leatherlips, seattle, red jacket, cornstalk, tomo-chi-chi and pokagon.

"miantonomoh, famous sachem of the narragansetts, was one of the first indian chiefs of whom early english settlers of connecticut and rhode island had knowledge. he was captured and executed in 1643 and was buried a mile east of norwich, connecticut, on the spot where he died. for many years thereafter members of his tribe made visits to the grave, and each added to a pile of stone until a considerable monument was raised in this way to his memory by his own tribe. in 1841 the citizens of norwich and vicinity placed over the grave of miantonomoh a solid block of granite, eight feet long, five feet high and five feet in thickness, with the inscription, 'miantonomoh, 1643,' cut in large deep letters."

satanta

"this was the first monument actually erected by white men over the grave of an indian; and nothing could better illustrate the advance in civilization than this act of rescuing the grave of this noted chief from neglect and oblivion, who two hundred years before had been condemned and executed by the english settlers.

"uncas was the most noted chief of the mohegan tribe, a branch of the pequots. he died of advanced age about 1683, at norwich, connecticut, to which town he deeded a large tract of land shortly before his death. the people of norwich long contemplated a monument to uncas, but the project did not take active form until the summer of 1833, when general jackson, then president of the united states, visited norwich, and his visit was made the occasion of awakening an active interest in the project of erecting a monument for their 'old friend,' as they expressed it—the mohegan sachem, uncas.

"president jackson formally 'moved the foundation-stone to its place.' it has been described by the historian caulkins as 'an interesting, suggestive ceremony; a token of respect from the modern warrior to the ancient—from the emigrant race to the aborigines.'

"but the project of completing the monument languished, and not until july, 1847, was the uncas memorial finally completed. it is a granite obelisk or shaft, about twenty feet in height, supported by a huge granite block upon which the simple name 'uncas' is cut in large letters. all about the grave of uncas repose the ashes of many chiefs and members of his tribe. the place had been used before and has been used since by the indians as a burying-place, but little or no evidence now remains to distinguish their respective graves.

"the monument to chief keokuk, 'the watchful fox,' was erected at keokuk, iowa, in 1886. subsequent to the black hawk war, keokuk removed with his tribe from iowa to the territory of kansas, where he died in 1848. over his grave was placed a marble slab, which marked his place of burial until 1883, when the remains were exhumed and taken to keokuk and interred in the city park, where a durable monument was erected by public-spirited citizens to designate the final resting-place of the noted chieftain. later a bronze bust of keokuk was placed in the marble room of the united states senate at washington.

"chief leatherlips of the wyandots, who was executed by the people of his own race in 1810, is remembered by his white brothers with a lasting monument on the spot where he died in franklin county, ohio, fifteen miles from columbus. leather-lips was put to death 'for witchcraft,' and his execution was witnessed by william sells, a white man. the wyandot club, of columbus, in 1888, erected a scotch granite monument, which stands in the center of a one-acre park surrounded by a substantial stone wall. the monument stands upon the summit of the east bank of the scioto river, about fifteen rods from the river's edge. the view from the monument, both up and down the scioto, is most picturesque and beautiful.

"the monument to seattle, or sealth, as called by the indians, chief of the squamish and allied tribes, stands at fort madison, on puget sound, fifteen miles northwest of seattle, washington. sealth was perhaps the greatest indian character of the western country. as a statesman he had no superior among the red men and ruled his people for more than half a century. at the time of his death, in 1866, he was the acknowledged head and chief sachem of all the tribes living on or near puget sound. he had reached the age of eighty when he passed away and had made many warm friends with the white pioneers in washington. over a hundred white men were in attendance at his funeral. in 1890 his friends erected a monument of italian marble, seven feet high, with a base or pedestal surmounted by a cross bearing the letters 'i. h. s.' on one side of the monument is the following inscription:

"seattle,

chief of the squamish and allied tribes,

died june 7th, 1866.

the firm friend of the whites and for him the city of seattle was named

by its founders.

"the memorial to the great seneca chief, red jacket, or sa-go-ye-wat-ha. 'the keeper awake,' stands in forest lawn cemetery, buffalo, new york, and was erected in june, 1892. red jacket was born at seneca lake, new york, in 1752, and died on the seneca reservation, near buffalo, in 1830. his fame is that of a statesman and orator rather than as a warrior, and he was regarded as the most noted chief among the six nations of the iroquois. he has been described as the perfect indian in dress, character and instinct. he refused to acquire the english language, and never dressed other than in his native costume. he had an unalterable dislike for the missionary and contempt for the clothes of the white man.

"when red jacket died, in 1830, his remains were given over to ruth stevenson, a stepdaughter, who retained them in her cabin for some years, and finally secreted them in a place unknown to any person but herself. after she had become advanced in age, she became anxious to have the remains of her step father receive a final and known resting-place, and with that view, in october, 1879, she delivered them to the buffalo historical society, which assumed their care and custody and deposited them in the vaults of the western savings bank of buffalo, where they remained until october, 1884, when their final interment was made in forest lawn cemetery at buffalo. the splendid monument which now marks the spot was not completed until some years after the interment.

"the monument to chief cornstalk, warrior and sachem of the shawnees, was erected at point pleasant, west virginia, in 1896. it stands in the courthouse yard and was made possible by the thoughtfulness and generosity of the leading citizens of point pleasant. here in october, 1774, was fought that great battle where cornstalk won fame for his prowess and general-ship. he was, too, a man endowed with superior intellectual faculties and was an orator of transcendent eloquence. his murder in 1777 by a party of infuriated soldiers was the result of the killing of a white settler by some roving indians. the death of cornstalk destroyed the only hope of reconciliation and peace between the white settlers south of the ohio river and the indian tribes north of it. it was followed by a succession of wars, forays and murders, down to the battle of 'fallen timbers' in 1794, during which time many thousands of white men, women and children, and many thousands of the red race of all ages and conditions perished.

"there never has been and never can be any excuse or palliation for the murder of cornstalk, and no one event in the history of those bloody times so much enraged the vindictive spirit of the indian tribes, particularly of the shawnees. it can never be known how many deaths of white men, women and children during the next twenty years were owing to this murder. one hundred and twenty years later an enduring monument was raised to his memory by a few generous-minded white men on the spot where he fought one of the greatest battles in all indian warfare, and where three years afterward he gave up his life.

"in the heart of savannah, georgia, reposes a huge granite boulder, erected in honor of the indian chief, tomo-chi-chi. this noble red man was the special friend of gen. james oglethorpe, the english knight who, in early colonial days, endured much hardship in the new country of america to befriend both the georgia colony and the indians thereabout. chief tomo-chi-chi, also mighty in the camp-fire councils of the braves, easily ranked as one of the foremost of his race in those times. and so when the stately descendants of colonial sires, known as colonial dames of america, sought to commemorate the spirit of the georgia colony, four years ago, they placed this monument in the state capital. the bronze tablet on the side reads: 'in memory of tomo-chi-chi, the mico of the yamacrans, the companion of oglethorpe, and the friend and ally of the colony of georgia, this stone has been here placed by the georgia society of the colonial dames of america, 1739-1899.'

"the monument erected by the citizens of chicago to leopold and simon pokagon, chiefs of the pottawatomie indians, in jackson park, chicago, completes the known list of memorials erected by white men to their red brethren in this country. the pokagons, father and son, were successive chiefs and sachems of the once powerful pottawatomie tribe, which long occupied the region around the southern and eastern shores of lake michigan. leopold pokagon is described as a man of excellent character and habits, a good warrior and hunter, and as being possessed of considerable business capacity. he was well known to the early white settlers in the region about lake michigan, and his people were noted as being the most advanced in civilization of any of the neighboring tribes. he ruled over his people for forty-three years.

"in 1833 he sold to the united states one million acres of land at 3 cents an acre, and on the land so conveyed has since been built the city of chicago. he died in 1840 in cass county, michigan.

"his son, simon, then ten years of age, became the rightful hereditary chief of the tribe. at the age of fourteen he began the study of english, which he successfully mastered, as well as latin and greek. no full-blooded indian ever acquired a more thorough knowledge of the english language. in 1897 he wrote an article for a new york magazine on the 'future of the red man,' in which he said: 'often in the stillness of the night, when all nature seems asleep about me, there comes a gentle rapping at the door of my heart. i open it and a voice inquires: "pokagon, what of your people? what will be their future?" my answer is: "mortal man has not the power to draw aside the veil of unborn time to tell the future of his race. that gift belongs to the divine alone. but it is given to him to closely judge the future by the present and the past."' pokagon died january 28, 1899, at his old home in allegan county, michigan, at the age of seventy years; and thus passed away the last and most noted chief of the once powerful pottawatomie tribe. his remains were buried in graceland cemetery, chicago."

we are somewhat surprised that mr. clemens should think that the nine chiefs he mentions form a complete list of those to whom monuments have been built.

there are several others, including joseph brant, the great mohawk sachem and head of the iroquois confederation, who was buried beside the church he had erected at grand river, canada. there is a monument over his grave, said to have cost $30,000, with the following inscription:

"this tomb is erected to the memory of thayendanegea, or captain joseph brant, principal chief and warrior of the six nations, indians, by his fellow subjects, admirers of his fidelity and attachment to the british crown."

shabbona, the white man's friend, the pottawatomie chief, also has a monument on his grave in the cemetery at morris, illinois, recently erected by his white friends. in some cases the contributors were the children of the very people whose lives shabbona saved by warning them at the time of the black hawk war. it is a massive boulder of granite, containing only the following simple inscription:

shabbona,

1775-1859.

a full description of the unveiling of this monument is given in our sketch of shabbona.

in the month of june of the year 1905 a substantial monument was erected over the remains of chief joseph, of the nez perces, known as the indian xenophon, and one of the noblest red men of all history.

this monument now stands in the cemetery at nespelim, washington, on a commanding point, where the remains of the great chief were interred. the monument is of white marble and measures seven and one-half feet in height. a full account of the dedication is in our sketch of chief joseph. there is, as stated elsewhere, in the council house of the cherokees, at tallequah, a marble bust of se-quo-yah, the inventor of the cherokee alphabet.

there is also over the entrance to "tammany hall," city of new york, a statue of the celebrated delaware sachem, from whom the name is derived. this image is probably fanciful, but there was undoubtedly such an individual as the illustrious tamenend, who stands foremost in the list of all the great men of his tribe in any age.

this chief certainly exerted a far-reaching influence over both red and white men, even though his history is rather obscure. it is known, however, that he was a mighty warrior, an accomplished statesman, and a pure and high-minded patriot. in private life he was still more distinguished for his virtues than in public for his talents. his countrymen could only account for the perfections they ascribed to him by supposing him to be favored with the special communications of the great spirit. ages have elapsed since his death, but his memory was so fresh among the delawares of the eighteenth century that when colonel morgan, of new jersey, was sent as an agent among them by congress, during the revolution, they conferred on him the title of tamenend, as the greatest mark of respect they could show for the manners and character of that gentleman; and he was known by his indian appellation ever afterward.

about this time the old chieftain had so many admirers among the whites also that they made him a saint, inserted his name in calendars, and celebrated his festival on the first day of may, yearly. on that day a numerous society of his votaries walked in procession through the streets of philadelphia, their hats decorated with buck-tails, and proceeded to a sylvan rendezvous out of town, which they called the wigwam, where after a long talk or speech had been delivered, and the calumet of friendship passed around, the remainder of the day was spent in high festivity. a dinner was prepared and indian dances performed on the green. the custom ceased a few years after the conclusion of peace, at the close of the revolution, and though other tammany associations have since existed, they retain little of the model they were formed upon but the name.

new york city gradually absorbed the name (which was changed from tamenend to tammany for the sake of the euphony) and whatever of political prestige was included with it.

the name tammany has come to be a synonym for municipal politics from a democratic standpoint, as regards new york city, and it is interesting to know that the name and fame was literally captured from philadelphia, where it first existed.

there are two other indians who have been honored with memorials, one of whom was the indian woman who was the guide to lewis and clark, and the other, logan, the celebrated mingo chief.

within the corporate limits of the city of auburn, new york, there is a high elevation called fort hill, which derives its name from the fact that it was formerly surmounted by a fort, built to protect the citizens from attacks of indians. when the fort was demolished, the stones of which it was composed were used to construct a monument in memory of logan. it is a tall shaft, in the face of which a slab of marble is inserted bearing logan's pathetic words: "who is there to mourn for logan—not one." in summer the shaft is covered with ivy, and as it is on a high point it can be viewed from a great distance.

fort hill is now used as a cemetery.

there were thirty-five people in the lewis and clark exploring expedition in 1805, of whom thirty-four were men, and one a woman, but without her aid, it is quite probable, the expedition would have been a failure. this woman, sacajawea, or the bird-woman, wife of chaboneau, who accompanied them as a local interpreter, was a captive whose birthplace was in the rocky mountains. she proved to be the only person found, after a winter's search, who could by any possibility serve them as interpreter and guide among the unknown tongues and labyrinthine fastnesses through which they must force their way.

sacajawea, therefore, became the chief counselor, guide, and interpreter of lewis and clark. she alone knew the edible roots, springs, passes and fords. so with her baby on her back, she proudly trudged on in the lead, for two thousand miles. onward and upward they scrambled, threading ca?ons, fording torrents, scaling mountains, until they crossed the backbone of the continent. when food was scarce she went on alone to the indian villages, where her presence with her infant proved to the savages that the expedition could not be hostile. making her wants known to the squaws, she was given provisions for herself and the men. when hope sank in the hearts of the bravest she alone was able to cheer and inspire, by word and example.

simon pokagon

one day in their long and perilous journey they surprised a squaw so encumbered with papooses (which she would not desert) that she could not escape, and winning her heart by painting her cheeks, and presenting a looking-glass for their inspection, they made friends with her tribe, one of whose chiefs proved to be a brother to their bird-woman, and her heart was gladdened by the reunion.

many an episode in this eventful journey will hereafter glorify with romantic association, mountains, ca?ons, rocks, rivers and islands, all along the route; and none can be more touching than the story of the courageous and faithful sacajawea, the bird-woman. but when bounties in land and money were granted to others, she was forgotten. it was ever thus with the great benefactors of the race in general, and the indian in particular. they stone them while living, and stone them when dead by building monuments to their memory.

in portland, oregon, the grateful white women have caused to be erected a statue of this noble red woman. those who have seen it inform us that the artist has been especially happy in his modeling—sober, patient, silent, head firmly poised, she looks out wistfully to the western mountains and points the way. on her back is her papoose, chubby and contented, yet innocent of the thought that he is making history. this noble bronze reveals the honest wife, the loving mother, the faithful friend, the unerring guide. "thousands looking upon this statue," as elbert hubbard says, "have been hushed into silence and tears. there is an earnestness in it—a purity of purpose—that rebukes frivolity and makes one mentally uncover."

xiii. piskaret, the hero of the adirondacks.

the iroquois, or "romans of the west," called also mingoes and massawomeks, had a formidable rival in a powerful tribe known as the adirondacks, whose home was on the canadian side of the st. lawrence.

when the french settled canada, in 1603, they found the iroquois living where montreal now stands, and engaged, even then, in a war with the adirondacks. as the french wanted the country occupied by the iroquois they promptly made common cause with the adirondacks, and their united forces drove the five nations across the st. lawrence and south and east of the great lakes, erie and ontario.

but this warlike confederation soon rallied from their temporary defeat, and, turning on their old enemies, renewed the struggle with such valor that the adirondacks fled three hundred miles into the wilderness to escape extermination.

the adirondacks now adopted the plan of sending out small parties, and of relying especially on their captains. five of these men, alone, are said, by their astonishing energy and bravery, to have well-nigh turned the balance of the war. the chief and leader of this noble quintet was piskaret, in his own day the most celebrated chieftain of the north. he and his four comrades solemnly devoted themselves to the purpose of redeeming the sullied glory of the nation, at a period when the prospect of conquest, and perhaps of defense, had already become desperate. they set out for three rivers in one canoe; each of them being provided with three muskets, which they loaded severally with two bullets, connected by a small chain ten inches in length. in sorel river they met with five boats of the iroquois, each having on board ten men. as the parties rapidly came together, piskaret and his men pretended to give themselves up for lost, and began singing their death song. this was continued till their enemy was just at hand, for the iroquois intended to capture them alive for torture. but at a signal from piskaret, the five men seized their muskets from the bottom of the canoe and fired simultaneously on the five canoes. the charge was repeated with the arms which lay ready loaded, and the slight birches of the iroquois were torn asunder, and the frightened occupants tumbled overboard as fast as possible. piskaret and his comrades, after knocking as many on the head as they pleased, reserved the remainder to feed their revenge, which was soon afterward done by burning them alive in the most cruel tortures.

this exploit, creditable as it might be to the actors in the eyes of their countrymen, served only to sharpen the fierce eagerness for blood which still raged in the bosom of piskaret. his next enterprise was far more hazardous than the former; and so much more so, indeed, even in prospect, that not a single warrior would bear him company. he set out alone, therefore, for the country of the five nations (with which he was well acquainted), about that period of the spring when the snow was beginning to melt. accustomed, as an indian must be to all emergencies of traveling as well as warfare, he took the precaution of putting the hinder part of his snowshoes forward, so that if his footsteps should happen to be observed by his vigilant enemy, it might be supposed he had gone the contrary way. for further security he went along the ridges and high ground, where the snow was melted, that his track might be lost.

on coming near one of the villages of the five nations, he concealed himself until night, and then entered a cabin, while the inmates were fast asleep, killed the whole family and carried the scalps to his lurking-place. the next day the people of the village sought for the murderer, but in vain. he came out again at midnight and repeated his deed of blood. the third night a watch was kept in every house and piskaret was compelled to exercise more caution. but his purpose was not abandoned. he bundled up the scalps he had already taken, to carry home with him as a proof of his victory, and then stole warily from house to house until he at last discovered an indian nodding at his post. this man he dispatched at a blow, but that blow alarmed the neighborhood, and he was forced immediately to fly for his life. being, however, the fleetest indian then alive, he was under no apprehension of danger from the chase. he permitted his pursuers to approach him from time to time, and then suddenly darted away from them, hoping in this manner to discourage, as well as escape them. when the evening came on he hid himself and his enemies stopped to rest. feeling no danger from a single enemy, and he a fugitive, they even indulged themselves in sleep, without posting a guard. piskaret, who watched every movement, turned about, tomahawked every man of them, added their scalps to his bundle, and leisurely resumed his way home, where he was greeted with great joy, and a dance, that lasted all day was celebrated in his honor.

when even these heroic deeds failed to arouse the remnant of his once powerful tribe, piskaret is said to have journeyed far toward the setting sun, and joined the warlike sioux, among whom he became a war-chief.

perhaps the four indians of the broadest culture and most liberal education of the present and recent past are simon pokagon, already mentioned, who was succeeded by his son charles, gen. ely samuel parker, dr. charles alexander eastman and dr. carlos montezuma.

xiv. gen. ely s. parker.

was a full-blooded seneca indian, born on the tonawanda reservation in new york, in 1820. he was chief of the seneca tribe and head of the iroquois confederation. his indian name was do-no-hoh-ga-wa, which means "keeper of the western gate." general parker was educated at ellicottsville, where he studied the profession of civil engineering. he also studied law and was admitted to the new york bar, but never practiced.

he lived for a time in galena, illinois, where he was a friend of general grant. general parker received a commission as captain in the united states army from president lincoln and joined grant at vicksburg in 1862, where he was made a member of the general's staff, with the rank of colonel. he wrote the famous surrender of lee at appomattox in 1865. grant made him a brigadier-general, and when he became president he appointed him commissioner of indian affairs, which place he held until 1871. for several years he had been superintendent and architect of police stations in new york city.

general parker married miss minnie sackett of washington, d. c, in 1867. president grant attended the marriage ceremony and gave the bride away.

an old veteran who was present at the surrender of lee at appomattox, told the author that general parker, who was then grant's military secretary, had the appearance of a mulatto, and was mistaken for one by some of the southern generals, who were indignant that general grant should dictate the terms of capitulation to a "nigger." they were mollified, however, when it was explained to them that the secretary belonged to another swarthy race, which was never enslaved.

general parker died at fairfield, connecticut, august 31, 1895.

xv. biographical sketch of doctor eastman.

charles alexander eastman, whose indian name is ohiyesa, "the winner," was born in minnesota about 1858. his father was a full-blood sioux of a leading family, by the name of many lightnings, and his mother a half-blood, called in indian the goddess, or in english nancy eastman. she died soon after the birth of ohiyesa, who was carefully reared by his paternal grandmother.

when he was four years old the so-called "minnesota massacre" broke up his family and drove the uncle and grandmother, with the boy, into exile in manitoba, where they roamed about for ten years, living by the chase. in the meantime ohiyesa was educated by his uncle, a notable hunter and warrior, in woodcraft and all the lore of the red man.

at the age of fifteen the boy was sought and found by his father, who had in the meantime embraced christianity and civilization. he brought him to his home at flandreau, south dakota, a little community of citizen indians, and sent him to school. after a year at a mission day-school and two years at dr. riggs's indian boarding-school at santee, nebraska, he went east to beloit, wisconsin, then to knox college, illinois, taking his final year of preparatory work at kimball union academy, new hampshire. he entered dartmouth college in 1883, where he was successful both in scholarship and athletics, his specialty in the latter being long-distance running, and graduated in 1887. he graduated in medicine in 1890 at the boston university.

immediately after graduation, dr. eastman was appointed government physician to the pine ridge agency in south dakota, and served through the "ghost dance war" and for two years afterward. he married, in 1891, miss elaine goodale, of massachusetts. in 1893 he went to st. paul, minnesota, and for several years engaged in medical practice, and also represented the international committee of young men's christian associations among the indians. he afterward went to washington as attorney for the santee sioux, and for several years furthered their interests at the national capital.

his first literary work was a series of sketches of his early life for st. nicholas, published in 1893-4. these were begun without much deliberation and originally intended to preserve some of his recollections for his own children. several sketches and stories were published by other magazines, and in 1902 his first book, "indian boyhood," embodying the story of his own youth, was published by mcclure, phillips & co. two years later a book of wild animal and indian hunting tales, "red hunters and the animal people," appeared with the imprint of harper and brothers.

dr. eastman has recently been appointed by the government to revise the allotment rolls of the sioux, grouping them under appropriate family names. he is well known as a lecturer and is everywhere welcomed for his sympathetic interpretations of indian life and character.

beyond a doubt he is, as hamlin garland says, "far and away the ablest living expositor of sioux life and character."

the boston transcript says of him: "dr. charles a. eastman is a sioux indian, and in his life, which began in 1858, has traversed almost the whole course of human civilization, from the life of a very child of the woods to that of the honored graduate of the white man's college and professional school of highest rank. . . . dr. eastman came back to his alma mater last month, when the corner-stone of the new dartmouth hall was laid, and at the banquet in the evening he made so good a speech that president tucker had the warm applause of the great company when he exclaimed, 'almost thou persuadest me to be an indian!'"

dr. eastman's present home is amherst, massachusetts.

xvi. dr. carlos montezuma.

is a full-blood apache indian. in the year 1872, when he was five years old, he was captured by the pimas and brought to their camp, where he was offered for sale, a horse being the price asked. a traveling photographer, mr. charles gentile, who happened to be in the pima camp taking photographs, became interested in the boy and offered $30, the price of a horse, which the indians accepted. he brought the boy east, and sent him to the public schools of brooklyn, boston and chicago, and finally, through the interest of friends, he entered the illinois state university. he developed special aptitude for chemistry, and when he graduated a place was found for him in a drug store near the chicago medical college, where as a clerk he supported himself and earned means for the expense of a course in that college. he graduated in 1889, and, by the advice of friends, located as a physician in chicago.

when general morgan became commissioner of indian affairs he heard of dr. montezuma and offered him an appointment as physician for the indian school at fort stephenson, north dakota. the doctor accepted, and after about a year's service there was promoted to the position of agency physician at an agency in nevada. afterward he held a similar position at the colville agency, washington. his next appointment was that of school physician at carlisle indian school in 1893.

in 1896 dr. montezuma returned to chicago, where he enjoys a large and increasing practice in his profession. he knows nothing of his native apache language, nor is there a trace of indian superstition or habit to be found in him. he is not only civilized in habit and thought, but is also a high-toned, cultured gentleman and a member of the first baptist church of chicago. in addition to his profession, he is teaching in the college of physicians and surgeons, and in the post-graduate medical school of chicago, and at the same time writing in the interest of his people, so he is a very busy man.

he is a warm friend and admirer of general pratt, founder of carlisle school; and believes the true solution of the indian problem consists in educating the children of the white and red race in the same school and thus making american citizens of both, instead of a citizen of one and a ward and dependent of the other race. he thinks, moreover, that an indian should be treated exactly as any other man. dr. montezuma demonstrates in his own life the fallacy of the evolutionists, that several generations are necessary before a savage can be transformed into a civilized man, by actually undergoing a complete metamorphosis in one short generation.

can the indian be civilized, and is he capable of a high-class education? this is our answer; here are four men from as many representative tribes, two of which are wild, blanket tribes, and yet each of them became men of broad culture and a high degree of civilization. and what is true of these could have been and should have been true of ten thousand others, had our government pursued a policy of common justice to the race.