^ ^ 
 
 Q s 
 
 2 -i:; .Jr'^^ \-< 
 
 'mmm^ "^/saiAiNn-Jwv 
 
 vr. 
 
 ^<?Aiiviiani^ ^^AHvaaiii'^ 
 
 xStLlBRARVc 
 
 aiBRARYQ^ . 
 
 ^ !±i 
 
 -< 
 
 ^<!/0JnV3JO-^ ^-{^OJIWDJO^ 
 
 ^MEUNIVER% 
 
 o 
 
 <rii]ONVSo^^ 
 
 vKlOSANGELfj> 
 
 %a3AIN(]]ViV 
 
 '<k. 
 
 
 >j,OFCAlIF0/?^ ^OFCAilFOff/il^ ^^\^E•UNIVERV,J) 
 
 ^<?Aaviiaii#' ^f?Aiivaan-i^ 
 
 , , . _ o 
 
 ^lOSANCElfju 
 o 
 
 "^Aa^AINn ]WV 
 
 ^lOSANCElfj}> 
 o 
 
 ^ILIBRARYQ^ a^ILIBRARYQ^^ 
 
 '^Aa3AINn-3WV^ %0JnV3J0^ ^<!/OjI1V0jO^ 
 
 VER% ^lOSANCElfj> 
 
 '^ii3AINa-3l\v 
 
 .^;OFCALIFO% ^OFCALIF0% 
 t?5 te *H/r^ 1 bo 
 
 
 'i/ojnv3jo^ 
 
 ^WEUNIVERS'//) 
 
 ^VlOSANCELfj> 
 
 CO 
 
 %a3AINn3WV^ 
 
 OFCAllFOfi!^ 
 
 s7 
 
 \MEUNIVER% 
 
 o 
 
 ^lOSANCElfj>. 
 o 
 
 '%a3AINfl3WV 
 
 ■^ 
 
 •K 
 
 IVERV4 AVlOSANCElfj> 
 
 ^\SllIBRARY6?^ -^ILIBRARYQ^ 
 
 -\ inN^ /^lirtinvjT irxNO'
 
 
 Ml llfffi i 
 
 i^f^l if'^^ 
 
 -'i?Aavjian-i^ ^<?AHvj)an^^ ^Tii^oNvsoi^'^ ^AaaAiNnawv 
 
 '^. 
 
 \WE UNIVER^/A 
 
 o 
 <rjl30NVS01^ 
 
 ^lOSANCElfj> 
 
 o 
 
 -< 
 
 ^;^l•LIBRARYQc 
 
 ^llIBRARYQf 
 
 %OJI]V0-JO^ 
 
 ^<!/0JnV3JO't 
 
 ,^WEUNIVERV/, 
 
 v^lOSANCElfj> 
 
 o 
 
 >;,OFCAilFO% .^;OFCAilFO% 
 
 <rii30NVsov^ '^Aa3AiNn3v\v' ^<?AavaaiH^ -^^Aavaan-^^ 
 
 :l 
 
 ^^tllBRARYQ^ s^tllBRARYOr 
 
 ^<aOJIlV3JO'^ ^OJIlVJ-jO"^ 
 
 AWEUNIVERi-//, 
 
 ^TilJONVSOl^"^ 
 
 v^lOSANCElfj- 
 t 
 
 '%a3AINf]]WV 
 
 
 w^^ 
 
 ^^,OFCALIF0% .^,OFCALIFO% 
 ■1^ ,^* ^.--^ -r. 
 
 ^<?A}ivjiaiiT^ ^<?AavaaiH^ 
 
 A\\EUhlIVER% Aj^lOSANCElf/^ 
 
 <ril30NVS01^'^ 
 
 %a3AINa3WV 
 
 .^ME■UNIVER5•/A 
 
 o 
 
 ^lOSANCElfj> 
 3 
 
 -< 
 
 ^^lllBRARY^^ 
 
 ^^t-LIBRARY^?/ 
 
 '^.i/ojnvojo^ 
 
 ^<!fOJnV3JO^ 
 
 ^WEUNIVER^ 
 
 C-> Si 
 
 ^riijoNVsoi^"^ 
 
 ^lOSANCElfj> 
 
 > 
 
 -< 
 
 "^aaAiNnawv^ 
 
 ^OFCAilF0% 
 
 .^,OFCAllFOfi»^ 
 ^ . — ^ 
 
 %nv8aii#^ ^<?Aavaan# 
 
 ;l 
 
 -^tllBRARYO^ -^^^tLIBRARYQr 
 
 ^.!/0JllV3JO>^ 
 
 AWEUNIVER5'/a v^lOSANCElfx^ 
 
 -^(i/ojnvjjo"^ <rii30Nv.soi^ '^/ia3AiNn-3WV'
 
 CAPTAIN WILLIAM THORNTON PARKER, M. D. 
 Aide-de-Camp Army and Navy Union. U. S. A.
 
 PERSONAL EXPERIENCES 
 
 AMONG OUR 
 
 NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS 
 
 FROM 1867 TO 1885 
 
 BY 
 
 W. THORNTON PARKER, M. D. 
 
 Aide-de-Camp Army and Navy Union, U. S. A. 
 
 Companion, lat ClasB, "Order of Indian Wars " of the United States. 
 
 Member of tiie Society of the "Sons of the American Revolution." 
 
 Formerly Act. Assistant Surgeon U. 8. Army. 
 
 Formerly Surgeon U. 8. Indian Service. 
 
 NORTHAMPTON, MASS. 
 A. D. 1913.
 
 DEDICATION. 
 
 To the gallant old Third Cavalry, United States 
 Army — A regiment which has few if any equals and 
 no superiors, in this or any other land — And to 
 the memory of the brave troopers of the Third with 
 whom I had the honour to ride in the sixties on the 
 frontier, most of whom, have answered the "last 
 call ! " " Their sabres are rust, their steeds are dust, 
 their souls are with the Saints we trust."
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 Complying with the requests of several friends, I 
 have endeavored to select from my articles contri- 
 buted to various magazines such as the Open Court, 
 North American Review, etc., those which seemed 
 to me most interesting, concerning our North Ameri- 
 can Indians, Scouts, Soldiers and others, who have 
 lived upon the wild, dangerous "frontier" during 
 the Sixties — and later. I hope that I may be par- 
 doned for adding one or two papers, from medical 
 journals. I shall be glad indeed if some of these 
 pages may be found acceptable to the reader. 
 
 W. Thornton Parker^ M. D. 
 
 Northampton, Massachusetts. 
 May 22nd, 1913. 
 
 797092
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The Indian War Veteran and Frontiersman. 
 
 Pages of history, and the acts of congress of a 
 grateful nation, and books which might fill libraries, 
 have been written in just and undying praise of our 
 relatives and friends and comrades who served so 
 gallantly in the war of the Rebellion, to save our 
 beloved land. The sacred dust of thousands of war- 
 riors is intrusted to the guardianship of the nation 
 they loved, and for whose glory they willingly suf- 
 fered, and alas, so many died: But these pages 
 are my humble tribute to the honour of brave sol- 
 diers of the regular army, and to call to remembrance 
 the deeds of heroes, and what we owe to them. 
 The valuable services, privations and heroism of the 
 soldiers of the regular army of the United States, 
 who have served in the Indian wars, and in other 
 wars, have never received suitable recognition. 
 President Taft has said of these veterans: "All 
 honor to the regular army of the United States! 
 Never in its history has it had a stain upon its 
 escutcheon, with no one to blow its trumpet, with 
 no local feeling or pride to bring forth its merits; 
 quietly and as befits a force organized to maintain 
 civil institutions, it has gone on doing the duty 
 which it was its to do; accepting without a murmur
 
 dangers of war. Upon the trackless stretches of 
 our western frontier, exposed to the arrows and the 
 bullets of the Indian , it has never failed to make 
 a record of duty done that should satisfy the most 
 exacting lover of his country." 
 
 Comparatively few of the citizens of our great 
 nation, are familiar with the dangers, privations, 
 the sufferings and often the tortures of Indian war- 
 fare. Few comprehend what privations our soldiers 
 on the frontier service have endured. Few recognize 
 the fact that no battles of the war of the Rebellion 
 have ever called forth more of military courage and 
 fortitude than that displayed in Indian campaigns 
 on the frontier. 
 
 Veterans of the regular army, who served in the 
 Indian wars, are entitled to every honor which a 
 grateful nation can bestow upon its heroes. The 
 veterans who faced the dangers of Indian warfare, 
 who made the weary dangerous march, crossing the 
 plains, the mountains, and desert regions, who have 
 endured the horrors of thirst and hunger, and un- 
 told suffering in their common duties as soldiers, 
 who have endured the cold of Montana and the heat 
 of Arizona, who have suffered all sorts of privations 
 and discomforts in an enemy's country, and who 
 have held in check, often against great odds, and 
 fought battles with savages, where almost super- 
 human courage was required to avert absolute de- 
 struction, and where surrender could never be 
 yielded without the sure sequence of being reserved 
 for the indescribable horrors of Indian tortures — 
 surely such warriors are peers of the soldiers in 
 any country, and are worthy of the tribute and 
 friendship of all veterans. No true soldier or worthy
 
 citizen would hesitate for an instant to yield homage 
 to the brave and true, who at such sacrifices and 
 terrible risks opened up the great western lands to 
 settlements for millions. Cities and towns have 
 sprung up where once roamed their mighty, cruel, 
 but defeated Indian enemies. In Indian warfare 
 there is no rear. All are equally exposed to danger. 
 The real veteran does not and cannot approve of the 
 neglect of any veteran soldier. The real soldier is 
 ready to give his sympathy generously, for the jus- 
 tice of brave men. 
 
 Our American Indian war scouts, were indeed 
 a brave and daring lot ; and seemed to be without 
 fear of danger or of death — although they knew 
 both in the worst possible form. 
 
 The tomahawk, the scalping knife and the fright- 
 ful tortures of devilish Indian cruelty were much 
 more to be dreaded than the engines of destruction 
 usually employed in war. 
 
 There have been rare deeds of personal courage 
 in our frontier service by scouts as well as by sol- 
 diers. Comparatively little has been recorded of 
 the innumerable life-imperilling acts of bravery of 
 the soldiers, or scouts who found the Indian savages, 
 and faced dangers of all descriptions in the dis- 
 charge of duty. Alert and willing to take any risks 
 in rendering assistance at the first call for help — 
 they have added laurels to the records of American 
 heroism. Like our brave soldiers, the scouts, were 
 not heroes for a day, they were heroes all the time. 
 When there were things to be done, they just went 
 and did them. Some day in the far future, some 
 historian may seek to record the thrilling incidents 
 of their lives, and to place them properly in the 
 
 6
 
 grand story of the American people. Then facts 
 will not be obtainable, and more or less fiction will 
 take their place. But fiction can be no stranger 
 than the facts in many cases. It will indeed be a 
 pity if the true tales of these hardy men are lost 
 to history! Few witnessed or even knew of many 
 of these acts of courage performed by unselfish, 
 manly men who made light of danger, in their de- 
 termination to do their manly duty and to do it well. 
 May my pen be able to present the homage, it 
 would so gladly record in honour of my dearly 
 esteemed comrades, the veterans of the regular army, 
 soldiers and scouts, who served on the Indian fron- 
 tier in the service of their beloved country and for 
 the welfare of mankind in general.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Preface. Introduction. 
 
 I Across the Plains — A Three Months' 
 Journey with an Army Train. 
 
 II The Santa Fe Trail in the '60s. 
 
 III The Journey of DexVth — "Jornada del 
 
 Muerto." 
 
 IV The Sentinel of the Southwest. 
 V The Prairie Monitor. 
 
 VI Billy Dixon, the Scout. 
 
 VII Concerning Arrow Wounds. 
 
 VIII Indian Revenge. 
 
 IX Hygiene among the Aborigines. 
 
 X MAitRiAGE among Indians. 
 
 XI Baby Days in the Wigwam. 
 
 XII Concerning American Indian Woman- 
 
 hood, 
 
 XIII The Muskee-kee Win-ni-nee. 
 
 XIV Concerning Indian Burial Customs. 
 
 XV The Religious Character of the North 
 American Indians. 
 
 8
 
 XVI In the Land of Hiawatha, 
 XVII Among the Chippewas. 
 
 XVIII A Mother's Experience in the Cold 
 
 Northwest. 
 
 XIX The Love of a People. 
 
 XX Beaveheart's Baptism. 
 
 XXI Lost on the Great Plains. 
 
 XXII On the Arkansaw in '67. 
 
 XXIII On the Little Big Horn in '76. 
 
 XXIV A Trooper of the Gallant Old 3rd Cav- 
 
 alry Worsted by a Cavalry Horse. 
 
 XXV The Temperance Question in the Army. 
 
 XXVI Shong-sasha. 
 
 XXVII The Evolution of the Colored Soldier. 
 
 XXVIII Cook's Canon— A Story of Life in the 
 
 Southwest. 
 
 XXIX Postscript — The Trail of Santa Fe de San 
 
 Francisco.
 
 ACROSS THE PLAINS. 
 
 A Three Months' Journey with an Army Train. 
 
 We were not many, we who marched along the lonely Santa Fe, 
 
 But many a gallant soldier would 
 
 Have given much if he but could 
 
 Have shared with us that dangerous way. 
 
 ''The Plains," as it was understood 46 years 
 ago, was that section of country west of the Missouri 
 River, comprising almost the entire State of Kan- 
 sas, a portion of Colorado, and the Indian Territory. 
 If we open the geographical atlas at the map of 
 Kansas we will find in the eastern part of the State 
 the still important military post of Fort Leaven- 
 worth. Before the railroads west of the Missouri 
 were built this fort was the great distributing point 
 for troops and military supplies of all kinds. It was 
 here that in May, 1867, a large expedition was fitted 
 out to cross the plains to New Mexico. To the 
 traveler rushing through Kansas to-day in the com- 
 fortable and safe railway cars, it is difficult to ex- 
 plain the experiences of crossing these prairies in 
 "Indian times," before the railroad was built. 
 
 The expedition which left Fort Leavenworth May, 
 1867, consisted of about 300 cavalry recruits, 20 
 cavalrymen, a dozen or more officers, their 
 
 11
 
 families, a half dozen non-commissioned staff officers, 
 and about 200 civilians, teamsters, etc. One hundred 
 a^id twefi^#v^ ^'eagoras and ambulances comprised 
 the train, and there was also a herd of about 500 
 horses and mules for distribution at the posts in 
 New Mexico, beside those in use by the soldiers and 
 the train. This was considered a strong expedi- 
 tion, and an important one in those days. The 
 Paymaster-General, then Maj. Rochester, accom- 
 panied the expedition, and he carried for payment 
 of the troops in New Mexico a large sum of money — 
 over a hundred thousand dollars, as the men 
 believed; but at any rate a considerable sum. Later 
 we shall have something to tell about that money. 
 
 The command of this expedition was intrusted to 
 Maj. Whiting, an experienced officer, and one who 
 had a good reputation as an Indian fighter. He 
 proved himself a thorough soldier before the ex- 
 pedition was broken up, and when the difficulties 
 and dangers of that long march, through what was 
 then a wilderness, are taken into account, he de- 
 served the support and respect of every officer and 
 man. 
 
 The march was to be a long one — 10 or 12 weeks — 
 and through a desert land not only difficult for trav- 
 eling, but swarming with hostile Indians, determined, 
 if possible, to annihilate all the whites west of the 
 Missouri. Each mile had to be traversed with the 
 command ready for action to repel Indian attacks, 
 and each camp had to resemble, as nearly as possible, 
 a garrison besieged. The enemy had all the advan- 
 tage, and were well armed, well mounted, brave 
 and intelligent, and out-numbered us many times 
 over. 
 
 12
 
 The following was the order of march as well as 
 I can remember it: The new guard of to-day, the 
 advance guard; one company of cavalry recruits; 
 ambulance containing officers' families; wagons con- 
 taining soldiers' families; wagons containing camp 
 equipments; horses led and guarded by soldiers 
 (these horses were tied to a long rope at regular in- 
 tervals) ; second company of cavalry ; wagons con- 
 taining supplies; another section of horses; third 
 company of cavalry; extra wagons; camp followers, 
 etc. ; old guard of yesterday, rear-guard. 
 
 On the right flank, well in advance, rode 20 picked 
 men, old soldiers, who acted as flankers and scouts 
 to protect the expedition from surprises. The 
 wagons moved in single or double file as the nature 
 of the roads or the probabilities of attack suggested. 
 The train was under the immediate control of wagon- 
 masters, and the drivers were instructed to halt and 
 form in position to resist attack at a moment's notice. 
 The movement was to be executed in the following 
 manner: An attack threatening, the flankers were 
 slowly to join the main column, the advance-guard 
 halting at once. The wagons, when moving in double 
 column, halted in this order: First two leading 
 wagons came together, mules unhitched and tied to 
 wagon-wheels; numbers three and four right and 
 left of these, their mules driven to the inner side of 
 wagons one and two ; wagons five and six right and 
 left of these, their mules driven to the inner sides 
 of wagons three and four, and so on until the whole 
 command was in position to resist attack. The am- 
 bulances, soldiers, horses, etc., would thus be en- 
 tirely inclosed, and the wagons, loaded with camp 
 equipage and stores, would make a very fair fortress. 
 
 13
 
 The soldiers could fight from under the wagons, 
 keeping up a fire that would make an Indian attack 
 a very dangerous undertaking. In Indian fighting 
 one man holds four horses and the other three act 
 as skirmishers. The signal of "danger," which is 
 made by riding round in a circle, means also the 
 enemy is in dangerous proximity; collect together 
 as soon as possible. Thus a flanker way off on the 
 right could signal the advance-guard, and the Officer 
 of the Day, always with or near the advance-guard, 
 reporting to the commanding officer, in a few min- 
 utes the whole train would be in position for the 
 threatened attack. 
 
 In this manner, and always on the alert, we 
 marched through Kansas. Reveille sounded early in 
 the morning, sometimes when in very dangerous 
 places, long before daylight, and camp was usually 
 formed about 2 or 3 o'clock in the afternoon. After 
 the site for the camp had been carefully selected, 
 the wagons would move into position, forming three 
 sides of a square if on the river bank, or a perfect 
 square if on the open prairie, in single or double 
 row of wagons. The horses were herded, if in a se- 
 cure camp, or if threatened, were tied to the long 
 ropes between the camps, which were fastened to 
 posts firmly planted in the ground. The hospital 
 and guard-tents were the earliest raised, and when 
 the whole camp was in order it was indeed a pretty 
 sight to see. By sundown the camp was silent, ex- 
 cept that now and then one might hear a banjo or 
 guitar, or some voices singing songs of home, as the 
 soldiers gathered around the campfires and smoked or 
 told stories until after tattoo. Tlie nights were usual- 
 ly cool, and how pleasant camp seemed after the long, 
 
 14
 
 hot and dusty ride of the day. As we journeyed 
 westward grass grew longer, and beds became more 
 luxurious. First we threw down our rubber ponchos, 
 then a blanker folded twice, or oftener, for a mattress. 
 If we had no pillow, a folded overcoat over a pair 
 of boots made an excellent substitute. Another 
 blanket over us completed the bed. Taps, the 
 last call, bade us rest in peace to wait for to- 
 morrow's reveille. Soldiers, like other boys, are apt 
 to be frolicsome at bedtime, and many were the 
 pranks played between tattoo and taps, and some- 
 times even after taps. 
 
 Mosquitoes were plentiful as summer advanced, and 
 they made slumbers, which in their absence might 
 have been delicious, somewhat restless. The nettings 
 we have in the east to protect us were not amongst 
 our supplies on the march. It was discovered, how- 
 ever, that our hungry little pest hated the fumes 
 of burnt sugar and chlorate of potash, so from our 
 hospital supplies we made a mixture of our "anti- 
 mosquito remedy." We burnt this on boards or 
 tin just after getting into bed, and it is hard to say 
 what the mosquito thought of it, but we suffered 
 severely, and out of respect for our endurance of 
 the strangling fumes we ought to have been spared 
 the irritating bites. But the mosquito of Kansas is 
 a very intelligent bird, and waited outside until the 
 fumes had pretty well disappeared and we were fast 
 asleep ; then he walked in for his dinner. In the 
 course of these experiments with chlorate of potash 
 and sugar we discovered that in burning it made a 
 bright light. Taps is the signal to "extinguish 
 lights," and this we were particular to do; but one 
 night while taps was sounding we lit our diabolical 
 
 15
 
 mixture. The Sergeant of the Guard, walking about 
 in the silent streets of the camp, noticed that while 
 all other lights went out one tent seemed brilliantly 
 illuminated. We heard his voice "lights out," and 
 still the fire kept on. Our heads were covered in 
 our blankets, unable to endure the suffocating fumes. 
 On came the Sergeant, angry at our inattention. He 
 pushed his head into the tent, and taking a deep 
 breath in his haste to scold us, beat a hasty retreat, 
 nearly strangled by the fumes of our burning medi- 
 cine. "What does this mean?" he managed to call 
 out, his eyes suffused and then fully aroused to 
 anger. We answered him from, under the blankets 
 as the last of the flame died away, ' ' The mosquitoes 
 are very bad and we have burned a little sugar to 
 frighten them away, but it did not go out at taps." 
 With an admonition not to let it happen again, he 
 marched off. 
 
 Reveille rudely woke us from oar slumbers every 
 morning; but sometimes, when we had gone to rest 
 some pleasant summer evening with tent-sides looped 
 up, and not anticipating a storm, a furious gale 
 would strike us, down would go our lines of tents, 
 and, suddenly aroused and drenched with rain, we 
 would try to find our clothing and restore order in 
 camp. It happened at Fort Zara, I believe, that we 
 changed our camp twice. The river rising rapidly 
 and flooding the country in every direction, we were 
 forced very hastily to move to higher ground. This 
 first move was accomplished only after considerable 
 effort in packing and hitching up; but when later 
 the river again attacked us it seemed as if we must 
 lose ever.v^thing. Everyone took hold and worked 
 hard to save the wagons, camp equipage and supplies 
 
 16
 
 It was desperate work, and although the men 
 struggled faithfully, several wagons became so firmly 
 inbedded m the mud that it was necessary to aban- 
 don them altogether, and much flour and other sup- 
 plies were destroyed by the water. The whole com- 
 mand, ladies and all, were well drenched before we 
 found a safe camp again. 
 
 The commanding officer generously ordered that 
 a case of whiskey be distributed to the men, and the 
 efforts of many a gallant soldier to obtain two 
 drinks instead of one by hook or by crook were 
 laughable in the extreme. "I've seen your face be- 
 fore ; I 've given you a drink lately, ' ' I said to some. 
 ' ' Oh, no ; it was my brother or a friend, ' ' was the 
 answer. 
 
 At daylight we learned that two men had been 
 drowned in the river, but some said their bodies had 
 not been found, and the report merely covered their 
 desertion. Desertions were common enough after 
 that. Men went off in squads with horses, arms and 
 provisions, deserting directly in the midst of the 
 Indians; many of them losing their lives to escape 
 the slavery of a soldier's life. Some of the recruits 
 were professional horse-thieves, and had enlisted at 
 Carlisle Barracks, Pa., going East for the purpose 
 of being returned again to the plains, where they 
 knew expeditions were constantly crossing, and op- 
 portunities for horse stealing and desertion frequent. 
 One night almost the entire guard deserted, includ- 
 ing non-commissioned officers. These men carried 
 off the company records, besides taking extra 
 horses, arms, ammunition and rations. The risk 
 they assumed of capture by Government officials was 
 small indeed; but outside waited the Indians, who 
 
 17
 
 very much desired their ill-gotten plunder. Un- 
 doubtedly many of these deserters were malcontents, 
 who hated the army discipline, and who had endured, 
 or fancied they had endured, wrongs and humilia- 
 tions which made them desperate. In no other 
 army — certainly not in the English, German or 
 French — are the enlisted men so happy as they 
 are in ours. Our soldiers are well paid and well 
 fed, but it is surprising to witness the great gulf 
 existing between the officers and the soldiers. 
 
 The rivers and streams we were obliged to ford, 
 there being neither bridges or ferryboats, and it of- 
 ten happened that fording was attended with great 
 difficulty and even danger. On one occasion, where 
 the river banks were very steep, the wagons and 
 cavalry marching through the water and ascending 
 the opposite bank had made it very slippery. When 
 the rear-guard arrived the crossing looked very un- 
 inviting, and upon attempting to ascend the opposite 
 bank, horses iind riders slipped down the bank nearly 
 to the water's edge. A group of officers gathered 
 on the bank above, watching the crossing, and 
 seemed to enjoy the comical struggle of horses and 
 men striving to make the ascent without falling. My 
 horse enjoyed the name of "Billy," probably the 
 commonest name for army horses. He was a fine, 
 large, deep bay, carefully selected by an old soldier 
 from amongst a herd of horses at Fort Riley, which 
 had been recently purchased in Missouri, the great 
 supply depot for the United States Army. Billy 
 was my special pet, and on him I showered my affec- 
 tion and all the dainties my slender purse could pro- 
 cure. Our turn had come to make the ascent. I 
 looked at Billy and his clean, well-groomed sides; 
 
 18
 
 at myself and my gorgeous scarlet stripes (the old 
 style of stripes for Hospital Stewards), and, con- 
 sidering the adventures of the cavalryman who had 
 just rolled down the bank covered with mud, I felt 
 that glory was not in store for me that day. Yet 
 Billy was quick, steady and intelligent, and so we 
 hopefully descended the bank, crossed the river, and 
 as we stepped out of the water I patted my horse, 
 spoke to him, and then giving him a little touch with 
 the spur, we started up the difficult ascent. Up, 
 up, went Billy, plunging and rocking, and we had 
 nearly reached the top, when down he came well on 
 one side, covering my boot and leg with mud, and I 
 thought it was all over; but a gallant spring gave 
 him his legs again, and in a second more we stood 
 secure upon the bank above. A kind applause 
 greeted his splendid efforts, and from the depths of 
 my saddle-bag came forth my last lumps of sugar for 
 a reward. 
 
 Billy distinguished himself again, much to my dis- 
 gust, by interfering with the hospital cook. Our 
 horses were being stolen so rapidly that I had my 
 horse picketed close by the hospital tent. Camp 
 cooking is done out of doors, and is a very simple 
 process, bread being baked in Dutch-ovens — iron 
 pots with heavy iron covers, placed in the bed of 
 coals and completely covered over by them. Usually 
 we had hard wood for fires, but in some very desert 
 places the dried dung of the buffalo, called "buffalo 
 chips," was used. This dung was found all over the 
 plains of Kansas years ago, but has pretty much dis- 
 appeared now. The cook had taken the mess chest 
 outside his tent, and while making the bread left the 
 flour-bag open. I was dozing in my tent, when I 
 
 19
 
 heard a yell and angry imprecations and a clatter 
 of hoofs. Springing up I saw the cook chasing my 
 Billy away, and my horse's head was a sight to be- 
 hold, for in his playful, inquisitive way, he had 
 plunged his nose deep into the flour-bag; his mouth 
 and nostrils were filled with flour, and his whole 
 face was covered with it to his eyes. Off scampered 
 Billy, seemingly delighted with the new discovery, 
 while his poor master paid the value of one bag of 
 flour to the mess. I could never understand why 
 Billy's sweet face should harm the flour, even if he 
 did put his nose in it. 
 
 Billy never appreciated my goodness, for he served 
 me a mean trick not many days afterward. We came 
 into camp on a very windy afternoon, and the hos- 
 pital attendants had all they could do to get up the 
 large hospital tent. "Water call" had sounded and 
 Billy was thirsty, so I undertook to take him to water 
 without saddle or bridle. We reached the place at 
 last, where many horses were drinking, and I rode in 
 among them. I was quietly waiting for my horse 
 to finish his drink, when he suddenly stooped, bend- 
 ing his forelegs in such a manner that I slipped 
 directly over his head into the water amongst the 
 horses. It created quite a disturbance, and off 
 scampered my steed with a merry twinkle in his 
 eye, leaving me to walk home, wet and muddy. 
 
 While in camp one evening a soldier was brought 
 to the hospital tent who had been kicked by a horse. 
 The poor fellow suffered great agony, and received 
 little relief from the Surgeon. While on the march 
 next day he died in the ambulance. At night we 
 reached a lonely frontier post, and a detail was 
 sent to bury him. No officer attended the funeral, 
 
 20
 
 and no music sounded the usual soldier's dead 
 march, but, wrapped in the blankets in which he 
 died, he was lowered into the earth to wait the 
 trumpet call of the last day. His grave is un- 
 marked. It is customary in the army to bury sol- 
 diers with military honors. All the officers of the 
 garrison and all the soldiers except the guards are 
 present in full dress. The Chaplain, in his white 
 robes, marches with the military procession, the 
 music playing the dead march. Arrived at the 
 grave the burial service is read, and then three 
 volleys fired over the coffin after it has been lowered 
 into the grave. The last and most touching scene 
 is the sounding of "taps," the "last call," by a 
 musician at the head of the grave. As the solemn 
 notes sound out, all is hushed and still, and all are 
 impressed by the solemnity of the scene. The bur- 
 ial ceremonies over, the command returns to the 
 post with the music playing a lively tune, often 
 "John Brown's Body," or something equally gay. 
 Such is a soldier's life in peace, but in war and upon 
 hurried marches, ceremonies even at the grave are 
 dispensed with. 
 
 Rations when the command started were plenty; 
 besides the generous allowance furnished by our 
 indulgent "Uncle Samuel," we enjoyed butter, milk, 
 white sugar, and even the chief dainty dish of sol- 
 diers, pie. But as w^e journeyed westward luxuries 
 disappeared, and simple, very simple, army rations 
 were all we had left. A famous dish, con- 
 sisting of soaked army biscuit, called hardtack, 
 
 fried in grease and covered with molasses was high- 
 ly prized by the hungry travelers. Often by the 
 
 evening eampfire the cooks would prepare great 
 
 21
 
 piles of flapjacks, and it was fun to watch them 
 throw the cake high in the air as they turned it, 
 and catch it as it fell. As long as sugar and sirup 
 lasted, these were famous treats. They would seem 
 rather indigestible to those who live in civilization, 
 but hunger is a good sauce, as many readers will 
 find out some day, if they have not already dis- 
 covered it. 
 
 Before the day began to break, often as early as 
 3 o'clock in the morning, the Reveille would call 
 us from our slumbers. The campfires lighted up the 
 scene again ; a sudden striking of tents, as if by 
 magic, and a systematic stowing away in the great 
 wagons ; then came a hurried breakfast of coffee, 
 hardtack and bacon around the campfires, and then 
 sounded "boots and saddles," and the command had 
 started on another march. The old guard of yes- 
 terday closes up the rear. As we pass out into the 
 road and our campfires fade away, we can see that 
 the Indians have taken possession and are search- 
 ing for what we have left behind us, and warming 
 themselves where we were only a few moments ago. 
 T>aj dawned when we had already traveled some 
 distance and our camp had long since been out of 
 sight and in possession of the enemy. 
 
 We crossed the Arkansas River July 4, and cel- 
 ebrated the day after crossing by some extras at 
 dinner, a grand bonfire and some homemade fire- 
 works in the evening. 
 
 Our marches were not always made near cool 
 springs, and often we marched from water to water 
 carrying what we could in our canteens; but this 
 supply soon became -warm and unfit for use, and 
 considerable suft'ering would result. Sometimes as 
 
 22
 
 we approached water holes, or buffalo wallows, filled 
 with water, the dogs would plunge in before we 
 could unsling our canteens. We found the Arkansas 
 River water, when encamped on that stream, red 
 with mud and quite uninviting in appearance, but 
 after dipping out a pailful and letting it stand a 
 few minutes the sediment would settle and the water 
 become clear and delicious to drink. The daily 
 march was not a long one, averaging only 15 to 18 
 miles, but with slow pace, three miles an hour or 
 less, and many halts and obstacles before us to 
 overcome, like broken roads and fords to cross. 
 Cavalry proceeds v/ith no greater speed than in- 
 fantry, when encumbered with heavy trains, and 
 three miles an hour was considered a fair average 
 across the plains. Sometimes our march covered 
 only 10 miles, and again we made a long journey. 
 It depended very much upon the supply of wood, 
 water and grass. 
 
 It was easy enough to find rattlesnakes, if one 
 wished, near camp, or a little way on either side 
 of the marching column. The plains were full of 
 them then, and they were much dreaded in camp, 
 where they often appeared, sometimes startling the 
 cooks near the morning campfire, or even crawling 
 beside the sleeping soldier wrapped in his blanket 
 in his tent. We found one in our tent one morning, 
 and you can imagine our fright. The snake paid 
 for his intrusion with his life, however, but that was 
 poor comfort to us. One afternoon, after making 
 camp, a friend of mine went out for a walk but 
 a little way from the hospital tent. He had re- 
 moved his riding boots and wore a light pair of 
 slippers. In climbing a little rising ground a 
 
 23
 
 rattlesnake bit him on the itistep. The wound was 
 sucked upon his reaching camp and carefully 
 cauterized, and a heavy dose of whiskey given him. 
 He was put to bed in the ambulance and never ex- 
 perienced any further trouble from the wound. The 
 whiskey was supposed to have cured him. He was 
 a brave fellow, not easily frightened, for after be- 
 ing bitten he sat down, and, taking careful aim 
 with his pistol, shot the snake through the head 
 and brought his remains to camp as a trophy. The 
 rattlesnake bite it not always so easily cured. In 
 this case the snake may have emptied its poison bag 
 shortly before he bit the soldier, or the venom may 
 have been stopped by the stocking or slipper from 
 reaching the wound. I used to take a cavalry saber 
 and ride just a little way from the line and cut off 
 the heads of the snakes from horseback. I would 
 then cut off the rattles and send them home in let- 
 ters as curiosities. The rattlesnake sounds a loud 
 alarm before he strikes, usually giving one some 
 chance for defense. 
 
 It was not permitted for any member of the train 
 to loiter behind or to separate from the command, 
 except by special permission of the commanding 
 officer. One hot day we passed a little clump of 
 trees, and a friend suggested a short halt and rest. 
 We dismounted and tied our horses. Sitting down 
 and leaning against the trunk of a tree, we were 
 soon fast asleep. At last awakening, what was our 
 astonishment to find ourselves alone, without a liv- 
 ing soul in sight and nothing of the train in the 
 distance. We noticed by the sun that we must 
 have rested some time, and with a few hasty words 
 we Averc in the saddle galloping in the direction of 
 
 24
 
 the train as fast as we could go. We were in the 
 enemy's country, and to have awakened in the pres- 
 ence of a party of Sioux Indians would have been 
 a rough termination for our peaceful nap, with a 
 terrible ending, no doubt. Death is always prefer- 
 able to capture by Indians, for horrible torture is 
 as sure as the death, which must come, when the poor 
 prisoner's body is unable to offer more fun for the 
 cruel captors. It was very much like a narrow es- 
 cape, and we were glad to meet our comrades again 
 and say no more about it. 
 
 We took all the precautions possible against an at- 
 tack by Indians, and at one place a severe battle 
 with them seemed inevitable. This was at a ford 
 called the Cimarron Crossing. Here the savages 
 were in strong force. They had been following us 
 for days, and an attack at daybreak the next morn- 
 ing was accordingly prepared for. Strong pickets 
 were posted on our right, center and left. No herd 
 went out that night, but all animals were securely 
 tied to wagons to prevent the Indians stampeding 
 them. The whole command slept on their arms, ready 
 for immediate action. Towards evening the guard 
 had lost several members by soldiers reporting sick, 
 and the writer obtained permission from the com- 
 manding officer to go out on picket as a volunteer 
 and not only that but good Major Whitney insisted 
 upon adding his pistol, too, to the pistol carried by 
 the writer. The picket on the right was the station 
 given him. It consisted of three men and a non- 
 commissioned officer. We spread down our ponchos 
 and blankets, and flat on our stomachs we watched 
 along the grass tops for any signs of approaching foes. 
 Our orders were, if attacked, to retreat toward camp, 
 giving the alarm as we retreated. 
 
 26
 
 Slowly the night passed away. Our attention was 
 divided between watching for Indians and defend- 
 ing ourselves against swarms of murderous mosquitoes. 
 It was shortly after midnight when the Sergeant 
 detected one or two figures approaching us from the 
 direction of the Indians. We had only a little while 
 before noticed some signals made by means of fire-ar- 
 rows, arrows with burning brands attached, shot into 
 the air at regular intervals, and so the stealthily-ap- 
 proaching figures Ave supposed was the beginning of an 
 unusual event — an Indian attack by night. Our Ser- 
 geant roused us all, and Avith carbines at ready we 
 AA-e Avaited their approach, intending to abandon our 
 blankets and hasten back to camp and give the alarm. 
 ''Who goes there?" roared our Sergeant. No reply; 
 but still the figures stealthily approached. Once more 
 the challenge rang out, and aa^c AA^ere noAV well ready 
 to retreat, for the figures were getting within range. 
 We intended to give them a A\'arm reception before 
 we left from our good Sharp's carbines. Just as 
 Ave Avere about to feel sure the enemy was indeed 
 upon us, came the response in the night air, "Officer 
 of the Day; grand rounds." Hoav that little mes- 
 sage thrilled us. Although it brought friends in- 
 stead of foes, it seemed as if there must be some 
 mistake, so certain were Ave of attack and dan- 
 ger. The Officer of the Guard carried no lantern; 
 had only one Guard besides the Corporal 
 Avith him, and in the darkness had gotten 
 beyond our station, and only found us after consid- 
 erable difficulty. Our first challenge was unheard, 
 and our second, by reason of the distance, Avas nearly 
 as indistinct to him as his answer seemed to us. 
 He left us after warning us that just at daybreak
 
 we would probably be attacked; but our wily foe 
 had discovered our alertness and decided it would 
 be best to let us alone. For this extra service com- 
 mendation Avas ample reward and although promised 
 was never heard of afterwards. Indians rarely de- 
 sire to fight, but are always ready for stealing. 
 
 As the weather grew warmer the marching toward 
 noon was attended with considerable fatigue, and 
 there were many cases of sunstroke. One day several 
 fell off their horses, and the medical department had 
 plenty to do. 
 
 Near the hospital tent the two ambulances were 
 always located in camp. The driver of one of these 
 vehicles had made himself somewhat unpopular with 
 the young Hospital Stewards who were with the 
 expedition. It was decided one night to discipline 
 him. It was a night when, by reason of our prox- 
 imity to the Indians, the mules, instead of being out 
 on herd, were tied to the tongue of the ambulances. 
 Our disagreeable driver had his team nearest our 
 tent, and he himself was fast asleep, dreaming per- 
 chance of the money he would make by selling stolen 
 corn at the next settlement. We went out carefully 
 and collected a dozen or more empty tin cans — 
 plentiful enough after any meal on the plains ; these 
 w^e brought to our tent. The mules were quiet and 
 all the camp was still. Suddenly there was a great 
 commotion, the mules sprang up and tugged at their 
 chains, making a great noise and thoroughly dis- 
 turbing and enraging our ambulance driver, who, 
 springing out, with kicks and imprecations punished 
 them for disturbing his slumbers. We tried the 
 trick again later on with the same result, but the 
 third time we were discovered. Either our victim 
 
 27
 
 suspected foul play or the rattle of the cans had 
 attracted his attention, and with angry strides he 
 came to our tent door. "Look out for me, young 
 fellows; it you do that again I will report you to 
 the Officer of the Day." Jeers greeted his depar- 
 ture, and we went to rest to concoct new trials for 
 his patience. The "Old Man," as we called him, 
 had been cheating his mules of their corn supply, 
 and was trying to save a bag or two to sell when 
 a good chance presented itself. A friend of mine 
 decided to join me in taking some of his plunder. 
 The corn ration for our horses was exhausted, and 
 for several days we had nothing to give them ex- 
 cept the grass of the prairies. So when we dis- 
 covered the well-filled bags of the driver, we deter- 
 mined to take some of Uncle Sam's corn to support 
 and strengthen Uncle Sam's horses. It certainly 
 could not be considered stealing. With a basket and 
 a towel placed so as to deaden any noise, we tapped 
 his bags night after night for the benefit of our 
 Government horses. He found us out at last, and 
 although he hated us well for it, could not risk re- 
 porting us without disclosing his own dishonesty. 
 The good condition of our horses attracted the at- 
 tention of several, but we never explained where 
 our corn came from. 
 
 Our Paymaster had received at Fort Leavenworth 
 a large sum cf money to take with him to Santa Fe, 
 N. M., for the payment of the troops. A strong iron 
 safe had been provided by the Government 
 to carry these funds across the plains to 
 the District Headquarters. The Paymaster received 
 the funds in a small iron safe. Upon consultation 
 with his clerk it was decided to remove the money 
 
 28
 
 from the safe and hide it in a strong wooden box, 
 which was placed, when tilled, in the bottom of the 
 Major's mess-chest. The small empty safe was 
 placed in the large safe, and carefully locked up 
 The large safe was placed in the bottom of an army 
 wagon and a special sentry detailed to guard 
 it. The lawless, reckless characters amongst the 
 recruits actually planned making a disturbance or 
 mutiny, and intended to murder any who should 
 oppose them in carrying off the wagon containing 
 the safe, and, as they supposed, a large sum of 
 money. By good luck and the weakening of one of 
 the rascals, their plans were suspected and extra 
 precautions taken. The officers succeeded in secur- 
 ing some faithful men, who, together with the old 
 soldiers, made a formidable guard. 
 
 I well remember the afternoon our good Surgeon 
 came to the hospital tent and informed us of the 
 anticipated mutiny and robbery. It was agreed 
 that upon the first syraiptoms of revolt, or upon hear- 
 ing any firing, that we, with all who were faithful, 
 should rally at the commanding officer's tent and 
 fight for our lives and the Government property 
 The preparations for resisting the outbreak were dis- 
 covered, and the attempt was given up. Had the 
 rascals, however, succeeded in their designs and car- 
 ried off the wagon containing the safe, what would 
 have been their dismay to find it quite empty of 
 money, after their efforts to break it open. The 
 other wagon, containing the Paymaster's camp and 
 baggage, also contained the mess-chest in which the 
 precious money had been hidden, unknown and un- 
 guarded, and in a box which could have been opened 
 by a common chisel. This secret was well kept, and 
 
 29
 
 not even known by the commanding officer. The 
 Paymaster's clerk related this to me months after the 
 expedition had been disbanded and the money spent. 
 As the tram advanced over the prairies hundreds 
 of eyes scanned the horizon in every direction, and 
 any unusual object at once arrested attention and 
 stimulated curiosity. The plains are something like 
 the ocean, a great wilderness with little to see ex- 
 cept sky and grass, save here and there a spot of 
 timber near some stream. Monstrous, lonely, dreary, 
 it is so dull that the least thing like change is a 
 treat. A train approaching from the opposite di- 
 rection, a scouting party of soldiers, or a few emi- 
 grant wagons, will create all the excitement that 
 a sail on the ocean approaching one after days 
 away from shore always brings. One day, far off 
 on the left of the train, a horse was discovered, ap- 
 parently wounded, for he remained on the ground, 
 now and then floundering about as if in pain. 1 
 was asked to ride out and examine him and report 
 if he was wounded by bullets, arrows, or mereh" 
 abandoned by some train as worthless. My good 
 horse Billy soon brought me to the spot. I looked 
 about for an instant to discover any signs of camp 
 or battleground, and then dismounting I walked up 
 to the poor horse to see if he was wounded or had 
 broken his leg, or was merely sick and worn out. 
 Just as I bent forward to examine him he rolled over, 
 lifting his legs high in the air, thoroughly frightening 
 my horse, who gave a wild snort, and snatching tht 
 rein suddenly from my grasp, galloped off at a wild 
 rate over the prairie. No call of mine would stop him, 
 and it was a long, hard walk, past many a deadly 
 rattlesnake to reach the train ; when I climbed in 
 
 30
 
 lonely humiliation upon the feeding trough of an 
 army wagon, while two troopers chased Billy for 
 miles before they could catch him. 
 
 The horses furnished our cavalry at that time were 
 really fine animals, and some were worthy to carry 
 a prince. They came in good condition, and I re- 
 member one, a large iron-gray horse, the envy of 
 many a cavalryman. More than one tried to ride 
 him, but met with ugly throws and great discour- 
 agements. So many gave him up that he was con- 
 sidered too vicious for use. At last an old soldier, 
 who served through the war of the rebellion, said thar 
 he ''would ride him or perish in the attempt." The 
 permission was given, and the "Iron Duke" saddled 
 and bridled. The soldier mounted, and then began 
 a struggle I have never seen equaled. A gallant 
 horseman and a gallant steed. It was exciting to 
 witness the wild leaps and plunging and rearing of 
 the steed, but the soldier kept his seat. The horse 
 at length, maddened and desperate, threw himself 
 on the ground, and quickly rolling over, nearly killed 
 his rider. The soldier was carried to the hospital 
 tent and found to be completely ruined for further 
 military service. He was discharged and pensioned. 
 The horse was led to the line, but the fire was gone 
 from his eye, and he walked with a conquered gait. 
 After that anyone could ride him, and his hand- 
 some looks departed. He was indeed subdued. 
 
 As we neared Colorado the scenery changed, with 
 views of the glorious Rockies in the distance. The 
 Spanish Peaks, always "a day's journey away," re- 
 mained in sight for many days. As we entered New 
 IMexico the mountains became a reality, and harti 
 climbing and difficult roads were now of daily occur- 
 
 31
 
 rence. On we marched, over the winding "Picket 
 Wire," or Purgatory river, through the wild Eaton 
 Pass, and then down into the lovely scenery of New 
 Mexico; past the "Wagon Mound," famous for the 
 gallant fight of a handful of emigrants, who here 
 successfully held at bay a host of savage Indians. 
 The dark mud walls of Fort Union came at last into 
 view, and we entered a charming valley and were 
 soon within the Reservation. 
 
 Our march was ended; its trials and its pleasures, 
 its dangers and its adventures. For the last time 
 our camp was pitched. On the morrow we must 
 separate. As the last notes of the evening bugle 
 echoed in the surrounding hills, we realized that ouu 
 train had reached its goal and that the morrow's 
 sun would find us separating from each other for 
 our new duties and stations. The expedition was 
 at last a thing of the past — disbanded. 
 
 32
 
 Dr. W. T. Parker at IT yrs. of age in the U. S. Army Medical Dept. as Firtt 
 ClaBB Hospital Steward, U. S. A.
 
 THE SANTA FE TRAIL IN THE 
 SIXTIES. 
 
 Fifty years ago our schoolboy geographies showed 
 a great expanse of almost unmapped region, named 
 "the great American desert!" It may be said to 
 have extended from 95 degrees to 105 degrees longi- 
 tude west and from 30 degrees to 49 degrees north 
 latitude. 
 
 In the spring of 1867 rumors were received from 
 all quarters of a renewal of Indian hostilities and 
 attacks on the principal emigrant routes increased 
 to such an extent that it required the utmost activ- 
 ity on the part of the troops to keep open com- 
 munication with our territories, and protect working 
 parties on the important railroads then in process 
 of construction. 
 
 Since the Indian commission provided by act of 
 July 20th, 1864, commenced its labors the operation 
 of troops had been confined to the defensive, and they 
 were principally engaged in guarding the more im- 
 portant posts. Department commanders visited the 
 scenes of hostilities in person and made every effort 
 with the means at hand to afford protection. 
 
 In 1867 some of the most powerful tribes of 
 Indians were active on the Great Plains and the 
 Santa Fe trail came in for its share of attention 
 from the Sioux, Kiowas, Cheyennes, Apaches of the 
 Plains, Comanches, "Dog Warriors" and other bands 
 of Indians. 
 
 33
 
 "The amount of freight carried by caravans from 
 the Missouri river to Santa Fe, New Mexico, as early 
 as 1860 was estimated at more than thirty-six mil- 
 lion pounds, and emigrants with goods and stock 
 made constant travel over the famous trail, enduring 
 the hardships and surmounting the difficulties and 
 dangers, continued through the 60 's to brave all these 
 dangers, as well as traders and merchants carrying 
 great supplies to the southwest." 
 
 The great American desert as we saw it then for 
 the first time in '67 has disappeared. In its place 
 to-day we find great pasture lands, farms, villages, 
 towns and cities. Where we marched slowly and 
 amid sufferings and dangers, we can pass along the 
 same route reclining comfortably in the chairs of a 
 parlor car, and in an hour pass the camping places 
 of days "in the Sixties!" 
 
 But the thousands who have come from far awa>' 
 homes to make a home in Kansas and New Mexico, 
 know little of the battle which was fought to secura 
 the West to civilization. In the old frontier days 
 the great plain was only sparsely protected by the 
 so-called, "forts," and the feeble garrisons had self 
 preservation ever in necessity, although the needi 
 of the weaker added increasing trials and dangers 
 to situations often desperate. The chain of forts 
 began with Leavenworth, a strong and secure gar- 
 rison, then westward to Riley, also safe in its 
 strength, but beyond, the little forts of Harker, 
 Lamed, Zarah, Dodge, Lyon, and Bent's fort, were 
 by no means secure. Along the Santa Fe trail the 
 anxious emigrants rested with thankful hearts near 
 these little stations, and renewed their preparations 
 to continue the westward journey. These forts had 
 
 34
 
 been constructed at heavy expense, and with great 
 toil and hardship by the soldiers who worked like 
 day laborers in their construction, in addition to 
 their military duties. The Santa Fe trail was the 
 artery which nourished much of this important re- 
 gion. The forts could be found only at infrequent 
 intervals from Fort Leavenworth in Eastern Kan- 
 sas, down to Fort Union in New Mexico, and be- 
 yond Santa Fe the "trail" continued past Fort 
 Craig. And beyond the Rio Grande stretched the 
 grim "Jornada del Muerto," the journey of death, 
 nearly a hundred miles, where, after reaching Fori; 
 Selden, it continued on to Fort Cummings in South- 
 eastern New ]\Iexico, and 40 or 50 miles further to 
 Fort Bayard, and so on past the deadly Apache 
 pass, and Fort Bowie, into the Arizona desert. 
 
 On May 22nd, 1867, a detachment of less than 
 400 men, mostly recruits for the famous 3rd U. S. 
 Cavalry, which had been stationed for so many 
 months in the southwest, and already famous as 
 Indian fighters — marched out of Fort Leavenworth 
 en-route for New Mexico. At Fort Eiley the re- 
 mainder of the expedition joined and proceeded 
 westward under command of Major Whiting. 
 Among the officers were Surgeon Peters, Paymaster 
 Rochester, Captain Lieber, Quartermaster's Depart- 
 ment, and Lieutenants Hildebran, P. F. Young, 
 D. H. Quinby, Thompson and Charles Morris (now 
 colonel U. S. army), and some members of the non- 
 commissioned staff of the army, pay and medical 
 departments. There were several ladies traveling 
 with the command, some of them brides going to 
 join their husbands at lonely frontier stations. 
 Many of the great army wagons carried army sup- 
 
 35
 
 plies, arms and ammiinition, and a large amount of 
 money; 300 led horses also added great attractions 
 for our alert Indian enemies. Of the cavalrymen 
 less than 50 were veterans, and only 21 were known 
 as "picked men" for scouting and flank work. 
 The recruits were below the average, and among 
 them many reckless characters, some of whom were 
 regular horse thieves who had enlisted at Carlisls 
 Barracks, Pa., bent only on adventure and horse 
 stealing; of these several who deserted with horses 
 were captured and killed by Indians. Desertions and 
 loss of horses, arms and equipments, etc., began soon 
 after leaving Fort Eiley and continued in spite of 
 the presence of large bodies of hostile Indians un- 
 til the crossing of the Arkansas, below Bent's Fort, 
 on the Santa Fe trail. 
 
 Indians were continually threatening and at the 
 Cimarron Crossing, such a large number of Siour, 
 Cheyennes, Apaches of the Plains, Blackfeet, 
 Kiowas, Arapahoes, Dog Warriors, and other Indians 
 had collected that the odds were reckoned as "ten 
 to one ! ' ' Most of the men, as already stated, wer3 
 unfit to meet such an ovenvhelming force of well- 
 armed and Avell-mounted Indians. The day and 
 night at the Cimarron was a time of great anxiety 
 and danger. The camp was formed as usual, three 
 sides of a square resting on the river, with army 
 wagons in double line, and in the hollow square 
 the ambulances for the women, the long rope lines 
 for the cavalry horses, the mules tied to the wagons. 
 Three strong pickets were posted, in one of which 
 the writer spent most of the night, right rear, right 
 center and right advance, with a guard on the 
 river, and the entire command rested on their arms 
 
 36
 
 throughout the night prepared for iramecliate action. 
 
 As we had an experienced Indian fighter in Major 
 Whiting, our commander, we crossed the plains 
 with all possible discipline and caution, and ever 
 ready to meet attack and avoid surprises or ambush. 
 The wagon masters were prepared to form a large 
 oval with the wagons, within which ambulances, 
 horses and soldiers could find shelter. This movc^ 
 ment could be carried out on the march immediately 
 upon given signals. Far out on our right flank 
 rode in advance our most trusty scouts, and flankers 
 of picked men. The advance guard of cavalrymen 
 led the column. It would be the rearguard to-mor- 
 row, and between, squadrons of cavalry, divisions 
 of our army train, wagons and ambulances and 
 extra led cavalry horses. To our left was the great 
 Arkansas river. It was quite a formidable looking 
 column, but' unfortunately we had no cannon. 
 
 The daily life varied little. We had our reveille 
 at 3 o'clock in dangerous regions, and by dawn all 
 the tents were stored in the wagons and the entire 
 command in the saddle moving out of our old camp 
 ground while our Indian foes cautiously crept up 
 to our smouldering fires looking for our leavings. 
 We never exchanged shots with them, nor even 
 shouts, but we watched each other in silence ready 
 for an emergency. 
 
 The command marched on the average three miles 
 an hour, for although we were of a cavalry com- 
 mand, the pace is ever set by the mule wagons, 
 which is usually three miles an hour, although often 
 less. Some days we could only travel 12 miles dur- 
 ing the entire march owing to heavy or rough roads, 
 or dangerous surroundings, or the delay incident to 
 
 37
 
 fording, or accidents on the trail. Other days we 
 would march our average 21 miles. Guard mount 
 was in the afternoon, following sick call, and early 
 evening found us with lights out, resting on the 
 beds of army blankets spread on the prairie grass. 
 Now and then a sudden rain storm would strike tht 
 tents, and add confusion and discomfort to camp life. 
 
 Once owing to a sudden rise of water, we lost two 
 troopers by drowning, and also several wagons 
 loaded with army supplies were stuck in the mud 
 and abandoned. Once some wagons were saved only 
 by sacrificing bags of sugar and flour. On one 
 occasion the commanding officer discovered that a 
 plan had been formed by some desperate characters 
 among the recruits to seize by force and carry oft' 
 the wagons supposed to contain the money which 
 the pajTiiaster was taking to New Mexico, but our 
 old Indian fighter was ready for the conspirators 
 and the plan was foiled. 
 
 On the march oats and corn gave out and the 
 horses and mules fared poorly for a time with no 
 other food than prairie grass and muddy water. 
 The soldiers' clothing and boots wore out and "gun- 
 ny sacks" used as armless sweaters, and rags tied 
 about the feet had to answer the need. Food be- 
 came scarce and soaked hard tack was a luxury. Our 
 camp fire fuel was mostly "buffalo chip," dried 
 dung, of which vast quantities then covered the 
 great prairies, as did also the white bones of thtB 
 buffalo, and not infrequently we found human bones 
 telling of possible "battle and murder and sudden 
 death." 
 
 The following letter from Colonel Morris, U. S. 
 army, is interesting in this connection : 
 
 38
 
 "I was one of the officers that accompanied Majoi' 
 Whiting's command to New Mexico in 1867. Be- 
 sides the officers you mention (Qiiinby, Thompson, 
 Rochester, Dr. Peters and Young) there was a Lieut. 
 Hildebran of the cavalry and Capt. Lieber, a mili- 
 tary store keeper of the Q. M. Department. I 
 remember very well that eventful day and night at 
 the Cimarron Crossing. In our efforts to mak<i 
 the 300 odd horses take the water and cross to the 
 opposite shore, the quartermaster-sergeant and my- 
 self, being the only ones mounted at the time, wery 
 carried back from the river with the herd that 
 stampeded. The fleetness of our horses enabled 
 the sergeant and myself to lead the stampeded ani- 
 mals back to the picket line, the trumpeters sounding 
 "Stable call!" Our predicament was far more 
 serious than we at the time realized it to be, for 
 had the Indians, that we knew to be numerous and 
 aggressive, attacked us with our command divided 
 as it was, I believe they could have captured every- 
 thing on their side of the river. (Note — I believe 
 the Indians numbered between three and four thou- 
 sand, outnumbering us as one to 10. — W. T. P.) 
 Our experience at Fort Zarah was, perhaps, as dis- 
 quieting as any we had, for there we found our- 
 selves encamped on the rim, as it were, of a basin, 
 with Walnut Creek rushing around us, and gradii 
 ally rising until its waters rose to within a few 
 scant inches of the confining banks, but happily 
 subsided before its waters engulfed us. I have 
 often reflected on the many escapes we had on that 
 eventful march. 
 
 Yours very truly, 
 (Signed) Charles M ." 
 
 39
 
 August 2n(l, 1846, Kearney's American army left 
 Bent's Fort on the Arkansas. The route was nearly 
 identical with the later line of stages which traveled 
 amid dangers of every kind, down into New Mexico. 
 It differed but slightly from that of the modern 
 Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe railroad. The 
 crossing is made a short distance below the fort. 
 The trail leads on to Trinidad and Raton's pass, and 
 here is the glorious view of the New Mexico plains, 
 a sight worth months of dangers to witness. 
 
 The country, if its glories could be rightly de- 
 scribed, should bring countless thousands to enjoy 
 its lifegiving climate and its many opportunities to 
 acquire more than a mere living. 
 
 The valley of the Purgatory river. The Picatoire, 
 a eurruption of the " Purgatoire, " and called by 
 soldiers and plainsmen the "picket wire." The 
 trail frequently crosses the remarkably winding river. 
 
 A little to the left of the trail, after the valley 
 is reached, rises the famous wagon mound where 
 many a bloody battle has been fought between 
 Indian tribes and by white men holding Indians at 
 bay. 
 
 From here on to Fort Union there was no garrison, 
 and the trail was wide and open and comparatively 
 safe. 
 
 This garden spot of New Mexico has almost for- 
 gotten the hardships and dangers of the 60 's. 
 
 Men like Richard Worten, "Uncle Dick," 
 who kept a "hotel" up the Raton mountain, and 
 old Jim Bridger, helped to solve many dubious 
 questions in the building of the earlier transcontinen- 
 tal lines. They acted their part in aiding to map 
 out railway routes, and they had helped establish 
 
 40
 
 the pony express, and had been pilots for wagon 
 trains and government expeditions like Kit Carson, 
 Bent, Billy Dixon, Amos Chapman, James Hickok, 
 and many other heroes of the plains. 
 
 The district of New Mexico was a portion of the 
 Department of the ^Missouri, whose headquarters was 
 at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, the district of New 
 Mexico, headquarters were at Santa Fe, with Brevet 
 Major-General, George W. Getty in command. He 
 was colonel of the new colored regiment, the 37th 
 
 Infantry. 
 
 The Fra Christobal entrance of the Jornada del 
 Muerto (del los Muertos) is reckoned at 946 miles 
 from Fort Leavenworth. Dona Ana, a Mexican 
 town, is 95 miles from Fra Christobal. The famous 
 Cimarron Crossing of the Arkansas is 492 miles 
 from Fort Leavenworth. 
 
 The Fra de los Caballos mountains are to the 
 right and westward of the famous Journey of Death. 
 Jornada del Muerto, after crossing the Rio Grande 
 river, below what was in Indian days. Fort Craig. 
 The soldiers reckoned the ''99 miles, without wood, 
 water or grass," from Fort Craig, the northernmost 
 point of the Jornada, to Fort Selden, the southern- 
 most point. Three halting points on the grave- 
 decked trail of the "dead man's journey" gave the 
 only relief of dreariness— the "Alamand," because 
 some Germans tried to dig a well and were sur- 
 prised and killed by Indians; the "Water holes," 
 because sometimes a little water collected there for 
 a short time after a heavy rain, and lastly, on the 
 lower third of the trail, below where it branched 
 off to lonely Fort McRae, near the Ojo del Muerto, 
 the "Spring of Death," was the famous "Point of 
 
 41
 
 Rocks," the chosen lair for the Indians when they 
 tried to jump a wagon train or other travelers 07i 
 the Jornada. Graves along the roadside were plent.- 
 ful near this place. 
 
 Beyond Fort Selden the trail crossed the Rio 
 Grande again, and 65 miles of lonely, dangerous 
 trail extended to the Cook's Canon and Fort Cum- 
 mings Pony Express station. Here was a veritable 
 walled garrison. A somewhat pretentious front of 
 "doby" (adobe) walls, with archway on either side 
 of which were guard rooms, gave the fort an an- 
 cient look, which made the American flag floating 
 from the tall flagstaff in the center of the parade 
 ground look almost out of place. These walls, about 
 15 feet in height, extended around the garrison 
 buildings, forming a square, with only one opening, 
 the door in the rear, where a sentry always walked 
 his beat day and night. To the rear of the fort, 
 huge piles of hay for the cavalry of adjacent "forts" 
 were stored. Fort Cummings was the only walled 
 fort of New Mexico in the 60 's, and its situation 
 at the mouth of Cook's Canon and upon the trail 
 to Arizona, which it guarded, gave it considerable 
 importance. 
 
 Fort Cummings, New Mexico, located at Cook's 
 Spring, in what is now Luna County, was established 
 October 2nd, 1863. It was first garrisoned by 
 Company B, 1st California Infantry volunteers. 
 The post was abandoned October 3rd, 1886, and 
 turned over to the Interior Dept., October 22nd, 
 1891. Cook's Peak, a rugged mountain 9,000 
 feet in altitude, towered above the garrison, and was 
 known by all the soldiers under the familiar name 
 of ''Old Baldy," from its commonly snow-capped 
 
 42
 
 summit. Deming is the town nearest the old fort, 
 and Silver City is the town near its old comrade, 
 Fort Bayard, 44 miles to the westward. Between 
 these two garrisons was the Rio Miembres, just be- 
 yond the long and gloomy Cook's Canon; after 
 leaving Fort Cummings and beyond the Rio Miembres, 
 were the famous Hot Springs which the wild 
 Apaches held in such superstitious veneration that 
 the ranchmen who drank of the mysterious waters 
 were secure from Indian attack as long as they re- 
 mained by its magic influence. 
 
 The fort was designed by General McClellan. 
 Through the archway one could see the two brass 
 cannon pointing directly outward, one each side of 
 the flagstaff, and beyond could be seen the rear 
 door of the fort, and the sentry marching back and 
 forth. The little tin-covered tower, above the guard 
 houses and the arch of the fort, looked like a little 
 pilot house. In this look-out, a sentry watching in 
 all directions for any danger of Indians to the herds 
 and with looking glass could signal the herders to 
 bring the herds back to the corral. Watch was also 
 kept for emigrant trains attacked or followed by 
 Indians or for travelers in peril, and not infrequently 
 the cavalry squad would be sent out to offer pro- 
 tection to harrassed emigrants. 
 
 It is impossible for the writer to close this pape.c 
 without saying a word of praise for the many brave 
 hearts who served on the great plains in the 60 's. 
 The "last call" has sounded for most of them, and 
 never more will ''boots and saddles" mean the ex- 
 citement of a possible "affair with Indians." 
 
 The veteran soldier of the Indian wars was a 
 soldier worthy of the name, and second to none on 
 
 43
 
 earth for intelligent courage, and fighting ability. 
 There is no "rear" in the fight with Indians, and 
 seldom any cover, and the only certainty is that in 
 case of capture, death by terrible torture will be 
 the ending. The Indians were brave and desperat,^ 
 fighters, and a foe who could develop the real man- 
 hood of the frontier soldier. 
 
 The names of heroes like Custer and Elliot, and 
 many others will live for all time, but the lesser 
 lights, the unnamed heroes live in the influence 
 which their brave deeds have exerted upon their 
 successors in the American army. 
 
 44
 
 THE JOURNEY OF DEATH. 
 "Jornada del Muerto." 
 
 For those who have not yet forgotten the geog- 
 raphy in use in our schools in the early sixties, or 
 even before the war, I will call to remembrance the 
 great tract then known as the "American Desert," 
 said to be " inhabited by numerous tribes of Indians ! ' ' 
 That tract of land is now what might be called the 
 "Lost Desert." Thriving towns and even cities 
 have almost miraculously appeared, where only a 
 few years ago the brave frontiersman kept keen eye 
 and cool nerve in a struggle for existence against 
 the cruel aboriginal. Following down the "Great 
 Divide" far to the southward for many days' journey 
 in New IMexico, we arrived at the little village of 
 Christobal. Here is the peaceful flowing muddy 
 stream of world-wide celebrity, the Rio Grande, 
 and beyond is the gloomy Jornada del Muerto 
 or Journey of Death. This is a tract of 
 desert plain land south of Fort Craig and north of 
 Fort Selden, New Mexico, nearly 100 miles long. It 
 is bouuded on the east by the distant Sierra Blanca 
 Mountains, and on the west by the Sierra Cabalia 
 and Sierra de Frey Christobal. For seventy-five 
 miles it is devoid of wood, water and grass. A 
 veritable "deadly way" it used to be, and on its 
 flat surface the Indians in the mountains couM 
 easily discover a train or party of emigrants, and 
 
 45
 
 plan to intercept and capture them with little, if 
 any, danger to themselves. For the white men 
 there was no possible chance for escape. The 
 Apaches never take prisoners except for purposes of 
 terrible torture, unless we except the fate of women 
 and children. 
 
 There used to be three halting places on this 
 desert in the old times of stages and mail wagons, 
 called the "Aleman," "Water-holes" ("Leguna del 
 Munto"), and "Point of Rocks." The last and 
 most southerly was the most dangerous and the 
 most dreaded The water-holes, after a rainy season, 
 sometimes held a little water, and the "Aleman," 
 the northern halting place, was once inhabited by 
 a German family, who dug a well and built a cabin, 
 but they were all massacred by Indians and the well 
 filled up. A lonely, terrible journey it used to be, 
 as its name suggested, and on its road side could be 
 seen the graves of many a poor traveler who had 
 been murdered by Indians and buried later by suc- 
 ceeding travelers. 
 
 I started from Fort Craig, one afternoon, to cross 
 the Jornada — the only passenger in the mail coach. 
 We had no conductor, so that the driver and myseii 
 were quite alone. 
 
 In front of us rode, in a spring wagon, a guard 
 or escort of colored soldiers. After crossing th'i 
 Rio Grande, below Fort Craig, I noticed the drive.-' 
 was getting more and more under the influence of 
 liquor, and a full bottle of some vile compound 
 from the post trader which he had purchased ju.^t 
 before starting did not seem to promise well for any 
 chance of his return to soberness. To my dismay, 
 the colored escort kept far in advance, and the 
 
 46
 
 distance between their wagon and ours was momen- 
 tarily increasing. Once I thought I would hail them 
 and request their non-commissioned officer in charge 
 to stay nearer the stage. The driving of our stage 
 became more and more careless, and after an hour 
 or two of this misery, a shower came up accom- 
 panied by thunder and lightning. The mules be- 
 haved badly, and when at last a sharp squall struck 
 us, they turned suddenly to the left, and in spite 
 of' the clumsy efforts of the driver to restrain them, 
 broke the tongue of the stage short off, and not till 
 then would they come to a standstill. The last I 
 had seen of the escort, they were huddled together 
 with their blankets over their heads, to keep off th3 
 rain, and after the mules had quieted down I looked 
 up for them, but they were then nearly out of sight. 
 I fired my pistol several times to attract their at- 
 tention, but they neither halted or looked around. 
 The situation was gloomy in the extreme. I was 
 practically alone on the terrible Jornada, and in 
 the condition best suited to attract Indians, i. e., 
 in distress with a large target in the shape of the 
 stage to attract attention. My escort was worthless, 
 and my only companion in the shape of a human 
 being was now sound a sleep. I soon jumped out 
 and unharnessed the mules, hitching one to each 
 wheel, and having succeeded in capturing and dem- 
 olishing the cursed whiskey bottle and what re- 
 mained of its contents, I went to work to try to 
 repair the damages received by the stage. A rope 
 being at hand, I tried to splice, first tying one end 
 to the axle and then to the end of the tongue, and 
 then trying to splice the broken portions togethei\ 
 I kept my eyes well open and feared that I should 
 
 47
 
 soon be another victim for Apache cruelty. Look- 
 ing up in the midst of my work, I saw, to my hoi'- 
 ror, some figures approaching from a direction 
 which did not suggest the road. I tried to rouse 
 the stupid and worthless driver, but all my efforts 
 failed, and even the words: "The Indians are com- 
 ing," seemed to have no terrors for him. I got in 
 and carefully loaded my only revolver, determined 
 to die bravely and also determined never to be taken 
 alive. Anxiously I watched the bold advance of 
 the enemy, who approached without any caution, 
 and I accounted for this in believing that they knew 
 how weak our party must be and feared not to ap- 
 proach. A turn in their course and a rising of 
 the ground disclosed to my eye the waving of a cape. 
 No, it must be a blanket! No, it is a cape! They 
 are soldiers! And I sprang out, and in my youth- 
 ful joy and gratitude ran forward to meet them, 
 and ready to weep at my deliverance. The new- 
 comers were of the regular army; a cavalry officer 
 and trooper crossing the lonely Jornada to their 
 post, Fort McRae — established by Captain Grant in 
 1863 — a little off the road to the right of the Point 
 of Rocks, not far from the celebrated ojo del muerto 
 or spring of death. How glad I was to see them, 
 and they, when the stage first came into their 
 sight, had hastened on, wondering what had hap- 
 pened. The escort had not turned back, but my 
 new found friends took hold and repaired the broken 
 tongue, and as the driver came to his senses he got 
 a precious sharp lesson from the officer for his 
 miserable conduct. We started again on our jour- 
 ney, and at Water Holes found our escort calmly 
 waiting for us. When we reached Fort Selden, the 
 
 48
 
 non-commissioned officer lost his stripes for negle-it 
 of duty, I believe, and so the experience on the Jor- 
 nada was ended much more satisfactorily than it 
 promised at its beginning. 
 
 49
 
 THE SENTINEL OF THE SOUTH- 
 WEST. 
 
 "The topography of New Mexico is said to by 
 composed of loftly plateaus and crossed by moun- 
 tain ranges enclosing broad and fertile valleys. Two 
 divisions of the Rocky Mountains are prominent : 
 that on the east, and the higher, ending abruptly 
 near Santa Fe ; the western, or Sierra Madre range, 
 passing through in a series of lower, and often de- 
 tached, mountains to join the Sierra Madre range 
 of Mexico. High table-lands, isolated peaks and 
 deep canons characterize the western side. The Rio 
 Grande valley descends from an elevation of nearly 
 six thousand feet near the Colorado border to three 
 thousand feet in the south. Several mountain peaks 
 have an elevation of twelve thousand feet." 
 
 In Grant County, in the southern portion of New 
 Mexico, one of these isolated peaks known as Cook's 
 Peak, but by the soldiers quite familiarly as "Old 
 Baldy," is situated at the southern extremity of a 
 typical New Mexican canon upon whose rugged sides 
 are still to be found the skeletons of northern and 
 southern soldiers who fought a battle in its lonely 
 fastnesses. Here, too, in this canon many an emi- 
 grant train and lonely hunter have met death at 
 the hands of the cruel Apaches. It was in this same 
 canon that a stagecoach carrying six men fell into 
 
 50
 
 an ambush of Indians. They turned the stage over 
 on its side and fought for days, holding off mur- 
 derous Apaches under the command of the famous 
 Cochise, until at last famished and exhausted from 
 lack of water, their ammunition expended, the Indians 
 closed in upon them and cut their throats. Cochise 
 said that with a hundred such men he could drive 
 all the palefaces west of the Mississippi back to their 
 homes where they belonged. 
 
 This was a famous old canon and many adven- 
 tures come to mind as I see in my mind "Old 
 Baldy," more often snow-capped than not, risin^.; 
 as a veritable sentinel of the southwest and towering 
 high above the little garrison of Fort Cummings so 
 often at the mercy of its Apache enemies. Betwee\i 
 "Old Baldy 's Peak" and the garrison was a ranch 
 for pony express riders where they changed their 
 horses and had time to get a little nourishment. 
 Here relief riders took the mail and dashed up the 
 canon crossing the Mimbres at Mimbres, dashing on 
 from thence past the hot springs to Fort Bayard, 
 forty-four miles away. 
 
 One of those pony express riders met with a sad 
 fate. The writer had gone to Mimbres from Fort 
 Cummings with an escort of two or three troopers 
 to take medicine to the sick at Mimbres and upon 
 his return to Fort Cummings reported that he had 
 not seen any Indians, but that the pony express 
 rider, Charlie Young, had not yet reached Mimbres. 
 This created considerable excitement at the garrison 
 because Charles was a popular pony express rider. 
 He had been well educated in a western university 
 and his family were prominent people in St. Louis, 
 but through evil associations he had lost consider- 
 
 51
 
 able money and had volunteered to the pony ex- 
 press director for the position of a rider in Nevv 
 Mexico. He was a brave and companionable man, 
 said to be a fearless rider and a crack shot, so when 
 his absence was reported the commanding officer 
 sent a search party to hunt for his remains. Far 
 beyond CooIj's gloomy canon and quite a distance 
 from the trail they found his naked, mutilated body. 
 Everything had been taken, including his scalp. The 
 soldiers returned with his remains which were washed 
 and put in a little rough coffin and buried in the 
 lonely post cemetery where I trust they repose in 
 peace to-day. 
 
 Much of the wood of the garrison was obtained 
 at Cook's Canon under the shadows of ''Old Baldy. " 
 A detachment of from sixteen to twenty men with 
 a detail as guard, and all well armed, would take 
 wagons and go into the canon and procure what- 
 ever wood they could for the garrison. Upon ont^ 
 occasion some colored soldiers who had lately ar- 
 rived from the southern states came on a party of 
 Apache Indians. So suddenly did they meet each 
 other that the Indians concluded it was a military 
 force sent against them and the colored soldiers con- 
 cluded that the Indians were looking for them, so 
 both Indians and soldiers beat a hasty retreat and 
 the officers in a very unamiable frame of mind drove 
 back to the garrison alone in the wagons. 
 
 In every direction around old Fort Cummings we 
 could see our wily foe, the Apaches, forever watch- 
 ing us. Some mornings we would find their tracks 
 upon the parade ground where they had scaled the 
 wall, crossed through the garrison, and scaled th?. 
 other wall without being observed. It was strictly 
 
 52
 
 against the rules for any soldier to leave the gar- 
 rison without permission, and hunting parties in the 
 canon usually consisted of at least a dozen men, but 
 one time when few Indians had been seen and things 
 seemed quiet, so far as Apaches were concernea, 
 the writer obtained permission to ride out alone for 
 a little rabbit shooting. Mounted on a good horsa 
 with a Sharp's carbine and a Navy Six shooter he 
 rode past the water spring at which the post got 
 its supply of water, past the pony express ranch, 
 and around the base of "Old Baldy" up into the 
 canon, one beautiful quiet afternoon, without an 
 Indian anywhere in sight. Gaining confidence from 
 the silence and the pleasure of the ride he turned to 
 the left and penetrated a little canon. In a fevv 
 minutes, comparatively speaking, he found himself 
 in the midst of a lot of Apache women setting up 
 tepee poles. Of all the astonished Indians the 
 writer ever saw and of all the astonishment the 
 writer ever endured this was the banner event. 
 The Indians straightened up from their postures 
 with amazement written on their faces, too aston- 
 ished to make a spring and drag the rider from his 
 horse. The rider after a pause, which seemed very 
 long to him, turned his horse completely around an.l 
 vigorously using the spurs and bending low on the 
 horse's neck he dashed towards the main canon with 
 the yells of the Indians ringing in his ears, ex- 
 pecting every minute a volley of shots. On the 
 canon trail he saw the weekly buckboard mail wagon 
 traveling towards the garrison. As the buckboard 
 driver took in the situation he whipped up his 
 horses and we dashed to old Fort Cummings with 
 all the speed we could make. So near were the 
 
 53
 
 Indians that the sentinel on the outside of the main 
 entrance fired npon them and others joined in shoot- 
 ing at our late pursuers as they wheeled, and soon 
 they were out of sight round "Old Baldy" and in 
 the recesses of Cook's Canon. 
 
 54
 
 THE PRAIRIE MONITOR. 
 
 There are few men living to-day who have any 
 knowledge of the famous prairie monitors which 
 were in use in the "sixties" along the dangerous 
 trail of the "Smol^y Hill." In 1867 the railroad 
 penetrated as far as Fort Hays, Kansas, the begin- 
 ning of the "Smoky Hill" route. The famous 
 Smoky Hill route from Hays City went westward 
 to Wallace and thence on to Lake Station, Colorado 
 Territory. Cedar Point Station, a small outpost 
 garrisoned by a company of the 5th Infantry, was 
 one of those forts in which the enlisted men lived 
 in ' ' dugouts, ' ' little cellars, and the officers had their 
 quarters in wall tents built about the sides with 
 rough lumber. The most deadly portion of this 
 trail extended westward through Ellis, Trego, Gove, 
 and Logan counties, over one hundred miles to Fort 
 Wallace, a strong garrison with buildings made of 
 the beautiful yellow stone of western Kansas. At 
 this time in our frontier history the Indians were 
 making very strenuous effort to drive all the whites 
 back from the frontier. Massacres were of frequent 
 occurrence, ranches were burned, the stock driven 
 off, and the families of the hardy frontiersmen were 
 doomed to an imprisonment worse than death. The 
 army details scattered along the frontier were hardly 
 strong enough to maintain their own existence. 
 This state of affairs made staging and the carrying 
 out of mail contracts difficult, and generally dan- 
 
 55
 
 gerous, business. When the Indians were particu- 
 larly active, an escort of a half dozen soldiers would 
 frequently be provided, but more often the run from 
 stage ranch to stage ranch was an exciting experience, 
 and the driver and the passengers had a running 
 fight with the Indians a large portion of the way. 
 Fortunate the outcome if all got through safe and 
 sound. Sometimes the harrassed passengers hoping 
 for security at the next post-ranch where change 
 of horses and food were usually to be expected, 
 found only the smouldering remains of the build- 
 ings, and the mutilated bodies of the defenders. With 
 little or no warning a band of savage Indians would 
 swoop down on a post-ranch, and murder its little 
 garrison, destroy the buildings, and drive off the 
 stock before relief could be obtained. 
 
 It was this desperate state of affairs which first 
 suggested the prairie-monitor. This frontier fort 
 which was so often the despair of the Indians, antl 
 the protection of the frontiersman, was built after 
 the following general plan : First, an excavation 
 was made, like that for an ordinary cellar, about 
 ten feet deep, fifteen feet long, and averaging ten 
 feet in width. Of course these dimensions varied 
 according to the nature of the ground, and the 
 number of people to be accommodated. The struc- 
 ture itself was hardly noticeable a short distance 
 away, as it was elevated only about sixteen or 
 eighteen inches above the surrounding level or just 
 barely high enough to afford loopholes for the rifles 
 of its garrison. Within planks were placed on 
 barrels or boxes on which they stood to 
 obtain the necessary aim while firing. The roof 
 was made of heavy timbers covered deep with earth 
 
 56
 
 so that the Indians could not dig out ''the monitor." 
 Sometimes two of these monitors were constructed 
 so as to connect with each other by means of an 
 underground passage; each had an undergroun(i 
 passage leading to a cellar in the ranch-house so 
 that when the defenders of the ranch saw that the 
 time had come, through fire, or the breaking down 
 of the doors by the Indians, for them to look to 
 this refuge for their last hope, they jumped into 
 the cellar, and crawling on their hands and knees 
 through this passage, they reached the monitor. No 
 Indian would dare to follow them in this manner, 
 as a boy with an axe would be sufficient guard. One 
 dead or wounded Indian would block the entrance. 
 It was customary to keep provisions and water, and 
 a reasonable quantity of ammunition, in these moni- 
 tors to provide for an emergency. The distance of 
 these structures from the ranch depended upon cir- 
 cumstances. Sometimes they were located midway 
 between stable and dwelling with an underground 
 passage connected with each. The object of the 
 double monitors was to provide a crossfire, and to 
 prevent the enemy from digging out the besieged. 
 The siege of such a place was usually of very short 
 duration, as the Indians did not dare to remain long 
 in one location. The last of the monitors must have 
 disappeared years ago, as civilization has advanced 
 in its triumphant westward course. 
 
 57
 
 BILLY DIXON, THE SCOUT. 
 
 William Dixon, government scout— such was the 
 official designation. 
 
 Col. Dodge, one of our best authorities on tlio 
 Indians, states that the success of every expedition 
 against Indians depends to a degree on the skill, 
 fidelity and intelligence of the men employed as 
 scouts. For not only is the conunand habitually 
 dependent on them for good routes and comfortabLj 
 camps, but the officer in command must rely on them 
 almost entirely for his knowledge of the position 
 and movements of the enemy. Of 50 men so em- 
 ployed, one only may prove to be really valuable. 
 Of the hundreds of men so employed by our gov- 
 ernment since the war in our Indian campaigns, 
 only a very few have attained distinction. Kit Car- 
 son, California Joe, Wild Bill, Buffalo Bill, Texas 
 Charlie, Amos Chapman, Billy Dixon and a few 
 others are all who have left any lasting impression 
 on my mind. 
 
 Billy Dixon was our government scout at Foit 
 Elliott, in the Texan Panhandle. He was well 
 known as a famous Indian scout, and has been in 
 many close places with the Indians, and has per- 
 formed many valuable services for the United States 
 army. 
 
 His scouting grounds were by no means confine 1 
 to the Panhandle, but one of his most important 
 experiences occurred at what is known as the Adobe 
 
 58
 
 Walls. Col. Bent and Kit Carson established, many 
 years ago, a trading point at this place, about two 
 miles above Bent's Fort, for the purpose of supply- 
 ing the buffalo hunters who had followed the buf- 
 falo down to this point from the north, and whose 
 traffic had become a gigantic affair. 
 
 It was at these Walls where a fierce fight took place 
 with Indians. The principal building, known as 
 Rath's store, has been described by Capt. Moses 
 Wiley as "about forty feet long, with two room.^, 
 bastioned and embrasured." 
 
 Billy Dixon thus describes the fight which took 
 place in the morning of the 24th day of June, 1874. 
 
 ''On the morning of the 24th of June, 1874, I 
 was at the Adobe Walls. My buffalo camp was about 
 25 miles from here, on the south side of the Cana- 
 dian. I expected to start out that morning on a 
 hunt; and as it was warm weather, I slept out of 
 doors, in front of the saloon, in my wagon. Two 
 men that were to have gone with me slept in the 
 saloon. Our horses were grazing in the bottom, 
 toward the creek. My own riding horse was pick- 
 eted close to my wagon. About daylight, the men 
 sleeping in the saloon were awakened by the crack- 
 ing of the ridgepole, and, thinking it was not worth 
 while to go to sleep again, woke me in order to get 
 an early start. One man started after the horses, 
 and had gone but a short distance, when he gave 
 the alarm of 'Indians!' Looking in that direction, 
 I saw a large number of them crossing the bottom, 
 and as soon as they saw that they were discovered, 
 they gave the warwhoop and came on a charge. 
 
 "I did not think at the time that they intended 
 to attack, but only that they were after our horses. 
 
 59
 
 I therefore ran to my own horse, tied him to my 
 wagon, and then got my gun. By this time the In- 
 dians were within a hundred yards. I could then 
 understand their intention was to attack the houses. 
 
 "I began firing at them, and retreated into the 
 saloon. There were seven of us in this building, 
 and we fougbt there for some time, before the men 
 in the other buildings got roused up. We killed a 
 good many Indian horses between the saloon and 
 the store. The Indians in their charge passed be- 
 tween the buildings. There were from three to five 
 hundred of them, and they completely surrounded 
 us. They did their best to force in the doors, but 
 our steady fire drove them off. They retreated to 
 the hills, about 800 yards away. From here they 
 kept up a continuous firing, in order to aid their 
 friends who had lost their horses and so could not 
 escape. 
 
 ' ' Whenever a volley would be fired, the dismounted 
 Indians would rise from the ground, and run ];"} 
 or 20 steps toward the hills, and then drop in the 
 grass again to hide from our fire. In this manner 
 a good many of them got away. Twenty-eight men 
 kept these red devils at bay; three of the white 
 men were killed. Two of them were the Shadley 
 brothers, who were sleeping in their wagon, and 
 were found dead when we were able to go out and 
 look around us. We buried all three in one grave, 
 near the place where the Shadley wagon stood. 
 
 "The fighting lasted from about daybreak until 
 the middle of the afternoon. During most of the 
 time we were firing at a distance of from two to 
 three hundred yards. Two Indians were killed and 
 left on the field at close range. Two were killed to 
 
 60
 
 the east of the building, and one near the Shadley 
 wagon. This one is supposed to have been the Indian 
 who killed the Shadleys, as he had plundered the 
 wagon and was making off with some goods whe?i 
 he was shot. 
 
 "About 75 yards to the rear of the store was a 
 large pile of buffalo hides, and while the fight was 
 in progress I noticed an Indian horse standing by 
 it, and could also see the head dress or feathers of 
 an Indian, as though he were hugging very close 
 to the hides. I fired at his feathers, and he dodgeii 
 around to the other side of the pile; this brought 
 him within range of the guns from Rath's house, 
 and he was forced to dodge back again. In this 
 manner we kept him in hot water about ten minutes. 
 I then fired at his horse, which dropped at the crack 
 of the gun. 
 
 "I could then see the Indian a little plainer, or 
 rather could tell better where he was standing, be- 
 hind the pile of hides, by his head feathers. I was 
 shooting a buffalo gun, known as Sharp's big fifty. 
 Guessing at his position as well as I could, I fired 
 right through the hides at him. I must have 
 scorched him, for he immediately broke from his 
 hiding place, ran about 15 steps, and then dropped 
 in the grass. He gave a short yelp like a coyote at 
 every jump. After the fight was over, we found 
 nine dead Indians lying within a space of a hundred 
 yards square. When we had got rid of the Indians 
 around the buildings, we began firing at long range 
 and drove them out of sight over the hills. 
 
 "I went over from the saloon to Rath's building 
 and found they had barricaded the door with sacks 
 of flour. While looking out from this position, I 
 
 61
 
 noticed something wrong at the base of the hills, 
 about 800 yards away. I fired several shots before 
 I could get the range right, and then the object 
 stopped moving. When the fight was over, I went 
 out to see what it was I had been shooting at, and 
 found it was a dead Indian. He had his knee 
 crushed with a bullet, and had crawled and dragged 
 himself a quarter of a mile, when I hit him a center 
 shot through the breast and finished him. 
 
 "It is impossible to say what the loss of th? 
 Indians amounted to, but I think it must have been 
 very heavy, for besides the 13 dead ones left on the 
 field, there were found behind the hills many indic- 
 ations of wounded Indians. At one place, a lot )f 
 clothing, such as moccasins, leggings, blankets, etc , 
 had been cut up and destroyed. The fragments 
 were bloody, and from these indications I judge that 
 many of the Indians had died of their wounds, and 
 their etiects were destroyed because they could not 
 be carried off. The warriors were from the Coman- 
 ches, Klowas, Cheyennes, and Arapahoes. Their ob- 
 ject was to plunder the stores, as they had learnerl 
 that there were large quantities of ammunition there. 
 The previous night, one of the medicine men of the 
 Comanches had held a medicine dance to determine 
 the advisability of attacking the place, and had de- 
 clared in favor of it, telling the Indians that the med- 
 icine was so strong that all thy would have to do was 
 to ride up and knock their intended victims on the 
 head while asleep. 
 
 "They came very near succeeding. Had they been 
 15 minutes earlier, or had it not been for the crack- 
 ing of the ridge log in the saloon, which aroused the 
 sleepers, their medicine would have been a success." 
 
 62
 
 CONCERNING ARROW WOUNDS. 
 
 Although many of our Indian tribes are at present 
 armed with the most perfect modern breech-loading 
 rifles in the 60s, the arrow was the favorite weapon of 
 Indian warriors. Swift, silent, accurate, and dead- 
 ly, it possessed for their i)urposes many advantages 
 either for the chase or for warfare. 
 
 The arrow, one of the oldest of weapons, seems to 
 have nearly outlived its usefulness, and no doubt 
 will soon exist only in museums or in the gentle 
 sport of archery, but it was an implement of 
 Indian w^arfare worthy of consideration. By 
 our soldiers stationed on the frontier, and inured 
 to constant Indian forays, it was regarded with 
 the greatest aversion, the most dreaded of all 
 missiles to which they were exposed. A single scratch 
 from one of these terrible implements was more to 
 be feared than a bullet-wound. In one of our 
 frontier hospitals a soldier died in great suffering 
 from what seemed to be a very superficial flesh- 
 wound across the chest, made by an arrow in a 
 skirmish with Indians. The arrow was left on 
 the field, and so it was quite impossible to determine 
 the nature of the poison; but that he was the vic- 
 tim of a poisoned arrow admits of little doubt. The 
 supposition that the Indian shoots his arrows care- 
 lessly and wastefully is erroneous. It is possible for 
 
 63
 
 the expert marksman to discharge arrows rapidly, 
 but it re(iuires too much time and labor to make a 
 perfect arrow; and, even if the Indian were not 
 inclined to laziness, materials for arrow-making are 
 usually too scarce to allow of much waste of such 
 valuable ammunition in action. The arrow can be 
 shot with as much precision as our modern revolvers, 
 and at one hundred yards is a deadly weapon. The 
 arrow flies with great swiftness, and has great pen- 
 etrating power. Several specimens in the Army 
 Medical Museum show how deeply an arrow-head 
 can perforate bone. A soldier rode into Fort Cum- 
 mings, New Mexico, chased by Apaches. He had 
 received one or two wounds, from the effects of 
 which he died, and in the tree of the saddle he rode 
 upon, an arrow-head was so firmly imbedded as to 
 defy removal by hand. 
 
 The arrow of the American Indian is indeed skil- 
 fully prepared, light, straight, and strong. The 
 shaft contains carefully-made grooves, to allow the 
 blood to escape easily. Each tribe, and even each 
 warrior, has easily-recognized devices on the shaft, 
 so that they are able to determine from whom the 
 arrow came. To secure the necessary feathering re- 
 quires skillful fingers; but perhaps the best work 
 on the arrow is shown in the attachment of the head 
 to the shaft. After carefully drying and straight- 
 ening the shaft, a slot is made into which the arrow- 
 head is carefully fitted and bound with wet sinew. 
 The drying of the fibres contracts until the arrow- 
 head is secure. 
 
 Many of the best arrow-heads were manufactured 
 in the Eastern States and sold to Indians through 
 the traders, or even issued by Indian agents; but 
 
 64
 
 they were mostly made from scraps of iron hooping, 
 of flint stone, bone, glass, wood, etc. Many agricul- 
 tural implements, presented to the Indians by ad- 
 miring Eastern philanthropists, furnished admirable 
 opportunities for the manufacture of countless quiv- 
 erfuls of arrows. 
 
 The attachment of the arrow-head, although se- 
 cure while dry, rapidly loosens when wet, and it is 
 on this account that it is almost impossible to re- 
 move shaft and head from a wound. The head is 
 almost certain to become detached and remain hid- 
 den or firmly embedded in the wound. 
 
 But if the Indian has shown considerable skill in 
 the manufacture of the arrow, he also possessed re- 
 markable surgical ability in removing an arrow from 
 the wound. 
 
 The removal was effected by taking a willow stick 
 and carefully splitting it and rubbing it as smooth 
 as possible; then the pith is carefully cleaned out, 
 and the ends rounded to present as little obstacle 
 as possible in following the wound-track. One stick 
 was introduced very carefully to reach and cover the 
 uppermost fang of the head, and the other to cover the 
 lower fang, and when both are properly adjusted 
 the outer ends are bound to the shaft of the arrow, 
 and all are carefully and slowly withdrawn. When 
 it was possible to push the arrow through until the 
 head is exposed and cut off, it was done; the 
 shaft could then be drawn backward easily. No trac- 
 tion should ever be made with the shaft unless the 
 head has been removed; for the least effort in this 
 direction is sure to loosen it and leave the head m 
 the wound, thereby adding increased dangers to a 
 wound already serious. 
 
 65
 
 Much difference of opinion seems to exist con- 
 cerning the poisoning of arrows, and many deny- 
 that the American Indian intentionally poisons his 
 arrows; nevertheless it is generally admitted that 
 most of our Indian tribes practice the art of arrow- 
 poisoning and show considerable devilish ingenuity 
 in doing so. In the first place, we must consider 
 that all tribes held more or less secret all that re- 
 lated to the education of the warrior, and it was not 
 surprising that the mysteries of arrow-poisoning were 
 not so lightly valued as to enable any one to become 
 familiar with the process. It was very naturally a se- 
 cret which few warriors would care to communicate. 
 Many substances were used, and undoubtedly some 
 methods elaborate in disgusting details fail to make 
 the arrow as poisonous as some of the simpler meth- 
 ods seem to do. Some rely upon juices pressed from 
 poisonous plants, into which not only the heads but 
 the shafts also are dipped, and others use animal 
 substances and fluids, like rotten flesh and putrid 
 blood, even reserving portions of dead enemies for 
 this purpose, although this last method is very rare 
 indeed. Some use a combination — for instance, a 
 liver and mashed serpents' heads — but generally 
 each warrior or family have their own secret method 
 of poisoning, as well as of preparing the "medicine" 
 to make the arrow deadly. 
 
 Perhaps the commonest method and least secret 
 of all was to take a beef's liver and stick it full of 
 arrows, like pins in a pin-cushion, and leave it in 
 the sun until the animal mass had rotted away. M 
 Hoffman* has stated regarding "poisoned arrows," 
 at a recent seance of the Societe d 'Anthropologic, 
 that "the Apaches bruise up the heads of rattle- 
 
 66
 
 snakes with fragments of deer's liver, allow the mass 
 to become putrid, then dip the arrow-points, and 
 allow them to dry slowly." lie also mentions the 
 use of poisonous plants, i. e., the ''Spanish bayonet," 
 also red ants pounded together, and other methods. 
 
 Besides being more elaborately decorated, if not 
 certainly poisoned, the w^ar arrow differed in make 
 from the plainer hunting arrow. The head of the 
 war arrow is shorter and broader than that of the 
 hunting arrow, and is attached to the shaft at right 
 angles with the slot which fits the bowstring, the 
 object of this being to allow the arrow in flight more 
 readily to pass between the human ribs, while the 
 head of the hunting arrow, which is long and nar- 
 row, is attached perpendicularly to the slot, to allow 
 it to pass readily between the ribs of the running 
 buffalo. 
 
 These arrows are also used for conveying fire, 
 either in considerable masses to set fire to hay or 
 to inflammable buildings, or as signals at night. 
 The writer was once with an expedition crossing the 
 plains, and at Cimarron Crossing the whole com- 
 mand was surrounded by large numbers of Indians, 
 who during the night seemed to be in communica- 
 tion with each other from one side of the river to 
 the other by means of fire-arrows. 
 
 All these details which I have mentioned show how 
 skilfully the Indian arrow was made, and also what 
 a formidable weapon it must be in the hands of 
 experienced and crafty marksmen. 
 
 The following remarkable case illustrates the fact 
 that, while the simplest arrow-w^ounds may prove 
 mortal, recovery can follow a wound which from its 
 very nature seemed certainly to have no other than 
 a fatal result in prospect: 
 
 67
 
 While passing through the little town of Trinidad, 
 Colorado, some years ago, I was called to see a man 
 who had received a severe and apparently desper- 
 ate arrow-wound through the right chest in a skir- 
 mish with Indians a day or two before. The arrow 
 had penetrated quite through the right lung. Either 
 the arrow-head had passed quite through between 
 the posterior ribs in the first instance, or had nearly 
 done so, and had finally been pushed out (probably 
 by some one familiar with arrow- wounds). At any 
 rate, enough had passed through to allow of detach- 
 ing the head from the shaft, and then the shaft it- 
 self had been withdrawn the entire length of the 
 wound. 
 
 Some hemorrhage had followed this rough sur- 
 gery, but how much I was unable to ascertain, 
 and the shock, which had at first prostrated the 
 patient, had been recovered from. I found the 
 patient, a strong, young man, in bed, apparently 
 comfortable, and without cough. He seemed to have 
 little if any serious pain, but his countenance exhib- 
 ited suffering. I ordered cold-water compresses, and 
 left some Dover's powders to be taken at intervals, 
 and I also left some quinine and a couple of bottles 
 of wine for his convalescence. Some months after- 
 wards I met the man in robust health, driving a 
 Rocky Mountain four-horse stage-coach, and with 
 only the external marks of his desperate wound re- 
 maining. I understood from him that his recovery 
 had been rapid and without any further hemorrhage 
 or other dra\ybacks. He seemed to have the free use 
 of his lungs also. 
 
 Surgeon Bill, U. S. A., has contributed to Ash- 
 hurst's "International Encyclopedia of Surgery" a 
 
 68
 
 most interesting article on arrow wounds. * He says 
 that ' ' arrow- wounds penetrating the chest and wound- 
 the lung, although serious, are by no means mortal. 
 * * * If the patient survives the period of 
 hemorrhage the prognosis is favorable, for the con- 
 secutive inflammation is usually trifling, and requires 
 no treatment beyond placing the patient at rest and 
 affording a supply of pure warm air." He also di- 
 rects that "if the head of the arrow has passed from 
 one side of the chest to the other, it should not be 
 operated upon with a view to removal backward, 
 but should be pushed forward between the ribs un- 
 til the head can be detached from the shaft, and then 
 the shaft withdrawn." Dr. Bill also states that "if 
 the head of the arrow has been left in the lung tissue, 
 nothing can probably be done for the patient." In 
 Dr. Bill's table of arrow- wounds of the chest, he 
 shows that in eighteen cases there were thirteen 
 deaths — about 72 per cent. There were five recov- 
 eries. 
 
 *W. T. P. in Philadelphia Medical and Surgical Reporter, 
 July 28, 1883. 
 
 69
 
 INDIAN REVENGE. 
 
 The spirit of revenge, strong as it is in all human 
 beings, is peculiarly noticeable in our North Ameri- 
 can Indians. 
 
 Yet "Lex talionis," or the law of retaliation, is by 
 no means confined to savages; its recognition is more 
 or less universal. Civilization, and even the gentle 
 influences of religion, cannot wholly eradicate it. 
 We witness its existence every day in our courts of 
 justice, and in the ordinary affairs of human life. 
 
 In the ancient government of the Indian tribes 
 the chief was a despot, armed with the powers of a 
 czar. He held in his hand while in power the prop- 
 erty, and even the life, of each individual of his 
 tribe. He might take the life of his dog, his horse, 
 or of his wife, unchallenged, since they were his own 
 property, but should he do this with the "belong- 
 ings" of another, he was forced to pay a fine in pelts 
 or ponies. If in his anger he killed a man, there 
 was no law so far as the tribe was concerned, but 
 the penalty of death hung over him like a cloud, 
 and any one of the relatives of his victim would be 
 justified in demanding a duel, or even in waylaying 
 and killing him as one would a beast. 
 
 These avengers of blood, when once started, might 
 continue perpetuating the blood feud until the tribe 
 would become crippled through this system of re- 
 venge. So when in battle one tribe had killed mem- 
 
 70
 
 bers of another, the deadly hostility was nurtured 
 for generations before the hatchet would be buried. 
 In 1879 the Sioux, who had been for generations 
 the natural enemies of the Chippewas, buried the 
 hatchet with elaborate ceremonies at Devil's Lake, 
 in Dakota, whither prominent men of each tribe had 
 assembled for that purpose. 
 
 It was in this same year that my duties took me to 
 White Earth Reservation, occupied by the Mississippi 
 bands of the Ojibway Indians. As I approached the 
 agency my attention was attracted by a lonely grave, 
 over which banners were waving, and upon making 
 inquiries as to this, to me, unusual sight, I was in- 
 formed that it was the grave of the great chief 
 "Hole-in-the-Day," the famous warrior of the Chip- 
 pewas, who, although he had fought in many bloody 
 encounters with the enemies of his people, had at 
 last been laid low by the knife of one of his own 
 tribe. The banners were waving over his grave, 
 grim tokens that his murderer still lived, and that 
 the deed was unavenged. 
 
 It appears that "Hole-in-the-Day," although the 
 head ciiief, and a man distinguished for his courage 
 as a soldier and his wisdom as a counselor, had dis- 
 carded his native Indian wife and had allied him- 
 self with a white woman. This act gave otfence to 
 some of the Indians, who hated the palefaces, and 
 his tragic end was the result. 
 
 At the present time this law of retaliation is no 
 longer countenanced by the United States Govern- 
 ment. Unruly and arbitrary chiefs are deposed. 
 
 71
 
 HYGIENE AMONG THE 
 ABORIGINES. 
 
 In considering the manners and customs of our 
 Indians, we must rememl)er that while the term In- 
 dian conveys to our mind a certain idea as to gen- 
 eral characteristics, Indian tribes differ from each 
 other in appearance, manners and customs as 
 widely as the tribes of "pale-faces" differ from 
 each other. Writers, in describing our aborigines, 
 have often made this mistake, detailing the customs 
 of one tribe as if they were descriptive of all Indian 
 tribes. We can readily understand how so many 
 mistakes are made in this manner. This is well il- 
 lustrated when we consider the subject of the dis- 
 posal of the dead. One tribe may dispose of them 
 by fire on a funeral pile ; another by preparing them 
 to become mummies, then by burial in caves in sit- 
 ting postures: still others elevate their dead on plat- 
 forms or in trees, and perhaps the more civilized 
 encoffin them in birch-bark and bury in the earth. 
 Many characteristics of Indians are found in 
 all of the tribes, while some particular features are 
 found only in certain tribes. 
 
 The custom of building large fires in the vicinity 
 of newly-made graves may suggest the idea of the 
 hygienic value of fire. How much it acts as a pow- 
 erful disinfectant in preventing the spread of con- 
 
 72
 
 tagioiis disease we are not prepared to state, but 
 that it has some such value there can be no doubt. 
 
 In making a study of hygiene among the abor- 
 igines we shall find much that is interesting. We 
 shall be able to discover the customs which very 
 likely have existed among all primitive peoples. 
 Our native aborigines are undoubtedly superior to 
 any others in existence to-day. Mentally and physic- 
 ally, and we may add morally, too, they are superior 
 to the natives of Central America, South America, 
 Africa, the Islands of the Pacific, and of Asia. To 
 begin with, we find the North American Indian an 
 intelligent, religious, brave and friendly being, pos- 
 sessing strong parental affection, generosity and 
 courage of a high order. With such attributes it 
 is not surprising that we find in him sufficient know- 
 ledge to provide for himself suitable food, clothing 
 and shelter. We could also demonstrate that his 
 knowledge of the treatment of disease is of sufficient 
 worth to attract attention. We find that writers 
 who have witnessed the ceremonies of the magicians 
 imagine them to be the true medicine men or doc- 
 tors of the tribe, thereby totally losing sight of the 
 fact that medical and surgical art among our aborig- 
 ines contain scientific truths which demand recogni- 
 tion. We must remember that the Indian is very 
 observing and quick to make use of any facts which 
 he may consider of value. 
 
 The ordinary home of most of the Plains Indians 
 is called by them a te-pee. It is a conical tent, made 
 of dressed buffalo skins, or of late years, of cotton 
 cloth, supported on a framework of light peeled 
 poles, spread out at the bottom in a circle, and 
 crossed near the top. It is from twelve to eighteen 
 
 73
 
 feet in diameter, and from eight to ten feet high. 
 The covering, of whatever material, is cut into the 
 form of a cone, and sewed tightly, except one 
 straight seam from top to bottom, which is fastened 
 by a lacing from the top to within four or five feet 
 from the ground. The opening thus left is the door- 
 way, the door itself being a buffalo robe or piece 
 of cloth fastened above and left to hang loose, ex- 
 cept in bad weather, when it can be tightly stretched 
 by thongs attached to the lower corners. All well- 
 constructed te-pees have an arrangement to prevent 
 the wind blowing down through the opening in the 
 top. These te-pees were often ornamented with 
 paintings representing the history of the head of 
 the lodges, or with representations of various kinds, 
 supposed to be efficacious in keeping away evil spir- 
 its. ' ' * These te-pees are easily taken down and can 
 be quickly placed in position by those who are ac- 
 customed to them. The fire is built in the centre ; 
 the smoke is supposed to escape through an aperture 
 in the top. The te-pee is admirably adapted to the 
 wants and necessities of the Indians, its shape se- 
 cures it from being overturned by winds and storms, 
 and it can be kept warm and comfortable even in 
 the coldest weather by very little fuel, a most im- 
 portant desideratum on the treeless plains. The 
 other kind of lodge is called a wicky-up, temporary 
 hut constructed of small freshly cut poles or wands, 
 large ends stuck in the ground, small ends bent over 
 and fastened together. These he covers with skins, 
 or blankets, or cloth; the interior is only three or 
 four feet high. The te-pee is the permanent resi- 
 
 *Colonel Dodge in "Our Wild Indians." 
 74
 
 dence of the Indian, and the wicky-np the make- 
 shift sleeping-place on hunts and marches. No mat- 
 ter how tired after the day's march, the Indian will 
 not sleep in the open air if he can possibly avoid it; 
 he must be protected from above. Whether this is 
 a superstition or a habit derived from long exper- 
 ience, it is difficult to state. When asked about it 
 they reply that it is not good to sleep out. The In- 
 dians use pillows when at home in their te-pees, 
 made of rolled buffalo robe or of the skins of smaller 
 animals, such as the fox or badger, stuffed with 
 grass. Their beds are piles of buffalo robes or 
 blankets spread upon the ground as close as possi- 
 ble to the outer circumference of the te-pee. These 
 beds serve the double purpose of sleeping-places by 
 night and seats and lounges by day. They are not 
 "made up," though on fine days the bedding may 
 be taken out, shaken and spread in the sun. 
 
 The Chippewa wigwam is built of birch-bark, se- 
 cured to strong wooden frames, about eight feet in 
 height and twenty to thirty feet or more in circum- 
 ference. Platforms for sleeping-mats two or three 
 feet high circle the wigwam, a bare place in the 
 centre being left for the ever-burning fire, an aper- 
 ture in the top permits the escape of smoke and 
 secures good ventilation. The reed mats used for 
 carpets are beautiful specimens of Indian work. 
 These wigwams are considered very comfortable 
 even in the coldest winter nights, when the temper- 
 ature is many degrees below zero. The government 
 has furnished the Indian with windows and doors 
 for his log-cabin, and while with some Indians these 
 homes are considered desirable, they are certainly 
 not as healthy as the te-pee or wigwam. These te- 
 
 75
 
 pees of the Indians are continually being moved 
 about. The squaws attend to the loading and un- 
 loading of camp equipage and supplies. Camps are 
 arranged with some degree of order, the "Council 
 Lodge" and te-pees of the chiefs and principal men 
 being pitched in the centre, enclosing a space great- 
 er or less according to the number of the lodges. 
 To the rear of each chief's te-pee were the lodges 
 of his followers. The inner circle was the public 
 space, from which were made by criers all an- 
 nouncements of orders and discourses of chiefs and 
 council, notice of movements, and, indeed, every- 
 thing of public interest. This was the loafing and 
 lounging place for all, as well as for ceremonial 
 dances, etc. The Indian is naturally hospitable, and 
 will share whatever he has to eat with friends or 
 visitors. There are no regular hours for meals, nor 
 is there, as a rule, more than one meal a day. A 
 pot or kettle of meat is put on the fire; when suf- 
 ficiently boiled it is placed in the centre of the floor, 
 and the inmates of the te-pee crowding round, help 
 themselves with knives or fingers. Some few of the 
 more advanced now use tin or delf plates. Until 
 within a few years, dried buffalo meat was used 
 almost universally in lieu of bread, but the issue 
 of flour, meal and baking powder by the Indian 
 Department, have civilized them so far that bread 
 is almost an absolute necessity. Many of the squaws 
 have learned to make quite good biscuit. "The In- 
 dians hold the maize, or Indian corn, in great ven- 
 eration. They esteem it so important and divine 
 a grain that their story-tellers invented various 
 tales, in which this idea is symbolized under the 
 form of a special gift from the Great Spirit. A 
 
 76
 
 good Indian house-wife provides a goodly store of 
 corn to exercise hospitality and duly honor her hus- 
 band 's guests. ' ' — Sch oolcraft. 
 
 The contact with the pale-face has brought about 
 changes in clothing. The Indian retains his well- 
 fitting moccasins, but the handsomely-beaded leg- 
 gings and the breech clout have been discarded, and 
 in place of them we find them wearing drawers and 
 trousers of modern materials and fashion. The 
 broad belt has been discarded and suspenders are 
 now worn, and instead of the costly hunting-shirt, 
 the "boiled shirt" of civilization and the white 
 man's vest are now universally worn. The blanket, 
 which Indian pride carried with the dignity of the 
 ancient Roman who once wore the toga, has given 
 place to the conventional overcoat. The otter-skin 
 head-gear has been replaced by the ugly Western 
 hat, and in some cases the treasured moccasins have 
 been sold or cast aside to encase the healthy, active 
 feet of Indian braves in cowhide boots. The pic- 
 turesque attire has so rapidly disappeared even from 
 the Reservation Indians that we can only find some 
 traces of native toggery by visiting a "Wild West 
 Show." 
 
 One great stumbling-block towards success in pro- 
 tecting the physical condition of the Indian is to be 
 found in the fact that from an out-of-door life of 
 activity, with plenty of fresh game and wholesome 
 food and clear water, and with a healthful te-pee for 
 his home, he has been placed in log-cabins, over- 
 heated with iron stoves, given the poorest quality of 
 flour and salted meat, and, in exchange for an ac- 
 tive life, one of idleness. Under these circumstances 
 is it at all remarkable that mentally and physically, 
 
 77
 
 in some instances, he has degenerated. For the In- 
 dian, as well as for anyone else, idleness can act 
 only as a serious injury. 
 
 Armed, clothed, housed and fed like our wild and 
 erratic frontiersman the Indian has lost much of 
 the old-time life and manner which made him a 
 native American freeman in the literal sense of that 
 term. In his native Indian life he was, indeed, a 
 subject worthy of the artist's picturing, the poet's 
 description, the philanthropist's interest and the 
 brave man's respect. As he is now he cannot fail 
 to inspire in every manly heart feelings of sincere 
 sympathy and genuine regret at his miserable mis- 
 fortune. If we can atone for the evil we have 
 wrought we shall derive benefit from the sense of 
 a duty undertaken even at this late day. 
 
 Boiled meat used to be the favorite food of the 
 Indians of the plains. The Chippewas have veni- 
 son, prairie chickens and maize, and understand the 
 value of broiling meats, but boiling is less trouble 
 for the squaw cooks, and so the Indian dietary is 
 arranged accordingly. Col. Dodge declares that the 
 Indian is a great epicure, knowing the choicest tit- 
 bits of every animal and just how to cook it to suit 
 his taste. The great fall hunts used to yield him 
 the fullest enjoyment of his appetite. Then were 
 the days spent in all the delights and excitement of 
 the chase and almost all his nights in feasting and 
 revelry. These were the times for "marrow gats," 
 "hump ribs" and "marrow-bones." The large 
 bones of the hind-legs of the buffalo were thrown 
 upon the glowing coals or hidden under hot em- 
 bers, then cracked between two stones, and the rich, 
 delicious marrow sucked in quantities sufficient to 
 
 78
 
 ruin a white man's stomach forever. Marrow-fat 
 is believed by the Indians to be especially good for 
 the hair, and during the feast the greasy hands are 
 constantly wiped upon his head. The Indian is an 
 enormous feeder, and well-nigh incredible stories 
 are related of the amount of meat one can eat at a 
 single meal. 
 
 The Indians understand the value of salt and use 
 is freely, and are also fond of red and black pepper 
 and of tea and coffee. Among Indian hunters the 
 entrails are considered of especial value; bowels, 
 stomach, liver and heart and lungs are all extreme- 
 ly desirable, even when raw. Dog-flesh was popular 
 among all the Indian tribes. It was served cut up in 
 large junks, with skin and hair and entrails all 
 boiled in one huge pot. The Comanches were fond 
 of horse-flesh. The turkey is not considered a de- 
 sirable dish lest eating it should make the warrior 
 cowardly. Some of our Indian tribes ate the hearts 
 of their brave enemies when they killed them in the 
 battle struggle. This is considered good medicine 
 and is supposed to create additional courage in the 
 partakers. An officer at Fort Bowie, Arizona, wa^ 
 killed while attempting to reach the fort. The In- 
 dians who overtook and captured him cut out his 
 heart and ate it in the presence of the horrified gar- 
 rison, who were powerless to prevent the terrible 
 orgie. At war dances I have often witnessed the 
 act in pantomime of killing and scalping an enemy 
 and cutting out his heart and eating it raw. Even 
 the gurgling noise of sucking up the blood was en- 
 acted with terrible distinctness. 
 
 79
 
 MARRIAGE AMONG INDIANS. 
 
 A writer on our North American Indians has 
 stated that marriage, the bulwark of our civi- 
 lized community, is lightly esteemed among savages, 
 and that in some of the tribes communism as to sex- 
 ual relation jirevails, and that virtue and chastity 
 are of little worth. 
 
 The writer does not state to which tribes these 
 remarks apply. Evidently his information has been 
 derived very largely from hearsay concerning de- 
 cayed and disappearing tribes. 
 
 In a paper concerning North American Indian 
 womanhood, published in the "Annals of Gynecol- 
 ogy," I quoted from others, but I have done so only 
 after years of patient, personal investigation, with an 
 experience dating back years among many different 
 Indian tribes. I must take strong exception to any 
 statement which reflects on the general character of 
 our American Indians. As one writer has stated it: 
 "They are even more virtuous and more strict in 
 regard to the marriage tie than with the whites. 
 Their women are compelled by custom and sentiment 
 to be virtuous. It is positively erroneous to state 
 that 'the sexual appetite in Indians is always the 
 uncontrolled and uncontrollable desire of the wild 
 beast." 
 
 I refer, of course, in my writings, to the full 
 
 80
 
 blooded North American Indians. Statistics with 
 regard to half-breeds are valueless. I have discov- 
 ered another statement to which I am also obliged 
 to take exception, and it is that "both local and 
 constitutional forms of venereal disease abound 
 among Indian women. The frequency of syphilis 
 coupled with disease are almost synonymous terms." 
 I recognize the fact that this is the popular notion. 
 To judge the merits of statistics, personal experience 
 is necessary, and it is not right to paint our aborig- 
 ines in such hideous colors. 
 
 The great mortality among infants, and the prev- 
 alence of glandular and pulmonary disease among 
 many of those who survive infancy, are sometimes 
 used as evidence that it is venereal disease which 
 has made such terrible inroads on the Indian con- 
 stitution. Any one who has resided a considerable 
 length of time among the genuine North American 
 Indian tribes will be sure to recognize the unrea- 
 sonableness of this statement. During a long resi- 
 dence at one reservation, only one case of venereal 
 disease presented itself for treatment, and that was 
 in a half-breed who had lately returned from a 
 v/hite settlement! 
 
 Our ideas depend upon the tribe from which we 
 get our statistics. The genuine North American 
 Indians are not the degraded people of New Mexico, 
 Arizona, and Southern California, but will be found 
 to be human beings possessed of the manliest at- 
 tributes, believers in the Divine Being, whom they 
 know and worship as the Great Spirit. 
 
 They are fearless, vigorous, manly. The Indian's 
 ideas of right and wrong are of such a character as 
 to rouse our respect and surprise. To live among 
 
 81
 
 them is certain to develop mutual regard ; and, in 
 my high opinion of their general worth, I have but 
 echoed the sentiments of the manliest and truest 
 people it has been my privilege to meet. 
 
 82
 
 BABY DAYS IN THE WIGWAM. 
 
 Longfellow, in his song of Hiawatha, tells how the 
 wrinkled old Nakomis, 
 
 "Nursed the little Hiawatha, 
 Rocked him in his linden cradle, 
 Bedded soft in moss and rushes, 
 Safely bound in reindeer sinews." 
 But unfortunately the poet extends his description 
 of the cradle no further. Catlin, in his admirable 
 "History of the North American Indians," gives 
 several illustrations of the papoose-holders or cra- 
 dles. The papoose-holder is evidently a creation of 
 necessity. The Indian is a warrior, hunter, pr 
 statesman, or, in these times, a farmer. If not oc- 
 cupied in any one of these callings, he is a loafer. 
 But, whatever the business of her lord and master 
 may be, the squaw is too busy to be able to de- 
 vote much time to her children. 
 
 I would not have it understood by this that ma- 
 ternal indifference is an Indian trait, for such is 
 not the fact. Indians love their children fondly, 
 constantly, and will make any reasonable sacrifice 
 for them. Indeed, their fondness for children is 
 so great that even those of their enemies, if cap- 
 tured, are kindly cared for. 
 
 You can almost always reach an Indian's heart 
 by little acts of kindness to his children. The In- 
 dian mother never leaves her infant in the care of
 
 hirelings or strangers, but carries it with her every- 
 where. She will lay it, or stand it against the side 
 of the wigwam, or hang it on a nail in her cabin, or 
 upon a tree near where she is at work. The pa- 
 poose-holder, or cradle, is a work of art, and decid- 
 edly a creation of the affection. These cradles are 
 of ten-times beautifully made and decorated with the 
 most expensive bead-work, and ornamented with 
 furs, feathers, ribbons, etc. A piece of buffalo hide 
 is fastened securely to a board, the hairy side up. 
 The infant is placed upon this, and the loose sides 
 are brought together securely in front of the body 
 and laced; the face is left exposed. The lacing 
 strings are sufficiently tightened to keep the body 
 perfectly straight. The broad bands which pass 
 around the cradle to increase its steadiness are often 
 beautifully embroidered with porcupine quills. And 
 the dried buffalo hide is ornamented with all sorts 
 of pictures in gaudy colors. '*A broad loop of 
 elastic wool passes round in front of the child's 
 face to protect it in case of a fall, from the front 
 of which is suspended a little toy of exquisite em- 
 broidery for the child to handle and amuse himself 
 with." When traveling, the arms of the child are 
 fastened by the bandages, so that in case of a fall 
 they would not be broken, but at other times they 
 are allowed to be free, so that the child can amuse 
 itself. 
 
 At first thought the idea of carrying them in this 
 way may seem to be cruel, but it is not so regarded 
 by the Indians, and this is the universal custom 
 among all tribes. I have never known an instance 
 where any harm has resulted therefrom. A broad 
 strap, attached to the upper portion of the cradle. 
 
 84
 
 passes either to the forehead or to the chest and 
 shoulders of the mother, and in this manner the in- 
 fant is carried until it has reached the age of eight 
 or ten months, when it takes its journeys on its 
 mother's back, held in the folds of robe or blanket. 
 Colonel Dodge relates that the Indian mother car- 
 ries her child so securely that she can play a vig- 
 orous game of ball with her baby on her back. Once 
 or twice a day the little prisoner is released for 
 change of clothing or a bath, or for a romp on the 
 floor of the te-pee with its brothers and sisters. 
 
 Indian child life is not so unhappy as it has been 
 represented; children are highly prized, and the 
 Indian mother who has the most enjoys honor and 
 distinction therefore. With the Indian, as with the 
 ancient Israelite, the belief exists that "Blessed is 
 the man who has his quiver full of them." The 
 children of "civilized" Indians are, as a general rule, 
 not so tenderly cared for as in the olden days; and 
 modern methods, as taught to the Indian by the 
 inferior class of white people with whom they are 
 most likely to come in contact, do not tend to im- 
 prove the hygienic conditions. The government pol- 
 icy does not accomplish what ought to be done for 
 these aborigines. There is no doubt about it that 
 much of the instruction afforded would have been 
 better withheld. The death rate among Indian chil- 
 dren is, therefore, greater than it should be. 
 
 It is well-nigh useless to call attention to the fact 
 that our whole Indian policy, although very much 
 improved of late years, has been one of neglect. 
 Nowhere on the face of the earth can we find 
 aborigines to be compared with those of the North 
 American continent. Those who know them best 
 
 85
 
 agree that they are certainly worthy of a better fate. 
 To know how much could be done for these "chil- 
 dren," and to witness how comparatively little is 
 being done by a nation blessed with such great 
 wealth as is ours, is simply deplorable. 
 
 The labors of Catholic and other missionaries and 
 of that unselfish society of noble women, who voice 
 their necessities in the little paper called the Indian's 
 Friend, ought to be able to make some impression on 
 this nation. The Indians are so rapidly paissing 
 away, that the opportunities for making amends for 
 the wrong done them will not last long. 
 
 8t>
 
 CONCERNING AMERICAN INDIAN 
 WOMANHOOD.— AN ETHNO- 
 LOGICAL STUDY. 
 
 Dr. Henry T. Byford, in a paper read before the 
 Chicago Gynaecological Society, February 20, 1885, 
 quotes Professor Gross as asking, "Why did not the 
 Almighty create, simultaneously with woman, a com- 
 petent gynaecologist to meet the inevitable evils?" 
 Dr. Byford adds that "it seems indeed like a re- 
 proach upon Him, the crowning work of whose in- 
 telligence was the creation of woman, that she should 
 be the most poorly prepared of all beings for the 
 reproduction of her kind. Was it always thus, or 
 was child-bearing originally a physiological phe- 
 nomenon not beyond the power of a healthy woman 
 to patiently endure?" It is the purpose of this 
 paper to show that among the North American abo- 
 rigines, childbirth has been a peculiarly easy func- 
 tion, seldom attended with inconvenience of ainy 
 very great moment or of danger to health and life. 
 Where we find Indian tribes only recently confined 
 upon reservations, and where the wild or blanket 
 Indians are in the majority, there we can, without 
 doubt, most readily ascertain the habits of the abo- 
 rigine's. The past thirty years have brought about 
 very remarkable changes in the lives of our Ameri- 
 can Indians, and as matters stand at present we can 
 
 87
 
 hope for only a very little more time remaining for 
 investigation in this interesting study. 
 
 Ethnology is defined by Webster as "the science 
 which treats of the division of man into races, its 
 origin and relations, and differences which charac- 
 terize them." I think we may therefore consider 
 these investigations concerning Indian womanhood 
 an ethnological study more than an anthropological 
 research. We cannot fail even in this superficial 
 paper to observe how closely related is the human 
 race. An experience covering years of service 
 on the frontier has convinced me that while the 
 tribes of North American Indians differ as widely 
 from one another as the tribes and nations of pale- 
 faces are distinct from each other, yet there is a 
 wonderful similarity observable in all. This is es- 
 pecially noticeable when we come to investigate the 
 condition of infancy, childhood and maternity. In 
 such a research we cannot fail to be impressed with 
 a decided respect for our native Americans. 
 
 Nowhere on the face of the earth can we find abo- 
 rigines to be compared with those of the North 
 American continent. Much, indeed, of their history 
 and tradition has passed away, and when we seek 
 for records of the nations who occupied this great 
 continent, comparatively little is to be found. There 
 is, however, some material within reach to-day, but 
 in a very few years almost every remaining vestige 
 will have disappeared forever. That oblivion should 
 be the destiny of such remarkable nations is a mis- 
 fortune. We have a right to be proud of our abo- 
 rigines. Those who know most of our native Amer- 
 ican or so-called Indians respect them most. Those 
 who have lived longest with them like them the best.
 
 My experience has brought me in contact with many- 
 different Indian nations, both in peace and war. 
 Among these the Ojibways are the most interesting 
 for investigation. Dr. Hoffman, lately an Acting 
 Assistant Surgeon in the United States Army, in a 
 recent article in the University Magazine concern- 
 ing Shaministick practices, states that "the area of 
 country formerly occupied by the immense tribes 
 consisting of the Algonquin linguistic stock, extends 
 from Nova Scotia southward to the James River, and 
 westward to Montana. To these divisions belong 
 the tribes first met with by the French traders in 
 Canada as early as 1634, by the Puritans in Massa- 
 chusetts, and by Captain John Smith's band of col- 
 onists in Virginia. They are believed to be consid- 
 erably in advance of the tribes of other divisions; 
 and one of the most interesting bodies from an eth- 
 nological point of view is the Chippewa or jib way 
 tribe of the Lake Superior region." 
 
 A prominent and highly educated Indian, who 
 probably knows as much concerning the practices 
 and customs existing among Ojibways as any man 
 living, and whom I have known very well while 
 serving at White Earth reservation, writes me as 
 follows: "Indian girls usually begin to menstru- 
 ate from 14 to 16 years of age. The mother care- 
 fully watches her daughter as the age of puberty 
 develops, and makes frequent inquiries as to any 
 peculiar symptoms appearing, and advises her to 
 keep good watch upon herself and to note the ap- 
 pearance of anything unusual. She is directed when 
 the hour arrives of the function of menstruation, 
 whether it be in the stormy hour of the day or in 
 the coldest midnight, to immediately leave her home 
 
 89
 
 and the village, and retire to a little wigwam, which 
 has been prepared for her in some lonely, unfre- 
 quented place about a quarter of a mile or more 
 away from her home. This temporary shelter has 
 been built as comfortably as possible, as here she is 
 expected to spend many days and nights alone. Here 
 she is not allowed to receive cooked food from the 
 family. She has been provided with a small tea- 
 kettle, spoon and tin dish for her own use. Under 
 no consideration must she pass over any public high- 
 way. She is strictly forbidden to speak to any men 
 or boys. During the period of menstriTation she is 
 considered unclean. During this lonely period of 
 hours and days of isolation she is encouraged to fast 
 for full five days. Many eat nothing, and drink 
 only cold water. It is considered among these peo- 
 ple that the longer they abstain from food, the bet- 
 ter, and during this period of fasting the more im- 
 portant dreams of their sleeping moments are to be 
 remembered and, if possible, recorded." 
 
 Concerning the care of the pregnant woman he 
 writes: "During this period she is required to take 
 more out-of-door exercise. Her work is by no means 
 diminished. She must cut wood, make rice, make 
 sugar and carry wood on her back. My wife, when 
 her first delivery took place, was tapping sugar trees 
 all day. After going to bed a daughter was born 
 at 2 o'clock in the morning. At 10 o'clock the same 
 day she went out tapping trees again with her little 
 babe on her back. Chief Manadowabe's wife, Re- 
 becca by name, had been gathering rice away from 
 home. She was then heavy with pregnancy. Start- 
 ing on the way toward the village, returning with 
 a sack of wild rice on her back, when about a half 
 
 90
 
 a mile from home, she felt the symptoms of delivery. 
 Putting down the load near the road, she went a 
 little farther away among the bushes. Here, unat- 
 tended, the mother gave birth to her child. She 
 wrapped the new-born babe in her blanket, returned 
 to her load, and, placing it on her back, started again 
 for home. I and my wife were building a very large 
 wigwam when Rebecca reached us. We saw her 
 coming with a load-sack of rice and something under 
 her arm. My wife went and met her and took the 
 new-born babe, and all that day Rebecca was on her 
 feet to help us finish the wigwam. I called Dr. 
 Breck to come and see the new-born babe. 'Just 
 born two hours ago,' I said. 'Rebecca was all alone, 
 alone by herself,' said I. 'You don't say so!' says 
 he. 'Yes, alone.' 'Wonderful!' he said. 'Rebecca 
 did not stay long in bed — one or two weeks, like the 
 pale-face woman.' " 
 
 The same writer informs me that before the de- 
 livery the woman is given some medicine to insure 
 safe delivery. 
 
 The husband is seldom, if ever, present unless in 
 an emergency where no woman can be found to as- 
 sist. Diseases peculiar to women are not common 
 among Indian women, but there are many native 
 medicines which are highly prized for the relief of 
 such troubles. Usually these remedies are admin- 
 istered through the friendly advice of some exper- 
 ienced women. Not infrequently in more difficult 
 cases aid is sought from the medicine man. There 
 are, however, in every tribe some women of reputa- 
 tion as "treaters," who undertake the treatment of 
 cases such as falling of the womb. In Indian women 
 from 30 to 40 years of age these displacements some- 
 
 91
 
 times are found. The clothes worn by women dur- 
 ing menstruation, or when suffering from disease of 
 genital organs, are burned. The Indian mother very 
 frequently wears a broad band around the waist be- 
 fore the child is born, and also a belt known as the 
 "squaw belt" during confinement. The cloth worn 
 as a napkin after confinement is also carefully burn- 
 ed. The after-birth, called by the Indians "cunoc," 
 together with the membranes and cord, are carried 
 away some distance and burned. After the birth of 
 the child the mother carefully washes it. The liga- 
 tion and care of the cord, or rather the stump, re- 
 ceive the most careful attention from her. 
 
 It is carefully anointed with an oil made anti- 
 septic (?) by the use of herbs gathered by the In- 
 dians for that purpose. After the stump has fallen 
 off the parts are washed and again anointed. Um- 
 bilical hernia among Indians is very rare. I have 
 never seen a case; neither can I find any report of 
 such an accident in the experience of other physi- 
 cians. 
 
 Dr. A. I. Comfort, Acting Assistant Surgeon, United 
 States Army, whose experience with Indian tribes 
 covers a period of not lesis than a quarter of a cen- 
 tury, and Mdiose contributions on aboriginal ar- 
 chaeological Indian mounds to the Smithsonian In- 
 stitution, as well as his valuable contributions to the 
 Army Medical Museum on Indian crania and skel- 
 etons, have given him such a wide reputation as an 
 investigator, writes me as follows: 
 
 "Among the Dakotas, Algonquins, Navajos, etc., 
 the age of Indian girls at the appearance of men- 
 struation is from 12 to 14, though it is modified by 
 climate, tribal habits and other causes. White girls 
 
 92
 
 at frontier posts on the prairies menstruate at an 
 early age. Diseases peculiar to the sex are, accord- 
 ing to my observation, uncommon among Indian 
 women — or, at least, they are not expected to, and 
 do not, complain. I once saw an Indian mother of 
 but 12 years of age. 
 
 "The occurrence of parturition rarely takes place 
 after 30, and I have no recollection of any case over 
 35 years of age. 
 
 "The mortality of parturient women among the 
 Indian tribes is, according to my observation, less 
 than among white women, though I have observed 
 no difference between them and half-breed women 
 subject to the same tribal .influences. I do not rec- 
 ollect having seen more than six children in one fam- 
 ily of Indians, and the number rarely exceeds four, 
 though where a plurality of wives exists each wife 
 may have four, rarely more. The Indian warrior 
 finds the exigencies of the chase a meagre support 
 for a large family; and the Indian women become 
 very expert abortionists, though they sometimes push 
 their remedies too far, and terminate their lives by 
 their rashness. 
 
 "Post-partum haemorrhage is, according to my 
 observation, rare. 
 
 "There is no systematic position assumed by In- 
 dian women during labor; they stand or walk, sit or 
 kneel, though in the second or third stage they pre- 
 fer a dorsal decubitus." 
 
 A fair description of parturition among Indian 
 women may be found in Clark and Lewis' Travels, 
 who describe the pregnant Indian women as falling 
 into labor while on the journey, leading the pony 
 attached to the travois. As the pains become un- 
 
 93
 
 bearable she transfers her charge to her husband, 
 runs to the river, gives birth to her child, washes 
 it, swathes it in swaddling clothes, and runs and 
 joins her husband, who has not halted in his journey. 
 
 In Bancroft's History of the United States, Vol. 
 II, pp. 420, you will find the following quotation: 
 *'In one quarter of an hour an Indian woman would 
 be merry in the house, delivered, and be merry 
 again; within two days abroad, and after four or 
 five days at work." 
 
 Dr. Carlos Montezuma, agency physician at the 
 Western Shoshone Agency, Nebraska, writes me that 
 the Piutes and Shoshone girls menstruate at the aver- 
 age age of 13 years. Some years ago while attend- 
 ing physician at the Indian Industrial School in 
 North Dakota, he found the average at menstrua- 
 tion among the Gros-Ventres and Arecharees and 
 Mandans as high as 15 years, while among the 
 Apaches of Arizona he estimates the average at 12 
 years. In his experience he finds that Indian girls 
 menstruate about one year earlier than white girls. 
 Concerning uterine diseases, displacements, etc., he 
 reports that in his experience these disorders are 
 more frequent than is generally understood. Owing 
 to timidity on the part of the women, digital exam- 
 inations are not allowed, and for this reason fewer 
 gynaecological cases are reported. The youngest 
 mother he ever attended was 15 years of age, and 
 the oldest 45. 
 
 ''The mortality among the Indian women during 
 childbirth is less than among their white sisters, 
 which is due to more perfect development of their 
 reproductive apparatus." The largest family of In- 
 dian children, he reports in his experience, is eight. 
 
 94
 
 Post-partum haemorrhage he reports as uncommon. 
 The position at confinement is that of squatting or 
 kneeling, in the majority of instances in the tribes 
 among whom he has been stationed. 
 
 Dr. Montezuma states that the Indian women tie 
 the cord twice — the first knot about four inches from 
 the navel, the second two inches — the point of sev- 
 erance between the two knots being close to the one 
 first tied. 
 
 Dr. George W. Era, a surgeon in the Indian Ser- 
 vice at Santee Agency, Nebraska, writes that his ex- 
 perience places the average age at menstruation in 
 Indian girls at 14 years. He does not find diseases 
 of women common among the full-blood Indian wo- 
 men. He attended one Indian woman in confinement 
 as young as 14, and another as old as 47. He finds 
 the mortality among full-blood Indian women very 
 much less than among half-breed or white women. 
 The largest number of children in any one family 
 in his experience has been sixteen. Post-partum 
 haemorrhage he has found a "very rare" complica- 
 tion. 
 
 With regard to the most common position at de- 
 livery he has observed that the kneeling position is 
 preferred by most Indian women ; they are taught to 
 kneel, bending forward over a chair or some other 
 firm support. The services of "pale-face doctors" 
 are seldom called for in normal labor, but "in cases 
 of complications or difficulty, when called, they al- 
 ways under my directions readily assume either the 
 left lateral or dorsal. ' ' They are ready to accept his 
 instructions as to the advantages of these posi- 
 tions over their own customs. 
 
 Dr. C. A. Wray, who has spent several years among 
 
 95
 
 the Yankton and Crow Creek Indians, and who is 
 at present surgeon at Yankton Indian Agency, writes 
 that the average age of Indian girls at the appear- 
 ance of menstruation is 16 years. He finds that 
 diseases peculiar to women are very infrequent 
 among the Indians. He has attended one Indian 
 mother at the early age of 15 years, and the oldest 
 parturient is one of 48 years of age. He concludes 
 that the mortality of Indian women at childbirth is 
 much less than that of half-breed or white women, 
 but post-partum haemorrhage he finds of not uncom- 
 mon occurrence. He reports one Indian mother who 
 had given birth to nineteen children. 
 
 Dr. A. E. Marden, surgeon in the United States 
 Indian service at the Mescalero Apache reservation. 
 New Mexico, writes that the average age of Indian 
 girls at the appearance of menstruation is 13 years. 
 He finds diseases of women very infrequent among 
 Indian women. The age of the youngest Indian 
 mother has been 14, and that of the oldest 44. The 
 mortality among Indian women is found markedly 
 less than that among half-breeds. Post-partum 
 haemorrhage he reports of uncommon occurrence. 
 The largest number of children in any one family 
 in his experience has been six. The position he finds 
 most common in delivery is that of squatting on the 
 hips. 
 
 ''Lusk's 'Science of Midwifery,' page 208, says, in 
 referring to Hold's method as recommended by 
 Olshausen : ' The patient should at the same time 
 be directed not to hold her breath during the pains, 
 except ivhen they are weak and powerle'ss.' We 
 would naturally infer from this that holding the 
 breath would increase the expulsive efforts. While 
 
 96
 
 Government physician at the White Earth reserva- 
 tion, Minnesota, I had several opportunities to notice 
 the management of labor among the Chippewa In- 
 dians, although the 'pale-face doctor' is rarely called 
 to attend such cases any more than the Indian 'Mus- 
 kee-kee-winnie' (medicine man). Hold's method re- 
 minds me of a practice which I have often witnessed 
 of the attendant Indian midwife placing the hand 
 almost violently on the mouth of the patient during 
 'the pains' whenever they seem to be 'good,' and 
 omitting to do so when they were weak and power- 
 less."* 
 
 -With regard to the posture of Indian women in 
 labor, I have found it to vary in almost every in- 
 stance. In Dr. Engelmann's work on Labor among 
 Primitive Peoples, he states that amongst United 
 States Indians the positions assumed in labor are 
 mostly kneeling, clinging to a tent-pole, the body 
 inclined forward, or to a rope or horizontal statf, 
 body inclined backwards, often squatting ; occasion- 
 ally sitting, semi-recumbent in the lap or on the 
 floor; semi-recumbent or kneeling erect; more rare- 
 ly recumbent ; standing erect, clinging to the neck 
 of an assistant ; tied to a tree or suspended, or in 
 the knee-chest position. Concerning the position as- 
 sumed in labor among the Chippewa Indians, Dr. 
 Engelmann states that "if the parturient is of the 
 wild or blanket Indians, a quantity of dry grass is 
 spread on the ground of the te-pee or house if they 
 have any. A pole, six to ten feet long and three to 
 four inches in diameter, is placed on the backs of 
 chairs or fixed across one corner of the room about 
 
 *From a paper by the writer iu the New York Medical 
 Journal, May, 1882. 
 
 97
 
 the height of a chair, behind which, with it across 
 her chest, the woman rests on her knees during the 
 pains, sitting down in the interval. Those who are 
 partly civilized assume a somewhat similar position, 
 but use straw overlaid by quilts and blankets." 
 
 Dr. Engelmann also states that the Chippewa 
 seems to draw horizontal!}^ from the cross-bar, and 
 not to rest herself or raise herself as do those Indians 
 who support themselves by staff or pole. This state- 
 ment, although in the main correct, gives a wrong 
 idea of the mechanism. The parturient Chippewa 
 rests upon the pole, and only incidentally draws 
 upon it, and for this very reason the pole is 
 carefully wound with many thicknesses of cloth. 
 Blankets are spread upon the floor upon which, in 
 the intervals, she rests. This is a customary posi- 
 tion for these people in labor, and such poles are 
 carefully cut and prepared for this purpose and are 
 retained as one of the household implements, and 
 are loaned from family to family as required. I 
 have found great difficulty in obtaining information 
 concerning midwifery among the Chippewas. The 
 Indians send for the government physician only in 
 rare cases, and they object to any kind of operative 
 interference except under the most urgent necessity. 
 The midwives are exceedingly reticent and jealous 
 of what knowledge they possess, but they show very 
 keen interest in the pale-face doctors' methods of 
 procedure in labor, and are very intelligent critics. 
 I remember explaining to one Carl Braun's method 
 of lateral incisions in cases of impending rupture 
 of the perinaeum. To my surprise she seemed to 
 think it might be a very good idea. She expressed 
 great delight with my blunt, pointed bistoury, and 
 
 98
 
 seemed to comprehend how many hundreds of miles 
 I had brought it over the "Big Sea Water." 
 
 Rupture of the perinaeum seems to be a rare oc- 
 currence among the full-blood Indians, but among 
 the half-breed women I understand it is becoming 
 quite common. The Chippewas have no reasonable 
 treatment for post-partum haemorrhage. They at- 
 tempt little to save the patient. Upon my question- 
 ing my attendant, who had been in charge of a young 
 woman who had bled to death after labor, she in- 
 formed me that if the primitive methods they had 
 used could not save her, she supposed nothing could 
 be done. I mentioned this case to the head chief, a 
 very intelligent man, and he expressed his regret 
 that I had not been called in time to save the life of 
 the young woman. At a council of the Indians held 
 shortly afterward he urgently advised them to send 
 for the pale-face doctor in cases of emergency. He 
 acknowledged that our art was superior to their own 
 old-fashioned ways. He recognized the fact that the 
 Indians were dying off too fast, and that it was well 
 worth while to do everything possible to save life. 
 
 "Commonly labor is conducted most privately and 
 quietly; the Indian squaw is wont to steal off into 
 the woods for her confinement. Alone or accompa- 
 nied by a female relative or friend she leaves the 
 village, as she feels the approach of labor, to seek 
 some retired spot; upon the bank of a stream is the 
 favorite place the world over, the vicinity of water, 
 moving water if possible, is sought, so that the young 
 mother can bathe herself and her child, and return 
 to the village cleansed and purified when all is over. 
 This is true of the Sioux, the Comanches, the Son- 
 kawas, the Nez-Perces, the Apaches, the Cheyennes 
 and other of our Indian tribes. 
 
 99
 
 "The Chippewas, as well as the Winnebagos, also 
 follow this custom. The natives of the Caucasus, 
 the Dombars, and other tribes of Southern India, 
 those of Ceram, the inhabitants of Loango, of Old 
 Calabar, and many of the African races, are deliv- 
 ered in this quiet way; and the women are not only 
 kept apart from their husbands and the villagers 
 during their confinement, but for weeks afterward. 
 The reason why we know so little of Indian labor 
 is the great secrecy which they observe regarding 
 such matters, and their extreme reluctance to speak 
 to inquisitive whites of these subjects which are to 
 them enshrouded in a veil of superstition and mys- 
 tery. Some of the Sioux tribes, the Blackfeet and 
 the Uncapapas, are in the habit of arranging a sep- 
 arate lodge, generally a temporary one, for the oc- 
 casion, as also do the Klamaths, the Utes and others. ' ' 
 
 As soon as the Indian baby is born it is placed in 
 a coffin-shaped receptacle, where it passes nearly the 
 whole of the first year of its existence, being taken 
 out only once or twice a day for washing or change 
 of clothing. This clothing is of the most primitive 
 character, the baby being simply swaddled in a 
 dressed deerskin or piece of thick cotton cloth, which 
 envelops the whole body below the neck. The out- 
 side of the cradle varies with the wealth or taste of 
 the mother, scarcely two being exactly alike. Some 
 are elaborately ornamented with furs, feathers and 
 bead-work, others are perfectly plain. Whatever the 
 outside, the cases themselves are nearly the same. 
 A piece of dried buffalo hide is cut into proper shape, 
 then turned on itself, and the front fastened to a 
 board, or in the most approved cradles, to two nar- 
 row pieces of board joined in the form of an X. 
 
 100
 
 It forms a real "nest of comfort;" and as the 
 Indians are not "sticklers" on the score of cleanli- 
 ness, it is the very best cradle that they could adopt. 
 To the board or boards is attached a strap, which 
 passed over the head, rests on the mother's chest and 
 shoulders, leaving the arms free. When about the 
 lodge the mother stands the cradle in some out-of-the- 
 way corner, or in fine weather against a tree; or if 
 the wind is blowing fresh it is hung to a branch, 
 where it fulfils all the promise of the nursery rhyme. 
 When the baby is ten months to a year old it is re- 
 leased from its confinement, and for a year or two 
 more of its life takes its short journeys on its moth- 
 er's back in a simple way. It is placed well up on 
 her back between the shoulders; the blanket is then 
 thrown over both, and being drawn tightly at the 
 front of her neck by the mother, leaves a fold behind 
 in which the little one rides securely and apparently 
 without the slightest inconvenience to either rider 
 or ridden. I have seen a Nez Perce woman play a 
 vigorous game of ball with a baby on her back. * 
 
 The stature of the Indian woman is usually short ; 
 a well-built, sturdy frame, capable of incessant toil 
 and able to endure great fatigue. The shoulders are 
 broad, the arms long, and the hips large, suggesting 
 a capacious pelvis. The whole bearing is one of for- 
 titude, perseverance and unflagging devotion to 
 womanly duty. When we consider how severe is 
 their life, how uninterrupted their toil, we are 
 amazed that their womanly functions do not break 
 down under the strain of maternity and child-nurs- 
 
 *The above is taken from "Our Wild Indians," written by 
 Colonel Richard I. Dodge, United States Army, and is a truth- 
 ful description. 
 
 101
 
 ing. Diseases peculiar to women are rare among 
 them. "Their theory of disease is that it all resides 
 in the blood; to prove this they always recite the 
 fact that the blood always collects underneath a 
 bruise and makes it dark ; also the fact that drawn 
 blood coagulates, hence their favorite remedy was 
 scarification with small flints." (Dr. Powell, "Con- 
 tributions to N. A. Ethnology," Vol. III). 
 
 The use of inunction with oil by Indian midwives 
 is quite common. A drink made from a root steeped 
 in hot water to encourage easy and quick delivery 
 is in use among the O jib ways. 
 
 The "squaw belt" is a broad bandage of buckskin 
 or of some firm material, more or less ornamented. 
 These belts or bandages are made use of just before, 
 during, and after delivery. Dr. Engelmann states 
 that "among many people there is a certain time of 
 rest and isolation, which is governed more partic- 
 ularly by their religious belief of their uncleanliness. 
 The puerpera is said to be unclean during the time 
 succeeding delivery as she is during menstruation." 
 
 Dr. Fields states concerning the treatment of the 
 puerperal state that "it is not alike in all the tribes. 
 Some require the woman to keep on her feet the 
 greater part of the day, taking short walks around 
 the camp, and resting only when she becomes very 
 weary ; for a period of three or four days the woman 
 continues these walks, with an occasional hour in a 
 reclining posture to rest her feet; then she is con- 
 sidered well. The object of this is to facilitate the 
 flow of the lochia ; they think that should the woman 
 lie in bed the blood would accumulate in the ab- 
 dominal cavity, and she must die." Among many 
 of the Indian tribes both mother and child receive a 
 
 102
 
 cold water bath; invariably the child is bathed im- 
 mediately after delivery and then secured in its 
 pappoose holder. 
 
 That the robust condition and easy mode of child- 
 bearing are rapidly disappearing from even the full- 
 blood Indian women there can be no doubt. The 
 bed has taken the place of the blanket or the pallet 
 of straw, and the "puerperal state" that of the ready 
 condition for renewed toil immediately after child- 
 birth. The daughters and granddaughters of these 
 sturdy aboriginal matrons consult the pale-face doc- 
 tor, and are rapidly acquiring the methods of pale- 
 face women. We can do little to prevent this evo- 
 lution. One great stumbling-block toward success 
 in this direction is the present physical condition of 
 the Indians. From an out-of-door life of activity 
 with plenty of fresh game and wholesome food and 
 clear water, with a healthful te-pee for home, the 
 change has been made to log cabins with overheated, 
 close air. Poor food, with flour and salted meat of 
 inferior quality, is mostly what is found in the mod- 
 ern Indian home. In exchange for an active life 
 there is much of idleness and indoor confinement. 
 Instead of being taught how to cook good, whole- 
 some food, and to make the home healthy, happy and 
 attractive, embroidery, poetry, music, sentimental 
 and religious readings are given too much place. 
 These efforts often made in so-called Indian edu- 
 cation are certainly ill-advised. Partly on this ac- 
 count the naturally robust constitution is deteriorat- 
 ing, and miscarriages and diseases peculiar to women 
 are noticeably increasing, to the surprise and dis- 
 gust of the Indian mothers and grandmothers. The 
 changes made are too sudden and too radical — cer- 
 
 103
 
 tainly they are not rational — and the inevitable re- 
 sult i8 just what might be expected — very general 
 failure. 
 
 We find just such errors in the education of the 
 colored people. Instead of teaching them first to 
 earn an honest living, as our fathers did, by toil and 
 physical labor, these misguided philanthropists wish 
 to make "exhibition pupils" of them. If hygiene 
 and manual labor could be looked after more care- 
 fully, then might follow the cultivation of the arts. 
 It seems neither right nor wise to begin with em- 
 broidery and music in the education of an Indian 
 girl, when kitchen and housework is so often totally 
 neglected. The Indian, like the white man, should 
 work his way up from the lower round of the lad- 
 der; and unless this be the method, disaster is cer- 
 tain to follow. 
 
 Under these circumstances, is it at all to be won- 
 dered at that, mentally and physically, so many of 
 our Indians are degenerating? For the Indian, as 
 well as for any one else, idleness can act only as a 
 serious injury. To be sure, it is very difficult to find 
 suitable teachers imbued alike with a sincere interest 
 for their welfare and at the same time possessing 
 ordinary common sense. Whether it be wise to stuff 
 the Indian head with book learning at the expense 
 of his bodily health is a question which many good 
 people seem to differ upon very decidedly. The good 
 people in charge of Indian training can hardly be 
 accused of insincerity or of intentional neglect of 
 the physical vigor of the Indian children; but it is 
 beyond peradventure that a visit to any of our In- 
 dian schools will convince one that the wholesale 
 ignoring of the laws of nature must end only in 
 
 104
 
 physical injury, if not in gjeneral impairment of the 
 bodies of the children. 
 
 The Cheyennes and Arrapahoes have a curious cus- 
 tom which also obtains, though to a limited extent, 
 among other of the Plains tribes. No unmarried 
 woman considers herself dressed to meet her lover 
 at night, to go to a dance or other gathering, unless 
 she has tied her lower limbs with a rope, in such a 
 way, however, as not to interfere with her powers 
 of locomotion; and every married woman does the 
 same before going to bed when her husband is ab- 
 sent. Custom has made this an almost perfect pro- 
 tection against the brutality of the men. Without 
 it she would not be safe an instant; and even with 
 it an unmarried girl is not safe if found alone away 
 from the immediate protection of her lodge. A 
 Cheyenne woman, either married or single, is never 
 seen alone. The sale of a wife is not unusual, though 
 becoming less so every year. The Indians are very 
 fond of children and anxious to have as many as 
 possible. Should the wife not bear a child in a rea- 
 sonable time she is liable to be sold. * 
 
 My experience with the Indians has been that ex- 
 cept in the vicinity of military garrisons very little 
 of acute venereal disease is to be found. For six 
 months the hospital returns showed no cases of vene- 
 real disease treated at White Earth reservation. 
 The record was broken at the end of that time by 
 the return of a half-breed from the settlement with 
 a case of acute gonorrhoea. The native Indian wo- 
 men are virtuous and faithful to their lovers and 
 husbands. Adultery is severely punished and is 
 
 •Colonel Dodge in "Our Wild Indians." 
 105
 
 commonly condemned. Bastardy is a crime even 
 among Indians, and the reproach is an everlasting 
 disgrace. It is safe to say that the standard of vir- 
 tue is as high among the Chippewas as among their 
 pale-face sisters. "The green-eyed monster is to be 
 found in te-pee as well as in palace." 
 
 Colonel Dodge has translated a Cheyenne woman's 
 song, which gives some insight into Indian ethnology : 
 
 "I will leave my husband, hah, ha, ha, ha, 
 
 ha, yo, O! 
 But attend to what I say to you, ha, ha, 
 
 ha, ha, yo! 
 You must be good to me, ha, ha, yo, e! 
 And not make love to other women, ha, yo, 
 
 ha, 0!" 
 
 To discard an old disagreeable wife for a young 
 and agreeable companion is not uncommon even 
 among good Indians. 
 
 To investigate the habits and customs of our native 
 North Americans is to demonstrate how closely al- 
 lied are the nations of the earth. We are forced to 
 concede that these people we regard as savages pos- 
 sess knowledge at least on matters of hygiene, if not 
 in medical art, quite worthy of attention. We can 
 find suggestions which may be useful in our profes- 
 sional work among more cultivated individuals. The 
 Indian woman in her humble sphere inspires even 
 in savage hearts the respect for womanhood and 
 motherhood which was once so prominently a type 
 of the honor and manhood of the ancient Romans, 
 and which is the natural characteristic of Anglo- 
 Saxons. The source from which our aborigines de- 
 rived their knowledge — it certainly seems more than 
 
 106
 
 mere instinct— must remain an unsolved riddle. We 
 have shown enough to suggest the remarkable sim- 
 ilarity in Indian customs to those of the ancient laws 
 of the Israelites. Possibly the theory that our In- 
 dians are remnants of "the lost tribes" may be a 
 reasonable one. The reverence universally exhibited 
 among Indians at the mention of the name of the 
 Great Spirit— the bowed head and the open extend- 
 ed palms of the hands— is certainly very suggestive ; 
 when we add to this the laws governing uncleanness 
 we are forced to wonder at the coincidence. 
 
 Whether so or not, we certainly can discover in 
 our aborigines traits that are worthy of our esteem, 
 and characteristics worthy of our sincere regard. 
 
 107
 
 THE MUSKEE-KEE WIN-NI-NEE. 
 
 The Medicine-Man of the North American In- 
 dians. 
 
 The medicine-man among all North American In- 
 dians is a person of conspicuous importance, as he 
 is supposed to possess control over mysterious agen- 
 cies, and to be endowed with powers well-nigh super- 
 natural. He is believed to be not only under the 
 influence of spirits of great power, but to have more 
 or less control over them, compelling their aid for 
 weal or woe, upon friend or enemy. He is also sup- 
 posed to be able to interpret signs of major or minor 
 import, and to foretell the severity or mildness of ap- 
 proaching seasons, and the appropriateness of time 
 for expeditions concerned in the chase, or in war. 
 
 These doctors, magicians, prophets, dreamers, or 
 whatever the medicine-man may be conceived to be, 
 are prepared for their skilful profession only after 
 long and arduous training. The tests necessary for 
 recognition as skilful and responsible practitioners 
 are often very severe and exacting, requiring physi- 
 cal endurance and bravery of no mean order. These 
 ordeals or tests when completed endow the medicine- 
 man with magical and mysterious powers of cure and 
 prophecy, acknowledged by all the tribes. 
 
 Oftentimes the renown of these men will have 
 
 108
 
 spread among other tribes and even among other 
 nations, Indians making long journeys to consult and 
 listen to the distinguished Shaman. Young men who 
 are seeking to become great prophets travel far for 
 the instruction of those celebrated in the mythical 
 arts; but such instances are by no means common, 
 as each tribe has its own system of arriving at results. 
 
 The medicine-lodge is believed by many to be the 
 actual habitation of the Great Spirit ; it is as it were 
 their tabernacle, or Sacred Ark in the wilderness. 
 Col. Inman in his Salt Lake Trail thus describes the 
 inliuence of the medicine-lodge : 
 
 "When the prophecies of these medicine-men fail, 
 the Indians attribute it to some neglect of the in- 
 structions imparted, and not to any deficiency in 
 their medicine-man; but when success occurs, great 
 is the honor bestowed upon their prophet. Their 
 confidence in these medicine-men is really remark- 
 able." 
 
 The Indian believes in the inunortality of the soul, 
 and in his dreams and in the semi-delirium of sick- 
 nesses or accidents gains an insight into future mys- 
 teries, and has glimpses of the beauties and happi- 
 ness of the life to come. It is not to be wondered at 
 therefore that to his prophets he attributes great 
 discernment in these and all other matters of impor- 
 tance. 
 
 Among the jib ways the commonest form of greet- 
 ing is Bo-zho-nee-chee. Bo-zho is undoubtedly a 
 corruption of the French, Bon jour, which thick- 
 mouthed French voyageurs have repeated in the 
 hearing of Indians ; and so after centuries the words 
 Bo-zho have become almost universal among Algon- 
 (piin Indians, or those living along the Great Lakes 
 
 109
 
 and upon the Mississippi, Missouri, and Ohio rivers. 
 So early trappers witnessed the wonderful influence 
 of the medieine-men and also saw that these posses- 
 sors of supernatural powers made use of it in heal- 
 ing diseased bodies, as well as in controlling the mind 
 and spirit. They therefore called these men mede- 
 cin, or doctor. 
 
 From calling them doctor or medecin it was an 
 easy transition to call their power by the same name, 
 and the similiarity in sounds of the English and the 
 French words made the term readily adapted by 
 the English-speaking people. So at last mcdicine- 
 man came to mean the man having mysterious pow- 
 er over medicine or magic or mysterious arts in 
 general ; and the medicine-man controlling the 
 medicine and some medicine being good, some evil, 
 certain things came to be called "good medicine" 
 or "bad medicine," and certain occurrences to be 
 "good medicine" or "bad medicine," in other words 
 "propitious" or "unpropitious. " 
 
 Traditions have also been in the keeping, as it 
 were, of the medicine-men. Colonel Inman, in his 
 Salt Lake Trail, mentions that the Indians of North 
 America or most of them have a tradition of a great 
 flood or deluge which occurred ages ago. While on 
 the expedition of General Carr, in 1869, when Buf- 
 falo Bill (Cody) was Chief of Scouts, a member of 
 the command brought into camp a huge bone. The 
 surgeon of the expedition examined it and said it 
 certainly must be an enormous femur or thigh bone. 
 The Indians agreed with this theory, but claimed it 
 had belonged to one of the giants which inhabited 
 the earth many generations back. One of the med- 
 icine-men present thus explained the prodigious size 
 
 110
 
 of this apparently human bone. "A long time 
 ago," said he, "the earth was peopled by warriors 
 of gigantic stature. These Indians were huge 
 enough to walk beside the buffalo and lift them up 
 and carry them under their arms as a man would a 
 pet dog. These warriors became so powerful that 
 at last they dared to defy the Great Spirit! This 
 angered the Creator and He ordered the rain to 
 come. It poured so continuously that all the rivers 
 over-flowed their banks, and the prairies became sub- 
 merged. The Indians in terror fled to the hills 
 and then the waters rose upon them there. At 
 last they climbed the highest peak of the Rockies, 
 but go where they would the Great Father's ven- 
 geance followed them and engulfed them all. Then 
 the earth became silent, and when the last of the 
 waters had receded and all was dry and fair again, 
 the Mighty Creator sent a new race, the size of men 
 we now see, not over six and a half feet tall. These 
 people would not defy the Great Spirit, but taught 
 their children to call Him Great Father and to wor- 
 ship Him for His goodness and implore His help 
 and protection and His blessing. The Great Father 
 knows the hearts and minds of His children and those 
 who love Him He blesses." 
 
 The Indian medicine-man never teaches disrespect 
 toward or rebellion against the Great Father, neither 
 does he count his art as wonderful in the sight of 
 the Creator of all men and all things. 
 
 The religion of the Indians promises nothing for 
 the next world, having no reference to it, but helps 
 to prolong life here. The Christian religion is con- 
 sidered greatly inferior, as its promises are for the 
 future life. 
 
 Ill
 
 The ceremony of the Grand Medicine is an elabo- 
 rate ritual, covering several days, the endless num- 
 ber of gods and spirits being called upon to minister 
 to the sick man and to lengthen his life. The sev- 
 eral degrees of the Grand Medicine teach the use of 
 incantations, of medicines and poisons, and the re- 
 quirements necessary to constitute a Brave. "When 
 a young man seeks admission to the Grand Medicine 
 Lodge, he first fasts until he sees in his dream some 
 animal (the mink, beaver, otter, and fisher being 
 most common) which he hunts and kills. The skin 
 is then ornamented with beads or porcupine quills, 
 and the spirit of the animal becomes the friend and 
 companion of the man." The medicine-men have 
 only a limited knowledge of herbs, but they are ex- 
 pert in dressing wounds, and the art of extracting 
 barbed arrows from the fiesli can be learned from 
 them. 
 
 "After going through with certain incantations, 
 the Grand-Medicine-man tells his patient that his 
 pain is caused by a bear or some other animal, which 
 is gnawing at the vitals. He makes a most infernal 
 noise in order to drive the spirit away, and if the 
 patient recovers, he accredits it to his own skill; if 
 death follows, he falls back upon the plea so often 
 used by his white brother, ' I was called too late ! ' 
 They make great gain out of the people and are their 
 counsellors in peace and war. They are bitter op- 
 ponents of Christianity. The venerable medicine- 
 man Shadayence was the most cunning antagonist 
 I ever had among the Indians. ' '* 
 
 In olden times, — yes, to within the memory of liv- 
 
 *From Bishop Whipple's Autobiography, "Lights and 
 Shadows of a Long Episcopate." 
 
 112
 
 ing jib ways, — the medicine-man at the funeral cer- 
 emony thus addressed the departed: "Dear friend, 
 you will not feel lonely while pursuing your jour- 
 ney towards the setting sun. I have killed for you 
 a Sioux (hated enemy of the Ojibways), and I have 
 scalped him. He will accompany you and provide 
 for you, hunting your food as you need it. The 
 scalp I have taken, use it for your moccasins." 
 
 And yet in spite of these apparently heathenish 
 rites, the Indian is never an atheist; always bending 
 humbly in recognition of the Great Spirit, the Heav- 
 enly Father, the Creator of all things and all men, 
 ' ' Geechee Manito, ' ' Great Sprit, whom we in English 
 call the Almighty God. 
 
 The Muskee-kee win-ni-nee or medicine-man is 
 quite a different individual from the priest or proph- 
 et or magician. The Indian doctor is very skilful 
 in curing simple ailments. Their remedies are cath- 
 artics, sweating medicineg, expectoranta or cou#i, 
 and lung remedies; diuretics, remedies acting on the 
 kidneys, emetics to produce vomiting; remedies for 
 inflammation of mucous surfaces, bladder, etc., alter- 
 atives to eradicate diseases, bitter herbs for tonics, 
 and soporifics, narcotics, etc., to induce sleep; oint- 
 ments, emulsions, lotions, teas, etc. When we con- 
 sider the Indian remedies, it makes quite a phar- 
 macopoeia and dispensatory. Then the Indians pos- 
 sess very strict rules concerning the management of 
 women in their natural ailments, and unlike the 
 Africans, our Redmen, native Americans, are a clean, 
 orderly people and worthy of respect. In matters 
 relating to hydrotherapy they exeel. No one can 
 give better sweatings. 
 
 Down by one of the sweat lodges a woman is kind- 
 
 US
 
 ling fires and heating the stones in the centre of the 
 lodge and outside. She covers the frame with robes 
 or skins so as to keep the heat in. A bucket of water 
 stands near the fire. Soon half a dozen young men 
 come to the place and following them the medicine- 
 man. The young men drop their blankets and crawl 
 into the sweat lodge; they are naked as they creep 
 beneath the coverings. The medicine-man starts his 
 "Iloyhey, Hoyhey, Hoyhey,"* and sings his sacred 
 songs. The woman passes a vessel into the sweat 
 house; the water hisses as it falls on the hot stones, 
 and steam creeps forth from the crevices in the cov- 
 erings. At length after a longer or shorter exposure 
 to the steam heat, the men creep out, rise, and all wet 
 with perspiration rush down to the stream and 
 plunge into the cold water. This is the famous In- 
 dian sweat bath, cleansing, invigorating, almost stim- 
 ulating. The patient feels refreshed and like a new 
 man. It is primitive, but it is effective. 
 
 And last but not least, these medicine-men are 
 skilled in counter-irritation for the treatment and 
 cure of various disorders. 
 
 *The word "hoyhey" is hard to spell in English; perhaps 
 "y^(7j'-ee" would be more explanatory. In the matter of cathar- 
 tics the Indians outdo their pale-face friends in the abuse and 
 excess of these remedies. They require large doses and as 
 every treatment is preceded by purgings, some attribute their 
 mortality from consumption to be due to this over-dosing. 
 It is more likely, however, that the change from well-ventilated 
 teepees to close cabins, and from open wood fires to overheated 
 iron stoves, and from venison, prairie chicken, and ground 
 corn cooked in open fireplaces, to the doughy flour bread 
 baked in stoves, that this is due. The borders of the lakes 
 where camps and cabins have long been established become 
 foul and unhealthy, and the pure water they have been used 
 to has failed. Change of habits and the infrequency of the 
 healthful exercise of the hunt, also act against their once 
 rugged constitutions. 
 
 114
 
 As surgeons they excel in skilful bandaging, 
 splints, and other treatment of fractures ; in deform- 
 ities; in the treatment of snake, dog, wolf, and other 
 bites. They are adepts in extracting arrows and bul- 
 lets. Bishop Whipple once narrated to me how the 
 Indians remove an arrow-head. They take a willow 
 stick, cut it exactly in half by dexterously splitting 
 it, remove the pith and smoothing the ends insert 
 one above the superior flange of the arrow, the other 
 beneath, then bind the two together close to the 
 wound and cautiously remove all. 
 
 The Indian ambulance or travois is a remarkable 
 conveyance for carrying the wounded out of reach 
 of the battle, or for transporting him over long 
 marches to his home camp. The comfort of this 
 mode of conveyance is greater than would appear at 
 first sight. It is from witnessing this primitive 
 method among our Indians that American army sur- 
 geons have in frontier wars adopted this system and 
 called it the travois. 
 
 Where can you find among primitive peoples great- 
 er natural intelligence in all that pertains to every- 
 day life? In the manufacture of clothing, of tee- 
 pees or lodges, of arms, or ornaments fit for a prince 
 to wear? In point of fact, the clothing of a well- 
 to-do Indian squaw, of which the dress of the wife 
 of the Ute chief Uray would be an excellent example, 
 is often quite valuable, ranging anywhere from fifty 
 to one hundred and fifty dollars. The bead orna- 
 ments are skilfully and beautifully made, handsome 
 specimens readily bringing in our eastern stores 
 from ten to seventy-five dollars. The decorated otter 
 and mountain-lion skins and the well-known buffalo 
 hides are highly prized. The skins used for the tee- 
 
 115
 
 pees or lodges are most carefully tanned and prepared 
 by squaws. Moccasins, pouches, rifle-cases, knife- 
 scabbards, and quirts, are well made and command 
 high prices. All these beautiful things, together with 
 pipes, silver ornaments, precious stones, and ores, nug- 
 gets of gold, are freely given to the medicine-man 
 for his professional fees, or as a reward from "grate- 
 ful patients" for some extraordinary success in 
 "cure." The ordinary fee for the Muskee-kee win- 
 ni-nee is in yards of calico, so many for each con- 
 sultation. 
 
 The grand-medicine-lodge is usually an unroofed 
 structure. An excellent picture of the open struc- 
 ture appeared in The Oi)cn Court, in the article on 
 "The Cross Among the North American Indians" 
 Vol. XIII., p. 302.). 
 
 The honor of grand-medicine is now and then con- 
 ferred upon "pale faces," and the writer received 
 this recognition from the Ojibways at White Earth 
 Reservation, in 1879. The initiation reminds one 
 who is a mason of the ceremonies in one of the blue- 
 lodge degrees, and certain mysterious signs have 
 stangely enough led masons to believe that our North 
 American Indians are not wholly unacquainted with 
 ancient rites closely resembling the masonry of early 
 times. 
 
 Among people so intelligent and so competent it 
 follows that much would be expected of the medi- 
 cine-man, occupying as he does a position of dignity 
 and influence and oftentimes of wealth. We cannot 
 study our aborigines in a spirit of fairness without 
 discovering among them characters which in old 
 Biblical times were regarded as "wise hearted" men. 
 The Indian in peace or in war is the true son of na- 
 
 116
 
 ture, a believer in God, a loving father, a devoted, 
 enduring friend, and a consistent enemy; in other 
 words, he is a true man. 
 
 117
 
 CONCERNING INDIAN BURIAL 
 CUSTOMS. 
 
 THE DEAD. 
 
 "Under the pure light of the stars 
 
 The dead sleep 
 Wrapped about in a silence unutterable, 
 The ages come and go, like a tale that is told 
 Time stretches out to the golden unbarred gate 
 
 Of eternity, 
 But the dead sleep on, sleep on." — Edgerton. 
 
 From the earliest times, among all races civilized 
 or savage, man has always cared for the remains of 
 his dead. Failure to do so is regarded as inhuman 
 and is promptly condemned. Numerous are the 
 rites employed in mourning, but nowhere can we 
 find evidences of greater respect and affection for 
 the dead than among our North American Indians. 
 
 There are those who seem inclined to find little 
 that is praiseworthy in the Indian character, but a 
 people with devoted love for their children, profound 
 religious respect for the Sacred Name, a reverence 
 for their dead and a sincere concern for their last 
 resting-places, certainly possess qualities which are 
 admirable and worthy of universal commendation. 
 All these honorable characteristics are true of our 
 North American Indians. 
 
 Among the O jib ways, particularly the Chippewas 
 at White Earth, Minnesota, the old-time heathen 
 rites have pretty nearly disappeared. These Chip- 
 
 118
 
 pewas are Christian Indians, intelligent and posses- 
 sing all the highest qualities of the red man with 
 much that is good and true which their paleface 
 friends have taught them. They do not practice 
 scaffold* or tree burial except at rare instances. 
 " Above-the-ground burial" is also practically un- 
 known to them. Their funerals are conducted with 
 solemnity and devotion, and the services at their 
 churches are remarkably pathetic and interesting, to 
 enable friends to look upon the grave and to make 
 offerings of food or flowers or any other thing they 
 may wish for the comfort or happiness of the de- 
 parted. 
 
 The Christian's grave-house is usually surmounted 
 by a cross. 
 
 Very often services in memory of the dead take 
 place with much of feasting and dancing, but these 
 latter are usually indulged in by the wild or so- 
 called "heathen" Indians.** 
 
 It is interesting to compare the burial of the fa- 
 mous Chippewa war-chief " Hole-in-the-Day, " who 
 died as he had lived an untamed Indian, with that 
 of the brave and good " Braveheart, " who on hisi 
 deathbed requested that a cross be placed upon his 
 breast and a large one above his grave, so that when 
 anyone should inquire what the signification of the 
 
 *Occasionally some heathen Indian will be buried upon a 
 scaffold. As late as 1889 Rev. Mr. Peake saw a scaffold burial 
 at Red L,ake Chippewa Reservation about one hundred miles 
 north of White Earth Reservation, Minnesota. 
 
 **The word heathen is a misnomer for any people who be- 
 lieve and reverence God whom they know as "Getche-Mani- 
 to," the Mighty, the Great Spirit. A people so deeply and 
 truly religious may not have received the light of Christianity, 
 but heathen they are not. 
 
 119
 
 cross might be, this shoukl be the answer : ' ' Tell him 
 that beneath that cross rests the remains of Brave- 
 heart, who believes in the white man's Saviour." 
 
 In 1879 the flags still waved over the grave of the 
 murdered Hole-in-the-Day to signify that up to that 
 time his friends had not yet avenged his cruel death. 
 A more restful picture is the following, which I 
 was privileged to witness: One afternoon the bell of 
 St. Columba's (a wooden church it was then) was tol- 
 ling, Indians were gathering in the building and a 
 two-wheel ox-cart was being slowly driven up the 
 hill. The cart contained a plain board coffin, with- 
 in it the mortal remains of a young Indian wife. 
 The driver, strange to state, was the husband, and 
 his grief and sorrow were genuine beyond a doubt. 
 Friends helped him bring the remains within the 
 church porch, and the beloved Indian priest Emmen- 
 gahbowh, of the "Episcopal" communion, met the 
 corpse at the door. "I am the resurrection and the 
 life" came forth the solemn words in clear Ojibway 
 as the funeral procession passed up the aisle of the 
 church. The sweet voices of the Indians with the 
 organ accompaniment sang the old hymn "Jesus 
 Lover of My Soul," and others just as pathetic. 
 The service concluded, the silent Indians with moc- 
 casined feet passed by the rude coffin to take a last 
 fond look at the dead. Then took place a curious 
 ceremony. The lid of the coffin was only lightly 
 held in pla.ce by nails which had been withdrawn 
 to permit the "last look." A friend handed the 
 sad husband a hammer, he drove in the nails way 
 home with sturdy blows, the sacred building re- 
 sounding with the noise and with the sobs of the 
 bereaved friends. Then tenderly the bearers carried 
 
 120
 
 the coffin into the churchyard. The procession 
 wound its way by graves and the grave-houses 
 till it reached the open grave for this new arrival. 
 Great branches of pine and fir covered the ground 
 and lined the last ,resting-place. Emmengahbowh 
 in priestly surplice read the committal service, and 
 then, while the voices of the Indians sang again a 
 sweet hymn, the body was gently and slowly lowered 
 to its resting-place. Broad strips of heavy bark 
 were placed over the coffin, and earth fell almost 
 silently while friends continued the sweet songs of 
 hope in the promises of the Saviour. What a picture 
 it was in the far-away Indian Reservation, this 
 Christian burial, this object lesson of love and duty 
 for Christ's sake, this victory of the religion of 
 Jesus over the mummery and fierce orgies of heath- 
 enism. And yet as the hymn of faith continued, 
 as the sinking sun shone in the western sky, it 
 seemed as if these poor children were but voicing 
 the doom of "passing away" just as the sun was 
 sinking. The emblem of all these tribes of red men 
 is the setting sun. 
 
 Soon their race will be completed, soon the last 
 of them will have departed forever 
 
 " In the purple mists of evening, 
 To the Islands of the Blessed, 
 To the kingdom of Ponemah 
 To the land of the Hereafter." 
 The Chippewas bury their dead in almost any 
 convenient place, often directly in front of their 
 cabin door so that in stepping out one has almost 
 to step upon a grave. Before placing a body in 
 the grave, if no coffin has been provided, it is care- 
 fully wrapped in great pieces of birch bark such 
 
 121
 
 as they use in building their canoes and summer 
 camps, or it is enveloped in one or more of their 
 beautiful mats, of the finest texture obtainable. 
 Over the grave a long low house is built, about two 
 feet high, and under the front or western gable a 
 little square window is placed. 
 
 "The old heathen burial customs of my own 
 people," writes that old hero and Indian Saint, 
 Emmengalibowh, "were that when one dies the body 
 is well dressed, combed well, the hair and face 
 painted, a new blanket wrapped around his body, 
 a new shirt and leggings and a new coat put on him 
 and new moccasins, everything in wearing apparel 
 all well provided. This being done, well prepared 
 to take the body to the grave already prepared, 
 when the body is put down to the ground, a gun, 
 powder horn and war club or tomahawk, scalping 
 knife, small kettle, and small dish and spoon, and 
 fire-making implements are among the things put 
 in with the body into the ground. As they are tak- 
 ing out the body from the wigwam the Grand Medi- 
 cine Man sings a devil song beating the drum as 
 they bear the body away towards the grave. The 
 body is all covered and just before another song, 
 one of the braves arises on his feet and says: 'My 
 friend, you will not feel lonely while pursuing your 
 journey toward the setting sun; I have killed 
 a Sioux (hereditary enemies of the Ojibways) and 
 scalped him, he will accompany you, and the scalp 
 I have taken, use it for your moccasin.' The Grand 
 Medicine Man then says after covering the grave: 
 'Do not look back, but look towards your journey, 
 towards the setting sun. Let nothing disturb you 
 or cause you to look away from your path. Go in 
 
 122
 
 peace.' Then another medicine man and all the 
 medicine men speak thus : ' I walk peacefully, I walk 
 on peacefully, for my long journey of life, soon to 
 reach the end of my journey, soon to reach my 
 friends who have gone before me.' The song com- 
 pleted, all the grand medicine men with one loud 
 voice cry out: 
 
 ' Meh-ga-kuh-nuh 
 Meh-ga-huh-nuh (amen-amen).' 
 
 Then all disperse and the weird and melancholy 
 and wonderfully pathetic ceremony is completed." 
 
 What ritual in any other tongue could be more 
 appropriately funereal or more typical of future 
 life beyond the grave? Surely Christianity need not 
 wait long with the precious message for which these 
 our noble aborigines seem more than ready. 
 
 Emmengahbowh also writes me that, "When a 
 great warrior is killed in battle and while the battle 
 is raging, the hottest battle, the battle ceases at 
 once. The warrior is carried away from the battle- 
 field to a short distance. Here the warriors are 
 making preparations to dress him in style with all 
 his best clothing they could find. First washed his 
 face and combed his hair, hair braided down to his 
 shoulders, painted his face with red paint, a new 
 shirt, a new coat and new leggings put on it. A 
 new blanket wrapped about him and a beautiful sash 
 around his waist. This being done and completed 
 he is taken to the battle-field and placed him on the 
 most conspicuous place and position and always pre- 
 ferred to find a high knoll. Here he is placed in a 
 sitting position. A gim placed before him in the 
 attitude of shooting, a war club and scalping knife 
 put on about him. Feathers on his head waving 
 
 123
 
 beautifully, each feather indicates a scalp taken in 
 battle. This being done, sometimes the warriors 
 watched the body one or two days. The enemy 
 knows it well that a great warrior had been slain 
 in battle and they know it well too that they would 
 not carry him away. Must be buried near about 
 the battle-field or may be found in sitting posture. 
 Sure enough finding him in sitting posture. Here 
 the warriors with all the swiftness they can com- 
 mand run. The fast runner of course touches the 
 head first and count one of the highest trophy 
 among the heathen warriors, and counted a feather 
 for his head." 
 
 Occasionally as of old the Chippewas bury their 
 dead in a strong box placed in public view upon 
 a scaffold, with four strong posts. Many moons 
 come and go before the graves are neglected. Every 
 now and then the best cooked food is brought that 
 the faithful friends can obtain. These offerings 
 are reverently laid upon grave or coffin. When 
 the Indian reaches his final destiny in the "happy 
 hunting grounds," his life is perfectly secure and 
 his everlasting felicity assured. "It is not true 
 that the Ojibways believe in transmigration, neith- 
 er do I know of any tribe which does," says good 
 old Emmengahbowk. ' ' Transmigration of souls from 
 men to animals! No such horrible faith entertained 
 by my people. Some pale-faces may believe it!" 
 
 Emmengahbowk has faithfully taught his beloved 
 Chippewas the creed of the pale-face teachers, the 
 good Bishop Whipple has sent to them, not the least 
 of which is, I believe, "in the resurrection of the 
 dead." 
 
 A very interesting letter from the Rev. Mr. Peake, 
 
 124
 
 for some time a missionary among the Ojibways, con- 
 tains the following: 
 
 "I myself first observed the Indian life while I 
 was a student at Nashotah (Wisconsin), seeing some 
 families (Chippewas) as they went through the 
 state gipsy-like in 1852. 
 
 "In 1853 I saw the Oneidas at Duck Creek and 
 preached to them through an interpreter, meeting 
 also some of the Mohawks. In 1856 I saw the 
 Sioux and Winnebagoes of the Minnesota River Val- 
 ley. In 1856 I went with my bride (Miss Augusta 
 Parker of Delhi, N. Y.) to live among the Ojibways 
 or Chippewas at Gull Lake, and was with them as 
 their missionary at Gull Lake and Crow Wing for 
 six years, and during the Sioux outbreak of 1862." 
 Concerning the mortuary customs Mr. Peake writes: 
 "In winter when the ground is frozen the northern 
 tribes, among whom I served, wrap up their dead 
 in the furs of animals and place them in the 
 branches of high trees." Mr. Peake saw them so 
 placed in January, 1856, on the right bajik of the 
 Minnesota river on his first trip up the valley. ''I 
 have seen similar placing of the dead on a high 
 scaffold or platform at Red Lake (Chippewa Agen- 
 cy, Minnesota) as late as 1889." Usually they 
 (the Chippewas) bury their dead in the ground 
 and wrap them in cotton or such other cloth as they 
 may have. The body is carefully covered with birch 
 bark in wide strips. Over the grave they usually 
 build a roof of boards if they can obtain the neces- 
 sary lumber. Just below the gable they have a little 
 open window in the front which stands towards the 
 west (the setting sun). "At the open window they 
 deposit food for the departed spirits which soon 
 
 125
 
 disappears, and it is supposed to have afforded nour- 
 ishment for the dead upon their journeyings. " Mr. 
 Peake has noted these graves also at Gull Lake and 
 at Crow Wing. 
 
 A letter from the Crow Agency, Montana, informs 
 me that the Crows bury their dead with the feet 
 toward the rising sun. Several valuable illustrations 
 of mortuary customs peculiar to this interesting 
 race of aborigines are presented herewith. 
 
 From the Rev. A. B. Clark, missionary at the 
 Rosebud Agency (Sioux), information with inter- 
 esting illustrations has been received. 
 
 Mr. Clark states that when an Indian is thought 
 to be dying his hair is combed and oiled and dressed 
 as nicely as possible, the face is painted with Vermil- 
 lion and a new suit of clothing is provided if pos- 
 sible, consisting of blanket, leggings, moccasins, etc. 
 All this may be attended to hours or even days be- 
 fore death actually occurs. The bodies of the dead 
 are not washed. After some "hours, or a day's 
 time, the body is borne to a platform or to a high 
 hill-top, or, in case of a little child, to a large tree, 
 where it is placed in the branches. Occasionally a 
 child's body was laid in the river-side. The body 
 was usually wrapped in a parfieche case or a home- 
 tanned rol)e or skin, the best to be had at the time, 
 when placed on platform or hill or in tree, etc. 
 Immediately on being placed for its final rest the 
 ghost must be fed. So a kettle of coffee or tea and 
 a dish of meat and other foods were placed beneath 
 or beside the body. The bag of tobacco and pipe 
 were not omitted. Wliatcver fine clothing, ouna- 
 ments, weapons, or furnishings the deceased had 
 highly esteemed, must go Avith the body. The fa- 
 
 126
 
 vorite pony, too, must be killed beside the body of 
 the dead." 
 
 "There was one case in which the Indians always 
 buried the dead: When two people of the same 
 camp, neighbors or relatives, quarrelled and one was 
 killed the dead was buried face down and with a 
 piece of fat between the teeth, otherwise, they said, 
 all the game would be scared out of the country. 
 As the Indians became Christianized these customs 
 change or are dropped, though progress that way 
 is slow. On the death of a friend all begin mourn- 
 ing. The hair is cut short at the neck. Both men 
 and women slash their bodies and limbs with knives 
 and often put sticks or thongs through the wounds 
 as in the old sun-dance ceremony. The mourners, 
 the chief ones, go off to the hill-tops and mourn, 
 perhaps for days. Christian Indians now dress in 
 black, bury dead as we do in graves, buying 
 coffins or getting them in some way and form, but 
 as yet have not wholly given up the formal 
 mourning at the graves on the hill-top. There is 
 a custom which they call 'Keeping the Ghost.' If 
 a man is very ambitious to be accounted thereafter 
 a good and just man he takes some little article, a 
 ring, a lock of hair, etc., which belonged to the de- 
 ceased relative and wraps it up like a little mummy, 
 binds it to a stick and plants it near his door. lie 
 keeps the ground swept about it and frequently 
 places food and tobacco there, no matter who helps 
 the ghost dispose of these things. He now also 
 gathers horses and other property for the Ghost- 
 lodge which he will set up after a year or so for 
 a grand feast and give-away to all comers. After 
 the affair of the Ghost-lodge this man must be care- 
 
 127
 
 ful in words and deeds to sustain his reputation 
 as a just and good man which he has thus built up 
 for himself." 
 
 Mr. Clark writes further, that there are none of 
 the old-time "platform" or scaffold burial-places 
 near here. In some illustrations we may note the "in- 
 termediate stage," bodies placed in boxes of some 
 sort (in one case a trunk is shown.) These bodies 
 are left unburied at the "Place of the Ghosts." 
 Heavy stones are placed upon and around them to 
 prevent the wind and the wolves from disturbing 
 them. Mr. Clark writes: 
 
 "I have frequent appeals for lumber to make 
 plain coffins and most often decline giving aid for 
 want of one board to spare for the purpose. It 
 gives one a pang of regret when we see the body of 
 a child has been placed in a second-hand trunk or 
 that a lumber-wagon box has been made over into 
 a coffin for a Christian Indian rather than go back 
 to the old way." 
 
 "The Christian Indians frequently are found to 
 have placed the baptismal certificates, prayer-books 
 and hymnals in their children's coffins. As they 
 become able they buy tombstones to be erected at 
 the head of the graves." 
 
 In Colonel Inman's Great Salt Lake Trail is found 
 the following account of a funeral of a Bruhl In- 
 dian chief: 
 
 "The corpse of the deceased chief was brought 
 to the fort by his relatives with a request that the 
 whites should assist at his burial. A scaffold was 
 erected for the reception of the body which in the 
 meantime had been fitted for its last airy tenement. 
 The duty was performed in the following manner: 
 
 128
 
 It was first wa«hed, then arrayed iu the habiliments 
 last worn by the deceased during life, and sewed in 
 several envelopes of lodge-skin with his bows and 
 arrows and pipe. This done, all things were ready 
 for the proposed burial. The corpse was borne to 
 its final resting-place followed by a throng of rela- 
 tives and friends. While moving onward with the 
 dead the train of mourners filled the air with lamen- 
 tations and rehearsals of the virtues and meritorious 
 deeds of their late chief." 
 
 "Arrived at the scaffold the corpse was carefully 
 reposed upon it facing the east, while beneath its 
 head was placed a small sack of meat, tobacco, and 
 Vermillion. A covering of scarlet cloth was then 
 spread over it and the body firmly lashed to its 
 place by long strips of rawhide. This done the horse 
 of the chieftain was produced as a sacrifice for the 
 benefit of his master in his long journey to the cel- 
 estial hunting grounds." 
 
 Such is a short and necessary imperfect account 
 of some of the burial customs of our noble aborig- 
 ines, the North American Indians. If we read aright 
 the lessons the simple earnest lives of these people 
 teach us, we shall be better and truer men and wor- 
 ship more reverently the God of the red man and 
 of the pale-face, the "Heavenly Father" of us all, 
 white or red, black or yellow. We are his children 
 and He the loving parent. 
 
 129
 
 THE RELIGIOUS CHARACTER OF 
 
 THE NORTH AMERICAN 
 
 INDIANS. 
 
 This contribution which I offer concerning Indian 
 religious character is more in the nature of homage 
 for a people who have by their manly sincerity won 
 my affection ; otherwise, there is very little which is 
 new. The works of Parkman, Catlin, Inman, not 
 to mention the rich archives of our great Smith- 
 sonian Institution to which so many well-known 
 authorities have contributed, would make my few 
 words seem infinitesimal had I other excuse for pre- 
 senting them. I have known the Indians since when 
 in my boyhood days I rode the saddle with the gal- 
 lant "long knives" of the dear old 3rd U. S. Cav- 
 alry. I have met many tribes since then, but dearer 
 to me than any other are my Christian friends of 
 the Ojibway^si — warriors, oratorsi, farmeirs, fathers, 
 mothers, but all the "children of the same Father!" 
 
 Their religious character is one of their most con- 
 spicuous traits, and we are bound to acknowledge 
 and respect them for it. A people devout, and with 
 a strong and genuine belief in the "Great Spirit," 
 in the "Mighty Creator," in the "loving attentive 
 Father" — a people devoted to their country, to 
 their nation, to their homes (humble though they be), 
 
 130
 
 to their families, and whose love for their children 
 is beautiful beyond description, — such a people dem- 
 onstrate beyond a doubt that their religion is prac- 
 tical, genuine, and worthy of recognition. These 
 people are an inspiration to the palefaces who have 
 met them! 
 
 When I asked my brave old friend Emmengah- 
 bowh the beloved Indian priest of the Episcopal 
 Mission at White Earth, Minnesota, what actuated 
 him in risking his life to save the paleface women 
 and children from capture and death, he replied: 
 "They have been kind to me, and I could not bear 
 to have them harmed, and it was my duty as a 
 Christian." Can a man do more than risk or give 
 his life for his friends? 
 
 The great good friend of the Indian, whom they 
 call Straight-tongue, in his interesting book. The 
 Lights and Shadows of a Long Episcopate, refers 
 to his faithful priest Emmengahbowk : 
 
 "The wily chief IIole-in-the-Day had planned for 
 a massacre at the same time on the northern bor- 
 der. But Emmengahbowh had sent a faithful mes- 
 senger to Mille Sacs, to urge the Indians to be true 
 to the whites and to send men to protect the fort. 
 More than a hundred Mille Sacs warriors went at 
 once to the fort, but meantime Emmengahbowk 
 himself walked all night down Gull River, dragging 
 a canoe containing his wife and children, that he 
 might give warning to the fort. Two of his children 
 died from the exposure. Messages were also sent 
 to the white settlers, and before IIole-in-the-Day 
 could begin war the massacre was averted. 
 
 "I have never known an Atheist among the North 
 American Indians. They believe unquestionably in 
 
 181
 
 a future life. They believe that everything in na- 
 ture — the laughing water-fall, the rock, the sky, the 
 forest — contains a divinity, and all mysteries are ac- 
 counted for by these spirits, which they call manidos. 
 When they first saw a telegraph they said : " A spirit 
 carries a message on the wires." 
 
 "The Ojibways are not idolaters, they never bow 
 down nor worship any created thing. They have 
 preserved a tradition of one Supreme God whom they 
 call " Gitche-manito ' — the 'Uncreated,' or the kind, 
 cherishing Spirit. They believe that the Grand Med- 
 icine was given them by an intermediate deity, the 
 'Grand Medicine-God.' "* 
 
 When an Indian is thought to be at the point of 
 death, his friends and relatives make careful prep- 
 aration and nothing is omitted to insure an honor- 
 able funeral ceremony. The dying Indian's hair 
 is combed and oiled and braided, and he is dressed 
 in his best clothing; if possible a new suit is pro- 
 vided — new blankets, leggings, and moccasins. His 
 face is painted red (vermillion). It may be an hour, 
 a day, or many days, before death takes place, but 
 he is made ready for the final event with scrupulous 
 care and attention in every detail. 
 
 "Indians are at all times prayerful and careful 
 in their religious observances, but they are never 
 more scrupulous about these matters than when 
 starting on the war-path."** Those whom they have 
 left behind pray for them at camp. The parents un- 
 wrap their sacred bundles and sing their sacred 
 songs. Before eating, the warrior prays for the 
 
 *Bishop Whipple, Lights and Shadoxvs. 
 **Griunell. 
 
 132
 
 success of his undertaking. He must seek his suc- 
 cess from Diety; without divine aid his task is hope- 
 less, he can accomplish nothing. Each man is in- 
 structed before he sleeps to offer up his petition for 
 strength and help and victory. The leader must 
 offer his sacrifice for the command as well as for 
 himself. Oftentimes the Indians continue all night 
 in prayer, and burn incense of sweet pine and 
 sweet grass to purify themselves. Often he offers 
 sacrifices of food, tobacco, ornaments, some of his 
 own hair, a scalp lock, or even a portion of his own 
 flesh. He makes use of scourging and of inci- 
 sions into his flesh, often causing sharp haemorrhage, 
 and even fiery coals are placed upon his naked skin 
 to strengthen his powers of endurance and of self- 
 control. 
 
 The Indians believe that when the spirit reaches 
 its final destination, the great country, the Happy 
 Hunting-ground, the final life-everlasting is forever 
 and peacefully attained! 
 
 He forgets not his dead, this North American In- 
 dian, but often, not only once a year as on our All 
 Souls' Day, but more frequently, they hold their 
 rude commemorative ceremonies, and contribute 
 from their slender means the best feast they can 
 produce. Nor does this charity extend to the dead 
 alone ; he is peculiarly tender in his love for children, 
 for the infirm, for the demented, the wounded and 
 the dying. If compassion is the test of true religion, 
 the Indian deserves respect. Tales of his barbarity 
 are in the excitement of war; but how tame our In- 
 dians appear when compared with the cruel Chinese! 
 
 The Grand Medicine Man at the funeral ceremonies 
 
 133
 
 says in his address to the departed spirit, as he 
 kindly spreads over the corpse the blanket: 
 
 "Do not look back, but look to your journey 
 towards the setting sun. Let nothing disturb or 
 distract you or cause you to look away from your 
 journey's path — Go — Go, in peace!" 
 
 Then another medicine man repeats this; then all 
 in unison sing these words: 
 
 " I walk on peacefully for my long journey of life, 
 
 Soon, soon to reach the end of my journey, 
 
 Soon to reach my friends who have gone before me." 
 
 When this chant is ended, the Grand Medicine Man 
 
 calls in a loud voice: 
 
 " Nuh-gah-kuk-nuw 
 Nuh-gah-kuk-nuw." 
 
 "An Indian burial is most touching. If of a 
 child, the mother places the play-things of the little 
 one in the birch-bark coffin, and strews flowers in 
 the grave. She then makes an image of the baby, 
 ornamenting the head with feathers, and carries it 
 with her for one year. If of a chief or warrior, the 
 body is arrayed as if for the chase or war-path with 
 bows and arrow^s and medicine-bag by his side. The 
 favorite dog is killed, that it may accompany him on 
 his journey. The orator of the band then addresses 
 the silent figure, telling of his deeds of bravery, of 
 how he pursued his enemies and brought back their 
 scalps, of his wise words of counsel and acts of kind- 
 ness, and how having left this world for the Happy 
 Hunting-grounds, he will find the trail a narrow 
 one, and will be tempted by evil spirits to turn 
 aside, but that he must be deaf, for if he stops to 
 listen he will miss the trail and be lost. ' ' 
 
 134
 
 Lt. Totteu of the United States army believed our 
 North American Indians to be the descendants of 
 the lost tribes of Israel. A recent article in the 
 Springfield Republican of January 12th, 1913, en- 
 titled "American Indians from Asia" seems to 
 confirm this idea. Certainly their traditions point 
 to the region of Behring's Strait as the place 
 from whence they came and whither they are 
 wending. But whether their customs and their be- 
 liefs are merely human nature, showing out in red- 
 skin as well as in paleface, there is a startling sim- 
 ilarity in Indian laws of hygiene, of cleanliness, and 
 customs of the men and women, to say nothing of 
 their reverence for the Gireat and Sacred Name, 
 which suggest Israelitish origin. And the "Chosen 
 Race" need not be ashamed of them! The attitude 
 of worship, the bowed head, the instantly extended 
 palms when the sacred Diety is referred to, are 
 surely remarkable. What other Aborigines are so 
 devout and sincere, so brave in suffering, so fear- 
 less in battle, so loving to children, so faithful in 
 friendship, so unselfish, and so true? 
 
 The Indian's heaven we know as his happy hunt- 
 ing-grounds — a country of wide green and cool, 
 clear streams, where the buffalo and other game are 
 always plenty and fat, where the lodges (tepees) are 
 ever new and white, the ponies always swift, the war 
 parties successful, and the people happy. 
 
 Sometimes the Indian, "When the slanting rays 
 of the Western sun tinge the autumnal haze with 
 red, beholds dimly far away the white lodges of 
 such a happy camp and sees thro' the mist and dust 
 ghostly warriors returning from the hunt, leading 
 
 135
 
 horses as in olden times, with dripping meat and 
 with shaggy skins."* 
 
 This happy land is usually located above the sky, 
 but with many tribes it is to the west beyond the 
 Gitclie giimmee, the Big Sea Water. But wherever 
 the home of the "Almighty Creator," the "Great 
 Spirit," may be, his Indian children love best to 
 call him by the endearing title of "Father." Al- 
 though called by this name which the Saviour taught 
 His followers to utter, whether of the white, the 
 yellow, the black, or the red peoples, the Indian re- 
 gards this "Father" as omnipotent, beneficent, the 
 Supreme Ruler. Everything is within His 'Holy 
 Keeping, just as wc have been taught that no spar- 
 row falls to the ground without our Heavenly Fath- 
 er's consent.** 
 
 Resting upon His Fatherhood, nothing is under- 
 taken without praying for His assistance. When 
 the pipe is lighted, a few whiffs are blown upwards 
 as incense. Some of the food is sacrificed to Him. 
 Burnt offerings are still continued in His honor, a 
 part of the first deer, the first buffalo, and we might 
 almost expect to find their rule in the words of the 
 Bible — "Whatever we do, do all to the glory of God." 
 The words may be absent, but the practice is there. 
 
 "Father above" is the counterpart of "Our Fath- 
 er who art in Heaven," for do they not say, "Father 
 who is in all places," "The Heavens are Thy house; 
 we. Thy children, live within (or beneath) ?" 
 
 "Father of the dead, You see us." 
 
 If the Indians have other gods, they use them 
 
 *Grinnell. **St. Matthew x. 29. 
 
 136
 
 merely by praying to them, "intercede for us," 
 "pray for us" to the God, the "Heavenly Father." 
 
 Atius Tirana is Father Spirit. The Indian blows 
 the first four smokes to Atius, then four to the 
 earth, then four to each of the cardinal points. 
 
 The young warrior is advised : ' ' My son, when thou 
 smokest in thy pipe, always blow four smokes to 
 the east, — to the night." The Indian regards the 
 east as the place of night, it comes from the east! 
 
 The Indian is taught that he must offer sacrifices 
 and burnt offerings to the Almighty — humbling him- 
 self and imploring His aid — if he would attain suc- 
 cess in the world or in the life ^'everlasting.''^ The 
 Indian states his belief in his prayer: "My Father 
 who dwelleth in Heaven and in all places, it is 
 through You that I am living;" and it is the equiv- 
 alent of our "In Him we live and have our being." 
 
 Longfellow, in Hiawatha, has beautifully told the 
 story of Indian worship and belief. Pathetic be- 
 yond description is the tender, loving care bestowed 
 upon the dead, — the solemn service, the sweet hymns, 
 the birch-covered coffin, the hemlock-lined grave, the 
 gentle depositing of the earth, and last, but not 
 least, the little sheltering house above with its small 
 window and the cross of hope rising from its eastern 
 gable. 
 
 How beautiful in Longfellow's Hiawatha is the 
 picture of the Indian's Heavenly Father, the Al- 
 mighty Creator. One picture in Plis majesty touch- 
 ing the mountains, and the other, 
 
 "Gitche Manitou, the Mighty, 
 The creator of the nations, 
 Looked upon them with compassion. 
 With paternal love and pity." 
 
 And then the poet tells in his matchless verse such 
 
 137
 
 a story of Indian belief in tlie Almighty Creator 
 that one feels as if the Indians should send mission- 
 aries to the palefaces! 
 
 Surely, a people with no "cuss" words, and who 
 never mention the name of Deity except in reverence, 
 and with bowed heads and palms extended outward, 
 are justly entitled to respect. It is indeed inspir- 
 ing to see these people we call savages going with 
 their humble petitions to their Heavenly Father, 
 pleading for help in their distress when all earthly 
 help has failed. 
 
 "Gitche Manitou, the Mighty, 
 Cried he with his face uplifted 
 In that bitter hour of anguish, 
 Give your children food, O Father, 
 Give us food, or we must perish." 
 
 This prayer from the Famine is one of Longfel- 
 low's greatest pictures in his unrivalled collection. 
 The poem of Hiawatha is best appreciated by those 
 who know the Indian. The "parting" is a picture 
 with which to close our quotation. "Westward, 
 Westward," is the word ever on their lips, so mourn- 
 ful and so prophetic. 
 
 "Thus departed Hiawatha, 
 Hiawatha the Beloved, 
 In the glory of the sunset, 
 In the purple mists of evening, 
 To the regions of the home-wind 
 Of the north-west wind Kee-way-din, 
 To the islands of the Blessed, 
 To the kingdom of Ponemah, 
 To the land of the Hereafter." 
 
 138
 
 IN THE LAND OF HIAWATHA. 
 
 The aboriginal inhabitants of America from the 
 earliest times have been known as Indians, and to 
 the Indians the white people are known as Pale 
 Faces. Very commonly our ideas of the Indians are 
 limited; we speak of them in a general sense, los- 
 
 *The Song of Hiawatha has called forth praise from schol- 
 ars and ridicule from pessimists. It has been laughed at and 
 parodied until even its wondrous beauty and faithful imagery 
 have been well-nigh lost sight of. 
 
 Beyond a peradventure nothing exists in the English lan- 
 guage presenting such a faithful portrayal of North American 
 Indian life, unless we except the classical works of McKinney 
 and Catliu, or the more recent work of that soldier and scholar, 
 Colonel Dodge of the U. S. Army. Hiawatha was a Chippewa 
 brave, and no history of his nation would be complete without 
 reference to this wonderful poem. The traditions and Indian 
 language which Longfellow uses are Ojibway. The history of 
 this great nation, like that of other Indian tribes, has been 
 treasured as traditionary lore, and has been passed on from 
 age to age in the narratives of old sages to the listening throngs 
 around them— at the war-dance, in the council, or at the wig- 
 wam fire : 
 
 " Should you ask me whence these stories, 
 
 Whence these legends and traditions, 
 
 With the odor of the forest, 
 
 With the dew and damp of meadows, 
 
 With the curling smoke of wigwams, 
 
 With the rushing of great rivers, 
 
 With the frequent repetitions 
 
 And their wild reverberations 
 
 As of thunder in the mountains, 
 
 I should answer, I should tell you, 
 
 From the forest and the prairies, 
 
 From the great lakes of the Northland, 
 
 From the land of the Ojibways." 
 
 139
 
 ing sight of the fact that there are over two hundred 
 tribes living within the United States. 
 
 These tribes differ as widely from one another as 
 the tribes or nations of "Pale Faces" are distinct 
 from each other. Whatever the North American 
 Indian may be, he is certainly not what many of 
 our Eastern people are willing to call Indian. He 
 is not a negro, who possesses in the past history of 
 his family a trace of relationship with some Indian 
 of more or less pure blood; such specimens are 
 seen about our railway stations and at some of our 
 summer resorts, selling bead and basket work, and 
 suggest to many their ideas of American Indians. 
 A thorougbred Indian will not even recogfnize a 
 half-breed as an Indian. With them a half-breed 
 is no better than a squaw-man. 
 
 Native American is a more fitting and honorable 
 name for the people who inhabited this land be- 
 fore the white man came. Where on the face of 
 the earth can we find natives to be compared to 
 them? The early settlers of this great country, in 
 their struggles for life and a home, gave us noth- 
 ing but fragmentary sketches of the nations they 
 came in conta,ct with, and by whom they were near- 
 ly overpowered and annihilated. 
 
 Would it were possible to collect more of the his- 
 tory of such aborigines! Much indeed of their his- 
 tory and tradition has passed away, and when we 
 seek for records of the nations who occupied this 
 great continent, comparatively little is to be found. 
 There is, however, some material within reach to- 
 day, and opportunities still exist to obtain speci- 
 mens of their arms, clothing, implements, etc. But 
 within a very few years almost every remaining ves- 
 
 140
 
 tige will have disappeared forever. That compara- 
 tive oblivion should be the destiny of such remark- 
 able nations is a national misfortune for us. We 
 have a right to be proud of our aborigines, and yet 
 we must blush with shame when we consider how 
 deeply we have wronged them. 
 
 Whatever the Indian has been in the past, and in 
 spite of his present condition — deplorable as it cer- 
 tainly is — our nation has still some time left to 
 deal with these people honorably and justly, as it 
 is the duty of a God-fearing people to do. They 
 will respond in time, but it is not to be wondered at 
 if they seem incredulous at first. It is wicked to 
 condemn them as beasts fit only for extermination; 
 improve them, educate them. This can be done by 
 dealing justly with them. No w^ords of mine can 
 sufficiently condemn the cowardly saying, "that 
 the only good Indian is a dead Indian!" 
 
 An Austrian officer once said to me, that he 
 considered the British soldiers the bravest on the 
 face of the earth, because "you cannot conquer 
 them or whip them, you must kill them." It is 
 so with our Indians, they neither give nor ask for 
 quarter; this is easily understood when we consider 
 how they have always been situated. 
 
 It has been with them a war for life, a struggle 
 for existence, and disputes have always been settled 
 man-fashion on the field of battle. 
 
 Those who know most about our native American 
 (our so called Indians) respect them most; those 
 who have lived longest with them love them most; 
 the most brutal and cowardly of our frontiersmen 
 hate them most, and they have reason to do so. 
 Indian character is contradictory. They are brave 
 
 141
 
 but cautious and generous; dashing in attack, stub- 
 born in defence; enduring, stoical, patient, hardy; 
 fond of feasting, but ready for days of marching 
 and fighting, with scarcely any nourishment; alert, 
 unforgiving when wronged; revengeful, cruel, and 
 treacherous in war; loving as friends, indulgent and 
 affectionate as parents; sympathetic in adversity, 
 eloquent in counsel; by nature deeply and truly 
 religious. 
 
 Our native red Americans, unlike those of New 
 Mexico and Central and South America, are be- 
 lievers in God, although they call Him the "Great 
 Spirit." They are absolutely free from profanity 
 and hypocrisy. In short, they are the noblest race 
 of aborigines on the face of this earth. 
 
 My experience has brought me in contact with 
 many different Indian nations, both in peace and 
 war, but in my opinion the jib ways are the most 
 interesting for investigation and study. Doctor 
 Hoffman, lately an Acting Assistant Surgeon of the 
 United States Army, in an article concerning Sham- 
 inistich practices, states that the area of country 
 formerly occupied by the immense tribes, consisting 
 of the Algonquin linguistic stock, extends from 
 Nova Scotia southward to the James River, and west- 
 ward to Montana. 
 
 To these divisions belong the tribes first met with 
 by the French traders in Canada as early as 1634, 
 by the Puritans in Massachusetts, and by Captain 
 John Smith's band of colonists in Virginia. They 
 are believed to be considerably in advance of the 
 tribes of most other divisions, and one of the most 
 interesting bodies from an ethnologic point of view 
 
 142
 
 is the Chippewa or jib way tribe, of the Lake Su- 
 perior region. 
 
 The Chippewas are the nearly extinct remnant of 
 the great Algonquin family; they are tall, fine-look- 
 ing, and intelligent men; brave and fearless, faith- 
 ful in friendship, and possessing the noblest traits 
 of any Indian tribe. Their ancient enemies were 
 the Foxes, Iroquois, and Sioux. The latter they 
 have driven from the head-waters of the Mississippi 
 River, and from the Red River of the North ; always 
 defeating them in woody countries, though often 
 worsted when battling them on the plains. Their 
 home has been in the forest and on the stream. 
 They have been experts in hunting, fishing, and 
 canoe-building, and excel in woodcraft generally. 
 
 The Chippewas served with the French in the 
 early wars against the colonists, and afterwards in 
 the Revolution, as allies of the British. It is only 
 within recent years that the interminable war be- 
 tween them and their hated enemies, the Sioux, has 
 been brought to an end. 
 
 In 1830 the United States Government endeavored 
 to arrest the existing war between them, and in 1880 
 the hatchet was publicly buried forever. 
 
 The more important bands of the Chippewas were 
 the Otter Tail, Peminas, Mississippi Pillagers, and 
 Millacs. The manners, customs, traditions, and lan- 
 guage of the Chippewas have been investigated by 
 many, and they are better known than those of any 
 other tribe. 
 
 The setting sun has been their emblem or sign 
 in the heavens, as they have journeyed towards its 
 sinking rays along the St. Lawrence westward. In- 
 deed, the setting sun has been for all the Indians 
 
 143
 
 a sign in the heavens, for they, like it, must fade 
 away from human sight. It does seem as if they 
 were worthier of a better fate. 
 
 The gayly decked trees of autumn are typical of 
 them — the cold, cruel winds of winter will ruthlessly 
 scatter them; the icy and merciless grasp of a white 
 man will crush them — 
 
 " Like the cloud-rack of a tempest, 
 Like the withered leaves of autumn." 
 
 So our native Americans are rapidly fading and 
 passing way. Reduced in strength and influence, 
 they number at present only a few thousands of 
 comparatively weak and inoffensive families. They 
 recognize the inevitable destiny in store for them; 
 soon the sun will forever set upon them as a na- 
 tion, soon their records will be but ancient tradi- 
 tions, soon their relics will be but the few scattered 
 pieces preserved in our museums. 
 
 Remnants of the once powerful Chippewa nation 
 are to be found mostly in northern Minnesota. 
 Where did these Indians originate, is a question 
 which has often been asked, but never answered 
 with any degree of certainty. It seems to me very 
 clear that the earliest history of the Ojibways is 
 to be found in the region of the Laurentian hills, 
 and that their records cover the ground from the 
 St. Lawrence to their present abiding-place. 
 
 The three leading reservations are at White 
 Earth, Red Lake, and Leech Lake. If we look at 
 the map of the North American continent, and place 
 a finger as nearly as possible at its central point, 
 we shall find that we are very near Itasca or Holy 
 Cross Lake, the source of the Mississippi River, and 
 
 144
 
 iu the center of the present home of the Chippewa 
 Indians. 
 
 The land is fertile, dotted with numberless lakes, 
 and more or less covered with valuable timber. It 
 is a cold country in winter, the temperature going 
 down as low as fifty-five degrees below zero ; for 
 weeks together the mercury is frozen. In summer, 
 great extremes of heat are reached; often it is as 
 high as 112 degrees in the shade. In this climate 
 of great extremes, with shelter none too good, and 
 food of the poorest quality, and very often with in- 
 sufficient clothing, the Chippewa Indians are mak- 
 ing an effort to live. 
 
 Unpromising as the condition is at present, it is 
 infinitely better than anyone supposed it ever could 
 be twenty years ago. It is to the noble and unself- 
 ish devotion of Christian friends that the Chippewas 
 are indebted for whatever prosperity they may at 
 present enjoy. 
 
 Forty years ago our Indian system was at its 
 worst. "It was a blunder and a crime; it rec- 
 ognized nomadic tribes as independent nations; 
 it destroyed the advisory power of the chiefs, and 
 gave nothing in its place; it recognized no personal 
 rights of property; it gave no protection to person 
 or life; it punished no crime; its emoluments were 
 rewards for political service; and most of the trea- 
 ties were framed to use the Indian as a key to un- 
 lock the public treasury. At best, it was heathen 
 savagery. ' ' 
 
 President Lincoln once said concerning the dis- 
 graceful conduct of Indian affairs, "If I live, this 
 accursed system shall be reformed!" One thing 
 tliat must be evident to every thinking man is. 
 
 145
 
 that our governmental mismanagement has been the 
 cause of great wrong, much suffering, and other 
 evils, even terminating in serious bloodshed. 
 
 The present outlook is gloomy enough, but the 
 silver lining of the cloud is the work of Christian 
 Missionaries, and in this work the Catholic Church 
 has from the beginning, even until now, been far in 
 the lead. One great stumbling-block towards suc- 
 cess is the present physical condition of the red man. 
 From an out-of-door life of activity, with plenty 
 of fresh game and wholesome food and clear water, 
 with a healthful tepee for his home, he has been 
 placed in a log-cabin, overheated with iron stoves, 
 given the poorest quality of flour and salted meat, 
 and in exchange for an active life, one of idleness. 
 Under these circumstances, is it at all remarkable, 
 if, in some instances, he has degenerated mentally 
 and physically? For the Indian, as well as for 
 any one else, idleness can act only as a serious injury. 
 
 The recent troubles which threatened us in the 
 northwestern frontier are attributable to this very 
 cause. In idleness the Indian recounts the stories 
 of his ancestors' battles, and makes ready for an 
 opportunity to emulate their prowess. 
 
 Indian treachery can only hope to imitate, never 
 to excel, the lessons taught by the white man in his 
 official dealings with them. They have been robbed 
 whenever it was possible to impose upon them, and 
 I fear they will be, until none are left on whom to 
 impose. 
 
 Bishop Whipple relates an incident which occured 
 some years ago, when some speculators wished to 
 obtain a valuable tract of land belonging to the 
 Chippewas. Efforts were made to induce them to 
 
 146
 
 sell their lauds and move north to Leech Lake ; an 
 agent representing the Government called a coun- 
 cil, and addressed the assembly of chiefs somewhat 
 after this fashion: 
 
 "My red brothers, your great Father has heard 
 how you have been wronged; He said, 'I will send 
 to them an honest man.' He looked in the north 
 and the south and the east and the west, and when 
 He saw me, He said, 'this is the honest man whom 
 I will send to my red children.' Brothers, look at 
 me! The winds of fifty years have blown over my 
 head and silvered it with gray, and in all this time 
 I have never done wrong to any man. Now, as your 
 friend, I wish you to sign this treaty." One of the 
 chiefs, old Shah-bah-shong, sprang to his feet, and 
 said, "Pale-faced friend, look at me! The winds 
 of more than fifty winters have blown over my head, 
 and silvered it over with gray, but they have not 
 Mown away my brains." The council was ended. 
 
 The future prospects of the Indians depend en- 
 tirely upon the wisdom with which the Government 
 will deal with them. It is impossible to manage 
 such an important question with the weak and in- 
 adequate Indian bureau at present existing. If, as 
 a nation, we are satisfied that the Indians deserve, 
 and should receive a reasonable amount of justice 
 and fair dealing, we must greatly increase and per- 
 fect the machinery to carry out the needed reforms. 
 Under the present mismanagement, only acciden- 
 tally can good result, only by divine protection can 
 these poor children hope for any real justice. Un- 
 selfish and honest as are the efforts of the associations 
 to which I have already referred, they are powerless 
 to prevent the opportunities for evil at present ex- 
 
 147
 
 isting, although their good influence is recognized, 
 and robbery cannot be so openly carried out ais 
 formerly. 
 
 As Americans, our country is thrown into more 
 or less turmoil every four years by the excitement 
 attending the presidential election ; as citizens, we 
 labor to bring about changes we may deem necessary. 
 A new president is elected, new cabinet officers ap- 
 pointed, but the men "behind the thrones" in the 
 various departments — war, navy, interior, and In- 
 dian Commissioner's office — these remain year in 
 and year out, whether we have a Democratic or a 
 Republican President! The cabinet officers are 
 called upon, perchance, to solve great problems; but 
 the multitudinous questions which continuously arise 
 are settled by these employees, who, in one way or 
 another, have intrenched themselves in governmental 
 positions, until any likelihood of their being re- 
 lieved is exceedingly remote. 
 
 Upon the intelligence and honesty of these people 
 much of our national work depends. The citizens 
 imagine that the new administration will remove 
 old wrongs, and execute needed reforms; but year 
 after year the same condition of affairs, in all the 
 different departments, continues, and the recognized 
 heads, such as the Secretary of the Navy and the 
 Secretary of War, exercise only feebly the duties 
 of their offices. They are continually met with ob- 
 stacles insurmountable in their endeavors to intro- 
 duce the needed reforms; this is equally true in the 
 Indian service! Nothing but a "clean sweep," in- 
 volving immense expense and labor, would fit these 
 institutions to mete out any hope of justice in regard 
 to the difficult questions at present obtaining. I 
 
 148
 
 .t Q. 
 
 m a: 
 
 □D D D D D D 
 
 s, s 
 
 
 £ e X ^ 
 
 <- o U o 
 
 ^ 1) O -o 
 
 U. « « O 
 
 uj »- .r « 
 
 I£ ^ ^ 
 
 w ■■= a. 
 
 > « ex 
 
 D 
 
 :pressing myself so 
 feel the deepest in- 
 ancl recognize my 
 
 — n, what, I think, is 
 md wrong-doing to 
 protect and educate. 
 Qhumanity to man 
 o." 
 
 ^ cerner of character; 
 
 CM . ' 
 
 g )d with more readi- 
 °^ ng to allow. It is 
 -§ oment should exert 
 
 c ;ion of missionaries 
 
 < 
 
 ~|_ tions have arisen in 
 
 < the army has been 
 
 ^ y. Why not avoid 
 
 . e Indians under the 
 
 q: states army? They 
 
 ^ else; their commis- 
 
 _j behavior. Politics 
 
 I harmful influence, 
 
 o 
 
 5 IS would be better, 
 
 JaJ ! more sure to reach 
 
 ^ ;ed. Thousands of 
 
 y_ vernment annually, 
 
 ^ be more likely to 
 
 ^ vor of the transfer 
 
 ^ ! War Department, 
 
 ^ also supply suit- 
 
 y experience teach- 
 
 2 white man applies 
 
 i" Satan finds some 
 
 'do." To make the 
 
 149
 
 isting, although the" 
 and robbery canno- 
 formerly. 
 
 As Americans, oi" 
 or less turmoil ever 
 attending the presi(- 
 labor to bring about 
 A new president is 
 pointed, but the me 
 various departments 
 dian Commissioner' 
 and year out, whetl 
 Republican Preside 
 called upon, perchar 
 the multitudinous qi 
 are settled by these 
 another, have intren( 
 positions, until anj 
 lieved is exceedingly 
 
 Upon the intellige 
 much of our nation" 
 imagine that the n 
 old wrongs, and ext 
 after year the same 
 different department 
 heads, such as the ! 
 Secretary of War, 
 of their offices. Tht 
 stacles insurmountat 
 duce the needed refc 
 Indian service! Not" 
 volving immense exp 
 institutions to mete o 
 to the difficult que; 
 
 
 < 
 
 
 
 
 z 
 
 
 
 UJ 
 
 e 
 
 
 
 3 
 
 3 
 
 
 
 Q __ 
 
 Ul 
 
 
 
 ■ '■K 
 
 
 
 s rr 
 
 
 
 
 
 K 
 
 
 
 to ~ 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 it«r 
 
 ijj 
 
 Z 
 
 
 
 rr-. 
 
 i 
 
 
 
 •:— * 
 
 CO 
 
 z 
 
 
 
 « ;•• ! 
 
 < 
 
 
 
 Ilo 
 
 p 
 
 
 
 z 
 
 
 
 u 
 
 
 
 £ 
 
 
 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 5 E >*: 
 
 
 Q^ 
 
 ^ "> 3»C 
 Z a, . 
 
 "OO 
 
 ^ 
 
 _j (i> £ 
 < «* < 
 "1' - 
 
 r- 
 
 :s 
 
 c 
 
 iD 
 
 
 
 2»; 
 
 1^ 
 
 n .C <J 2 
 
 ■•- O O 0) .V 
 
 to 
 
 oiil o ti- u. (E 
 
 n D nana 
 
 ^5 
 
 » d 3 
 
 O » g 
 
 I ' -• 
 
 3 o a 
 
 £ " 5 
 
 E E 3 .. 
 Tj Tj 2: •> 
 
 o o ^ 2£ 
 < < W O 
 
 nnnnnDnan 
 
 oooooogoo
 
 hope I may be pardoned for expressing myself so 
 forcibly on this subject, but I feel the deepest in- 
 terest in the Indian question, ancl recognize my 
 duty to state, as nearly as I can, what, I think, is 
 the cause of so much trouble and wrong-doing to 
 those we are in honor bound to protect and educate. 
 It is the old story, "Man's inhumanity to man 
 makes countless thousands mourn." 
 
 The Indian is a very acute discerner of character; 
 he separates truth from falsehood with more readi- 
 ness than most people are willing to allow. It is 
 on this account that the Government should exert 
 its protecting care in the selection of missionaries 
 as well as in other appointments. 
 
 Whenever any serious complications have arisen in 
 the management of the Indians, the army has been 
 called upon to provide a remedy. Why not avoid 
 many of these evils by placing the Indians under the 
 care of the officers of the United States army ? They 
 know them better than any one else ; their commis- 
 sions are permanent during good behavior. Politics 
 would be powerless to exert a harmful influence, 
 and the condition of the Indians would be better, 
 and supplies of all kinds would be more sure to reach 
 them, and be honestly distributed. Thousands of 
 dollars would be saved to the Government annually, 
 and harmony and peace would be more likely to 
 endure. I am one strongly in favor of the transfer 
 of the Indians to the care of the War Department, 
 provided the Government would also supply suit- 
 able teachers and instructors. My experience teach- 
 es me that what is true of the white man applies 
 with equal force to the Indian: "Satan finds some 
 mischief still for idle hands to do." To make the 
 
 149
 
 Indian happy, j'ou must keep him well employed, 
 and begin with wholesome, useful teaching, and so 
 make it possible for him to receive fair wages for 
 his labor. Industrial education is most important 
 for him. I think the admirable system carried on 
 by General Armstrong and Captain Pratt proves 
 this assertion. 
 
 Copway, or Kah-ge-ga-gah-bowh, a Chippewa In- 
 dian, wrote in 1850 a work concerning the Ojib- 
 ways, which is well worth reading. He said: 
 "Education and Christianity are to the Indian what 
 wings are to the eagle which soars above his home — 
 they elevate him; and these, given him by men of 
 right views, enable him to rise above degradation, 
 and hover about the high mounts of wisdom and 
 truth." These words are true to-day, and when we 
 consider they were written bj^ one who laid aside 
 his bow, and went to school in Illinois for only 
 twenty months, we recognize the fact that the In- 
 dian is certainly capable of education. He states 
 that during a residence of six years among the Pale 
 Faces, he acquired a knowledge of men and things, 
 and that he desired to learn still more, so that his 
 brothers in the far west might share with him his 
 crust of information. He says: "For this end I 
 have labored, and do labor, and will continue to 
 labor, until success crowns my efforts, or my hands 
 and voice are silent in the home of the departed." 
 
 "It can be proved that the introduction of Chris- 
 tianity into the Indian tribes has been productive 
 of immense good ; it has changed cu.stoms as old as 
 any on the earth; it has dethroned error and has 
 enthroned truth. This fact is enough to convince 
 any one of the injustice and falsity of the common 
 
 150
 
 saying 'that the Indian will be Indian still.' 
 Give the Indian the means of education, and he 
 will avail himself of them; keep them from him, 
 and let me tell you, he is not the only loser." 
 
 Copway relates a beautiful story, showing Indian 
 honor, told him by Ne-gah-ba-an, in 1834. An In- 
 dian, while intoxicated, had killed another and fled; 
 by Indian law, the relatives of the murdered man 
 should take their vengeance upon the murderer's 
 family. They thereupon seized the brother who 
 remained, and bound him to the stake. Twelve In- 
 dians stood with drawn arrows, at thirty paces, to 
 execute him; he requested them to wait for an 
 instant, and with a loud voice cried out: "My 
 brother, if you can endure the idea that hereafter 
 the nation shall look upon us as a race of cowards, 
 live, but I choose to die in your stead." As he 
 said this the murderer sprang from the thicket, 
 came forward, and threw himself at his feet, saying 
 that he was merely trying to get over the effects of 
 the intoxication, that he might die like a man. 
 Thereupon he took his place at the stake, and sang 
 his death song: 
 
 Ne,-bah-bah-moo-say-ke-zhe,-goon-ai 
 Ne-ge-chog-a-y e-shaw ' -wod . 
 
 And as he finished his last words, the arrows flew 
 to his heart. 
 
 A poor Indian died neglected, carrying to his 
 grave a certificate, stating that "Taopi, or Wounded 
 Man, is entitled to the lasting gratitute of the United 
 States, for having, with other Christian Indians, 
 rescued two hundred white women and children 
 during the Sioux War." He has gone to the land 
 
 151
 
 where, as Red Cloud once said, "it is hoped white 
 men will tell no lies." 
 
 We are all more or less familiar with the Indian's 
 qualities of bravery, endurance, and strategy, but 
 few seem to know of his affectionate love as a parent, 
 his devotion to and interest in his children, his re- 
 spect for religion, and his absolute abhorrence of pro- 
 fanity. Whenever he mentions the name of the 
 Deity, " Gitche-manito, " Great Spirit, he bows his 
 head reverently and extends his arms, the palms of- 
 his hands upward, a picture well worth the con- 
 templation of his pale face brother. 
 
 When Bishop Whipple first saw the Chippewa 
 Indians, they were a lot of poor, miserable wretches, 
 ill-fed and ill-clothed, many of them given to drink, 
 and wasted by disease. White men laughed at his 
 humane intentions, but he proceeded in his noble 
 endeavor to elevate them, mentally and physically, 
 and to save their souls. Through his efforts White 
 Earth reservation, the fairest of our Indian homes, 
 was created. White Earth is twenty-three miles 
 north of "Detroit City," in northwestern Minne- 
 sota. The agency quarters are prettily situated 
 near a clear lake, and consist of a government build- 
 ing, the day-schools, headquarters of the agent, po- 
 lice headquarters, post-office, storehouses and a few 
 small stores, government employees' houses, Indian 
 ealuns, etc. This is the centre of the large reserva- 
 tion, but the main population is scattered over a 
 large extent of territory. Each family lives on its 
 own farm of one hundred and sixty acres, allotted 
 by the Government. 
 
 The schools of the reservation are well managed 
 and well patronized; they are two in number — a 
 
 153
 
 i^. 
 
 .\ 
 
 \,/. ilL sf 
 
 'f:<^ 
 
 •€ v?
 
 boarding and a day school. The boarding scholars 
 have a separate building for residence, but they at- 
 tend school in the building with the day scholars. 
 A visit to the schools is very interesting, and the 
 recitations compare favorably with those of the 
 eastern schools with scholars of the same age. Sun- 
 day-school is held in the day-school building every 
 Sunday, and nothing is left undone that will im- 
 prove the minds and bodies of the Indian children. 
 
 Although the Indian adults rarely will, or rarely 
 can, speak English, yet there are growing up all 
 around them children from ten to fifteen years of 
 age who not only understand, but can both speak 
 and write very well in the white man's language. 
 
 This natural diffidence in speaking English, even 
 when they can do so, is well shown in the following 
 incident: A beautiful young Indian girl came one 
 morning to the hospital and inquired for me. As 
 she had declined to answ^er me in English, I sup- 
 posed she could not speak our language. She made 
 known through my interpreter what she wanted, and 
 waited in the dispensary for me to prepare the needed 
 medicine. While I was putting it up, some one hap- 
 pened to pass the door. I called attention in English, 
 remarking on the girl's comeliness of figure, her 
 beautiful eyes and teeth, and general good looks. 
 I did this while I was at w^ork, speaking in such a 
 way as would not lead her to suppose I was talking 
 of her. When I had finished putting up my medi- 
 cines, I handed them to her, and she, looking ro- 
 guishly in my face, said in the best of English, 
 "Thank you, doctor, for your compliments." My 
 feelings can be better imagined than described. 
 
 For the maintenance of good order on the reser- 
 
 153
 
 vation, an admirable police force has been organized. 
 The men are a fine-looking lot, and would be a credit 
 to the police force of any land; they carry no arms 
 except on special occasions, or in case of danger. 
 They wear a neat-fitting gray uniform, with "United 
 States Police" on their buttons and on their caps. 
 There were two stores upon the reservation per- 
 mitted by the Government, and under its careful 
 supervision and inspection. These were long, low 
 buildings, very similiar in appearance and in con- 
 tents, to the country store. Here the Indian bought 
 his clothing, tobacco, and the little luxuries which 
 he thought necessary for himself and family. When 
 out of money he obtained credit by orders on his 
 yearly allowance, or by promises to pay in the wheat 
 and vegetables which he might raise in the future, 
 or by pawning his valuable bead ornaments or furs. 
 Pay-day comes but once a year, and when it comes 
 it brings good cheer for the Indian to a limited ex- 
 tent, for most of his money finds its way into the 
 hands of the trader. Then the clans are assembled 
 by their chiefs, and muster for pay; one by one 
 their names are called, and they present themselves 
 in their best attire, and receive the head money, 
 eight dollars each, for themselves, their wives, and 
 their children. They also receive presents of cloth- 
 ing, tinware, cutlery, etc. Indian blankets are es- 
 pecially prized; they are quite commonly worn over 
 white men's clothing, around the waist, or thrown 
 over the shoulders, and the feather and paint are 
 still seen occasionally on the reservation, but the 
 white men's clothing is superseding the picturesque 
 Indian dress. However, all, save a few young 
 women, retain the moccasin, and even the rector of 
 
 154
 
 Saint Coliimba wore his moccasins in the chancel. 
 Many baptized Indians have cut their hair quite 
 short, like the white men, but the braided hair, one 
 on each side of the head, is mostly in style. The 
 younger portion of the community take pride in 
 adopting the clothing of the pale face. 
 
 The modern Indian cabin furnished by the Gov- 
 ernment is built of hewn logs, with good floors, 
 windows, and doors. These, of course, are greatly 
 in demand in the winter months, but mostly all 
 cling to the comforts of the wigwam in the warm 
 summer months. These are built of birch-bark, up- 
 on strong wooden frames about eight feet high, and 
 twenty to thirty feet or more in circumference. 
 Platforms for sleeping-mats are built within the wig- 
 wam, a bare place in the center being left for the 
 ever-burning fire. An aperture in the roof permits 
 the escape of smoke and secures good ventilation. 
 The reed-mats, used for carpets, are very beautiful 
 specimens of work, and would secure large prices in 
 New York or Boston. The door is usually guarded 
 by a herd of worthless, ravenous dogs. The Indian 
 finds the wigwams very comfortable, even in the 
 coldest winter nights, with the temperature fifty 
 degrees below zero. 
 
 The Indian warrior is well trained, not only in 
 the use of his weapons but in the valuable lessons of 
 strategy. He studies intelligently the signs existing 
 about him, in the trampled grass and earth, the 
 broken twig, the size and number of fires, and their 
 remains. From earliest childhood he learns to be a 
 patient hunter, but above all he studies to conquer 
 himself, to be patient in suffering, fearless in battle, 
 indifferent to death, and when captured, to endure 
 
 155
 
 torture nobly, and to look his enemies calmly in the 
 face. 
 
 In the bloody wars, waged with ever-varying for- 
 tune against his hated enemies, the Sioux, could be 
 found good examples of true heroism and unselfish 
 deeds of daring. The Indian is now as well armed 
 as the white man, l)ut in olden times his arms con- 
 sisted of a war-club, spear, bow and arrows, a scal- 
 ping-knife, and the famous tomahawk. All these 
 have disappeared from use, unless we except the 
 tomahawk, which is still retained more as an em- 
 blem of authority than as a weapon of war. These 
 tomahawks are made of steel and brass, a combined 
 pipe and battle-axe in one. The handle is usually 
 ornamented with brass tacks and strips of otter- 
 skin. The peace-pipe is a very gorgeous affair, the 
 stem of which is decorated with gay ribbons, horse- 
 hair, and beadwork. The bowl is obtained in barter 
 from the Sioux, and comes from the famous red- 
 pipe-stone quarries of Dakota. The pipes used at 
 councils are very often valuable and highly orna- 
 mented, and the ceremonies observed in lighting, 
 presenting, and smoking them, are exceedingly in- 
 teresting to witness. 
 
 Mee-chee-kee-gee-shig has been the famous war- 
 chief, or general, of the Chippewas in many of 
 their battles with the savage Sioux. He is a tall, 
 fine-looking Indian, of commanding appearance, 
 straight as an arrow, stoical and dignified, not easily 
 aroused, either to anger or mirth, but with a heart 
 of much kindness. He was a faithful friend, and 
 in this respect no white man could outdo him. Like 
 all Indians, he had a great regard for his personal 
 appearance, and was always neatly and even well 
 
 156
 
 dressed after the fashion of his race. He wore on 
 his feet handsome and well-made moccasins, heavily 
 beaded, and on his legs well-fitted buckskin leggings, 
 with broad and showy garters of solid bead work 
 and skunk fur, with four eagles' feathers suspended 
 from each ; these signified four Sioux killed in battle. 
 His coat was of black broadcloth, without belt, but 
 suspended from either shoulder, across his chest to 
 his hips, were immense tobacco-pouches, of the most 
 expensive design and costliest beads. For earrings 
 he wore eight of pure silver, four in each ear; 
 around his head, like a turban, an elegantly beaded 
 otter-skin, and rising from his scalp-lock a long 
 eagle's feather was worn, chiefly in pride, a symbol 
 of at least one scalp taken in battle with his old 
 enemies. His raven hair was deeply parted, and 
 the parting stained with vermillion; it was also 
 carefully oiled and braided, one braid hanging at 
 each side of the head, at the ear; the plaits were 
 tied with blue braid. He carried in his pocket a 
 handkerchief, which he used like a white man, and 
 his bearing in the presence of ladies was always po- 
 lite and courteous. At table he was a well-man- 
 nered man, eating as he saw others eat. I have 
 often noticed, if he wanted to cough at table, he 
 would turn his head away and bring his hand to 
 his mouth. Indeed, I have met white men who 
 could learn many lessons of poljteness from my 
 friend Mee-chee-kee-gee-shig. He never spoke 
 lEnglish, and it is hard to believe that he could, 
 but once I heard him utter an English word. We 
 were out together hunting deer, and were waiting 
 a moment for a little rest, when the Indian came 
 up to me with the funniest show of mirth and said 
 
 157
 
 the one word "Cold.'' The familiar word, from 
 oue whom I supposed knew no En^dish, surprised 
 me, and I asked him then and there if he could 
 not understand me; but his stoical features gave 
 no sign; he shook his head, and made indications 
 that he could not. We spent nuich time together, 
 and no one on the reservation was more welcome 
 at my fireside than the kind friend, the Chippewa 
 chief. I know he entertained the highest regard 
 for me, which was well proven in the following in- 
 stance : 
 
 I had had some trouble with an hospital atten- 
 dant, the only Sioux on the reservation, an ill- 
 tempered and dangerous man, and for his laziness 
 and general worthlcssness I discharged him. I sent 
 him away in the morning, and he showed consider- 
 able ill-nature, so much so that I was warned to 
 look out for him, as an Indian, when ugly, is dan- 
 gerous, since he has no regard for future reward 
 or punishment. That very night there was an en- 
 tertainment at the agency, a mile and a half away, 
 and all the attendants in the hospital went to it. 
 I was sitting alone in the parlor, smoking, when 
 the door-gong sounded. Carrying a little lamp in 
 my hand, I went to the door and opened it. To 
 my surprise in stepped the discharged Sioux ; he 
 could not speak Chippewa, and I could not speak 
 Sioux, and so for an instant we looked at each 
 other, until he started for the dining-room, then 
 out to the kitchen and the laundry, and finally to 
 the wood-shed. I followed him cautiously, with 
 my thumb in my hip-pocket, so that, if occasion 
 arose, I could quickly seize a heavy revolver which I 
 always carried. I feared the man intended to 
 
 158
 
 spring at me, dashing- the lamp from my grasp, 
 and in the darkness to wrestle with me; so I kept 
 him well in view. He came back to the kitchen, 
 back again to the dining-room, and suddenly en- 
 tered the pantry closet, where, to my surprise, he 
 found his large hunting-knife. When I saw he 
 had found his knife I wondered what he proposed 
 to do with it. He merely held it up for me to see, 
 said "Bozho,"* and quietly left the hospital. As 
 I closed the door I turned and saw, standing in 
 the parlor doorway, my good friend, Mee-chee- 
 kee-gee-chig. He said, " Ka-ween-one-zhe-shin, ge- 
 get, ka-ween-one-zhe-shin, verily no good." We 
 went into the parlor and smoked together until the 
 return of my interpreter, and then my friend in- 
 formed him that he had seen the Sioux starting 
 for the hospital, and had followed him stealthily 
 all the way, and when he had entered he had fol- 
 lowed us through the various rooms waiting only 
 for any danger to spring to my assistance. The 
 act of faithful friendship I shall never forget as 
 long as life lasts. 
 
 Another incident will seem, under the circum- 
 stances, all the more remarkable, and shows how 
 difficult it is to teach the Indian without ocular 
 demonstration. One evening, when we were having 
 our usual smoke together in the pleasant hospital 
 parlor, the subject of chickens came up. I was 
 telling him about the beautiful fowls we have in 
 the Eastern States, large eggs, and fat chickens, 
 and light Brahmas worth ten dollars apiece. I 
 tried to describe a poultry exhibition, and when at 
 
 *" Bozho;" probably a corruption of " bon jour," learned 
 from the French traders — " good day." 
 
 159
 
 last I attempted the description of an incubator I 
 discovered my friend's faith in me had received a 
 severe shock. The interpreter informed me that he 
 could not imagine such a thing, and the more he 
 tried to explain the more the Indian refused to 
 credit the story. "Tell the medicine-man," said 
 the chief, "I am a poor Indian, and that I have seen 
 little of the white man's home, but as poor as I am, 
 and as ignorant as I am, he must not try to impose 
 upon me, with stories of chickens hatched by a 
 lamp instead of by a hen ! We know better than 
 that, for we have watched and witnessed how the 
 little chickens come to life, and how they are 
 nursed until strong enough to look out for them- 
 selves; as for the big chickens, it may be so, but 
 such have never been seen in the West." The in- 
 terpreter tried to make him understand my explana- 
 tions, but the harder he tried the more determined 
 was the Indian's refusal. "A chicken hatched by 
 a lamp, Ka-ween, ka-ween!"* It was simply ab- 
 surd. I persisted in my statements so strongly that 
 my friend excused himself and left the hospital, 
 and I did not see him again for several days. But 
 I could never induce him to believe that pale faces 
 could hatch chickens with a lamp. 
 
 I could tell you of his devotion as a husband, 
 his deep yet heroic grief at the loss of his beloved 
 children; his unselfish courage in accompanying me 
 one cold winter night on a dangerous ride over 
 many miles of prairie to rescue a poor Indian 
 woman and her desperately sick infant. I remem- 
 ber the last look I had of his manly, true-hearted 
 
 *Ka-ween — "positively not." 
 160
 
 face, as he stood, with studied stoicism, watching 
 us drive away over the snow to the settlements on 
 our homeward way. His memory is very dear to 
 me. 
 
 The war-dance in time of war is a very serious 
 affair; in time of peace, however, an opportunity 
 to witness one should not be lost. The war-dance 
 is most interesting to visit at night, for then the 
 warriors are more in earnest, and the dance is more 
 hearty. The place selected is usually one a little 
 off from the beaten track, and a flat, hard section 
 of ground. 
 
 It is lighted by large fires, one at each end, and 
 by beacons of resinous wood, which are renewed 
 during the greatest excitement of the dance. The 
 warriors sit upon the ground wrapped in their 
 blankets; at one end are the war-drums with their 
 drummers. An incessant turn, turn, turn, turn, is 
 kept up, increasing and diminishing, as the musi- 
 cians endeavor to create excitement. Finally, when 
 the full spirit of the dance begins to show itself, 
 a warrior suddenly throws aside his blanket and 
 springs into the centre of the dancing-place. He 
 dances with the peculiar motions of the Indian, 
 so indescribable, leaping first on one foot and then 
 on the other, calling out with sudden short Indian 
 yelps, until he is joined by another and another; 
 finally the space is filled with dancing, yelping In- 
 dians. The last thump of the drum causes all the 
 warriors to be seated. The music begins again, 
 and now some warrior will spring into the arena 
 with great excitement, and describe the battles of 
 his fathers or tell of his own prowess as a warrior, 
 of his duel with his enemy, and his final victory. 
 
 161
 
 lie acts out the revolting spectacle of cutting out 
 his opponent's heart and opening it, drinking 
 his life-blood, and ends with the act of scalping. 
 Amid yells of applause he resumes his place, and 
 in this manner the dance is continued until morning 
 light sends the warriors to their homes. At these 
 dances we find out what is the "Indian gift." The 
 dancer lays at the feet of an Indian a stick, and 
 tells him that this represents a pony, which will 
 be given him on the morrow. Now, the value of a 
 pony is a large, beaded tobacco-pouch and a hand- 
 some beaded otter-skin. So in a little while the man 
 at whose feet the single stick has been laid begins 
 his dance, and places at the feet of him who has 
 ])een his donor two little sticks, signifying that on 
 the morrow he will give him an otter-skin and a 
 tobacco-pouch. An Indian gift is one which can 
 never be refused. 
 
 Da-Dodge was the chief medicine-man, or Mus-ki- 
 ki-ke-we-nin-ni. The Indian always regards him 
 with the highest degree of reverence. He it is who 
 used always to be consulted about the bodily ills, 
 and all matters relating either to peace or war. 
 The grand medicine-dance is one of the great events, 
 and its initiation reminds one of masonic cere- 
 monies. But it is a relic of the Dark Ages, and 
 its influence wanes before the bright light of Chris- 
 tianity. Da-Dodge, the chief medicine-man of the 
 Chippewas at White Earth, lived in a large medi- 
 cine lodge not far from the agency and the hospital. 
 He received his fees in tobacco and yards of calico, 
 and enjoyed a very good practice. The medicine 
 lodge where Da-Dodge presided was a large wigwam, 
 some thirty feet long, and inside of this was a secret 
 
 162
 
 tent, five or six feet long, and only four or five feet 
 high. Here could often be heard the incantations of 
 the medicine-rattle, and protruding from under the 
 secret tent could be seen the nude legs of a patient 
 undergoing the sweating process with steam from 
 water and heated stones, of which the Indian is 
 very fond, and in which he indulges upon the 
 slightest pretext. The general manner of treatment 
 amongst the Indians is by the use of the rattle, 
 which the medicine-man holds in his hand, gazing 
 intently at the patient while rattling it. The medi- 
 cine-man uses many different kinds of roots and 
 herbs, and is not a mean surgeon when his services 
 are required. 
 
 The Rev. J. J. Emmengahbowh, once a wild In- 
 dian, received a good education from an Episcopal 
 missionary, and became the beloved rector of the 
 church of Saint Columba. His influence for good 
 with the Chippewas was great in his faithful 
 parish-work, and he was an eloquent expounder of 
 the Christian religion. He was much valued by his 
 people. He lived in a plain little house with his 
 wife, as his children have departed to the "Happy 
 Hunting-grounds. ' ' 
 
 Years ago, when the terrible massacre of Crow 
 Wing was planned, and when Minnesota was terror- 
 stricken by Indian uprisings, the faithful Emmen- 
 gahbowh gave timely warning, at the risk of his 
 own life, and saved multitudes from a terrible fate. 
 For this noble action he was obliged to keep well- 
 hidden from the vengeance of those who were after- 
 wards his friends. 
 
 Indian converts are sincere believers, and perform 
 their duties faithfully, travelling miles on foot 
 
 163
 
 through deep snow or in stormy weather to be 
 present at church services, and making faithful 
 offerings of their money or beadwork with great 
 punctuality. 
 
 One afternoon the tolling of the bell of Saint 
 Columba's little chapel attracted my attention, and 
 I strolled up the hill from the Hospital to attend 
 a funeral. When I reached the churchyard I no- 
 ticed a cart and oxen moving slowly in the direction 
 of the chapel; the cart contained a pine-wood cof- 
 fin, in which rested the body of a young Indian 
 wife. The husband was driving the oxen. A few 
 Indians were already in waiting within the build- 
 ing. Friendly hands helped the husband to remove 
 the coffin from the wagon and carry it into the 
 chapel. Emmengahbowh, faithful and beloved, with 
 reverent and sympathetic face, conducted the ser- 
 vice for the burial of the dead, reading it in the 
 Chippewa language. The Indians sang a hymn, 
 and the words of "Nearer, My God, to Thee" 
 seemed to have increased beauty. At the close 
 of the service, friends came forward once more 
 to gaze upon the face of the dead before committing 
 it to the grave. Then a strange scene followed: A 
 hammer was handed to the husband, and in the sad 
 silence the little building rang with his blows as 
 he hammered the nails into the coffin of his beloved 
 young wife. The casket was borne out into the 
 churchyard, the grave was cut deep in the clean, 
 dry sand, pine boughs covered the bottom of the 
 grave, and great broad strips of birch-bark the 
 sides. Slowly they lowered the coffin to its last 
 resting-place, reverently they covered it with strips 
 of bark, and carefully shovelled in the earth. The 
 
 164
 
 
 "^:^^. 
 
 
 ^>I 
 
 ?J!i^
 
 voice of the fatherly clergyman concluded the ritual, 
 impressive always in any tongue. The calm 
 and quiet of this Western afternoon, and the 
 voices of the Indians in the responses; the thought 
 of their heroic disappearance, all tended deeply to 
 influence the mind at this solemn moment. 
 
 It is customary with the Indians to cover the 
 grave with a little house, and these graves are often 
 placed immediately in front of the cabin-door. 
 This, of course, is the modem method of burial. 
 Many of these little houses are surmounted with 
 a cross, an emblem of sacred faith and hope, where 
 all earthly hopes seem dead. 
 
 In General Carrington's little book, "Some Phases 
 of the Indian Question," he makes use of the fol- 
 lowing language: "I have freely talked with 'Spot- 
 ted Tail,' 'Standing Elk,' and a score and more 
 of chiefs who came to be fed and cared for; who 
 sought peace, and sought it honestly, and with all 
 the flashes of pride and dignity which now and then 
 brighten their actions, there was ever present 
 that painful consciousness of their impending doom; 
 they were passing away. I have seen all ages and 
 both sexes, half naked, and yet reckless of exposure, 
 fording the Platte, while ice ran fast, and the mer- 
 cury w^as below the zero mark, for the single pur- 
 pose of gathering from a post slaughter-house to 
 the last scoop, all oifal, however nauseous, that they 
 might use it in lieu of that precious game which 
 our occupation was driving from its haunts. They, 
 too, were passing away." 
 
 All this while agents and inferior officers were 
 getting fat and rich from the stealings of money 
 and food due to these brave creatures. 
 
 165
 
 Mr. Welsh says of them: "In the wild rage of 
 battle, in the torturing test of the sun-dance; in 
 the hour of defeat and the howl of victory; in the 
 spirited hunt and in the solemn council — awake, 
 asleep, in tepee, or on the prairie, I have found 
 them the same fate-defying, strong-willed, and pecu- 
 liar race; obdurate, steady, and self-possessed in all 
 their moods; yet passing away. The power of the 
 United States was never so great as now, and power 
 is a measure of responsibility." 
 
 Let us arouse to a sense of duty at this late date, 
 and make one real and genuine effort to undo some 
 of the wrongs of the past, and see to it that the 
 Indians as they fold their tents, and depart from 
 the last vestige of their ancestors' lands for "hap- 
 pier hunting-grounds," the poor children, be per- 
 mitted to go in peace. 
 
 " In the glory of the sunset, 
 In the purple mists of evening, 
 To the regions of the home wind, 
 To the northwest wind Kee-wah-din, 
 To the islands of the blessed. 
 To the kingdom of Po-nee-mah, 
 To the land of the hereafter." 
 
 Letter of the poet Longfellow to Dr. Parker upon 
 receiving a photo of Mee-chee-kee-gee-shig, a Chip- 
 pewa Chief. 
 
 Cambridge, June 5, 
 1880. 
 My Dear Sir; 
 
 The photograph of the Indian Chief, was duly 
 received, and I cannot think I neglected to acknowl- 
 edge it and to thank you for it. My letter must 
 have miscarried, as I am generally very punctual 
 in such matters. But it was so long ago, I cannot 
 feel quite certain. 
 
 166
 
 MEE-SHEE-KEE-GEE-SHIG. 
 
 Dark lowering d;iy, clouds toucliing all around. 
 
 Chippewa War Chief and Ur. Parkers fiieiid and companion in the hunt and 
 
 in danger.
 
 Permit me to thank you now for this very strik- 
 ing portrait. How grave, and calm and patient in 
 face and attitude! It is excellent. 
 
 Should you ever again see the Chief, be kind 
 enough to thank him cordially for me. 
 I am, my Dear Sir, 
 
 Yours very truly, 
 
 Henry W. Longfellow. 
 
 167
 
 AMONG THE CHIPPEWAS. 
 
 With the map of the North American Continent 
 before you, and placing your finger on the most 
 central point, it will be very near the White Earth 
 Reservation, in the heart of the Chippewa country, 
 not far from Holy Cross Lake, now known as Itasca 
 Lake, the reputed source of the great "Father of 
 Waters." 
 
 The agency buildings are prettily situated near 
 a clear lake, and consist of a Government building, 
 boarding and day schools, headquarters of the 
 agent, police office, post-office, storehouses, a few 
 small stores. Government employes' houses, Indian 
 cabins, etc. This is the centre of the Reservation, 
 but the main population are scattered over a large 
 extent of territory, each family living on their own 
 farm, according to the number of acres allotted to 
 them by the Government. 
 
 The schools of the Reservation are well managed 
 and well patronized. They are two in number, 
 the boarding and the day school. The boarding 
 scholars' room in the building, but they attend 
 school with the day scholars. 
 
 It is a great satisfaction to visit the schools and 
 to listen to the recitations and to note how favor- 
 ably they compare with Eastern schools for children 
 of the same ages. Sunday-school is held in the day 
 school every Sunday, and nothing is left undone. 
 
 168
 
 so far as means will allow, to improve the mind 
 and body of the Indian children. Although the In- 
 dian adult rarely can or rarely will speak English, 
 yet now there are growing up all around them 
 children from ten to fifteen years of age who not 
 only understand but can both speak and write very 
 well indeed in the white man's language. 
 
 Three times a week the mail arrives and departs 
 from the "White Earth Post-office. Not only do the 
 white members of the community appreciate the 
 privileges of the Post-office Department, but the In- 
 dians also avail themselves of its advantages. 
 
 For the maintenance of good order on the Reser- 
 vation the Government organized an admirable 
 police force, composed of full-blood and half-breed 
 Indians. The men were a fine looking lot, and would 
 be a credit to the police force of any land. The 
 police go about entirely unarmed, but are always 
 in their neat-fitting gray uniform with "U. S. Po- 
 lice" on their buttons and on their cap. It is pos- 
 sible to arm them properly should occasion require. 
 
 Very few in the Eastern States seem to realize how 
 low the mercury falls in winter in the northern re- 
 gions of Minnesota. For weeks the mercury ther- 
 mometer will be useless, being quite frozen ! Temper- 
 ature from 40 to 45 degrees below zero. One or two 
 cold nights in the winter of 1879 and 1880 the Gov- 
 ernment spirit thermometer registered 57 de- 
 grees below zero. However in the world the Indians 
 in wigwams can endure the temperature has re- 
 mained a mystery. From this bitter cold of winter 
 the mercury runs up in summer to 112 degrees in 
 the very hottest weather of noonday, but the nights 
 are almost always cool and refreshing, and in spite of 
 
 169
 
 these extremes the climate is delightful, and very 
 sudden changes are rare, the rise from winter cold to 
 summer heat being very gradual. The spring is 
 very short and the autumn wonderfully fine, al- 
 though lacking the beauty of the Eastern foliage. 
 
 Upon the Reservation there were two stores per- 
 mitted by the Government and under careful su- 
 pervision and inspection. These were long, low 
 buildings, very similar in appearance and in con- 
 tents to the average country store. Here the In- 
 dian obtained his groceries, clothing, tobacco and the 
 little luxuries which he found necessary for himself 
 and family. When out of money he obtained 
 "credit" by orders on the yearly allowance or by 
 promises to pay from the wheat and vegetables which 
 he might raise in the future, or by pawning his valu- 
 able bead ornaments or furs. Pay day comes but 
 once a year, and when it comes it brings good cheer 
 for the Indian. Then the clans are assembled by 
 their chiefs and "mustered for pay." One by one 
 their names are called, and they present themselves 
 in their best attire and receive the annual head 
 money — $8 each — for themselves, their wives and 
 children. They also receive presents of clothing, 
 blankets, tinware, cutlery, etc. 
 
 The Indian regards the medicine man, "Mus-ki- 
 kee-wi-ni-nee/ ' with the highest degree of reverence. 
 He it is who used always be consulted and obeyed 
 in all important matters relating either to war or 
 peace; besides exercising his important functions 
 as the healer of wounds and the curer of disease. 
 The grand medicine dance is one of the greatest 
 events of the year, and its initiation reminds one 
 forcibly of Masonic ceremonies, but it is a heathen 
 
 170
 
 relic and its influence wanes before the bright light 
 of Christianity. Da-Dodge was the "chief medicine 
 man" of the Chippewas at White Earth, and lived 
 in a large medicine lodge not far from the Agency 
 and the hospital. He received his fees in tobacco 
 and yards of calico, and enjoyed a very good prac- 
 tice. 
 
 The medicine lodge where Da-Dodge presided was 
 a large wigwam of l^irch bark some thirty feet long, 
 and inside of this was the secret tent, five or six feet 
 long and only four or five feet high. Here could be 
 heard the incantations and the medicine "rattle," 
 and protruding from under the secret tent might be 
 seen, the nude legs of a patient undergoing the 
 sweating process with steam from water and heated 
 stones. The blanket was quite commonly worn, 
 and the feather and the paint were seen occasion- 
 ally on the Reservation, but the white man's cloth- 
 ing has superseded the picturesque Indian dress, 
 although all save a few young women retained 
 the moccasin. Even the rector of St. Columba 
 wore his moccasins in the chancel! Many of the 
 baptized Indians have cut their hair quite short 
 like white men, but the braid is mostly in style. 
 The younger portion of the community take pride 
 in adopting the clothing of the pale face. For the 
 use of the Indians the Government furnishes cabins 
 built of hewn logs with good floors and windows 
 and doors. These, of course, are greatly in demand 
 in winter weather, but almost all still cling to the 
 comforts of the wigwam in the warm summer 
 months. The wigwam of the Chippewa is built of 
 birch bark upon strong wooden frames, about eight 
 feet high and twenty to thirty feet or more in cir- 
 
 171
 
 cumference. Platforms for the sleeping mats, two 
 or three feet high, circle the tent, a broad space in 
 the centre being left for the ever burning fire. An 
 aperture in the roof permits the escape of smoke 
 and secures good ventilation. The reed mats used 
 for carpets are often very beautiful specimens of 
 work, and would secure large prices in New York 
 or Boston. The door is usually of blanket, and is 
 guarded by a herd of worthless, ravenous dogs. 
 The Indians finds the wigwam very comfortable even 
 in the coldest winter nights with the temperature 
 50 degrees below zero ! The Indian warrior was well 
 trained, not only in the use of his weapons but in 
 the valuable lessons of strategy. He studied intel- 
 ligently the signs which exists about him, in the 
 trampled grass and earth, the broken twig, the size 
 and number of the fires, or in their remains, etc. 
 He learns to conquer himself, to be patient under 
 suffering, fearless in battle, indifferent to death — 
 captured and awaiting a death of torture, to look 
 his enemies calmly in the face. In these bloody 
 wars, waged with ever varying fortune, could be 
 found examples of the highest heroism and un- 
 selfishness, deeds of daring, unsurpassed by the 
 most gallant records in history. It is undeniably 
 true that the Indian possesses many admirable 
 traits; he is naturally manly and bold, a devoted 
 lover of freedom and independence, an unequalled 
 hunter, a fearless warrior, an eloquent orator, a 
 loving father, a sincere and consistent believer in 
 "The Great Spirit" Gitche-Manito. His life was 
 free from cursing and blasphemy, neither does his 
 language afford an opportunity for the expression 
 of oaths. His figure was usually tall and command- 
 
 172
 
 ing, and his bearing naturally proud ; he has roamed 
 through vast tracts of country all his own unchal- 
 lenged. 
 
 Rev. J. J. Emmengahbowh, once a wild Indian, 
 received a good education from the missionaries, 
 and became the beloved rector of the Church of St. 
 Columba. His influence for good with the Chip- 
 ewas was very great. In his faithful parish work 
 and as an eloquent expounder of the Christian re- 
 ligion, his services were much valued by his people. 
 He lived in a plain little house with his wife and 
 children, patiently working and waiting, thinking 
 only of his people's welfare, and firmly trusting 
 and believing in his church. He was truly a re- 
 markable man, and it was owing to his efforts 
 and those of the beloved Chief, Fair Day, Mi-no- 
 ge-shig, that by visiting many of the churches 
 in the Eastern States and making addresses the 
 Church of St. Columba, costing .$12,000, was built. 
 Years ago, when the terrible massacre of Crow- Wing 
 was planned, and when Minnesota was terror-strick- 
 en by Indian uprising, the faithful Emmengahbowh 
 gave timely warning, at the risk of his own life, 
 and saved many from a terrible fate. For this 
 noble action he was obliged to keep well hidden 
 from the vengeance of those, who to-day warmly 
 applaud his unselfishness. The Indian convert is 
 a sincere believer and performs his duties faithfully, 
 travelling miles on foot through deep snow in stormy 
 weather to be present at church services, and mak- 
 ing an offering either of money or beadwork with 
 great punctuality. Good Emmengahbowh and our 
 friend Me-no-gee-shig, have gone to rest, the memory 
 of their faithful friendship will remain with us al- 
 ways. Requiescant in Pace. Amen. 
 
 173
 
 A MOTHER'S EXPERIENCE IN 
 THE COLD NORTHWEST. 
 
 The following letter gives a very good idea of the 
 discomforts in cold regions as witnessed by a mother. 
 The writer of it shared with me the dangers and 
 sufferings of that cold and cruel winter of 1879- '80. 
 It was the real courage and skill and patience united 
 with an excellent constitution, to say nothing of an 
 unequalled disposition, which saved the lives of 
 husband and child and more than one grateful In- 
 dian as well, and won for her the undying love and 
 devotion of her Chippewa friends, who gave her 
 the simple name of "The Indian's true friend." 
 With help, with comforts, with advice, and sym- 
 pathy, in all of which a bright pure Christian flame 
 was ever burning, she taught these Indians and the 
 palefaces, what womankind can be, and left behind 
 her a record which from that day to this, now nearly 
 33 years, these Indians love to talk about and bless 
 her for. 
 
 "During the winter of 1879- '80 we experienced 
 true Arctic vveather — the 'Sundogs' were frequent 
 and very distinct. In November the cold set in with 
 snow for the season. When first informed that the 
 thermometer registered zero I could not believe it. 
 I wore a suimner gown (over heavy flannels, of 
 course) in the house. The sun was bright and the 
 
 174
 
 atmosphere was intensely clear. At Thanksgiving 
 time it was very wintry. The highest mark of the 
 thermometer. (Fahrenheit) during the month of 
 December was 16 degrees F., and this in the middle 
 of the day. The day before Christmas the govern- 
 ment spirit thermometer registered— 40 degrees F. 
 All day long the ice remained under and near the 
 stove in the kitchen, where we kept up the fire con- 
 stantly. Attempting to make a simple cake, the 
 butter would harden so that I could not beat it if 
 I took it off the stove. Meats were frozen as hard 
 as a rock, but we were grateful to get them, for they 
 were brought by the mail wagon a long distance 
 two or three times a week. 
 
 "Our 'menu' was most simple and restricted, 
 consisting mostly of dry groceries like cereals and 
 canned goods — not at all like the variety reported 
 by Nansen on the ' Fram ! ' A cow was our main- 
 stay. It was her milk which kept our child alive — 
 when his appetite gave out. He tired of the miser- 
 able lack of variety in our food. Everything would 
 freeze — if possible. One morning we could not get 
 breakfast till about ten o'clock, it took so long to get 
 things started. Even the bread in an inside closet 
 was frozen, although wrapped and in a tin box. 
 It cut like a slice of ice cream. It was a fight for 
 existence in such a region of ice. In each room we 
 had to shut ourselves in and feed sheet iron stoves 
 with the scraggly oak sticks — all night long as 
 well as by day — it was unsafe to let the fire go down 
 even in our bedroom. 
 
 "We could wear any amount of clothing, mostly 
 woolen — my child of four years could only exercise 
 by my getting out with him for a few moments to 
 
 175
 
 keep him in perpetual motion. He was warmly 
 wrapped from head to foot with fur wrapper, cap 
 with lappets — all of otter skin, the present of an 
 Indian chief — completely covering his head. His 
 face was only slightly exposed. Even then often 
 the purple spots would appear on his cheeks and 
 nose. Often I would play games with him to bribe 
 him to eat. We have experienced severe cold in 
 other places even the bitter 'Northers' of the Texan 
 'panhandle' but nothing ever like this of 1879- '80! 
 Some days, especially in January, were beautiful. 
 Zero weather and even ten below was fine, dry, 
 clear and cold, with a brilliant sun. 
 
 "Our leaving White Earth was on a bitter win- 
 ter day, but so still, crisp and sunny one could not 
 believe the thermometer stood — 28 degrees F. It 
 was important to keep our child awake while we were 
 driving nearly twenty-five miles over the rolling 
 country. It was growing colder and colder as we 
 drove in an open sleigh to the railroad settlements." 
 
 176
 
 Dr. Parker in huiitiug suit of Indian tanned dter t-kin made for tiim by tlie 
 Chippewa Indians, lM'9-80.
 
 THE LOVE OF A PEOPLE. 
 
 Won by a Cup of Water in His Name. 
 
 It was one of those hot September mornings at 
 a far away Indian Reservation hospital. The sur- 
 geon and his fair young wife were chatting with the 
 matron in the dining room. The windows were all 
 open. The landscape was fair to see; forest and 
 lake and rolling prairie land, such as one will find 
 near the sources of the "Father of Waters." As 
 we gazed out upon the restful scenery, a tired-look- 
 ing squaw approached with a huge bundle on her 
 back, and laboriously plodded her way to a 
 window, hesitatingly cried out, "Punge nibbee," 
 which means in the paleface tongue, "Please 
 give me a little water." She looked like a burden 
 carrier with her heated, tired face, across the fore- 
 head of which was the band which held her pack. 
 
 The matron, a woman of "executive ability," 
 pointed towards the lake. "There you will find 
 water in plenty," she said, with a cold, indifferent, 
 almost contemptuous tone. 
 
 The Indian woman turned with a lowering look, 
 and started on again. 
 
 All this took place in an instant. We stood as 
 it were in a trance of surprise which was quickly 
 broken by the surgeon's wife, w^ho rushed to the 
 
 177
 
 window, and called eagerly to the Indian. The 
 squaw turned doubtfully, half fearing another in- 
 sult, but was reassured by the gentle voice. She 
 stopped and tooked up in wonder and with pleasure 
 at the sweet, fair face and golden hair. It seemed 
 to her a vision of loveliness such as she had never 
 before seen! 
 
 Now the poor woman approaches and kind hands 
 help relieve her of her pack, and bring her into the 
 dining room. Food, milk, and plenty of water, are 
 placed before her, and the interpreter assures her 
 of welcome to-day or any day — food whenever 
 hungry, rest whenever weary — and "Tell her," 
 said the gentle hostess, "that this hospital was 
 built for the Indians by kind-hearted palefaces far 
 away — some now in the spirit land. Here Indians 
 are ever welcome. Come again and see me." 
 
 If ever gratitude took the place of hate on human 
 face here was an instance. Regretfully the poor 
 traveler at last resumed her toilsome way. 
 
 "Well," said the matron, "you may think that is 
 good policy, but / will tell you it don't work among 
 Indians. See if the hospital is not overrun this 
 very afternoon with all the old beats on the Reserva- 
 tion. " 
 
 Sure enough, when afternoon was on the wane 
 the hospital yard was simply full of Indians — 
 blanketed, painted men, boys, and squaws. 
 
 It did seem as if the matron's fears were about 
 to be realized. The surgeon and interpreter went 
 out on the hospital steps and asked them what they 
 wished. If the Indians wished to come in, it would 
 perhaps be best for a dozen or so to come in 
 
 178
 
 at a time, and then they could in this manner go 
 over the hospital. 
 
 " No ! " they did not wish to come in. 
 
 "What do they wish — food, water, tobacco?" 
 
 "No" — not even that! They had come to see 
 the Indians' "friend," the wife of the Paleface 
 medicine-man, and that was the real object of their 
 visit. 
 
 With her child in her arms, their "friend" came 
 forth to renew her words of gentle kindness and 
 sincerity. No man who could witness such a scene 
 of genuine love, could ever forget it. The Indians 
 pressed about to touch the hands and look in the 
 gentle face and to discern with their wonderfully 
 acute powers of character reading the true, deep 
 interest in their welfare which was so apparent. 
 
 And so began the love and devotion which many 
 years have seasoned and preserved, and this is how 
 a cup of water won the love of a people! 
 
 179
 
 BRAVEHEART'S BAPTISM. 
 
 Bravelieart, an Indian chief, stood before a pic- 
 ture of Correggio's "Ecce Homo" at the "Black- 
 coats' " lodge. He was evidently interested and 
 puzzled in this curious appearance of a mild and 
 friendly Man who wore such a strange "head 
 dress" which seemed to be only a crown of thorns! 
 So he asked one of his friends, the missionaries, to 
 explain to him the mystery. 
 
 More than once Braveheart returned to ask to 
 have the story of the Man of Sorrows related to 
 him — the story of the great Passion — the story of 
 Him who died to save others. 
 
 That old, old story of the love of God for sinful 
 man made a deep impression on the red man's 
 heart, and he became the Black-coats' friend — and 
 made frequent visits to the mission to learn the 
 great message. 
 
 But, after a while, the visits of Braveheart ceased, 
 and he was missed. When one of the Black-coats 
 returned from a long journey, he reported that 
 Braveheart was gone to the "happy hunting 
 grounds," and would never visit the mission again. 
 
 He had called his friends about him from time 
 to time during his sickness in his wigwam, and told 
 them the story of the picture of the "Friend of all 
 men," and how if the Great Spirit spared his life 
 
 180
 
 a while longer, he would ask for the Black-coats' 
 ceremony — Baptism — but as his strength failed and 
 death approached to overcome the brave, old chief- 
 tain, he gave the family his last instructions. 
 
 "When I am dead," said Braveheart, "place 
 upon my breast in the grave the totem of the 
 Black-coats, the Cross of the Friend of all men, 
 and above my grave set up a large Cross that it 
 may be seen from afar, and when anyone asks why 
 is that great Cross erected there, say to them that 
 Braveheart, who believed in the white man's Sav- 
 iour, is resting in peace* beneath it, hoping for a 
 better life — trusting to the love of the Father of 
 Life." 
 
 And thus it was that Braveheart died, and was 
 buried with Christian symbols within and without 
 his lonely grave. 
 
 We were speaking of all these things one after- 
 noon in the smoking section of a Pullman car 
 speeding over the great prairies where so short a 
 time ago the Indians roamed at will, and someone 
 said : ' ' What a pity that good Indian had never been 
 baptized. ' ' 
 
 One of our party was a quiet unassuming Catho- 
 lic priest, sitting with us and enjoying his smoke. 
 He had been a listener to the story. The good 
 priest looked up at this last remark, and, gently 
 placing his hand upon the knee of the narrator, 
 said: "My son, Braveheart was baptized." 
 
 *Even among the non-Christian Indians, the term " go in 
 peace " (rest in peace) is common, as is also the term " Father 
 of all. Father of life" — meaning "the Great White Spirit 
 whom we call God." 
 
 181
 
 "Did you know him, Father?" we asked the good 
 priest. 
 
 "No, my son, but I will explain to you. The 
 Church recognizes three forms of Baptism, the regu- 
 lar and well-known rite with water, and the Baptism 
 of blood of the martyrs, who gave their lives in de- 
 fence of the Faith, and a third form, the Baptism 
 of Desire. Many a soul struggling, groping in the 
 darkness of unbelief or un-Christian surroundings, 
 stretches forth his hands, longing for a Saviour, 
 whose name he does not know. God sees it all, and 
 the Holy Spirit baptizes that soul for the inher- 
 itance of everlasting salvation." 
 
 As the dear, old priest ceased speaking, the sun 
 was setting and we all sat in silence for awhile. 
 That was a most fitting explanation of Braveheart's 
 Baptism. 
 
 182
 
 LOST ON THE GREAT PLAINS. 
 
 In the cold month of January, 1868, I received 
 an invitation from an officer friend, Lieutenant 
 
 , to visit him at the frontier station. Fort 
 
 Cedar Point, Colo. The message was brought to 
 Denver by a non-commissioned officer, who, with 
 two or three soldiers, would return to the fort in 
 a few hours. The necessary preparations were 
 quickly made, and we were soon en route south- 
 ward. We traveled in a western wagon drawn by 
 two mules. 
 
 The first night we expected to sleep under cover 
 of some house, and the next night we must find 
 our camp on the ground in the open prairie. We 
 started in cold weather, and when we reached our 
 camping place a dreary snowstorm had commenced. 
 We formed camp as rapidly as possible, building 
 a huge fire, and by good luck finding an old wagon- 
 box, we propped that up against the wind. Our 
 simple meal finished we wrapped ourselves in our 
 blankets, and were soon fast asleep. The snow 
 covered us pretty well before morning, but we 
 awoke refreshed and hungry, and without having 
 suffered from the cold. The storm had ceased, and 
 we started forth to complete our journey. What 
 tonic can equal the glorious, invigorating atmosphere 
 of Colorado? 
 
 183
 
 Toward evening the rough outbuildings and 
 tents of the fort came into view, and we were 
 heartily welcomed at the "mess" by our friends. 
 With the exception of a few "dug outs" or holes 
 in the ground, the command was quartered in can- 
 vas houses — tents spread over a light wooden frame- 
 work. These houses had one door, with a window 
 in it to give light ; of course they were very cold, 
 but well ventilated, and with plenty of fur rugs 
 and wraps, and the little stove well filled, one could 
 make himself quite comfortable. Under canvas in 
 Colorado in Summer is delightful, but in January 
 and February there are some drawbacks. Twelve 
 miles away from the post was a mail station, where 
 twice in the week we could get "home letters." That 
 little, rough mail station seemed a very important 
 place to us — "the connecting link." We regarded 
 it with great interest, as one would delight in an 
 oasis on the desert! 
 
 " Life at a frontier post is not very exciting, and 
 after a while it becomes monotonous, but every 
 little incident is made as much of as possible, 
 and all endeavor to contribute to the general well- 
 being of the garrison. The menu of the officers' 
 mess had been quite simple, but sometime before 
 my arrival a party of emigrants passed by the post 
 with a lame cow, which they offered for sale, and 
 this valuable creature became the prize and the 
 pride of the officers' mess. At considerable expense 
 a bag of Indian meal had been procured from the 
 settlement, and when I reached Fort C. the mess 
 was luxuriating in mush and milk for supper every 
 evening. How delicious it tasted; hot and whole- 
 some, a feast for the gods it seemed to us who were 
 
 184
 
 used to hardtack and army bacon, with coffee with- 
 out cream, as we called our morning drink. In- 
 deed, we seldom had condensed milk for it, but now 
 here was a real, live, milch cow, and good, pure 
 milk, better than most can get from your milkman 
 in the midst of civilization nowadays. You can 
 imagine what a treat this was for us. Sometimes 
 we enjoyed a roast of antelope, but it was not so 
 easy to shoot these pretty creatures as one might 
 think ; even forty-five years ago they gave the hunter 
 plenty of hard work. 
 
 We started out, my friend and I, one afternoon 
 to try for some antelope meat for the mess. By 
 hard work and careful hunting we each had a shot 
 at some beautiful creatures. My friend's shot 
 proved better than mine, and while he started off 
 after his wounded antelope I sought for another 
 chance. The antelope escaped, and when I turned 
 to join my companion I could not find him. I star- 
 ted in what I thought was the direction of the post, 
 but began to lose my bearings, and at last came to 
 the conclusion that I was, indeed, lost on the plains. 
 Night was coming on rapidly. I tried to find some 
 familiar landmark from the highest ground I could 
 reach, but all was strange and bewildering, and the 
 sense of being lost and in danger came over me. I 
 dared not wander further lest I should increase the 
 distance between myself and friend. 
 
 I examined my carbine and counted my car- 
 tridges. I had seven shots left, none too many for 
 one in my position. The Indians roamed up and 
 down through this section all Winter, and although 
 they were theoretically at peace, my chances for 
 fair treatment were very slim indeed. I should 
 
 185
 
 probably have been murdered for the sake of my 
 carbine and clothing if not for my poor scalp. All 
 these thoughts intruded themselves, besides visions 
 of wild beasts. Then I began to feel cold and 
 hungry, and to my dismay I discovered that I had 
 not one solitary match left. 
 
 The loneliness and the darkness increased. I be- 
 gan to search for some hiding place to shelter me 
 until morning, and I ventured to run towards a 
 little hollow. I was feeling very lonely, and I tried 
 not to remember the stories of men lost on the 
 plains, but they would come up before my mind. 
 I felt certain that my only safety was to be very 
 self-possessed and brave. I might be quite near 
 the post, and when Lieut. Q. returned he would 
 surely send out searching parties. Oh, if I only 
 had a match I would build a fire to guide them; 
 it was getting so dark I feared they could not find 
 me. I debated whether or not I should part with 
 one of my precious shots, and I decided that I 
 would climb to the top of the little rise of ground 
 and fire my evening gun. I could not get material 
 together sufficiently dry to fire with the shot from 
 my carbine. 
 
 Slowly I climbed the little hill, and praying God 
 to send me relief, I fired my carbine in the air. 
 Like an answer from heaven came a low boom from 
 the distance. I must have imagined it, I thought, 
 it is the mocking echo of my carbine; but it did 
 sound like a cannon. Boom came the gladdening 
 sound again, and straining my eyes over the hori- 
 zon I saw — oh, what a joyful sight to me — a bright 
 light, a fire. How can it be in that direction, just 
 the opposite from what I believed the post to be in. 
 
 186
 
 Boom came the gun again, and with a happy, thank- 
 ful heart I ran fast enough to rival an antelope 
 toward the light, the "Star of hope" to me. In a 
 short time I saw figures approaching; they were sol- 
 diers searching for me, sent by our kind command- 
 ing officer. I was saved. 
 
 It was hard to keep back the tears of joy and 
 gratitude, but it was dark, and I pretended to take 
 matters very coolly. I feared, too, that I might be 
 well blamed for the trouble I had given, and the 
 story of the lost boy came to my mind. On reach- 
 ing the post, however, I found all glad to see me 
 safely back again and the delicious mush and milk 
 was waiting, to which I did full justice with a 
 grateful heart. 
 
 So much for antelope hunting. A much safer 
 sport was poisoning wolves which we accomplished 
 in the following manner: The great "loafer wolves," 
 or "gray wolves" as they are more commonly 
 known, roamed about the post every night. They 
 were not only annoying by their howling, but they 
 were most accomplished thieves. Their hides were 
 then worth $1 skinned or 75 cents on the dead 
 animal. The wolves roamed generally near the 
 corral. We planted a post in the ground, and high 
 up out of reach of the wolves we tied a large and 
 tempting bone, on which we left considerable meat. 
 Pieces of meat from three to four inches long we 
 cut nearly in half, and in the slit thus fashioned 
 we placed a good quantity of strychnine. We scat- 
 tered many of these pieces on the ground not far 
 from the post from which the bone was hanging. 
 We made these preparations at sundown. 
 
 18T
 
 During the night the wolves would come, and 
 finding the poisoned meat devour it greedily until 
 it was all gone. Then scenting the meat and bone 
 on the post, they would sit down and deliberate 
 how that was to be obtained. They were too hungry 
 to leave such a tempting morsel, and it was hard 
 for them to believe that it could not be gotten by 
 patience. While waiting the poison would begin 
 to operate, and with a howl the wolves would start 
 off in pain, only to run a short distance before they 
 fell dead. In the morning we would find their 
 bodies, frozen stiff, not many yards from the post. 
 If we did not use this method of retaining them 
 until the poison acted upon them fatally they might 
 run off a mile or more before death, and give us 
 some trouble in hunting up their bodies. The sport 
 proved quite profitable, although strychnine was 
 very expensive at that time at Fort C. 
 
 One day our mail-rider, who went once a week 
 to the stage station, 12 miles away, was taken sick, 
 and I volunteered to go in his place, and received 
 the commanding officer's permission. I started out 
 with my mail-bag in the morning, mounted on an 
 excellent mule, and reached the station in time for 
 dinner. After getting the return mail I rode off 
 for the post again. It was a clear, mild afternoon 
 in February, and my mule started off briskly for 
 home. We had made more than half the distance 
 when, upon riding down into a little hollow, my 
 mule suddenly stopped and appeared to be in ter- 
 ror. I urged her forward, but she would not move. 
 All at once it occurred to me that mules have a 
 dread of Indians, and can smell them for some dis- 
 tance. This, then, must be the cause of my mule's 
 
 188
 
 alarm. There were Indians in ambush ahead, and 
 being in ambush, they meant me no good. 
 
 I hastily unslung and brought my carbine to a 
 ready, and urged my frightened mule back to the 
 rising ground. In less time than it takes to write 
 this I heard a noise in the bushes and out sprang, 
 not some painted warriors, as my frightened senses 
 supposed would appear, but some antelopes, which 
 bounded away and were soon out of range before 
 I could recover from my fright. They had evi- 
 dently been caught napping, something that rarely 
 happens to an antelope. My mule recognized them 
 as soon as I did and looked rather ashamed, for 
 frightening me in that rough way. But I was glad 
 to forgive her, and happier still to reach the fort 
 safely at last, where I gave up my precious mail- 
 bag to cheer the hearts of the garrison with news 
 of loved ones far away. 
 
 My visit, like all other pleasures, had an end, and 
 I parted from my kind friends with great regret. 
 Civilization has advanced so rapidly that probably 
 no vestige of the old frontier fortified camp remains 
 to-day. The garrivson has been scattered in every 
 direction, and it is hardly possible that these lines 
 will ever reach the eyes of any of those who con- 
 tributed so much of kindness and hospitality to the 
 writer. It will be a long time indeed before I for- 
 get my adventures in old Colorado! 
 
 189
 
 ON THE ARKANSAW IN '67. 
 
 Guard mount was over, this lovely spring morn- 
 ing, at old Fort Lyon, and upon the broad veran- 
 das of the officer's quarters, along the line over- 
 looking the parade ground, were gathered some of 
 the ladies and officers of the post, discussing the 
 startling newa which had just been received con- 
 cerning the Indians. 
 
 While at the garrison all seemed peaceful and 
 secure, it was reported that along the Arkansaw, 
 and more particularly at the ford near Bent's Fort, 
 the hostile Indians were attacking every wagon train 
 that attempted to make a crossing. 
 
 To check their lawless interference and to pro- 
 tect emigrants from these Indian attacks, the 
 commanding officer of Fort Lyon had been directed 
 to detail an officer and ten men to hold the ford, 
 and young Bradstreet, a recent arrival from West 
 Point, had been selected for this hazardous and im- 
 portant undertaking. 
 
 The Adjutant had given the officer his first orders 
 for field service, and with a few hurried partings 
 to friends and comrades he turned his steps toward 
 his own quarters to prepare for his departure. As 
 he donned his scouting uniform and made his prep- 
 arations, an old friend, his First Lieutenant, Dick 
 Trumbull, entered the room. "Bradstreet," he 
 
 190
 
 said, "its hard luck for you to have such a detail. 
 I offered to go, but Capt. Walker had determined 
 to send you, and so there is no help for it." 
 
 The written order lying on his table stated the 
 facts plainly enough — "To proceed immediately by 
 wagon, with Sergt. Mason and nine men of B Troop 
 of the gallant old Third Cavalry, to a certain desig- 
 nated ford of the Arkansaw, there to intrench him- 
 self as best he might, and hold the Sante Fe trail 
 open. ' ' 
 
 With ten men to hold open the trail and guard 
 the ford in a war such as this, with all the Indian 
 tribes united — it seemed a very thankless post for 
 even an ambitious young soldier. 
 
 Hardly had Bradstreet made his hasty prepara- 
 tions, when the great army wagon drove up; it was 
 loaded with rations, tents, arms and ammunition, 
 and escorted by a dozen mounted troopers. 
 
 The "dismounted detail" got into the wagon and 
 awaited the order to march. 
 
 A few final instructions from the Post Adjutant, 
 and the command started off in the direction of the 
 eastward trail. 
 
 Shortly after noon, the conunand made a halt, 
 and then pushed on again in the direction of the 
 ford. 
 
 It was long after dark before their destination 
 was reached. The command halted and camped 
 without tents or fire. Pickets were stationed, the 
 horses were tied to the tongue and wheels of the 
 wagon, and every precaution taken to avoid a sur- 
 prise. The most dreaded time for Indian attack is 
 in the early dawn ; then the Indians, hoping to sur- 
 
 191
 
 prise a sleeping command, steal noiselessly in the 
 dim light to make a stampede. 
 
 At 3 o'clock next morning all were astir. 
 Belcher, the officer in command of the escort, with 
 Bradstreet, sought out a suitable position for the 
 station. 
 
 After breakfast all hands were at work, throwing 
 up a breastwork to surround the three tents to be 
 occupied by the detail. 
 
 The situation was well chosen on a high bank of 
 the Arkansaw overlooking the ford. 
 
 A commanding view of the country about could 
 be had in almost every direction. 
 
 The vast rolling prairie stretched out like the 
 ocean to the east, to the north, to the west, and over 
 the river to the south. 
 
 By noon the station on the "Arkansaw" was com- 
 pleted. No flag-staff to be sure was there, but quite 
 a fort nevertheless it was in appearance, with 'its 
 quaker guns of wagon hubs frowning from em- 
 brasures. Its little garrison of eleven brave hearts 
 would undoubtedly do its best to hold its own in 
 case of emergency. 
 
 The escort was soon in saddle, and with the 
 empty wagon they rode away, leaving the lonely 
 detachment of the Fourth to its fate. Night settled 
 down upon the plains, the sentries began their watch 
 and the first day's duties were ended. 
 
 The Sergeant's voice, next morning, was their 
 only reveille. In this lonely spot there would be 
 nothing to break the monotony unless diversion 
 supplied by the Indians. 
 
 Day after day the walls were added to or strength- 
 ened. Everything was done to suggest the appear- 
 
 192
 
 ance of a garrison of some size. Twice a day the 
 whole command, except one sentry, who marched 
 about in plain sight, went down to the river with 
 pails and canteens for water. They left their car- 
 bines in the fort, but concealed under their coats 
 they carried their revolvers. This was a risky thing 
 to do, but was kept up out of pure bravado. 
 
 On the third day a strong emigrant party passed 
 the station, crossing the ford to the southward. 
 
 On the fourth they were enabled to send word to 
 Fort Lyon, reporting all well, the pony express 
 rider having made a short halt. He reported In- 
 dians all the way from Fort Hayes. 
 
 On the fifth day several parties of Indians were 
 seen. 
 
 On the seventh, the numbers of the Indians had 
 decidedly increased. In the afternoon of that day 
 three or four Sioux approached within hailing dis- 
 tance, waving a white flag. Bradstreet boldly ad- 
 vanced to meet them. A half-breed came forward 
 alone for a parley. He asked for provisions and 
 tobacco, wanted to know how many soldiers were in 
 the fort. 
 
 Bradstreet informed him that they had no pro- 
 visions to give or sell, and that the garrison at the 
 fort was sufficient to hold it against all comers. 
 Finally a demand for the surrender of the arms 
 was made, and meeting with an emphatic refusal, 
 the half-breed, muttering threats as to what would 
 be the fate of the soldiers, returned to his com- 
 panions. 
 
 As Bradstreet entered the works, a bullet plowed 
 into the earth, close to his side. Instantly, from 
 every direction, the Indians seemed to rise from
 
 the ground. Arrows and bullets were flying through 
 the air, and although there were one or two narrow 
 escapes, no member of the garrison was injured. 
 
 Dawn of the next day found the little command 
 on the alert awaiting the threatened attack. From 
 the east and north, warriors decked with war paint 
 and feathers, ready for battle, were seen in large 
 numbers. A hundred or more were preparing for 
 an assault. 
 
 Shortly after eight o'clock the Indians employed 
 tactics of an unusual nature. 
 
 They made a determined advance, forming in an 
 oblong mass seven or eight deep. With whoops and 
 war songs they came on steadily to within 150 yards 
 of the fort. Bradstreet cautioned his men not to 
 fire a shot until they could be sure of a good target. 
 Suddenly the Indians, opening up their lines and 
 spreading right and left, poured in a volley of ar- 
 roW;S and bullets upon the little garrison. Corp. 
 Welch and Private Andrews were instantly killed 
 and one or two were wounded, but so rapid and 
 deadly was the fire of the garrison that they were 
 unable to reach the works and fled in disorder. 
 
 There was more or less firing throughout the day 
 until about four o'clock in the afternoon, when the 
 Indians once more advanced deployed as skirmish- 
 ers in a semi-circle. War drums and whoops and 
 yells made a hideous racket. 
 
 As they approached the fort the line drew closer 
 together, until with one desperate efl^ort they en- 
 deavored to scale the works. So vigorously did they 
 carry on this charge that one Indian actually fell 
 dead within the inclosure. A fierce hand-to-hand 
 
 194
 
 fight took place and for a few moments it seemed 
 as if the fate of the little garrison were sealed. 
 
 But this time their rout seemed to be complete. 
 They were seen to carry off several of their dead 
 and wounded. 
 
 Bradstreet and two of his men were badly wound- 
 ed; the former had an ugly wound in the shoulder 
 from a rifle bullet, and from pain and loss of blood 
 was no longer able to stand upon his feet. 
 
 Just after sundown three shrill whistles were 
 heard in the direction of the ford. Sergt. Mason 
 hailed: "Who goes there?" '*A friend, William 
 Dixon, a Government scout; can I approach?" 
 Three men with cocked carbines stood at the rear 
 entrance; there was just light enough to see the 
 man. The scout entered. A glance showed that 
 he had been through hard service. He was taken 
 to Bradstreet, who, propped against the wall, lis- 
 tened to what he had to say. 
 
 "I was on my way to the Cimmaron Crossing with 
 dispatches for Fort Riley, when I met these Indians 
 whom you have been fighting. They killed my 
 horse, and I have an ugly scratch on my arm. My 
 rifle is broken and abandoned, but I managed to 
 escape from them, and have worked my way to your 
 fort. I can at least add one to your number." 
 
 "You are more than welcome," said Bradstreet, 
 "We are sorely pressed, and I fear cannot hold our 
 ground much longer." 
 
 "Well, Lieutenant, my legs are in good order, 
 and if you wish I'll try to get through to Lyon 
 and bring you relief." 
 
 "Take what rest yovi must have, get something 
 to eat and let me know when you are ready to start. ' ' 
 
 195
 
 Bradstreet drew a notebook from his pocket, and 
 wrote the following dispatch by the light of a candle 
 carefully shielded. 
 
 "Carson's Ford, on the Arkansaw, 
 May 17, 1867. 
 To Col. Peters, Commanding Officer, 
 
 Fort Lyon, Colorado : 
 Sir; — We are surrounded by Indians. Two of 
 my command are killed, and three wounded. Please 
 send relief, with surgeon, as soon as possible. I send 
 this by Government Scout Dixon. 
 
 Wm. Bradstreet, 
 Second Lieutenant Third Cavalry. 
 
 U. S. A." 
 
 "Dixon here is a dispatch for the Commanding 
 Officer at Fort Lyon. Endeavor to get through with 
 it as rapidly as possible. Secrete it in your cloth- 
 ing, and if captured make every effort to destroy 
 this paper. Our only hope is that you may get 
 through in safety. Good night and a safe journey 
 to you!" 
 
 The scout placed the message between the folds 
 of the collar of his hunting shirt and with a deter- 
 mined look on his honest face he waved a farewell 
 to the little garrison and started for the river. The 
 darkness and the silence of the night instantly en- 
 veloped him. He was gone on his desperate errand, 
 and the fate of the garrison depended upon his 
 success. No fire could be lighted, no match could 
 be struck for even the smoke so dear to the soldiers' 
 heart. In silence and anxiety they awaited the 
 dawn of another day. 
 
 196
 
 Suddenly the silence was broken ,by poor Whit- 
 man, who, in delirium from want of water and loss 
 of blood, was heard singing: 
 
 "Fierce and long the battle rages. 
 
 But our help is near. 
 Onward comes our Great Commander! 
 
 Cheer! my comrades, cheer! 
 Hold the fort " 
 
 But the song died upon his lips, his head sank 
 upon his manly chest, his battles were over. All 
 the weary night the faithful little garrison got what 
 rest they could, waiting for the dawn to put an end 
 to their sufferings. 'Either relief must arrive or the 
 Indians would close in upon them and end the 
 struggle. 
 
 Bradstreet acted as best he could, going over the 
 situation in his mind as to the chances of his brave 
 scout's reaching Fort Lyon. Of course, it would 
 take just so many hours for relief to reach them 
 after news of their situation had been reported. 
 
 Day dawned and the expected attack did not take 
 place. All was silence, and to all appearances the 
 Indians had left them. Every man who could stand 
 up volunteered to go for the needed water. 
 
 But Bradstreet, still clinging to the hope of re- 
 lief, refused to risk one more of his gallant garrison. 
 Too well he knew the cunning treachery of his foes. 
 Fainting from the loss of blood and the pain of his 
 wound, he could yet give to his men some words 
 of hope and cheer. The carbines and pistols were 
 carefully inspected, the ammunition counted and 
 examined, and a grim determination settled on each 
 and every man to do his duty to the last. Shortly 
 
 197
 
 after noon Williams, shading his eyes and peering 
 to the northeastward, has pointed out to Johnson 
 a little cloud. ''It may be a buffalo, more Indians, 
 or it may be relief." But to the right, the hellish 
 tum, turn, tum, of the war drum is sounding again. 
 The Indians are advancing once more. Widely de- 
 ployed as skirmishers, they cautiously avoid ex- 
 posure. Once more is heard — the half-breed's taun- 
 ting demands for surrender. Once more they are 
 asked to "come out and throw up your arms," and 
 now with a rush they come within range of the 
 troopers. 
 
 The carbines of the garrison are aimed steadily 
 and to good purpose. 
 
 Again the enemy seek shelter and extend their 
 line further to the westward. Bradstreet, strug- 
 gling to keep upon his knees, slowly falls to his side, 
 dropping his carbine. The yells are renewed; and 
 at the same time is heard the well-known cheer — 
 out from behind the hill ride the bluecoated troopers 
 of "the gallant Third." A few seconds of sharp 
 firing, with scattering, baffled savages everywhere 
 in retreat. Trumbull, at the head of his men, 
 reaches the wall. Dismounting, he enters the little 
 fort. In an instant he is at Bradstreet 's side. He 
 grasps his comrade's hand. He kneels at his side 
 and calls into the almost unconscious ear: "Brad- 
 street, my boy, you are saved; do you hear me? 
 You are saved." A grateful light shines upon the 
 face of the commander. He cannot speak. Some of 
 the garrison try to cheer. The tension is tremen- 
 dous. It would seem as if they must fall. 
 "Water!" cry the wounded, and willing hands as- 
 sist the surgeon in his errand of mercy. Trumbull 
 
 198
 
 is now in command, with Belcher to assist. The 
 horses are securely picketed close to the west- 
 ward wall. Strong guards are posted, and order 
 soon reigns. With forty good troopers and Lieu- 
 tenants TnunbuU and Belcher to direct them, there 
 is little fear of the Indians now. Good Dr. 
 Warren has made the wounded as comfortable as 
 possible. The dead have been reverently buried 
 with a parting volley, and the trumpeter has sounded 
 the last call. 
 
 Night closes the scene, and the garrison, after the 
 anxiety and work of the day, enjoy a needed rest. 
 
 Next morning the wounded are carefully placed 
 in the ambulance and the command begins its re- 
 turn march to Fort Lyon, Belcher and twenty troop- 
 ers remaining behind. 
 
 There is no sign of Indians in any direction ; they 
 have departed for parts unknown. 
 
 Slowly the command covered the distance to the 
 fort, escorted part way by the officers of the garrison, 
 who had ridden out to meet them. The wounded 
 men were taken to the hospital, and Bradstreet to 
 his quarters, where in a few days he recovered suf- 
 ficiently to walk about the post with his arm in a 
 sling. 
 
 A few days more of convalescence, then he was 
 restored to B troop for duty, and the fight at the 
 fort on the Arkansaw became but a vision of the 
 past. 
 
 199
 
 ON THE LITTLE BIG HORN IN '76. 
 
 Dr. Porter, then acting assistant surgeon in the 
 United States army, was left with Reno when Custer 
 divided his troops of the gallant Seventh Cavalry. 
 The detachment crossing the Little Big Horn took a 
 strong position in a clump of woods; but such vast 
 numbers of the savages loomed up in every direction 
 that Reno decided to start for the river. 
 
 Dr. Porter was attending to a dying soldier, but 
 he found that in an instant his orderly and sup- 
 plies were gone. He was alone, with the command 
 several hundred yards away. He still devoted him- 
 self to his patient, until the soldier's death left him 
 free to consider himself and his own safety. 
 
 Leading his horse to the embankment beyond the 
 woods, he was startled to find himself within close 
 proximity to the Indians, who were in swift pur- 
 suit of Reno's command. So eager were they in 
 the chase that they did not notice Porter, although 
 passing within a few feet of him. Even had he 
 been armed, he could not for a moment have held 
 out against such odds, and the only hope remaining 
 to him was to mount his splendid charger, which, 
 mad with excitement, was rearing and plunging. 
 He held to the rein with all his strength, making 
 frantic efforts to gain his saddle. At last, with a 
 desperate leap, he gained his horse's back. 
 
 200
 
 Half-seated in the saddle, and clinging with all 
 his might to save himself from falling, he sped 
 along in a race of life and death. In an instant 
 the savages espied him, and with a yell they sent 
 after him a shower of bullets from rifle and re- 
 volver, which in some marvelous manner missed both 
 horse and rider. On, on, he dashed, each moment 
 bringing him nearer to safety. It was a long half 
 mile! The surgeon had no control of his frantic 
 horse, and he was running a gauntlet where the 
 chances of death were a thousand to one. 
 
 He at last reached the river in safety, and in a 
 few moments had forded the stream, scaled the bank, 
 and was on the bluff, where Reno was entrenching 
 himself. 
 
 About them in every direction the bluffs and the 
 plains were black with Sioux. The Indians poured 
 in a terrific fire upon the harassed troopers. The 
 surgeon's services were instantly in urgent demand. 
 Brave, cool, and devoted, he showed the true hero- 
 ism of the medical man in peril. 
 
 For twenty-four hours this terrible ordeal con- 
 tinued. One in every three had been hit; there 
 were fifty dead and fifty wounded. The brave but 
 well-nigh exhausted surgeon continued to admin- 
 ister to the wants of his patients, who were crying 
 in agony for water. 
 
 Through the afternoon of the 25th of June, 1876, 
 all through the dreadful night following, throughout 
 the day of the 26th and that night as well, and until 
 the forenoon of the 27th, Porter discharged his duties 
 as few men have been called upon to do. 
 
 201
 
 A TROOPER OF THE GALLANT 
 
 OLD 3rd CAVALRY WORSTED 
 
 BY A HORSE. 
 
 The affair took place some time in the summer 
 of 1867, when a command of the Third United States 
 Cavalry was marching through the Indian country, 
 or the great desert of what is now Kansas. We had 
 a command of about three hundred and fifty officers 
 and men. Besides more than a hundred wagons 
 and ambulances, we started with nearly five hun- 
 dred extra cavalry horses for supplying cavalry in 
 New Mexico. The command left Fort Leavenworth, 
 Kansas, in May, and reached Fort Union in New 
 Mexico the middle or latter part of July. The year 
 1867 was a "lively" one on the great plains. All 
 the Indian tribes were on the war-path and fighting 
 in concert against the pale-faces. We marched as 
 through an enemy's country, with caution and alert- 
 ness, forming a protecting corral with wagons 
 constantly, like the laagers of the Boers in 
 war. We followed the old Santa Fe trail, and along 
 the "Arkansaw" we had need of all the wisdom 
 and skill our brave commanding officer. Major Whit- 
 ing, possessed. The Indians were active and con- 
 stantly threatening, and at the Cimmaron crossing 
 our chances seemed at one time well calculated to 
 cause anxiety. 
 
 202
 
 In spite of the presence of our Indian foes, ever 
 dogging our footsteps and watching for an oppor- 
 tunity for successful attack, many of the recruits 
 deserted, carrying off horses and arms. Many of 
 these recruits were regular adventurous horse tliieves, 
 who had enlisted at Carlisle Barracks, Pennsylvania, 
 and who expected opportunities to reach the fron- 
 tier and steal horses and arms. Indeed, they had 
 planned to rob the paymaster and to carry off his 
 wagon and safe, which was supposed to contain 
 many thousands of dollars. So frequent were the 
 desertions, and so great was the loss of horses, that 
 new mounts were constantly in demand, and that 
 is how the splendid, great, iron-gray, cavalry horse 
 was discovered. The first recruit 'who! attempted 
 to ride him got off in some manner unknown to cav- 
 alry regulations, and after several others had made 
 an effort to stay on his back he was declared to be 
 a bad horse, and was for a time left alone. Finally 
 one of the non-commissioned officers, a strong, hand- 
 some cavalryman, asked permission of the command- 
 ing officer to ride the horse. It was granted with 
 considerable hesitancy, and the whole command 
 turned out to see what was pretty certain to be a 
 life-and-death struggle between man and horse. 
 The charger was a picture to look at; he was a 
 powerful beast, iron-gray, with an eye like an 
 eagle's, and with a carriage which made him fit for 
 a prince, if any prince on earth could but ride him. 
 The sergeant was as perfect a manly figure of cour- 
 age, intelligence, and physical strength as the beast 
 in his equine beauty. They eyed each other for an 
 instant, when with a firm bound the soldier seated 
 himself in the McClellan saddle. Then the battle 
 
 203
 
 began in earnest, rider and horse exerting every 
 skill imaginable to triumph. In spite of plunge and 
 leap the soldier kept his splendid seat, proud mas- 
 ter of the beast beneath him. The battle lasted sev- 
 eral minutes and was a fierce encounter. Every- 
 man who looked on was proud of the manly prow- 
 ess of the soldier. The horse was in a fury of 
 despair, and finally with one mad dash he flung 
 himself upon the ground and rolled over the body 
 of his fallen rider. A cry of horror and distress 
 rose from the spectators, and we rushed forward to 
 bear the body of the unconscious horseman to the 
 hospital tent. Not a bone was broken, but upon 
 examination we found the soldier had sustained 
 serious injuries. When the man was able to be 
 about it was evident that his days of usefulness as 
 a soldier were past, and he received a discharge. 
 
 The horse lost the fire in his eye, and was after 
 the battle a cowed and subdued creature any recruit 
 could ride. 
 
 It was a duel as complete and perfect as if it had 
 been fought with swords; it was a wrestling match 
 in which both contestants were hopelessly worsted. 
 
 204
 
 THE TEMPERANCE QUESTION IN 
 THE ARMY. 
 
 Fort Ciimmings, New Mexico, built of adobe "sun- 
 burnt bricks" in 1866, and abandoned years 
 ago, was a type of frontier stations or forts which 
 have pretty nearly ceased to exist. Far to the south- 
 ward of the dreary "Valley of Death," marking the 
 continuation of Jornada del Muerto — "journey of 
 death" — a speck in the great lonely desert, it nes- 
 tled as if clinging for safety at the foot of Cook's 
 Peak. Beyond Cummings in almost every direction 
 stretched the great prairies, but to the southwestward, 
 beyond the Sentinel Mountain — the mouth of the 
 lonely Canon — showed the trail to Fort Bayard, 
 another "doby fort." From the land of the Chip- 
 pewas and the Sioux, to the fastnesses of the uncon- 
 querable Apaches, from the deadly Smoky Hill far 
 over the Pacific slope, little forts garrisoned by one 
 or two companies of soldiers guarded the cradle of 
 western empire and shielded the emigrant from the 
 cruel and warlike Indian. 
 
 From West Point were sent out to these dreary 
 posts the very best specimens of manhood — eager 
 for military glory, but soon homesick and disgusted 
 with frontier life. The soldiers, although brave and 
 competent in active service, fretted at their useless, 
 
 205
 
 aimless existence, as it seemed to them, and thought 
 little and cared less as to their own or their country 's 
 future if they could only ' ' kill time. ' ' Visitors were 
 not frequent. The regular call of the dashing pony 
 express riders, the occasional visit of a cowboy or 
 frontiersman, readily gave the excuse for extrav- 
 agant celebrations. Amid such surroundings read- 
 ing soon became monotonous, smoking too light a 
 pastime, and drinking and gambling easily became 
 favorites for most every one sooner or later. The 
 West Point boy with his first pair of shoulder- 
 straps gazed astonished at the sight of his superior 
 officers — playing cards with bullets for chips, and 
 frequent libations of wretched liquor called '* whis- 
 key" poured out to keep up his excitement. The 
 evil effects of such a life were everywhere to be 
 found — in cattle ranch and reservation, in company 
 quarters, and in the officers' mess. Men whose 
 home training taught them to abhor such associa- 
 tions became drunkards and gamblers in short or- 
 der, and with the increasing dissipation self-respect 
 was sadly shattered and the road to every vice was 
 open. 
 
 The first stages of settlement in the great west 
 were ever of this class. Drinking and gambling 
 have been the avant-couriers of our American prog- 
 ress. Everywhere, whether north or south, the sa- 
 loon is the first establishment. It takes a long time 
 for churches and schools to get a start; a shelter 
 tent or a prairie-schooner can be made use of for 
 saloon purposes at once. 
 
 The whiskey is the foundation for the mischief; 
 every undertaking begins with its employment; 
 battle, murder, uprising, all are encouraged by its 
 
 206
 
 devilish influence. Manhood is degraded, the body- 
 is prematurely aged, the mind is dazed, stupefied, 
 diseased, and acute mania, delirium tremens, if not 
 immediately victors in the struggle, witness the giv- 
 ing of the death-blow. 
 
 On the other hand it is surprising to find that 
 many men, apparently whiskey-soaked, succeed in 
 reformation more or less permanent. 
 
 It does not require any extraordinary experience 
 to bear witness to the battles and rows at frontier 
 posts ending in suicides and even homicides. One 
 terrible murder directly traceable to whiskey came 
 under my observation ; and I have known more than 
 one officer who has manfully struggled to evercome 
 the temptation to drink. One splendid fellow wrote 
 me a letter imploring me to help him to win in his 
 battle against whiskey, until now the very name of 
 the poison is so distasteful to me and brings to 
 mind such scenes of sadness and horror that I 
 would do anything to prevent its use everywhere, 
 as well as amongst the brave soldiers of our army, 
 regular or volunteer. It is the associations, it is 
 the conditions of life which lead men into tempta- 
 tion and drag them unwillingly to ruin. It has 
 been said that: ''Reason cannot show itself more 
 reasonable than to leave off reasoning on things 
 above reason." There are those who dismiss the 
 subject of the liquor curse as one unfathomable. 
 These men are not enemies of temperance, but con- 
 fess they are unable to form an opinion as to the 
 best methods for overcoming the injurious effects 
 of alcohol. There are those, carried away by the 
 greatness of the subject, who become overenthused 
 and are condemned as ''cranks." Call no man a 
 
 207
 
 crank who is honestly at work in the redemption 
 of mankind. This very day I have read that in- 
 temperance is certainly diminishing in our land, 
 and that the cheapness of heer is to be credited 
 with some of this result! Undoubtedly the Ger- 
 mans who drink beer — but very different in quality 
 from that which is provided in this country — are 
 spared temptations for whiskey, brandy, etc. That 
 temperance in the army is increasing, and that less 
 whiskey and more mild beer is called for, there can 
 be no doubt. 
 
 The old-time sutler has disappeared. He was ever 
 on the alert on pay-days, eagerly scooping in the 
 soldier's pay for the wretched supplies he had 
 afforded him. 
 
 The government after a while recognized that 
 the whiskey dealer was a curse to the army, and 
 war was declared upon him, resulting in a series of 
 battles lasting for years. Inch by inch he has been 
 driven backward, until to-day his power is limited, 
 and his glory well-nigh departed. The soldier is 
 able to look his old enemy in the face and to with- 
 stand temptation more readily, and to rejoice in 
 the manhood of victory over the allurements to 
 drink. With drunkenness unpopular the physical 
 well-being of the soldier can be maintained, and his 
 respectability cultivated. Drink catered to all that 
 was low and vile, and looked with jealous, hateful 
 eye at all tnie manliness and self-respect. It has 
 ceased to be respectable or soldierly to be found 
 half tipsy. There are some of the old-timers in 
 our army who still cling to the bottle. They were 
 made of such manly, courageous stuff that even 
 whiskey could not kill them, but that it has pre- 
 
 208
 
 maturely aged some of them there can be no doubt. 
 The bravest men I have met, either in the army or 
 navy, were not those who swore the loudest or who 
 boasted that they could drink as much as the next, 
 although I must confess I still know of men who 
 drink and gamble and are undoubtedly good, true 
 men and valuable officers notwithstanding! Their 
 strong personalities could stand the damage which 
 would be fatal to many. They do not realize that 
 their very manhood gives encouragement to others 
 to drink who are not as able as they to overcome 
 the poison, and react against the damaging influ- 
 ences. Misguided methods of men preaching tem- 
 perence, but lacking in manhood and good sense, 
 have disgusted men of mettle and courage, and a 
 cause for the betterment of mankind has suffered 
 through such unworthy apostles. Army men are 
 by habit called upon to depend more or less on 
 alcohol in some form, and in choosing between two 
 evils the lesser is certainly to be recommended. 
 War is not a Sunday-school picnic, and in the stress 
 of battle stimulants are depended upon by many. 
 Sensible and worthy teachers must demonstrate by 
 precept and example that liquor must be used spar- 
 ingly, if at all. Excess is the cemetery of all en- 
 joyment. On the other hand, who would have with- 
 held a flask of pure brandy to the weary and ex- 
 hausted soldiers in the trenches before Santiago? 
 Hard and fast rules are easy to write, but difficult 
 to enforce, and total abstinence for an army is and 
 ever has been and always will be an utter impos- 
 sibility. The responsibilities of the commanding 
 officer are very great, whether in a lonely station 
 or in a city barracks, or in the active field of war. 
 
 209
 
 To guard a soldier from those who would do him 
 harm, and from his own desires and appetites which 
 might impair body and mind, requires great wisdom 
 and prudence. The commander-in-chief of the Uni- 
 ted States army should have larger influence, and 
 less chance for discouragement by meddling out- 
 siders. Gen. Miles is not only a brave and compe- 
 tent officer, but is a gentleman honestly interested 
 in the real welfare of all his army, officers and en- 
 listed men as well. The remedy is in substituting 
 something which is harmless for that which is harm- 
 ful. 
 
 Instead of the drinking saloon, the properly or- 
 ganized canteen ; instead of gambling, entertain- 
 ments which amuse and interest; instead of whiskey, 
 beer or coffee or cocoa, in a pleasant, orderly room. 
 Do not force the soldier to take Christian teaching 
 as a dose; lead him if you will, but do not attempt 
 to drag. Do not after Santiago's campaign ever 
 ask an American soldier to give up his pipe and 
 tobacco. Those of us who have served on the plains 
 will testify that we can go without food, and even 
 warmth and shelter, but we must have our tobacco; 
 and whoever classes smoking with drinking can 
 hope for few converts among veteran soldiers. 
 
 It has been said that smoking easily leads to other 
 vices, but in my experience I have found that it 
 leads away from vice. While whiskey excites and 
 is apt to bring out the evil in men's minds and con- 
 duct, and may encourage careless speech, the pipe 
 is soothing, quieting, comforting and companionable. 
 The heart weighed down with loneliness and hope- 
 lessness turns gladly to the pipe and gets refresh- 
 ment, which the drinker can never find in spirituous 
 
 210
 
 liquors. The Italian, the Frenchman and the Ger- 
 man drink their light winea or beer, sitting down 
 at table, and taking food at the same time. It is 
 used in moderation and as a food for man, woman, 
 and child. The American gets his liquor in a place 
 which is the resort of the drunkard and the tough. 
 He makes no long tarrying, but gulping down his 
 dose sometimes repeats it until he fancies he can 
 endure no more, and then, half-reeling, issues forth 
 to a fate which may in a moment forever cloud his 
 usefulness or his happiness, or both. 
 
 ail
 
 "SHONG— SASHA." 
 
 The Indians Smoking Tobacco. 
 
 No matter what adversity of chase or war might 
 overtake the Indian, he sought refuge, cheer and 
 hope in the cloud of promise of his smoking. The 
 use of the pipe was for the Indian something more 
 than a mere pleasure; it had its hygienic value as 
 well. No doubt smoking originated with the In- 
 dian instinctively and was to hiin as a protecting 
 disinfectant against the germs of contagious diseases. 
 It helped to preserve his superb teeth and to disin- 
 fect his breath. It soothed the pain of wounds and 
 made him oblivious to the knawing of hunger. It 
 helped him to control his emotions and gave him 
 the ability for silence and thoughtfulness. 
 
 Wrapped in his blanket at councils of peace or 
 war, he smoked slowly and weighed carefully ques- 
 tions of vital importance for the tribe or nation. 
 Great was the tempest of his fury if the war path 
 were decided upon, when with a bound he cast aside 
 his blanket, dashed the pipe upon the ground and 
 wielded the tomahawk, totem of war and of blood- 
 shed. 
 
 In the story which Balch has written so well of 
 Indian life in the ** Bridge of the Gods" he de- 
 scribes a council in which the peace pipe plays an 
 important part. This scene is supposed to rep- 
 
 212
 
 resent Indian life two centuries ago, but it is equally 
 true of the ceremonies of to-day just as we would 
 find it among" Sioux or Ojibway, Apaches or Chey- 
 enne. 
 
 The Indians are assembled upon a grassy plain 
 and ready for the council, when the head chief, 
 Multnomah, orders: "Let the peace pipe be lighted." 
 Tohomish, the most renowned medicine man present, 
 comes forward and lights the decorated pipe, mut- 
 tering some mystical incantation. He waves it to 
 "the east and the west, to the north and the south, 
 and when the charm seems complete, hands it with 
 ceremony to the emperor chief, Multnomah." 
 
 From chief to cliief it circles around the whole 
 council, till, like a benediction, Multnomah declares, 
 "The pipe is smoked — Are not our hearts as one?" 
 
 Parkman in his interesting story of "The Oregon 
 Trail" (p. 302) states that "the Indian has with 
 him always when possible his stone pipe and a bag 
 of " Shong-sasha. " 
 
 Longfellow, in his famous poem of Hiawatha, has 
 related the story of the peace pipe and the "red 
 pipe stone quarry of the Dakotas." 
 
 The pipe of red stone is the most delicious means 
 of burning "Shong-sasha" it has ever been my 
 privilege to use. No Turkish pipe or German meer- 
 schaum, American corncob or French briar can 
 equal the cool, sweet smoke through the red sand 
 stone pipe filled with fragrant "Shong-sasha" — 
 a smoking tobacco mixed with yellow bark which 
 makes the Indian mixture mild and harmless. 
 
 "In every tribe in whose country I have been 
 stationed (which comprises nearly all the continent) 
 the pipe is the Indian's constant companion through 
 
 213
 
 life."* It is his messenger of peace, he pledges his 
 friends through its stem and its bowl, and when 
 death lays him low, it has a place of honor in his 
 solitary grave — with his weapons of war. 
 
 All Indian nations hold the pipe of peace as sac- 
 red. It is kept like the regimental flags of pale 
 face warriors at "head quarters" — and is used upon 
 only the most solemn ceremonies of "burying the 
 hatchet. ' ' 
 
 The stem is ornamented with eagle quills and 
 beautiful bead work and its general appearance de- 
 notes that it is no ordinary smoking implement. 
 
 Seated in a circle the venerable and influential 
 chiefs draw the smoke once through the stem and 
 pass it on to the right. The bowl is of ordinary 
 stone or of the famous red pipe stone of the Dakotas. 
 Sioux is the common name of the Dakotas, but is 
 merely a corruption of the jib way words, Na-do- 
 wessioux-enemies. 
 
 Hundreds of moons (long time ago) the abor- 
 igines journeyed to the pipe stone quarry to obtain 
 masses of the wonderful stone, which they trans- 
 ported to their distant lodges, fashioned into curious 
 shapes and traded for horses and arms and clothing. 
 
 Wherever there are Indians the red pipe is smoked, 
 from the Mississippi to the Pacific, from Canada to 
 Mexico. 
 
 This quarry is "located on the summit of the 
 'divide' between the Missouri and St. Peter's Rivers 
 in Minnesota, at a point not far from where the 97th 
 meridian of longitude intersects the 45th parallel 
 of latitude." — Col. Inman. 
 
 *" From The Old Santa Fe Trail."— Col. Inman. 
 
 214
 
 The luxury of smoking appears to have been 
 known to all the tribes. Half of this leisure time 
 is given by the Indians to smoking his k-nick ka- 
 nick or Shong-Sasha, mixture of tobacco and willow 
 bark. This is a granulated mixture and it is the 
 most wholesome method of smoking and least likely 
 to be followed by injury to the general health. 
 Such a mild tobacco burned in the cool red pipe is 
 almost never injurious. The Indian never smokes 
 strong tobacco if he can help it and never disgraces 
 himself by the filthy habit of chewing — otherwise 
 he could never have obtained the reputation he en- 
 joys, as the strongest, manliest of the aborigines. 
 
 Here's to thee, faithful friend, my comforting 
 pipe and cheering Shong-sasha, I like thy sweet com- 
 panionship ! 
 
 315
 
 THE EVOLUTION OF THE 
 COLORED SOLDIER. 
 
 When colored troops were enrolled, soon after the 
 close of the War of the Rebellion, the Southern 
 States were in a chaotic condition. Troops occupied 
 the strategic centres, and "carpet bag" politicians 
 and adventurers swarmed into the conquered ter- 
 ritory, their thirst for money making them willing 
 to risk somewhat of safety in order to arrive early 
 upon the field to reap the harvest that cruel war 
 had placed within their reach. The negroes, freed 
 from slavery and intoxicated with the license which 
 they knew not how to use reasonably, were ready 
 for almost anything except wage labor. 
 
 The war being at an end, the profession of arms, 
 with the showy uniform and military pomp, offered 
 them a tempting experience. To recruit a colored 
 regiment was therefore not a very difficult under- 
 taking, especially so when ignorance and savagery 
 were no bar to acceptance by the recruiting officers. 
 Hundred of freed negroes flocked to the recruiting 
 stations and were quickly transformed into recruits 
 for the United States colored regiments. The fiat 
 had gone forth that the freed men were no longer 
 to be merely enrolled as soldiers to do duty as team- 
 sters for the quartermaster's department, but that 
 they were to appear as soldiers, drill, and do guard 
 
 216
 
 duty, with equal rights with the white veterans of 
 the late war. In compliance with this idea, an ex- 
 pedition assembled and marched westward from 
 Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, in the early spring of 
 1867, over the Santa Fe trail, through the "great 
 deserts," which were then occupied by the active 
 and warlike Indians. Their advent astonished 
 everyone. The frontiersmen looked upon them as 
 a military caricature, the fruit of some political 
 deal, unexplained and unreasonable. The officers 
 detailed to serve with them were half ashamed to 
 have it known. The white soldiers who came in 
 contact with these recent slaves, now wearing the 
 uniform of the regular army, felt insulted and in- 
 jured; and their redskin adversaries heaped deri- 
 sion upon the negroes by taunts and jests, and 
 loudly called them "Buffalo Soldiers," and declared 
 they were "heap bad medicine" because they could 
 not and would not scalp them. 
 
 Such was the very unpromising advent of colored 
 troops to do service as soldiers on equal terms with 
 regular veterans. A detachment of this regiment 
 was ordered on duty at Fort Craig, New Mexico, 
 and shortly after their relief from quartermaster's 
 duty they were, to the astonishment and disgust of 
 the white troops, detailed for guard duty. This 
 was more than the white soldiers could endure, and 
 so general and open was the opposition that a con- 
 dition of things bordering on mutiny resulted. 
 Great anxiety existed among the officers as to the 
 outcome, and the gravest fears were entertained. 
 
 The threats of vengeance against the "nigger sol- 
 diers" were so openly made in the hearing of of- 
 ficers that bloodshed was seriously anticipated, and 
 
 217
 
 earnest consultations concerning postponing the col- 
 ored guard detail were held. It was finally decided, 
 however, that the colored new guard should march 
 on at all hazards, and when guard mount sounded 
 the entire garrison was in a state of anxiety never 
 before experienced. The old guard was assembled 
 and instructed and warned, the men listening in 
 sullen silence. Never before had it been necessary 
 for their officers to appeal to them. They had 
 serv^ed long and well together; and respect and con- 
 fidence were genuinely entertained for each other 
 to a degree almost unknown among the troops east 
 of the ^Mississippi. These veteran Indian fighters 
 would follow their officers cheerfully and persis- 
 tently through any danger or hardship, but when 
 it came to being "obliged to salute a nigger in uni- 
 form" their proud soldierly spirits rebelled at the 
 thought, and they muttered openly their intense 
 aversion to this innovation. The music of guard 
 mount soimded shrill and forbidding; the guards 
 fell in with a sullen determination on their faces 
 as if they were about to take part in a critical event 
 in their military^ career. The new guard marched 
 on in a shuffling, shamefaced way, as if they too 
 wished it were over. As they came near the old 
 guard, everj^one watched to see what would happen. 
 
 Lieutenant , whose commands had always 
 
 been obeyed in the past with cheerful military 
 promptness, took a hasty look at the set faces of 
 his men as the black detail approached. The time 
 had come. 
 
 ' ' Present arms ! " he ordered, as the guard reached 
 the saluting point, but not a veteran moved a mus- 
 cle, and the black detail passed without any other 
 
 218
 
 recognition than the soldierly salute of the officer's 
 swords. A consultation was held, and the white 
 soldiers were warned that their conduct would be 
 regarded as mutinous if they continued to disobey 
 orders. 
 
 Again the black detail marched past, and again 
 the order was disobeyed; not a rifle stirred from 
 the shoulder. The commanding officer now ap- 
 peared upon the scene and delivered to his veteran 
 soldiers a sharp and stinging rebuke. His decided 
 and harsh tones concealed the sympathy he felt in 
 his heart. He had his duty to discharge, and he 
 informed the men whom he had led in battle, and 
 who had never failed him, that if they refused to 
 salute the new guard, they would be relieved and 
 taken to the post flagstaff, and tied up by their 
 thumbs until they consented to give the required 
 salute. 
 
 This was the climax. The Tsvhole garrison was in 
 a fever heat of excitement. Would these brave fel- 
 lows yield? Would men who had records such as 
 theirs in the Indian War, and who had never quailed 
 in danger, give way at the threat of cruel physical 
 torture ? 
 
 Once more the blacks were moving rapidly to the 
 saluting line. For the third time, the rifles of the 
 old guard were at the shoulders. 
 
 ''Present arms!" rang out clear and distinct, but 
 not a rifle moved. That settled it. The men were 
 dismissed, and as prisoners marched to the flag- 
 staff'. Around their thumbs the cruel cords were 
 tied, and they were hoisted upward until only the 
 toes touched the ground. There was no word of 
 protest, no look of anger. Proudly and firmly, as if 
 
 219
 
 in Indian torture, they endured the ignominy and 
 pain of their position. Their officers were with 
 them, beseeching them to yield. The pain became 
 more and more insufferable; they almost fainted. 
 One of the officers suggested to the men that they 
 could pretend to yield, agreeing to "salute the uni- 
 form of the United States, even if borne by a nig- 
 ger. " This gave a chance for compromise, the 
 cruel cords were severed, and the brave veterans 
 were released. They were too lame and injured to 
 hold a rifle then, but it was agreed that thereafter 
 military courtesy should be shown to those wearing 
 the uniform. 
 
 This incident at Fort Craig illustrates the discord 
 which then existed between the white and the colored 
 troops of the regular army. 
 
 South of Fort Craig, beyond the river, stretched 
 the lonely desert known as the Jornada del Muerto, 
 or Journey of Death. Ninety-nine miles, without 
 wood, water, or grass, leads the straight road to 
 Fort Selden. Here another detachment of the 37th 
 was stationed. Continuing the march, the remain- 
 ing detachments pushed on through sixty-five miles 
 of desert to Fort Cummings, N. M., where they re- 
 lieved the garrison, consisting of two companies of 
 the 125th U. S. Colored Volunteer Infantry. Here, 
 isolated in the desert, stood a fortress built of adobe. 
 It was designed by General McClellan, and was con- 
 structed with strong walls completely surrounding 
 the garrison buildings, a feature quite uncommon 
 among the so-called Western forts. Generally 
 speaking, the forts of the frontier are merely col- 
 lections of buildings about an oblong space, which 
 serves as parade gTOund. 
 
 2H0
 
 To the north of Fort Cummings, Cook's Peak 
 rose in its majestic grandenr, and, beyond, the 
 canon extended away for milas. Through tliis a 
 road led in the direction of the Rio Miembres, 
 twenty miles away. But to the west and south- 
 west stretched the limitless prairie, dreary and 
 desolated. The only green things visible in the 
 landscape were the few stunted trees at the spring, 
 half way between the Fort and the entrance to 
 Cook's Canon. After marching for days and weeks 
 through an enemy's country, with the rough mess- 
 kit of a campaigner, with the horror of a visita- 
 tion of cholera, to which their brave surgeon and 
 his wife fell victims, these ignorant colored sol- 
 diers, who had been buoyed with delusive hopes on 
 leaving the fertile lands of Georgia, found them- 
 selves in this dreary, prison-like abode, exposed to 
 all the discomforts of a home in the desert, and to 
 all the dangers of a powerful tribe of merciless 
 Apaches, forever on the warpath. It was enough 
 to sadden the hearts of the best white troops, and 
 it is no wonder that dissatisfaction rapidly spread, 
 until in their undisciplined state a mutinous spirit 
 developed. 
 
 The veteran volunteers, with their gallant officers, 
 had marched away; and, with the exception of their 
 own officers and a squad of the 3d U. S. regular 
 cavalry, there were no white men to give their in- 
 fluence towards preserving order. 
 
 In the early days of colored troops in the regular 
 army, it was essential, to get the best results, that 
 they should serve with white troops, so that dis- 
 cipline could be enforced when necessary. It was 
 a decidedly rislry experiment to attempt making 
 
 221
 
 soldiers of such people. They needed the object 
 lesson of contact with white troops. Naturally of 
 an imitative disposition, the colored man took the 
 white soldier as his pattern, carefully watching 
 every gesture and movement with inquisitive con- 
 cern. Recruited from the most dangerous and shift- 
 less of the freed negroes, they were naturally lazy, 
 and disinclined to do the work required of them. 
 They spent all of their leisure time in gambling, 
 drinking and quarelling. Every possible punish- 
 ment employed in the discipline of frontier posts 
 was inflicted upon them. They were stood on bar- 
 rels, they were "bucked" and gagged, they were 
 marched about the garrison with heavy planks tied 
 to their backs, bearing the word "gambler" in 
 chalk. Everything was done to discipline them, 
 every means taken to make soldiers of them. But 
 so rapidly did the mutinous spirit develop in the 
 command, that only by the merest chance was a 
 tragedy averted. 
 
 Through the confession of a servant it was dis- 
 covered that these colored men had entered into a 
 plot to kill every wliite man in the garrison, to 
 capture the horses and such property as they might 
 desire, and to carrj^ off the officers' wives as their 
 slaves. The details were so completed that every 
 match was to be dampened to that no light could 
 be made, and the caps were to be removed from every 
 revolver. 
 
 With remarkable coolness the officers prepared to 
 face the terrible situation. A rumor was purposely 
 circulated that the paymaster had arrived. The 
 colored soldiers w^ere ordered to be mustered on the 
 parade without arms. It had been previously ar- 
 
 322
 
 ranged that the squad of white cavalry were to 
 secretly occupy the quarters of the colored men 
 and to prevent at all hazards their returning to 
 secure their rifles. The cannon had been loaded to 
 the muzzle with grape and canister, and two of the 
 ofificers detailed to turn them upon the mutineers 
 should occasion require. The commanding officer, 
 with the officers and white non-commissioned officers 
 of the garrison, appeared before the command, and 
 announced to them that their plot had been fully dis- 
 covered ; and he demanded, then and there, the 
 surrender of the ringleaders. Immediately the 
 companies broke ranks and started for their quar- 
 ters, where they expected to find their rifles. They 
 discovered, however, that the doors were closed, and 
 at the windows stood the squad of white cavalry- 
 men with their carbines levelled at them. Turning 
 again, they saw that the officers had drawn their 
 revolvers, and that the cannon pointed threaten- 
 ingly in their direction. In terror many fell upon 
 their knees and begged for mercy, others protested 
 their innocence and pointed out the ringleaders, 
 who were quickly secured with the assistance of 
 the guard, which had been carefully selected from 
 the men who could be depended upon, and the mu- 
 tineers were confined, and in a short time the dis- 
 turbance was thoroughly quelled. 
 
 Such is a brief chapter in the history of colored 
 soldiery in the regular army in 1867. From such 
 discouraging beginnings has developed a military or- 
 ganization of brave and efficient soldiers, who have 
 since then made excellent records for themselves in 
 many deeds of gallantry in battles with the Indians. 
 No longer do the red men throw taunts at the black 
 
 323
 
 soldiers, for they have found them foemen worthy 
 of their steel. No longer do oificers consider it 
 humilating to serve in negro regiments. On the 
 contrary, they are favorite commands to-day. The 
 24th and 25th Infantry, and the 9th and 10th 
 Cavalry are a credit to the U. S. Army. Post 
 schools and devoted and intelligent officers have de- 
 veloped the colored recruit until he has become a 
 trustworthy, brave, and intelligent soldier. 
 
 "They love their uniform and take great pride 
 in it — great pride in their bearing. They love to 
 have everything in first-class shape — chest out, and 
 every button shining, and every strap correct, and 
 they'll follow you everywhere you take them. You 
 know they are always right behind you, they don't 
 care what the danger is, so long as they have a white 
 man for their leader, and they won't follow one of 
 their o\^ti color across the street to pick apples — you 
 can't make them." This is what an experienced 
 army officer says of them in a recent number of 
 "The Outlook." The fierce battles in Cuba, in 
 which they gained fresh laurels, have not dis- 
 heartened them. It is the same ,old story; they 
 have won again the respect of friend and foe. "The 
 colored troops fight bravely." 
 
 W. T. P., in North American Review. 
 
 224
 
 COOK'S CANON. A STORY OF 
 LIFE IN THE SOUTHWEST. 
 
 It was at the famous Casino at Newport; the 
 music and dancing had ceased for a moment, and 
 I gazed about at the onlookers, among whom were 
 many people of distinction. Nearby sat a lovely 
 young woman apparently blessed with health and 
 happiness, and yet there was something about the 
 face so very thoughtful, it seemed as if the memory 
 of some fierce storm of the past still persisted in 
 lingering. I further noticed that, although dressed 
 in becoming good taste and wearing no jewelry, 
 yet upon her shapely right arm there was a band 
 of virgin gold. I was about to call my companion's 
 attention to this unusual adornment, when he spoke 
 of it himself, and inquired if I had ever met Sur- 
 geon Bradstreet of the Army and his charming 
 wife! I had not, so very shortly an introduction 
 followed, and later on when I learned to know them 
 better, the Surgeon related some of his adventures 
 among the Apaches of the Southwest and the story 
 of the Band of Gold. "It was back in the sixties," 
 he said, "when I was stationed at old Fort Cum- 
 mings. New Mexico. One morning, just after guard 
 mounting, the adjutant came to the hospital to give 
 me verbal orders." 
 
 235
 
 "The commanding officer's compliments and you 
 are directed to proceed at once to the Rio Miembres 
 to attend to some wounded civilians. Suitable es- 
 cort will be ready at ten o 'clock. ' ' I lost no time in 
 making my preparations, directing the necessary in- 
 struments, bandages, etc., to be placed in the pan- 
 niers for the pack mules, and looking well to my 
 pistol holders and ammunition case, I hastened to 
 headquarters to report for duty. A half dozen 
 troopers of the gallant 3rd were already in saddle, 
 and with some parting instructions from my com- 
 mander, I mounted and rode out with them. The 
 view, as we passed out of the old Fort archway and 
 entered on the broad trail, was indeed grand. As 
 far as the eye could reach the great sweep of prairie, 
 but to the northwestward the great mountains, and 
 not a mile away the huge silent figure of Cook's 
 Peak — "Old Baldy" — as we familiarly called it, 
 from its snow-capped summit. Just beyond loomed 
 the dark entrance to Cook's Canon, a gruesome and 
 dangerous valley, the resort of murderous Apaches, 
 and a place which a stronger party than our own 
 might shrink from exploring. 
 
 We galloped into the Canon, with the caution of 
 men not unused to Indian ambuscade, and scanned 
 carefully right and left each possible hiding place 
 for a treacherous foe, as we rode down the trail. 
 
 The Indians were always active, and that very 
 morning Charlie Young, the brave rider of the pony 
 express, who came into the post ranch before 
 reveille, had seen some of them at various places 
 along the trail. We rode at ease and lit our pipes, 
 saving our horses, but expecting to eat our dinners 
 at the Miembres, more than twenty miles away, 
 
 326
 
 sometime before sunset. Suddenly we heard the 
 sound of rifle shots, and as we rounded a bend, we 
 saw below us farther on the trail, a large ambu- 
 lance — a mule lay dead in the harness, but the 
 rest of the team had disappeared, and from the am- 
 bulance puffs of white smoke and the clear rifle 
 cracks told us of a stubborn defence against the 
 cut-throat Apaches, who, with yells, were repeatedly 
 charging. Our carbines were unslung in a jiffy, 
 and with a cheer we struck spurs and rushed down 
 the trail to the rescue, just in time to send scattering 
 a half dozen "bucks" who were standing on the 
 wheels and steps, slashing with their knives. As 
 we rode up three men leaped out and added their 
 shots to the volley we sent after the retreating In- 
 dians. I was informed that they were in desperate 
 trouble. One man lay dead within the ambulance, 
 and two women were wounded, one, at least, dan- 
 gerously. Down the trail was the multilated driver — 
 killed at the first volley. Pushing aside the slashed 
 curtains, pierced with arrow and bullet holes, I saw 
 at once the full horror of the battle. On the floor 
 was the body of a gentleman, an ugly wound in the 
 temple, mutely revealing the cause of death. Minis- 
 tering to the needs of a middle-aged woman, evi- 
 dently beyond help, was a fair young girl. Her 
 golden hair had fallen about her shoulders, her 
 clothing was torn and blood-stained, and her right 
 arm was bleeding from an ugly wound. She was 
 rejoiced to learn that I was a surgeon, and inquired 
 anxiously for the chances of saving her aunt, now 
 unconscious and dying. I cared for her wound 
 and did what I could to make the situation less hor- 
 rible, and sent a trooper in hot haste to the Fort for 
 
 237
 
 assistance and fresh stock, and before long saw them 
 started safely for the garrison. My own duties 
 forced me to proceed westward to the Miembres, and 
 it was late the next day before I reported my return 
 at headquarters. My fair young patient was as 
 comfortable as possible under the care of the kind- 
 hearted wife of my commander — but the bodies of 
 the uncle and aunt and of the faithful driver 
 awaited burial. 
 
 I learned that the party had started overland 
 from Southern California, by way of Arizona, bound 
 to Santa Fe, where the uncle had interests. Un- 
 fortunately, at Fort Bowie, in Arizona, they had 
 been obliged to give up their military escort, and 
 with only three men and the driver to accompany 
 them, they risked the lonely trail through Bayard 
 and the Canon. The Indians had surprised them, 
 although they had been watching their signal smoke 
 for sometime. The uncle and driver fell at the 
 first volley, and the savages seized and cut loose the 
 mules. Just as our shots were poured into the red- 
 skins, some of the Apaches had made a rush, and 
 slashing open the curtains of the ambulance, had 
 seized the young lady, and were fighting to drag 
 her out, one of the redskins giving her the ugly 
 wound in the arm, just as we galloped up. In spite 
 of my best efforts, I found the wound an ugly one 
 to heal, and a deep scar a few inches above the 
 wrist will always recall the horrors of that adven- 
 ture. 
 
 My pleasure and my duty called me often to the 
 cheerful quarters of my commander, and after 
 awhile my professional services changed to that of 
 a new relationship, and so it came about later 
 
 228
 
 on, when leave of absence found me in old Santa 
 Fe, whither my fair young friend had gone, I 
 brought into service the skill of a worker in gold, 
 for which that old Mexican city is celebrated. He 
 fashioned for me a band of pure virgin gold to hide 
 the ugly wound, and in f ac-simile, a ring, which later 
 on I placed upon her finger in the little chapel of 
 Santa Fe. It does not seem so long ago, but since 
 that battle in the gloomy canon, many happy years 
 have passed. 
 
 Old Fort Cummings has fallen to ruins, its mas- 
 sive ''doby" walls have crumbled, and Old Glory 
 no longer "catches the gleam of the morning's first 
 beam" from its once graceful flagstaff. Only "Old 
 Baldy" still wears the same snow-white crest, and 
 keeps its everlasting vigil — as the "sentinel" of 
 Cook's Canon and "of the Southwest."
 
 POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 THE TRAIL OF SANTA FE DE 
 SAN FRANCISCO. 
 
 Known as the "Santa Fe Trail." 
 
 At the, commencement of the ' * commerce of the 
 prairies" in the early portion of the XIX century 
 the Old Santa Fe trail was the arena of almost con- 
 stant sanguinary struggles between the Indians and 
 the hardy white pioneers. Their daring compelled 
 its development. Their hardships gave birth to the 
 American homestead; their determined will was the 
 factor of possible achievements, the most remarkable 
 of modern times. 
 
 When the famous Santa Fe trail was established 
 across the great plains, the only method of travel 
 was by slow freight caravan drawn by patient oxen 
 or the lumbering stage coach with its complement 
 of four or six mules. There was ever to be feared 
 an attack by those devils of the desert — the Cheyen- 
 nes, Comanches, Kiowas, and other fierce tribes. 
 Along the whole route the remains of men, animals 
 and the wrecks of camps and wagons, told a story 
 of suffering, robbery and outrage more impressive 
 than any language. 
 
 230
 
 Volumes could be — and have been — written on 
 the history and romance of the old Santa Fe trail, 
 which takes us back to antiquity. The beginning 
 of it was in 1540, when Francisco Vasquez de 
 Coronado led an expedition of exploration and con- 
 quest from Mexico clear up into Kansas. 
 
 In 1596 Santa Fe was founded by the Spaniards 
 under the name of La Citidad Real de la Santa Fe 
 de San Francisco (the True City of the Holy Faith 
 of St. Francis). There, in a plain rimmed by moun- 
 tains, the Spaniards and Mexicans slept for nearly 
 two centuries, between the wars with the Indians. 
 
 In the first years of the 19th century the American 
 trapper and trader began to disturb the peaceful 
 dreams of Santa Fe. By 1824 the first wagon 
 trains had left Independence, Mo. 
 
 Thereafter there was a rushing business along the 
 Santa Fe trail. In 1825 the trail was made an auth- 
 orized road by act of Congress. In the next two 
 years it was surveyed and marked out "from the 
 western frontier of Missouri, near Fort Osage, to 
 San Fernando de Taos, near Santa Fe. " Fort 
 Leavenworth was established to give military protec- 
 tion to the hazardous trade with the Southwest. 
 
 Most intelligent Americans know of the old trail, 
 but very few know just where it ran. By the time 
 Gen. Kearney had taken formal possession of Santa 
 Fe, in 1846, in the name of the United States, its 
 northern terminus was Kansas City, to which point 
 merchandise from the east and south was shipped 
 by steamboat up the Missouri. 
 
 The Santa Fe trail began at Westport (now 
 Kansas City) and followed the Kaw river to Law- 
 rence. Thence it wound through the hills to Bur- 
 
 231
 
 lingame and Council Grove, the Arkansas valley 
 being reached at Fort Zarah (now Great Bend). 
 The trail crept up this valley to Bent's Fort (now 
 Las Animas) and climbed the mountains through 
 Raton pass. There was a short cut from Fort 
 Dodge to Las Vegas, along the Cimarron river. 
 In these days the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe 
 practically follows the pass trail. 
 
 The distance from Kansas City to Santa Fe was 
 800 miles, and a round trip consumed about 110 
 days. Day and night in all seasons the caravans 
 pushed their way. In spite of strong military es- 
 cort, the trail was blood-soaked for many years, and 
 was marked by hundreds of graves of the victims, 
 of the murderous Apaches and other tribes. Nearly 
 every mile of the trail has had its ambush, its sur- 
 prise, its attack and torture. 
 
 October 1872 Colonel Inman saw one of the last 
 caravans of white covered wagons slowly moving 
 towards the setting sun. It was the beginning of 
 the end for on the 9th of February, 1880, the first 
 train over the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe 
 railroad arrived at Santa Fe and the old trail as 
 a route of commerce was closed forever! 
 
 The Sauta Fe trail has been marked by the school 
 children of Kansas. Each school child in the ''Sun- 
 flower State" has been asked to give a penny to a 
 fund to buy markers for the famous old trail ; 
 369166 have responded, thus a unique monument of 
 great historical importance will be established. 
 
 232
 
 .-^ I V 
 
 .^WEI 
 
 ^OFCA 
 
 M-\ 
 
 M\ 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 Los Angeles 
 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 12: T" 
 
 'P( B KSCHARGE-Utt 
 ■S3m *' 
 
 juN znn 
 
 V5 ^ 
 
 Form L9-Series 4939 
 
 
 
 
 '■ '* ^ '""^ tat 
 
 ^\lLlBRARY6k 
 
 '^<!/0dl]V3JO'^ 
 ^OFCAilFOi?^ 
 
 ^OFCAIIK)/?^ 
 
 '^OAavaani^ 
 
 ^^Awaani^ 
 
 ^\^t UKIVERy/A 
 
 
 ^fSlJONVSOl^ %a3AINfl]AV 
 
 .\WEUNIVER%. 
 
 or 
 
 vjslOSANCElfx^ 
 
 <rji30Nvsoi^'" "^/iaaAiNn-Jwv 
 
 ^0F( 
 
 ^,
 
 5 ^ 
 
 
 5? 
 
 ^OFCALIFOff^v 
 
 "^^JAavaan-^^J^ 
 
 3_^t 
 
 xWEUNIVERS-/, 
 
 -n rS 
 
 58 00690 6 
 
 <ril]ONV-! 
 
 AA 001096135 7 
 
 :i 
 
 -n ^— I 
 
 O u_ 
 •?3 O 
 
 ifoCEIi 
 
 
 ^ 2 
 
 ^. 
 
 4:>' 
 
 ' yn ! i.!va 
 
 
 ^r.,. 
 
 < -