EP WOODS
NATION
CHARL E S A. EASTMAN
YALE UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY
Gift of
CLARENCE DAY, Jr.
FROM THE DEEP WOODS
TO CIVILIZATION
rom the Deep TV^oods
to Civilization
CHAPTERS IN THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY
OF AN INDIAN
BY
CHARLES A. EASTMAN
(Ohiyesa)
ILLUSTRATED
BOSTON
LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY
1917
Copyright, 1916,
By Charles A. Eastman.
All rights reserved
Published, September, 1916
Reprinted, February, 1917
>'orfooat ISrtes
Set up and electrotyped by J. S. Cushing Co., Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.
Presswork by S. J. Parkhill & Co., Boston, Mass., U.S.A.
FOREWORD
"Indian Boyhood," published first in
1902 and in many subsequent editions, pic¬
tures the first of three distinct periods in the
life of the writer of this book. His child¬
hood and youth were a part of the free wilder¬
ness life of the first American — a life that is
gone forever! By dint of much persuasion,
the story has now been carried on from the
point of that plunge into the unknown with
which the first book ends, a change so abrupt
and so overwhelming that the boy of fifteen
"felt as if he were dead and travelling to
the spirit land." We are now to hear of a
single-hearted quest throughout eighteen
years of adolescence and early maturity,
for the attainment of the modern ideal of
Christian culture; and again of a quarter
of a century devoted to testing that hard-
won standard in various fields of endeavor,
v
Foreword
partly by holding it up before his own race,
and partly by interpreting their racial ideals
to the white man, leading in the end to a
partial reaction in favor of the earlier, the
simpler, perhaps the more spiritual philos¬
ophy. It is clearly impossible to tell the
whole story, but much that cannot be told
may be read "between the lines." The
broad outlines, the salient features of an
uncommon experience are here set forth in
the hope that they may strengthen for some
readers the conception of our common
humanity.
E. G. E.
vi
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGK
I The Way Opens 1
II My First School, Days .... 14
III On the White Man's Trail ... 31
IV College Life in the West ... 51
V College Life in the East ... 61
VI A Doctor among the Indians . . 76
VII The Ghost Dance War ... 92
VIII War with the Politicians . . .116
IX Civilization as Preached and Prac¬
tised 136
X At the Nation's Capital . . . 151
XI Back to the Woods .... 166
XII The Soul of the White Man . . 182
vii
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Charles A. Eastman (Ohiyesa). Frontispiece in
Photogravure.
FACING PAGE
Many Lightnings. English name, Jacob
Eastman. From an old daguerreotype
of Dr. Eastman's father ... 6
Typical Indian log cabin, such as Dr. East¬
man's father lived in at Flandreau,
Dakota Territory . . . .16
At home in the wilderness. A group of
Indian teepees . . . . .16
Santee Normal Training School, Santee,
Nebraska, as it looks to-day . . 32
Rev. Alfred L. Riggs, Superintendent Santee
Training School ..... 40
Part of Class of '87, Dartmouth College,
after a "Rush." Eastman in centre,
front 66
ix
List of Illustrations
FACING PAGE
Mrs. Frank Wood, of Boston; Eastman's
"White Mother" .... 72
Eastman at Knox College, 1880 . . 76
Eastman in 1890, when he took his medical
degree at Boston University . . 76
Chapel of the Holy Cross, Pine Ridge
Agency, used as hospital for wounded
Indians during the "Ghost Dance
War" 80
Pine Ridge Agency, 1890 .... 80
Mato-wa-nahtaka (Kicking Bear), High
Priest of the "Messiah Craze," 1890-
91 100
Elaine Goodale Eastman .... 126
Ohiyesa the Second, at five years of age, 1903 152
WTith guide and bark canoe, on Rainy Lake,
Ontario ...... 176
x
FROM THE DEEP WOODS
TO CIVILIZATION
i
THE WAY OPENS
ONE can never be sure of what a day may
bring to pass. At the age of fifteen
years, the deepening current of my life
swung upon such a pivotal day, and in the
twinkling of an eye its whole course was
utterly changed; as if a little mountain
brook should pause and turn upon itself to
gather strength for the long journey toward
an unknown ocean.
From childhood I was consciously trained
to be a man; that was, after all, the basic
thing; but after this I was trained to be a
warrior and a hunter, and not to care for
money or possessions, but to be in the broad¬
est sense a public servant. After arriving
1
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
at a reverent sense of the pervading presence
of the Spirit and Giver of Life, and a deep
consciousness of the brotherhood of man, the
first thing for me to accomplish was to adapt
myself perfectly to natural things — in other
words, to harmonize myself with nature.
To this end I was made to build a body both
symmetrical and enduring — a house for
the soul to live in — a sturdy house, defying
the elements. I must have faith and pa¬
tience ; I must learn self-control and be able
to maintain silence. I must do with as
little as possible and start with nothing most
of the time, because a true Indian always
shares whatever he may possess.
I felt no hatred for our tribal foes. I
looked upon them more as the college athlete
regards his rivals from another college.
There was no thought of destroying a nation,
taking away their country or reducing the
people to servitude, for my race rather
honored and bestowed gifts upon their
enemies at the next peaceful meeting, until
they had adopted the usages of the white
man's warfare for spoliation and conquest.
There was one unfortunate thing about
2
The Way Opens
my early training, however; that is, I was
taught never to spare a citizen of the United
States, although we were on friendly terms
with the Canadian white men. The explana¬
tion is simple. My people had been turned
out of some of the finest, country in the world,
now forming the great states of Minnesota
and Iowa. The Americans pretended to
buy the land at ten cents an acre, but never
paid the price; the debt stands unpaid to
this day. Because they did not pay, the
Sioux protested; finally came the outbreak
of 1862 in Minnesota, when many settlers
were killed, and forthwith our people, such
as were left alive, were driven by the troops
into exile.
My father, who was among the fugitives
in Canada, had been betrayed by a half-
breed across the United States line, near
what is now the city of Winnipeg. Some of
the party were hanged at Fort Snelling, near
St. Paul. We supposed, and, in fact, we were
informed that all were hanged. This was
why my uncle, in whose family I lived, had
taught me never to spare a white man from
the United States.
3
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
During the summer and winter of 1871,
the band of Sioux to which I belonged — a
clan of the Wah'petons, or "Dwellers among
the Leaves" — roamed in the upper Missouri
region and along the Yellowstone River.
In that year I tasted to the full the joy and
plenty of wild existence. I saw buffalo,
elk, and antelope in herds numbering thou¬
sands. The forests teemed with deer, and
in the "Bad Lands" dwelt the Big Horns
or Rocky Mountain sheep. At this period,
grizzly bears were numerous and were
brought into camp quite commonly, like
any other game.
We frequently met and camped with the
Hudson Bay half-breeds in their summer
hunt of the buffalo, and we were on terms of
friendship with the Assiniboines and the
Crees, but in frequent collision with the
Blackfeet, the Gros Ventres, and the Crows.
However, there were times of truce when
all met in peace for a great midsummer
festival and exchange of gifts. The Sioux
roamed over an area nearly a thousand
miles in extent. In the summer we gathered
together in large numbers, but towards fall
4
The Way Opens
we would divide into small groups or bands
and scatter for the trapping and the winter
hunt. Most of us hugged the wooded river
bottoms; some depended entirely upon
the buffalo for food, while others, and among
these my immediate kindred, hunted all
kinds of game, and trapped and fished as
well.
Thus I was trained thoroughly for an all-
round out-door life and for all natural
emergencies. I was a good rider and a good
shot with the bow and arrow, alert and alive
to everything that came within my ken.
I had never known nor ever expected to
know any life but this.
In the winter and summer of 1872, we
drifted toward the southern part of what is
now Manitoba. In this wild, rolling country
I rapidly matured, and laid, as I supposed,
the foundations of my life career, never
dreaming of anything beyond this manful
and honest, unhampered existence. My
horse and my dog were my closest compan¬
ions. I regarded them as brothers, and if
there was a hereafter, I expected to meet
them there. With them I went out daily
5
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
into the wilderness to seek inspiration and
store up strength for coming manhood.
My teachers dreamed no more than I of any
change in my prospects. I had now taken
part in all our tribal activities except that
of war, and was nearly old enough to be
initiated into the ritual of the war-path.
The world was full of natural rivalry; I
was eager for the day.
I had attained the age of fifteen years and
was about to enter into and realize a man's
life, as we Indians understood it, when the
change came. One fine September morning
as I returned from the daily hunt, there
seemed to be an unusual stir and excitement
as I approached our camp. My faithful
grandmother was on the watch and met me
to break the news. "Your father has come
— he whom we thought dead at the hands
of the white men," she said.
It was a day of miracle in the deep Cana¬
dian wilderness, before the Canadian Pacific
had been even dreamed of, while the Indian
and the buffalo still held sway over the vast
plains of Manitoba east of the Rocky Moun¬
tains. It was, perhaps, because he was my
G
Many Lightnings. English Name, Jacob Eastman.
From an Old Daguerreotype of
Dr. Eastman's Father.
The Way Opens
honored father that I lent my bewildered ear
to his eloquent exposition of the so-called
civilized life, or the way of the white man.
I could not doubt my own father, so myste¬
riously come back to us, as it were, from the
spirit land; yet there was a voice within
saying to me, "A false life! a treacherous
life!"
In accordance with my training, I asked
few questions, although many arose in my
mind. I simply tried silently to fit the new
ideas like so many blocks into the pattern of
my philosophy, while according to my un¬
tutored logic some did not seem to have
straight sides or square corners to fit in with
the cardinal principles of eternal justice.
My father had been converted by Protestant
missionaries, and he gave me a totally new
vision of the white man, as a religious man
and a kindly. But when he related how
he had set apart every seventh day for reli¬
gious duties and the worship of God, laying
aside every other occupation on that day, I
could not forbear exclaiming, "Father! and
does he then forget God during the six days
and do as he pleases ?"
7
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
"Our own life, I will admit, is the best in
a world of our own, such as we have enjoyed
for ages," said my father. "But here is a
race which has learned to weigh and measure
everything, time and labor and the results
of labor, and has learned to accumulate and
preserve both wealth and the records of
experience for future generations. You your¬
selves know and use some of the wonderful
inventions of the white man, such as guns and
gunpowder, knives and hatchets, garments
of every description, and there are thousands
of other things both beautiful and useful.
"Above all, they have their Great Teacher,
whom they call Jesus, and he taught them
to pass on their wisdom and knowledge to
all other races. It is true that they have
subdued and taught many peoples, and our
own must eventually bow to this law; the
sooner we accept their mode of life and follow
their teaching, the better it will be for us all.
I have thought much on this matter and such
is my conclusion."
There was a mingling of admiration and
indignation in my mind as I listened. My
father's two brothers were still far from being
8
The Way Opens
convinced; but filial duty and affection over-
weighed all my prejudices. I was bound
to go back with him as he desired me to do,
and my grandmother and her only daughter
accompanied us on the perilous journey.
The line between Canada and the United
States was closely watched at this time by
hostile Indians, therefore my father thought
it best to make a dash for Devil's Lake, in
North Dakota, where he could get assistance
if necessary. He knew Major Forbes, who
was in command of the military post and the
agency. Our guide we knew to be an un¬
scrupulous man, who could easily betray us
for a kettle of whisky or a pony. One of the
first things I observed was my father's
reading aloud from a book every morning
and evening, followed by a very strange song
and a prayer. Although all he said was in
Indian, I did not understand it fully. He
apparently talked aloud to the "Great
Mystery", asking for our safe guidance back
to his home in the States. The first reading
of this book of which I have any recollection
was the twenty-third Psalm, and the first
hymn he sang in my presence was to the old
9
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
tune of Ortonville. It was his Christian
faith and devotion which was perhaps the
strongest influence toward my change of
heart and complete change of my purpose
in life.
I think it was at our second encampment
that we met a large caravan of Canadian
half-breeds accompanied by a band of North¬
ern Ojibways. As was usual with the former,
they had plenty of whisky. They were
friendly enough with us, at least while sober,
but the Indians were not. Father showed
them his papers as a United States citizen
and a letter from Major Forbes, telling of his
peaceful mission, but we could not trust
our ancestral enemies, the Ojibways, espe¬
cially when excited with strong drink. My
father was calm and diplomatic throughout,
but thus privately instructed me:
"My son, conceal yourself in the woods;
and if the worst comes you must flee on your
swift pony. Before daylight you can pass
the deep woods and cross the Assiniboine
River." He handed me a letter to Major
Forbes. I said, "I will try," and as soon as
it was dark, I hid myself, to be in readiness.
10
The Way Opens
Meanwhile, my father called the leading
half-breeds together and told them again that
he was under the protection of his govern¬
ment, also that the Sioux would hold them
responsible if anything happened to us. Just
then they discovered that another young
brave and I were not to be found, which
made them think that father had dispatched
us to the nearest military post for help.
They immediately led away their drunken
comrades and made a big talk to their Ojib-
way friends, so that we remained undisturbed
until morning.
Some days later, at the south end of Devil's
Lake, I left our camp early to shoot some
ducks when the morning flight should begin.
Suddenly, when out of sight of the others,
my eye caught a slight movement in the rank
grass. Instinctively I dropped and flattened
myself upon the ground, but soon a quick
glance behind me showed plainly the head
of a brave hidden behind a bush. I waited,
trying to figure out some plan of escape, yet
facing the probability that I was already sur¬
rounded, until I caught sight of another head
almost in front and still another to my left.
11
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
In the moments that elapsed after I fully
realized my situation, I thought of almost
everything that had happened to me up to
that day; of a remarkable escape from the
Ojibways, of the wild pets I had had, and
of my playmates in the Canadian camps
whom I should never see again. I also
thought with more curiosity than fear of the
"Great Mystery" that I was so soon to enter.
As these thoughts were passing through my
mind, I carelessly moved and showed myself
plainly to the enemy.
Suddenly, from behind the nearest bush,
came the sound of my own Sioux tongue and
the words, "Are you a Sioux ?" Possibly my
countenance may not have changed much,
but certainly I grew weak with surprise and
relief. As soon as I answered "Yes!" I
was surrounded by a group of warriors of my
tribe, who chuckled at the joke that had come
so near to costing me my life, for one of them
explained that he had been on the point of
firing when I exposed myself so plainly that
he saw I was not an Ojibway in war paint
but probably a Sioux like himself.
After a variety of adventures, we arrived
12
The Way Opens
at the canvas city of Jamestown, then the
terminal point of the Northern Pacific rail¬
road. I was out watering the ponies when a
terrific peal of thunder burst from a spotless
blue sky, and indeed seemed to me to be
running along the surface of the ground.
The terrified ponies instantly stampeded,
and I confess I was not far behind them, when
a monster with one fiery eye poked his head
around a corner of the hill. When we reached
camp, my father kindly explained, and I was
greatly relieved.
It was a peaceful Indian summer day when
we reached Flandreau, in Dakota Territory,
the citizen Indian settlement, and found the
whole community gathered together to con¬
gratulate and welcome us home.
13
II
MY FIRST SCHOOL DAYS
T T was less than a month since I had been a
rover and a hunter in the Manitoba wil¬
derness, with no thoughts save those which
concern the most free and natural life of an
Indian. Now, I found myself standing near
a rude log cabin on the edge of a narrow
strip of timber, overlooking the fertile basin
of the Big Sioux River. As I gazed over the
rolling prairie land, all I could see was that
it met the sky at the horizon line. It seemed
to me vast and vague and endless, as was my
conception of the new trail which I had taken
and my dream of the far-off goal.
My father's farm of 160 acres, which he had
taken up and improved under the United
States homestead laws, lay along the north
bank of the river. The nearest neighbor
lived a mile away, and all had flourishing
fields of wheat, Indian corn and potatoes.
14
My First School Days
Some two miles distant, where the Big Sioux
doubled upon itself in a swinging loop, rose
the mission church and schoolhouse, the only
frame building within forty miles.
Our herd of ponies was loose upon the
prairie, and it was my first task each morning
to bring them into the log corral. On this
particular morning I lingered, finding some
of them, like myself, who loved their freedom
too well and would not come in.
The man who had built the cabin — it was
his first house, and therefore he was proud of it
— was tall and manly looking. He stood in
front of his pioneer home with a resolute face.
He had been accustomed to the buffalo-
skin teepee all his life, until he opposed the
white man and was defeated and made a
prisoner of war at Davenport, Iowa. It was
because of his meditations during those four
years in a military prison that he had severed
himself from his tribe and taken up a home¬
stead. He declared that he would never join
in another Indian outbreak, but would work
with his hands for the rest of his life.
"I have hunted every day," he said, "for
the support of my family. I sometimes chase
15
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
the deer all day. One must work, and work
hard, whether chasing the deer or planting
corn. After all, the corn-planting is the
surer provision."
These were my father's new views, and in
this radical change of life he had persuaded
a few other families to join him. They
formed a little colony at Flandreau, on the
Big Sioux River.
To be sure, his beginnings in civilization
had not been attended with all the success
that he had hoped for. One year the crops
had been devoured by grasshoppers, and
another year ruined by drought. But he was
still satisfied that there was no alternative
for the Indian. He was now anxious to have
his boys learn the English language and some¬
thing about books, for he could see that
these were the "bow and arrows" of the
white man.
"O-liee-ye-sa!" called my father, and I
obeyed the call. "It is time for you to go to
school, my son," he said, with his usual air of
decision. We had spoken of the matter
more than once, yet it seemed hard when it
came to the actual undertaking.
16
Typical Indian Log Cabin, such as Dr. Eastman's Father
lived in at flandrea.u, dakota territory.
At Home in the Wilderness. A Group of Indian Teepees.
My First School Days
I remember quite well how I felt as I
stood there with eyes fixed upon the
ground.
"And what am I to do at the school?"
I asked finally, with much embarrassment.
"You will be taught the language of the
white man, and also how to count your money
and tell the prices of your horses and of your
furs. The white teacher will first teach
you the signs by which you can make out the
words on their books. They call them A,
B, C, and so forth. Old as I am, I have
learned some of them."
The matter having been thus far explained,
I was soon on my way to the little mission
school, two miles distant over the prairie.
There was no clear idea in my mind as to
what I had to do, but as I galloped along
the road I turned over and over what
my father had said, and the more I thought
of it the less I was satisfied. Finally I said
aloud :
"Why do we need a sign language, when
we can both hear and talk?" And uncon¬
sciously I pulled on the lariat and the pony
came to a stop. I suppose I was half curious
17
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
and half in dread about this "learning white
men's ways." Meanwhile the pony had
begun to graze.
While thus absorbed in thought, I was
suddenly startled by the yells of two other
Indian boys and the noise of their ponies'
hoofs. I pulled the pony's head up just as
the two strangers also pulled up and stopped
their panting ponies at my side. They
stared at me for a minute, while I looked at
them out of the corners of my eyes.
"Where are you going? Are you going
to our school?" volunteered one of the boys
at last.
To this I replied timidly: "My father
told me to go to a place where the white
men's ways are taught, and to learn the
sign language."
"That's good — we are going there too!
Come on, Red Feather, let's try another race !
I think, if we had not stopped, my pony
would have outrun yours. Will you race
with us?" he continued, addressing me; and
we all started our ponies at full speed.
I soon saw that the two strange boys were
riding erect and soldier-like. "That must
18
My First School Days
be because they have been taught to be like
the white man," I thought. I allowed my
pony a free start and leaned forward until
the animal drew deep breaths, then I slid
back and laid my head against the pony's
shoulder, at the same time raising my quirt,
and he leaped forward with a will! I yelled
as I passed the other boys, and pulled up
when I reached the crossing. The others
stopped, too, and surveyed pony and rider
from head to foot, as if they had never seen us
before.
"You have a fast pony. Did you bring
him back with you from Canada?" Red
Feather asked. "I think you are the son of
Many Lightnings, whom he brought home
the other day," the boy added.
"Yes, this is my own pony. My uncle
in Canada always used him to chase the
buffalo, and he has ridden him in many
battles." I spoke with considerable pride.
"Well, as there are no more buffalo to
chase now, your pony will have to pull the
plow like the rest. But if you ride him to
school, you can join in the races. On the
holy days the young men race horses, too."
19
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
Red Feather and White Fish spoke both
together, while I listened attentively, for
everything was strange to me.
"What do you mean by the 'holy days' ?"
I asked.
"Well, that's another of the white people's
customs. Every seventh day they call a
'holy day', and on that day they go to a
'Holy House', where they pray to their Great
Mystery. They also say that no one should
work on that day."
This definition of Sunday and church-
going set me to thinking again, for I never
knew before that there was any difference
in the days.
"But how do you count the days, and how
do you know what day to begin with?" I
inquired.
"Oh, that's easy! The white men have
everything in their books. They know how
many days in a year, and they have even
divided the day itself into so many equal
parts; in fact, they have divided them again
and again until they know how many times
one can breathe in a day," said White Fish,
with the air of a learned man.
20
My First School Days
"That's impossible," I thought, so I
shook my head.
By this time we had reached the second
crossing of the river, on whose bank stood the
little mission school. Thirty or forty Indian
children stood about, curiously watching the
newcomer as we came up the steep bank.
I realized for the first time that I was an
object of curiosity, and it was not a pleasant
feeling. On the other hand, I was consider¬
ably interested in the strange appearance of
these school-children.
They all had on some apology for white
man's clothing, but their pantaloons belonged
neither to the order short nor to the long.
Their coats, some of them, met only half¬
way by the help of long strings. Others
were lapped over in front, and held on by a
string of some sort fastened round the body.
Some of their hats were brimless and others
without crowns, while most were fantastically
painted. The hair of all the boys was cut
short, and, in spite of the evidences of great
effort to keep it down, it stood erect like
porcupine quills. I thought, as I stood on
one side and took a careful observation of the
21
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
motley gathering, that if I had to look like
these boys in order to obtain something of the
white man's learning, it was time for me to
rebel.
The boys played ball and various other
games, but I tied my pony to a tree and then
walked up to the schoolhouse and stood
there as still as if I had been glued to the wall.
Presently the teacher came out and rang a
bell, and all the children went in, but I waited
for some time before entering, and then slid
inside and took the seat nearest the door.
I felt singularly out of place, and for the
twentieth time wished my father had not
sent me.
When the teacher spoke to me, I had not
the slightest idea what he meant, so I did not
trouble myself to make any demonstration,
for fear of giving offense. Finally he asked
in broken Sioux: "What is your name?"
Evidently he had not been among the Indians
long, or he would not have asked that ques¬
tion. It takes a tactician and a diplomat to
get an Indian to tell his name! The poor
man was compelled to give up the attempt
and resume his seat on the platform.
22
My First School Days
He then gave some unintelligible directions,
and, to my great surprise, the pupils in turn
held their books open and talked the talk of a
strange people. Afterward the teacher made
some curious signs upon a blackboard on the
wall, and seemed to ask the children to read
them. To me they did not compare in inter¬
est with my bird's-track and fish-fin studies
on the sands. I was something like a wild
cub caught overnight, and appearing in the
corral next morning with the lambs. I had
seen nothing thus far to prove to me the good
of civilization.
Meanwhile the children grew more familiar,
and whispered references were made to the
"new boy's" personal appearance. At last
he was called "Baby" by one of the big boys ;
but this was not meant for him to hear, so he
did not care to hear. He rose silently and
walked out. He did not dare to do or say
anything in departing. The boys watched
him as he led his pony to the river to drink
and then jumped upon his back and started
for home at a good pace. They cheered as
he started over the hills: "Hoo-oo! hoo-oo!
there goes the long-haired boy !"
23
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
When I was well out of sight of the school,
I pulled in my pony and made him walk
slowly home.
"Will going to that place make a man
brave and strong?" I asked myself. "I
must tell my father that I cannot stay here.
I must go back to my uncle in Canada, who
taught me to hunt and shoot and to be a
brave man. They might as well try to make
a buffalo build houses like a beaver as to
teach me to be a white man," I thought.
It was growing late when at last I appeared
at the cabin. "Why, what is the matter?"
quoth my old grandmother, who had taken
especial pride in me as a promising young
hunter. Really, my face had assumed a look
of distress and mental pressure that frightened
the superstitious old woman. She held her
peace, however, until my father returned.
"Ah," she said then, "I never fully believed
in these new manners ! The Great Mystery
cannot make a mistake. I say it is against
our religion to change the customs that have
been practiced by our people ages back —
so far back that no one can remember it.
Many of the school-children have died, you
24
My First School Days
have told me. It is not strange. You have
offended Him, because you have made these
children change the ways he has given us.
I must know more about this matter before
I give my consent.'' Grandmother had opened
her mind in unmistakable terms, and the
whole family was listening to her in silence.
Then my hard-headed father broke the
pause. "Here is one Sioux who will sacrifice
everything to win the wisdom of the white
man ! We have now entered upon this life,
and there is no going back. Besides, one
would be like a hobbled pony without
learning to live like those among whom we
must live."
During father's speech my eyes had been
fixed upon the burning logs that stood on
end in the huge mud chimney in a corner of
the cabin. I didn't want to go to that
place again; but father's logic was too
strong for me, and the next morning I
had my long hair cut, and started in to
school in earnest.
I obeyed my father's wishes, and went
regularly to the little day-school, but as yet
my mind was in darkness. What has all this
25
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
talk of books to do with hunting, or even
with planting corn? I thought. The sub¬
ject occupied my thoughts more and more,
doubtless owing to my father's decided posi¬
tion on the matter; while, on the other hand,
my grandmother's view of this new life was
not encouraging.
I took the situation seriously enough, and
I remember I went with it where all my people
go when they want light — into the thick
woods. I needed counsel, and human counsel
did not satisfy me. I had been taught to
seek the "Great Mystery" in silence, in the
deep forest or on the height of the mountain.
There were no mountains here, so I retired
into the woods. I knew nothing of the white
man's religion; I only followed the teaching
of my ancestors.
When I came back, my heart was strong.
I desired to follow the new trail to the end.
I knew that, like the little brook, it must lead
to larger and larger ones until it became a
resistless river, and I shivered to think of it.
But again I recalled the teachings of my
people, and determined to imitate their
undaunted bravery and stoic resignation.
26
My First School Days
However, I was far from having realized
the long, tedious years of study and confine¬
ment before I could begin to achieve what I
had planned.
"You must not fear to work with your
hands," said my father, "but if you are able
to think strongly and well, that will be a
quiver full of arrows for you, my son. All
of the white man's children must go to school,
but those who study best and longest need not
work with their hands after that, for they
can work with their minds. You may plow
the five acres next the river, and see if you
can make a straight furrow as well as a
straight shot."
I set to work with the heavy breaking-
plow and yoke of oxen, but I am sorry to
admit that the work was poorly done. "It
will be better for you to go away to a higher
school," advised my father.
It appears remarkable to me now that
my father, thorough Indian as he was,
should have had such deep and sound con¬
ceptions of a true civilization. But there
is the contrast — my father's mother ! whose
faith in her people's philosophy and training
27
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
could not be superseded by any other alle¬
giance.
To her such a life as we lead to-day would
be no less than sacrilege. "It is not a true
life," she often said. "It is a sham. I cannot
bear to see my boy live a made-up life!"
Ah, grandmother! you had forgotten one
of the first principles of your own teaching,
namely: "When you see a new trail, or a
footprint that you do not know, follow it to
the point of knowing."
"All I want to say to you," the old grand¬
mother seems to answer, "is this: Do not
get lost on this new trail."
"I find," said my father to me, "that the
white man has a well-grounded religion, and
teaches his children the same virtues that
our people taught to theirs. The Great
Mystery has shown to the red and white
man alike the good and evil, from which to
choose. I think the way of the white man is
better than ours, because he is able to pre¬
serve on paper the things he does not want to
forget. He records everything —- the sayings
of his wise men, the laws enacted by his
counselors."
28
My First School Days
I began to be really interested in this
curious scheme of living that my father was
gradually unfolding to me out of his limited
experience.
"The way of knowledge," he continued,
"is like our old way in hunting. You begin
with a mere trail — a footprint. If you
follow that faithfully, it may lead you to a
clearer trail — a track — a road. Later on
there will be many tracks, crossing and
diverging one from the other. Then you
must be careful, for success lies in the choice
of the right road. You must be doubly care¬
ful, for traps will be laid for you, of which
the most dangerous is the spirit-water, that
causes a man to forget his self-respect,"
he added, unwittingly giving to his aged
mother material for her argument against
civilization.
The general effect upon me of these dis¬
cussions, which were logical enough on the
whole, although almost entirely from the
outside, was that I became convinced that
my father was right.
My grandmother had to yield at last, and
it was settled that I was to go to school at
29
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
Santee agency, Nebraska, where Dr. Alfred
L. Riggs was then fairly started in the work
of his great mission school, which has turned
out some of the best educated Sioux Indians.
It was at that time the Mecca of the Sioux
country; even though Sitting Bull and Crazy
Horse were still at large, harassing soldiers
and emigrants alike, and General Custer had
just been placed in military command of the
Dakota Territory.
30
Ill
ON THE WHITE MAN'S TRAIL
TT was in the fall of 1874 that I started
from Flandreau, then only an Indian
settlement, with a good neighbor of ours
on his way to Santee. There were only a
dozen houses or so at Sioux Falls, and the
whole country was practically uninhabited,
when we embarked in a home-made prairie
schooner, on that bright September morning.
I had still my Hudson Bay flintlock
gun, which I had brought down with me
from Canada the year before. I took that
old companion, with my shot-pouch and a
well-filled powder-horn. All I had besides
was a blanket, and an extra shirt. I wore
my hunting suit, which was a compromise
between Indian attire and a frontiersman's
outfit. I was about sixteen years old and
small of my age.
"Remember, my boy, it is the same as if
31
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
I sent you on your first war-path. I shall
expect you to conquer," was my father's
farewell. My good grandmother, who had
brought me up as a motherless child, be¬
stowed upon me her blessing. "Always
remember," said she, "that the Great
Mystery is good; evil can come only from
ourselves!" Thus I parted with my first
teacher — the woman who taught me to
pray!
Our first night out was at Hole-in-the-Hill,
one of the most picturesque spots in the
valley. Here I brought in a doe, which I
had come upon in the tall grass of the river
bottom. Peter shot several ducks, and we
had a good supper. It seemed to me more
like one of our regular fall hunts than like
going away to school.
After supper I said, "I am going to set
some of your traps, uncle."
"And I will go with you," replied Peter.
"But before we go, we must have our
prayer," and he took out his Bible and
hymn-book printed in the Indian tongue.
It was all odd enough to me, for although
my father did the same, I had not yet become
32
Santke Normal Training School, Santee, Nebraska, as it looks today.
No. 1 is the old Chapel; No. 2, the Dakota Home.
On the White Man's Trail
thoroughly used to such things. Neverthe¬
less, it was the new era for the Indian; and
while we were still seated on the ground
around the central fire of the Sioux teepee,
and had just finished our repast of wild game,
Peter read from the good book, and per¬
formed the devotional exercises of his teepee
home, with quite as much zeal as if he were
within four walls and surrounded by civilized
things. I was very much impressed when
this primitive Christian prayed that I might
succeed in my new undertaking.
The next morning was frosty, and after
an early breakfast we hurried to our traps.
I got two fine minks and a beaver for my
trouble, while Peter came home smiling
with two otters and three beaver. I saw
that he had something on his mind, but,
like a true Indian, I held my peace. At
last he broke the news to me — he had
changed his mind about going to Santee
agency!
I did not blame him — it was hard to
leave such a trapper's paradise as this,
alive with signs of otter, mink, and beaver.
I said nothing, but thought swiftly. The
33
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
temptation was strong to remain and trap
too. That would please my grandmother;
and I will confess here that no lover is more
keen to do the right thing for the loved one
than I was at that time to please my old
grandmother.
The thought of my father's wish kept
me on my true course. Leaving my gun
with Peter, I took my blanket on my back
and started for the Missouri on foot.
"Tell my father," I said, "that I shall
not return until I finish my war-path."
But the voice of the waterfall, near
what is now the city of Sioux Falls, sounded
like the spirits of woods and water crying
for their lost playmate, and I thought for a
moment of turning back to Canada, there
to regain my freedom and wild life. Still,
I had sent word to my father that this war¬
path should be completed, and I remembered
how he had said that if I did not return, he
would shed proud tears.
About this time I did some of the hardest
thinking that I have ever done in my life.
All day I traveled, and did not see any one
until, late in the afternoon, descending into
34
On the White Man's Trail
the valley of a stream, I came suddenly
upon a solitary farm-house of sod, and was
met by a white man — a man with much
hair on his face.
I was hungry and thirsty as a moose in
burned timber. I had some money that my
father had given me — I hardly knew the
different denominations; so I showed the
man all of it, and told him by signs that he
might take what he pleased if only he would
let me have something to eat, and a little
food to carry with me. As for lodging, I
would not have slept in his house if he had
promised me a war-bonnet!
While he was cordial — at any rate,
after I exhibited my money — there was
something about his manner that did not
put me at my ease, and my wild instincts
told me to keep an eye on him. But I was
not alone in this policy, for his flock of four
daughters and a son nearly put their necks
out of joint in following my modest, shy
movements.
When they invited me to sit down with
them at the table, I felt uncomfortable,
but hunger was stronger than my fears
35
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
and modesty. The climax came when I
took my seat on a rickety stool between the
big, hairy man and one of his well-grown
daughters. I felt not unlike a young blue
heron just leaving the nest to partake of
his first meal on an unsafe, swinging branch.
I was entirely uncertain of my perch.
All at once, without warning, the man
struck the table with the butt of his knife
with such force that I jumped and was
within an ace of giving a war-whoop. In
spite of their taking a firm hold of the
home-made table to keep it steady, the
dishes were quivering, and the young ladies
no longer able to maintain their composure.
Severe glances from mother and father soon
brought us calm, when it appeared that the
blow on the table was merely a signal for
quiet before saying grace. I pulled myself
in, much as a turtle would do, and possibly
it should be credited to the stoicism of my
race that I scarcely ever ate a heartier meal.
After supper I got up and held out to the
farmer nearly all the money I had. I did
not care whether he took it all or not. I
was grateful for the food, and money had
36
On the White Man's Trail
no such hold on my mind as it has gained
since. To my astonishment, he simply
smiled, shook his head, and stroked his
shaggy beard.
I was invited to join the family in the
sod-house parlor, but owing to the severe
nerve-shocks that I had experienced at
the supper-table, I respectfully declined,
and betook myself to the bank of the stream
near by, where I sat down to meditate.
Presently there pealed forth a peculiar,
weird music, and the words of a strange song.
It was music from a melodeon, but I did not
then know what that was ; and the tune was
"Nearer, my God, to Thee." Strange as
it sounded to me, I felt that there was
something soothing and gentle about the
music and the voices.
After a while curiosity led me back to
the sod house, and I saw for the first time
how the white woman pumps so much air
into a box that when she presses on the top
boards it howls convulsively. I forgot my
bashfulness so far as to listen openly and
enjoy the operation, wondering much how the
white man puts a pair of lungs into a box,
37
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
which is furnished with a whole set of black
and white teeth, and when he sings to it, it
appears to answer him.
Presently I walked over to a shed where
the farmer seemed to be very busy with his
son, earnestly hammering something with
all their might in the midst of glowing fire
and sparks. He had an old breaking-plow
which he was putting into shape on his rude
forge. With sleeves rolled up, face and
hands blackened and streaming with sweat,
I thought he looked not unlike a successful
warrior just returned from the field of battle.
His powerful muscles and the manly way in
which he handled the iron impressed me
tremendously. "I shall learn that profession
if ever I reach the school and learn the white
man's way," I thought.
I thanked the good man for his kind
invitation to sleep within the sod walls with
all his family, but signed to him that I
preferred to sleep out-of-doors. I could see
some distrust in his eyes, for his horses were
in the open stable; and at that my temper
rose, but I managed to control it. He had
been kind to me, and no Indian will break
38
On the White Man's Trail
the law of hospitality unless he has lost all
the trails of his people. The man looked
me over again carefully, and appeared
satisfied; and I rolled myself up in my
blanket among the willows, but every star
that night seemed to be bent upon telling
the story of the white man.
I slept little, and early the next morning
I was awakened by the barking of the
farmer's collie and the laughter of his
daughters. I got up and came to the house.
Breakfast was nearly ready, and every
member of the family was on hand. After
breakfast I once more offered my money,
but was refused. I was glad. Then and
there I loved civilization and renounced my
wild life.
I took up my blanket and continued on
my journey, which for three days was a
lonely one. I had nothing with which to
kill any game, so I stopped now and then
at a sod house for food. When I reached
the back hills of the Missouri, there lay
before me a long slope leading to the river
bottom, and upon the broad flat, as far as
my eyes could reach, lay farm-houses and
39
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
farms. Ah ! I thought, this is the way of
civilization, the basis upon which it rests!
I desired to know that life.
Thirty miles from the school I met Dr.
Riggs on the road, coming to the town of
Yankton, and received some encouraging
words from him, for he spoke the Sioux
language very well. A little further on I
met the Indian agent, Major Sears, a Quaker,
and he, too, gave me a word of encouragement
when he learned that I had walked a hundred
and fifty miles to school. My older brother
John, who was then assistant teacher and
studying under Dr. Riggs, met me at the
school and introduced me to my new life.
The bell of the old chapel at Santee
summoned the pupils to class. Our
principal read aloud from a large book
and offered prayer. Although he conducted
devotional exercises in the Sioux language,
the subject matter was still strange, and
the names he used were unintelligible to
me. "Jesus" and "Jehovah" fell upon my
ears as mere meaningless sounds.
I understood that he was praying to the
"Great Mystery" that the work of the day
40
Rev. Alfred L. Riggs, Superintendent Santee
Training School.
On the White Man's Trail
might be blessed and their labor be fruitful.
A cold sweat came out upon me as I heard
him ask the "Great Mystery" to be with
us in that day's work in that school building.
I thought it was too much to ask of Him. I
had been taught that the Supreme Being
is only concerned with spirits, and that
when one wishes to commune with Him in
nature he must be in a spiritual attitude,
and must retire from human sound or in¬
fluence, alone in the wilderness. Here for
the first time I heard Him addressed openly
in the presence of a house full of young men
and young girls !
All the scholars were ordered to various
rooms under different instructors, and I
was left in the chapel with another long¬
haired young man. He was a Mandan from
Fort Berthold — one of our ancient enemies.
Not more than two years before that time
my uncle had been on the war-path against
this tribe and had brought home two Mandan
scalps. He, too, was a new scholar, and
looked as if he were about to come before
the judge to receive his sentence. My
heart at once went out to him, although the
41
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
other pupils were all of my own tribe, the
Sioux. I noticed that lie had beautiful
long hair arranged in two plaits, and in spite
of his sad face he was noble-looking and
appeared to great advantage, I thought, in
contrast with the other pupils, whose hair
was cut short and their garments not be¬
coming to them at all. This boy, Alfred
Mandan, became a very good friend of
mine.
Dr. Riggs took me in hand and told me
the rules of the school and what was expected
of us. There was the chapel, which was
used as a church every Sunday and as a
schoolhouse on week days. There was the
Dakota Home for the girls' dormitory — a
small, square frame building — and for the
boys a long log house some two hundred
yards from the chapel under the large cotton-
wood-trees.
Dr. Riggs said that I need not study
that first day, but could fill up the big bag
he brought me with straw from the straw
pile back of his barn. I carried it over to
the log cabin, where the Doctor was before
me and had provided a bunk or framework
42
On the White Marl's Trail
for my bed. I filled a smaller bag for a
pillow, and, having received the sheets and
blankets, I made my first white man's bed
under his supervision. When it was done it
looked clean and dignified enough for any
one, I thought.
He said that I must make it every morning
like that before going to school. "And for
your wash, there is a tin basin or two on a
bench just outside of the door, by the water-
barrels." And so it was. We had three
barrels of Missouri River water, which we
ourselves filled up every week, for we boys
had to furnish our own water and wood,
and were detailed in pairs for this work.
Dr. Riggs supplied axes for the wood-
choppers, and barrels and pails for the water-
carriers, also a yoke of large and gentle
white oxen and a lumber-wagon. It seems
to me that I never was better acquainted
with two animals than with these two! I
have done some of my solemnest thinking
behind them. The Missouri River was
about two miles from our log house, with a
wide stretch of bottom land intervening,
partly cottonwood timber and partly open
43
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
meadow with tall grass. I could take a
nap, or dance a war-dance, if I cared to do
so, while they were carrying me to wood or
to water.
Dr. Riggs gave me a little English primer
to study, also one or two books in the Dakota
language, which I had learned to read in the
day-school. There was a translation of the
Psalms, and of the Pilgrim's Progress. I
must confess that at that time I would have
preferred one of grandmother's evening
stories, or my uncle's account of his day's
experiences in the chase. I thought it was
the dullest hunting I had ever known!
Toward evening a company of three
young men arrived from up the river — to
all appearance full-fledged warriors. Ah, it
was good to see the handsome white, blue,
and red blankets worn by these stately
Sioux youths! I had not worn one since
my return from Canada. My brother got
me a suit of clothes, and had some one cut
my hair, which was already over my ears,
as it had not been touched since the year
before. I felt like a wild goose with its wings
clipped.
44
On the White Mail s Trail
Next morning the day pupils emerged
in every direction from the woods and deep
ravines where the Indians had made their
temporary homes, while we, the log-cabin
boarders, came out in Indian file. The
chapel bell was tolling as we reached the
yard, when my attention was attracted to a
pretty lass standing with her parents and
Dr. Riggs near the Dakota Home. Then
they separated and the father and mother
came toward us, leaving the Doctor and the
pretty Dakota maiden standing still. All
at once the girl began to run toward her
parents, screaming pitifully.
"Oh, I cannot, I cannot stay in the white
man's house! I'll die, I'll die! Mamma!
Mamma!"
The parents stopped and reasoned with
the girl, but it was of no use. Then I saw
them leading her back to the Dakota Home,
in spite of her pleading and begging. The
scene made my blood boil, and I suppressed
with difficulty a strong desire to go to her
aid.
How well I remember the first time we
were called upon to recite! In the same
45
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
primer class were Eagle-Crane, Kite, and
their compatriot from up the river. For a
whole week we youthful warriors were held
up and harassed with words of three letters.
Like raspberry bushes in the path, they tore,
bled, and sweated us — those little words
rat, cat, and so forth — until not a semblance
of our native dignity and self-respect was
left. And we were of just the age when the
Indian youth is most on his dignity! Imag¬
ine the same fellows turned loose against
Custer or Harney with anything like equal
numbers and weapons, and those tried
generals would feel like boys! We had
been bred and trained to those things; but
when we found ourselves within four walls
and set to pick out words of three letters
we were like novices upon snow-shoes —
often flat on the ground.
I hardly think I was ever tired in my life
until those first days of boarding-school.
All day things seemed to come and pass
with a wearisome regularity, like walking
railway ties — the step was too short for
me. At times I felt something of the fascina¬
tion of the new life, and again there would
46
On the White Man's Trail
arise in me a dogged resistance, and a voice
seemed to be saying, "It is cowardly to
depart from the old things!"
Aside from repeating and spelling words,
we had to count and add imaginary amounts.
We never had had any money to count, nor
potatoes, nor turnips, nor bricks. Why, we
valued nothing except honor; that cannot
be purchased ! It seemed now that every¬
thing must be measured in time or money
or distance. And when the teacher placed
before us a painted globe, and said that our
world was like that — that upon such a
thing our forefathers had roamed and hunted
for untold ages, as it whirled and danced
around the sun in space — I felt that my
foothold was deserting me. All my savage
training and philosophy was in the air, if
these things were true.
Later on, when Dr. Riggs explained to
us the industries of the white man, his
thrift and forethought, we could see the
reasonableness of it all. Economy is the
able assistant of labor, and the two together
produce great results. The systems and
methods of business were of great interest
47
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
to us, and especially the adoption of a medium
of exchange.
The Doctor's own personality impressed
us deeply, and his words of counsel and
daily prayers, strange to us at first, in time
found root in our minds. Next to my own
father, this man did more than perhaps any
other to make it possible for me to grasp
the principles of true civilization. He also
strengthened and developed in me that
native strong ambition to win out, by stick¬
ing to whatever I might undertake. Asso¬
ciated with him was another man who in¬
fluenced me powerfully toward Christian
living. This was the Rev. Dr. John P.
Williamson, the pioneer Presbyterian mis¬
sionary. The world seemed gradually to
unfold before me, and the desire to know all
that the white man knows was the tre¬
mendous and prevailing thought in me,
and was constantly growing upon me more
and more.
My father wrote to me in the Dakota
language for my encouragement. Dr. Riggs
had told him that I was not afraid of books
or of work, but rather determined to profit
48
On the White Man's Trail
by them. "My son," lie wrote, "I believe
that an Indian can learn all that is in the
books of the white man, so that he may be
equal to them in the ways of the mind!"
I studied harder than most of the boys.
Missionaries were poor, and the Govern¬
ment policy of education for the Indian
had not then been developed. The white
man in general had no use for the Indian.
Sitting Bull and the Northern Cheyennes
were still fighting in Wyoming and Montana,
so that the outlook was not bright for me
to pursue my studies among the whites,
yet it was now my secret dream and ambi¬
tion.
It was at Santee that I sawed my first
cord of wood. Before long I had a little
money of my own, for I sawed most of Dr.
Riggs's own wood and some at the Dakota
Home, besides other work for which I was
paid. Although I could not understand or
speak much English, at the end of my second
year I could translate every word of my
English studies into the native tongue,
besides having read all that was then pub¬
lished in the Sioux. I had caught up with
49
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
boys who had two or three years the start
of me, and was now studying elementary
algebra and geometry.
One day Dr. Riggs came to me and said
that he had a way by which he could send
me to Beloit, Wisconsin, to enter the pre¬
paratory department of Beloit College. This
was a great opportunity, and I grasped it
eagerly, though I had not yet lost my old
timidity about venturing alone among the
white people.
On the eve of departure, I received word
from Flandreau that my father was dead,
after only two days' illness. He was still in
the prime of life and a tireless worker. This
was a severe shock to me, but I felt even
more strongly that I must carry out his
wishes. It was clear that he who had sought
me out among the wild tribes at the risk of
his life, and set my feet in the new trail,
should be obeyed to the end. I did not go
back to my home, but in September, 1876,
I started from Santee to Beloit to begin my
serious studies.
50
IV
COLLEGE LIFE IN THE WEST
npHE journey to Beloit College was an
education in itself. At Yankton City
I boarded the train for the first time in my
life, but not before having made a careful
inspection of the locomotive — that fiery
monster which had so startled me on my
way home from Canada. Every hour
brought new discoveries and new thoughts —
visions that came and passed like the tele¬
graph poles as we sped by. More and more
we seemed to me to be moving upon regions
too small for the inhabitants. Towns and vil¬
lages grew ever larger and nearer together,
until at last we reached a city of some little
size where it was necessary for me to change
cars, a matter that had been arranged by
Dr. Riggs with the conductor. The streets
looked crowded and everybody seemed to
be in the greatest possible hurry. I was
51
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
struck with the splendor of the shops and
the brilliant show windows. Some one took
me to an eating house and left me alone with
the pretty waitress, whose bright eyes and
fluent speech alarmed me. I thought it
best to agree with everything she said, so I
assented with a nod of the head, and I
fancy she brought me everything that was
on the bill of fare!
When I reached Beloit on the second day
of my pilgrimage, I found it beautifully
located on the high, wooded banks of Black
Hawk's picturesque Rock River. The col¬
lege grounds covered the site of an ancient
village of mound-builders, which showed to
great advantage on the neat campus, where
the green grass was evenly cut with lawn-
mowers. I was taken to President Chapin's
house, and after a kindly greeting, shown
to my room in South College, where I im¬
mediately opened all the windows. A
young man emerged from our building
and I could distinctly hear him shouting
to another across the Common :
"Hurry up, Turkey, or you'll not have
the chance to face old Petty again! We
52
College Life in the West
have Sitting Bull's nephew right here, and
it's more than likely he'll have your scalp-
lock before morning!"
"Turkey," as I soon learned, was the son
of a missionary to that country, and both of
these boys became good friends of mine
afterward.
It must be remembered that this was
September, 1876, less than three months
after Custer's gallant command was anni¬
hilated by the hostile Sioux. I was especially
troubled when I learned that my two uncles
whom we left in Canada had taken part in
this famous fight. People were bitter against
the Sioux in those days, and I think it was a
local paper that printed the story that I was
a nephew of Sitting Bull, who had sent me
there to study the white man's arts so that
he might be better able to cope with him.
When I went into the town, I was followed
on the streets by gangs of little white savages,
giving imitation war whoops.
My first recitation at Beloit was an event
in my life. I was brought before a remark¬
able looking man whose name was Professor
Pettibone. He had a long, grave face, with
53
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
long whiskers and scarcely any hair on his
head, and was to me the very embodiment
of wisdom. I was already well drilled in the
elementary studies, except that I was very
diffident about speaking the English lan¬
guage, and found it hard to recite or to
demonstrate mathematical problems. How¬
ever, I made every effort and soon learned to
speak quite fluently, although not correctly;
but that fact did not discourage me.
I was now a stranger in a strange country,
and deep in a strange life from which I
could not retreat. I was like a deaf man with
eyes continually on the alert for the expres¬
sion of faces, and to find them in general
friendly toward me was somewhat reassuring.
In spite of some nerve-trying moments, I
soon recovered my balance and set to work.
I absorbed knowledge through every pore.
The more I got, the larger my capacity grew,
and my appetite increased in proportion. I
discovered that my anticipations of this new
life were nearly all wrong, and was suddenly
confronted with problems entirely foreign
to my experience. If I had been told to
swim across a lake, or run with a message
54
College Life in the West
through an unknown country, I should have
had some conception of the task; but the
idea of each word as having an office and a
place and a specific name, and standing in
relation to other words like the bricks in
a wall, was almost beyond my grasp. As
for history and geography, to me they were
legends and traditions, and I soon learned
to appreciate the pure logic of mathematics.
A recent letter from a Beloit schoolmate
says, "You were the only boy who could
beat me in algebra !"
At Beloit I spent three years of student
life. While in some kinds of knowledge I
was the infant of the college, in athletics
I did my full share. To keep myself at my
best physically, I spent no less than three
hours daily in physical exercise, and this habit
was kept up throughout my college days.
I found among the students many who were
self-supporting, either the sons of poor
parents, or self-reliant youth who preferred
to earn money for at least a part of their
expenses. I soon discovered that these
young men were usually among the best
students. Since I had no means of my own,
55
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
and the United States Government had not
then formulated the policy of Indian educa¬
tion, I was ready for any kind of work, and
on Saturdays I usually sawed wood and did
other chores for the professors.
During the first summer vacation I deter¬
mined to hire out to a farmer. Armed with
a letter of introduction from President
Chapin, I set out in a southerly direction.
As I walked, I recalled the troubles of that
great chief of the Sac and Fox tribe, Black
Hawk, who had some dispute with President
Lincoln about that very region.
At the first farm I came to, I approached
the front door with some misgivings. A
young lady asked me to wait, and I fancied I
read in her clear blue eyes the thoughts that
passed through her mind. In ten minutes
or so, the farmer came in from the field and
entered his home by another door, apparently
taking some precautions against a surprise
before coming to me where I waited, hungry
and tired, on the doorstep.
"Well, young man, what do you want?"
quoth he.
I said, "I am a student of Beloit College,
56
College Life in the West
but the college is closed for the summer and
I am looking for work."
"Oho! you can not work the New Ulm
game on me. I don't think you can repro¬
duce the Fort Dearborn massacre on this
farm. By the way, what tribe do you belong
to?"
"I am Sioux," I replied.
"That settles it. Get off from my farm
just as quick as you can! I had a cousin
killed by your people only last summer."
I kept on my way until I found another
farmer to whom I made haste to present my
letter. For him I worked all summer, and
as treaties were kept on both sides, there was
no occasion for any trouble.
It was here and now that my eyes were
opened intelligently to the greatness of
Christian civilization, the ideal civilization,
as it unfolded itself before my eyes. I saw
it as the development of every natural re¬
source ; the broad brotherhood of mankind;
the blending of all languages and the gather¬
ing of all races under one religious faith.
There must be no more warfare within our
borders: we must quit the forest trail for
57
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
the breaking-plow, since pastoral life was
the next thing for the Indian. I renounced
finally my bow and arrows for the spade and
the pen; I took off my soft moccasins and
put on the heavy and clumsy but durable
shoes. Every day of my life I put into use
every English word that I knew, and for the
first time permitted myself to think and act
as a white man.
At the end of three years, other Sioux
Indians had been sent to Beloit, and I felt
that I might progress faster where I was not
surrounded by my tribesmen. Dr. Riggs
arranged to transfer me to the preparatory
department of Knox College, at Galesburg,
111., of which he was himself a graduate.
Here, again, I was thrown into close contact
with the rugged, ambitious sons of western
farmers. Among my stanch friends at Knox
were S. S. McClure, John S. Phillips of the
American Magazine, Edgar A. Bancroft of
Chicago, now attorney for the International
Harvester Company, Judge Merritt Pinckney
of Chicago, Representative Rainey, and
other men who have become well known and
whose friendship is still retained.
58
College Life in the West
As Knox is a co-educational institution, it
was here that I mingled for the first time
with the pale-face maidens, and as soon as
I could shake off my Indian shyness, I
found them very winning and companion¬
able. It was through social intercourse
with the American college girl that I gained
my first conception of the home life and
domestic ideals of the white man. I had
thoroughly learned the Indian club and
dumb bell exercises at Beloit, and here at
Knox I was enabled by teaching them to a
class of young ladies to meet a part of my
expenses.
Soon I began to lay definite plans for the
future. Happily, I had missed the de¬
moralizing influences of reservation life,
and had been mainly thrown with the best
class of Christian white people. With all
the strength of a clean young manhood, I
set my heart upon the completion of a liberal
education.
The next question to decide was what
should be my special work in life. It ap¬
peared that in civilization one must have a
definite occupation — a profession. I wished
59
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
to share with my people whatever I might
attain, and I looked about me for a distinct
field of usefulness apart from the ministry,
which was the first to be adopted by the
educated Sioux.
Gradually my choice narrowed down to
law and medicine, for both of which I had a
strong taste; but the latter seemed to me to
offer a better opportunity of service to my
race; therefore I determined upon the study
of medicine long before I entered upon
college studies. "Hitch your wagon to a
star," says the American philosopher, and
this was my star!
60
V
COLLEGE LIFE IN THE EAST
/^\NE summer vacation, at my home in
Dakota, Dr. Riggs told me the story
of Dartmouth College in New Hampshire,
and how it was originally founded as a school
for Indian youth. The news was timely and
good news ; and yet I hesitated. I dreaded
to cut myself off from my people, and in my
heart I knew that if I went, I should not
return until I had accomplished my purpose.
It was a critical moment in my life, but the
decision could be only one way. I taught
the little day-school where my first lessons
had been learned, throughout the fall term,
and in January, 1882, I set out for the far
East, at a period when the Government was
still at considerable trouble to subdue and
settle some of my race upon reservations.
Though a man in years, I had very little
practical knowledge of the world, and in my
61
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
inexperience I was still susceptible to the
adventurous and curious side of things rather
than to their profounder meanings. There¬
fore, while somewhat prepared, I was not yet
conscious of the seriousness and terrific power
of modern civilization.
It was a crisp winter morning when the
train pulled into Chicago. I had in mind the
Fort Dearborn incident, and it seemed to me
that we were being drawn into the deep
gulches of the Bad Lands as we entered the
city. I realized vividly at that moment that
the day of the Indian had passed forever.
I was met at the station by friends, who
took me to walk upon some of the main
streets. I saw a perfect stream of humanity
rushing madly along, and noticed with some
surprise that the faces of the people were
not happy at all. They wore an intensely
serious look that to me was appalling.
I was cautioned against trusting strangers,
and told that I must look out for pickpockets.
Evidently there were some disadvantages
connected with this mighty civilization, for
we Indians seldom found it necessary to
guard our possessions. It seemed to me that
62
College Life in the East
the most dignified men on the streets were
the policemen, in their long blue coats with
brass buttons. They were such a remark¬
able set of men physically that this of itself
was enough to catch my eye.
Soon I was again upon the eastern bound
express, and we had not gone far when a
middle-aged man who had thoroughly in¬
vestigated my appearance both through and
over his glasses, came to my seat and with¬
out apology or introduction began to bom¬
bard me with countless questions.
"You are an Indian?" he began.
"Yes," I murmured.
"What is your tribe?"
"Sioux."
"How came you so far away from the
tribe? Are you a member of Sitting Bull's
band? Are you related to him?" he con¬
tinued. I was greatly relieved when he
released me from his intrusive scrutiny.
Among our people, the children and old
women sometimes betray curiosity as regards
a stranger, but no grown man would be
guilty of such bad manners as I have often
met with when traveling.
63
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
After we left Albany, I found myself in a
country the like of which, I thought, I
would have given much to hunt over before
it was stripped of its primeval forests, and
while deer and bears roamed over it un¬
disturbed. I looked with delight upon
mountains and valleys, and even the little
hamlets perched upon the shelves of the
high hills. The sight of these rocky farms
and little villages reminded me of the pres¬
ence of an earnest and persistent people.
Even the deserted farmhouse, the ruined
mill, had an air of saying, "I have done my
part in the progress of civilization. Now I
can rest." And all the mountains seemed
to say, Amen.
What is the great difference between these
people and my own? I asked myself. Is it
not that the one keeps the old things and
continually adds to them new improvements,
while the other is too well contented with
the old, and will not change his ways nor
seek to improve them?
When I reached Boston, I was struck with
the old, mossy, granite edifices, and the
narrow, crooked streets. Here, too, the
64
College Life in the East
people hurried along as if the gray wolf
were on their trail. Their ways impressed
me as cold, but I forgot that when I had
learned to know some of them better.
I went on to Dartmouth College, away up
among the granite hills. The country around
it is rugged and wild; and thinking of the
time when red men lived here in plenty and
freedom, it seemed as if I had been destined
to come view their graves and bones. No,
I said to myself, I have come to continue
that which in their last struggle they pro¬
posed to take up, in order to save themselves
from extinction; but alas ! it was too late.
Had our New England tribes but followed
the example of that great Indian, Samson
Occum, and kept up with the development
of Dartmouth College, they would have
brought forth leaders and men of culture.
This was my ambition — that the Sioux
should accept civilization before it was too
late! I wished that our young men might
at once take up the white man's way, and
prepare themselves to hold office and wield
influence in their native states. Although
this hope has not been fully realized, I have
65
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
the satisfaction of knowing that not a few
Indians now hold positions of trust and exer¬
cise some political power.
At Dartmouth College I found the build¬
ings much older and more imposing than any
I had seen before. There was a true
scholastic air about them; in fact, the
whole village impressed me as touched with
the spirit of learning and refinement. My
understanding of English was now so much
enlarged as to enable me to grasp current
events, as well as the principles of civiliza¬
tion, in a more intelligent manner.
At Kimball Union Academy, the little
ancient institution at which I completed
my preparation for college by direction of
President Bartlett of Dartmouth, I absorbed
much knowledge of the New Englander and
his peculiarities. I found Yankees of the
uneducated class very Indian-like in their
views and habits; a people of strong char¬
acter, plain-spoken, and opinionated. How¬
ever, I observed that the students of the
academy and their parents were very frugal
and saving. Nothing could have been more
instructive to me, as we Indians are inclined
66
College Life in the East
to be improvident. I had been accustomed
to broad, fertile prairies, and liberal ways.
Here they seemed to count their barrels of
potatoes and apples before they were grown.
Every little brooklet was forced to do a river's
work in their mills and factories.
I was graduated here and went to old
Dartmouth in the fall of 1883 to enter the
Freshman class. Although I had associated
with college students for several years, yet
I must confess that western college life is
quiet compared with that of the tumultuous
East. It was here that I had most of my
savage gentleness and native refinement
knocked out of me. I do not complain,
for I know that I gained more than their
equivalent.
On the evening of our first class meeting,
lo ! I was appointed football captain for my
class. My supporters orated quite effectively
on my qualifications as a frontier warrior,
and some went so far as to predict that I
would, when warmed up, scare all the Sophs
off the premises! These representations
seemed to be confirmed when, that same
evening after supper, the two classes met in
67
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
a first "rush," and as I was not acquainted
with the men, I held up the professor of
philosophy, mistaking him for one of the
sophomores. Reporters for the Boston
dailies made the most of their opportunity
to enlarge upon this incident.
I was a sort of prodigal son of old Dart¬
mouth, and nothing could have exceeded
the heartiness of my welcome. The New
England Indians, for whom it was founded,
had departed well-nigh a century earlier,
and now a warlike Sioux, like a wild fox, had
found his way into this splendid seat of
learning! Though poor, I was really better
off than many of the students, since the old
college took care of me under its ancient
charter. I was treated with the greatest
kindness by the president and faculty, and
often encouraged to ask questions and express
my own ideas. My uncle's observations in
natural history, for which he had a positive
genius, the Indian standpoint in sociology
and political economy, these were the sub¬
ject of some protracted discussions in the
class room. This became so well under¬
stood, that some of my classmates who had
68
College Life in the East
failed to prepare their recitations would
induce me to take up the time by advancing
a native theory or first hand observation.
For the first time, I became really
interested in literature and history. Here
it was that civilization began to loom up be¬
fore me colossal in its greatness, when the
fact dawned upon me that nations and
tongues, as well as individuals, have lived
and died. There were two men of the past
who were much in my thoughts: my
countryman Occum, who matriculated there
a century before me, and the great Daniel
Webster (said to have a strain of Indian
blood), who came to Dartmouth as impecu¬
nious as I was. It was under the Old Pine
Tree that the Indians were supposed to have
met for the last time to smoke the pipe of
peace, and under its shadow every graduating
class of my day smoked a parting pipe.
I was anxious to help myself as much as
possible and gain practical experience at
the same time, by working during the long
summer vacations. One summer I worked
in a hotel, at another time I canvassed for a
book, I think it was the "Knights of Labor,"
69
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
published in Boston. Such success as I
attained was due less to any business sagac¬
ity than to a certain curiosity I seemed to
excite, and which often resulted in the pur¬
chase of the book, whether the subscriber
really cared for it or not. Another summer,
an old school friend, an Armenian, con¬
ceived the scheme of dressing me in native
costume and sending me out to sell his goods.
When I wore a jacket and fez, and was well
scented with attar of rose, no dog would
permit me on his master's premises if he
could help it; nevertheless I did very well.
For business purposes I was a Turk, but I
never answered any direct questions on the
subject of my nativity.
Throughout my student days in the West,
I had learned to reverence New England,
and especially its metropolis, as the home of
culture and art, of morality and Christianity.
At that period that sort of thing got a lodging
place in my savage mind more readily than
the idea of wealth or material power. Some¬
how I had supposed that Boston must be
the home of the nation's elect and not far
from the millenium. I was very happy
70
College Life in the East
when, after my graduation with the class of
1887, it was made possible for me to study
medicine at Boston University. The friends
who generously assisted me to realize my
great ambition were of the type I had
dreamed of, and my home influences in
their family all that I could have wished for.
A high ideal of duty was placed before me,
and I was doubly armed in my original pur¬
pose to make my education of service to my
race. I continued to study the Christ
philosophy and loved it for its essential
truths, though doctrines and dogmas often
puzzled and repelled me. I attended the
Shawmut Congregational church, of which
the Rev. William Eliot Griffis was then
pastor, and I am happy to say he became my
life-long friend.
Mr. and Mrs. Frank Wood, who were a
father and mother to me at this period of
my life, were very considerate of my health
and gave me opportunity to enter into many
outdoor sports, such as tennis and canoeing,
beside regular gymnasium work. The unique
features of old Boston, the park system with
the public flower gardens and the Arboretum,
71
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
the reservoirs, and above all, the harbor with
its vast assemblage of vessels, each of these
was a school in itself. I did much general
reading, and did not neglect my social oppor¬
tunities. At Dartmouth I had met the
English man of letters, Matthew Arnold,
and he was kind enough to talk with me for
some time. I have also talked with Emerson,
Longfellow, Francis Parkman, and many
other men of note. Mr. and Mrs. Wood
were trustees of Wellesley College and I was
so fortunate as to be an occasional visitor
there, and to make the acquaintance of
Miss Freeman, its first president. I believe
the first lecture I ever delivered in public
was before the Wellesley girls. I little
dreamed that a daughter of mine would ever
be among them! At another time I was
asked by Mrs. Hemenway to give one of a
course of eight historical lectures to the
high school boys and girls. My subject
was the French and Indian wars, especially
the conspiracy of Pontiac. I had studied
this period minutely and spoke for an hour
and a quarter without any manuscript.
At the seaside hotels, I met society people
72
College Life in the East
of an entirely different sort to those I had
hitherto taken as American types. I was,
I admit, particularly struck with the audac¬
ity and forwardness of the women. Among
our people the man always leads. I was
astonished to learn that some women whom
I had observed to accept the most marked
attentions from the men were married
ladies. Perhaps my earlier training had
been too Puritanical, or my aesthetic sense
was not then fully developed, for I was
surprised when I entered the ballroom to see
the pretty women clad so scantily.
One summer at Nantasket beach, I recall
that I had somehow been noted by an enter¬
prising representative of a Boston daily,
who printed a column or so on my doings,
which were innocent enough. He good-
naturedly remarked that "the hero of the
Boston society girls just now is a Sioux
brave", etc. and described all the little
gifts of sofa cushions, pictures, and so on,
that I had ever received from my girl friends,
as well as the medals won in college. I never
knew who had let him into my room!
During the three years that I studied in
73
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
Boston, I went every summer to Mr. Moody's
famous summer school at Northfield, and
was much interested in his strong personality.
One morning as we walked together, we came
to a stone at the roadside. "Eastman,"
said he, "this stone is a reminder of the
cruelty of your countrymen two centuries
ago. Here they murdered an innocent Chris¬
tian."
"Mr. Moody," I replied, "it might have
been better if they had killed them all.
Then you would not have had to work so
hard to save the souls of their descendants."
At the date of my graduation, in 1890,
the Government had fully committed itself
to the new and permanent plan of educating
the young Indians preparatory to admitting
them to citizenship. Various philanthropic
societies had been formed expressly to help
toward this end. These facts gave weight
and momentum to my desire to use all that
I had learned for their benefit. I soon
received my appointment to the position of
Government physician at Pine Ridge agency
in South Dakota, to report October first.
Meantime I stayed in Boston and kept
74
College Life in the East
books for Mr. Wood while his bookkeeper
took a vacation, and later secured an exten¬
sion of time in order to attend the Lake
Mohonk Indian conference. Here I met
Mr. Herbert Welsh and Professor Painter of
the Indian Rights association, Bishop Hare,
Bishop Whipple, and many others, and
listened with great interest to their dis¬
cussions. I became convinced that the
Indians had some real friends and this gave
me much encouragement.
75
VI
A DOCTOR AMONG THE INDIANS
f I ^HE Pine Ridge Indian agency was a
bleak and desolate looking place in
those days, more especially in a November
dust storm such as that in which I arrived
from Boston to take charge of the medical
work of the reservation. In 1890 a "white
doctor" who was also an Indian was some¬
thing of a novelty, and I was afterward in¬
formed that there were many and diverse
speculations abroad as to my success or
failure in this new role, but at the time I
was unconscious of an audience. I was
thirty-two years of age, but appeared much
younger, athletic and vigorous, and alive
with energy and enthusiasm.
After reporting to the Indian agent, I
was shown to my quarters, which consisted
of a bedroom, sitting room, office, and dispen¬
sary, all in one continuous barrack with the
76
Eastman at Knox College, 1880.
Eastman in 1890, when iie took his
Medical Degree at Boston
University.
A Doctor among the Indians
police quarters and the agent's offices. This
barrack was a flimsy one-story affair built
of warped cottonwood lumber, and the rude
prairie winds whistled musically through
the cracks. There was no carpet, no furni¬
ture save a plain desk and a couple of hard
wooden chairs, and everything was coated
with a quarter of an inch or so of fine Dakota
dust. This did not disconcert me, however,
as I myself was originally Dakota dust!
An old-fashioned box stove was the only
cheerful thing on the premises, and the first
duty I performed was to myself. I built a
roaring fire in the stove, and sat down for a
few minutes to take a sort of inventory of
the situation and my professional prospects.
I had not yet thought seriously of making
a life contract with any young woman, and
accordingly my place was at the agency mess
where the unmarried employees took their
meals. I recall that the cook at that time
was a German, and the insistent sauerkraut
and other German dishes were new to me
and not especially appetizing.
After supper, as I sat alone in my dismal
quarters fighting the first pangs of home-
77
From the Deep J Foods to Civilizat ion
sickness, an Indian softly opened the door
and stepped in without knocking, in char¬
acteristic Indian fashion. My first caller
was old Blue Horse, chief emeritus of the
Loafer band, of which American Horse was
the active chief. After greeting me in
Sioux, he promptly produced his credentials,
which consisted of well-worn papers that
had been given him by various high military
officers, from General Harney to General
Crook, and were dated 1854 to 1877. Blue
Horse had been, as he claimed, a friend to
the white man, for he was one of the first
Sioux army scouts, and also one of the first
to cross the ocean with Buffalo Bill. The
old man wanted nothing so much as an au¬
dience, and the tale of his exploits served to
pass the evening. Some one had brought
in a cot and an armful of blankets, and I
was soon asleep.
Next morning I hunted up an Indian
woman to assist in a general cleaning and
overhauling of the premises. My first
official act was to close up the "hole in the
wall", like a ticket seller's window, through
which my predecessors had been wont to
78
A Doctor among the Indians
deal out pills and potions to a crowd of
patients standing in line, and put a sign
outside the door telling them to come in.
It so happened that this was the day of
the "Big Issue," on which thousands of
Indians scattered over a reservation a hun¬
dred miles long by fifty wide, came to the
agency for a weekly or fortnightly supply
of rations, and it was a veritable "Wild
West" array that greeted my astonished
eyes. The streets and stores were alive
with a motley crowd in picturesque garb,
for all wore their best on these occasions.
Every road leading to the agency was filled
with white-topped lumber wagons, with here
and there a more primitive travois, and
young men and women on ponies' backs
were gaily curvetting over the hills. The
Sioux belle of that period was arrayed in
grass-green or bright purple calico, loaded
down with beads and bangles, and sat
astride a spotted pony, holding over her
glossy uncovered braids and vermilion-tinted
cheeks a gaily colored silk parasol.
Toward noon, the whole population moved
out two or three miles to a large corral in
79
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
the midst of a broad prairie, where a herd
of beef cattle was held in readiness by the
agency cowboys. An Indian with stentorian
voice, mounted on a post, announced the
names of the group whose steer was to be
turned loose. Next moment the flying ani¬
mal was pursued by two or three swift
riders with rifles across their saddles. As
the cattle were turned out in quick succes¬
sion, we soon had a good imitation of the
old time buffalo hunt. The galloping, long-
horned steers were chased madly in every
direction, amid yells and whoops, the firing
of guns and clouds of yellow dust, with
here and there a puff of smoke and a dull
report as one stumbled and fell.
The excitement was soon over, and men
of each group were busy skinning the
animals, dressing the meat and dividing it
among the families interested. Meanwhile
the older women, sack in hand, approached
the commissary, where they received their
regular dole of flour, bacon, coffee, and sugar.
Fires were soon blazing merrily in the va¬
rious temporary camps scattered over the
prairie and in the creek bottoms, and after
80
Chapel of the Holy Cross, Pine Ridge Agency, used as
Hospital for Wounded Indians during the
"Ghost Dance War."
Pine Ridge Agency, 1890.
A Doctor among the Indians
dinner, horse races and dancing were features
of the day. Many white sight-seers from
adjoining towns were usually on hand.
Before night, most of the people had set off
in a cloud of dust for their distant homes.
It is no wonder that I was kept on my feet
giving out medicine throughout that day,
as if from a lemonade stand at a fair. It was
evident that many were merely seeking an
excuse to have a look at the "Indian white
doctor." Most of them diagnosed their
own cases and called for some particular
drug or ointment; a mixture of cod liver
oil and alcohol was a favorite. It surprised
them that I insisted upon examining each
patient and questioning him in plain Sioux
— no interpreter needed ! I made a record
of the interesting cases and took note of the
place where they were encamped, planning
to visit as many as possible in their teepees
before they took again to the road.
The children of the large Government
boarding school were allowed to visit their
parents on issue day, and when the parting
moment came, there were some pathetic
scenes. It was one of my routine duties
81
From the Deep J Foods' to Civilization
to give written excuses from school when
necessary on the ground of illness, and these
excuses were in much demand from lonely
mothers and homesick little ones. As a
last resort, the mother herself would some¬
times plead illness and the need of her boy
or girl for a few days at home. I was of
course wholly in sympathy with the policy
of education for the Indian children, yet by
no means hardened to the exhibition of
natural feeling. I would argue the matter
with the parents as tactfully as I could;
but if nothing else could win the coveted
paper, the grandmother was apt to be
pressed into the service, and her verbal
ammunition seemed inexhaustible.
Captain Sword, the dignified and intelli¬
gent head of the Indian police force, was
very friendly, and soon found time to give
me a great deal of information about the
place and the people. He said finally:
"Kola (my friend), the people are very
glad that you have come. You have begun
well; we Indians are all your friends. But
I fear that we are going to have trouble. I
must tell you that a new religion has been
82
A Doctor among the Indians
proclaimed by some Indians in the Rocky
Mountain region, and some time ago, Sitting
Bull sent several of his men to investigate.
We hear that they have come back, saying
that they saw the prophet, or Messiah, who
told them that he is God's Son whom He has
sent into the world a second time. He told
them that He had waited nearly two thousand
years for the white men to carry out His
teachings, but instead they had destroyed
helpless small nations to satisfy their own
selfish greed. Therefore He had come again,
this time as a Savior to the red people. If
they would follow His instructions exactly,
in a little while He would cause the earth
to shake and destroy all the cities of the white
man, when famine and pestilence would
come to finish the work. The Indians must
live entirely by themselves in their teepees so
that the earthquake would not harm them.
They must fast and pray and keep up a holy
or spirit dance that He taught them. He also
ordered them to give up the white man's
clothing and make shirts and dresses in the
old style.
"My friend," Sword went on, "our res-
83
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
ervation has been free from this new teach¬
ing until the last few weeks. Quite lately
this ghost dance was introduced by Slow
Bull and Kicking Bear from Rosebud" — a
neighboring agency. "It has been rapidly
gaining converts in many of the camps. This
is what the council to-day was about. The
agent says that the Great Father at Wash¬
ington wishes it stopped. I fear the people
will not stop. I fear trouble, kola."
I listened in silence, for I was taken entirely
by surprise. Shortly afterward, the agent
himself, a new man and a political appointee,
approached me on the same matter. "I
tell you, doctor," he began, after an exchange
of greetings, "I am mighty glad you came
here at just this time. We have a most
difficult situation to handle, but those men
down in Washington don't seem to realize
the facts. If I had my way, I would have
had troops here before this," he declared
with emphasis. "This Ghost dance craze
is the worst thing that has ever taken hold
of the Indian race. It is going like wild
fire among the tribes, and right here and now
the people are beginning to defy my author-
84
A Doctor among the Indians
ity, and my Indian police seem to be power¬
less. I expect every employee on the agency
to do his or her best to avert an outbreak."
I assured him that he might count on me.
"I shall talk to you more fully on the subject
as soon as you are settled," he concluded.
I began to think the situation must be
serious, and decided to consult some of the
educated and Christian Indians. At this
juncture a policeman appeared with a note,
and handed me my orders, as I supposed.
But when I opened it, I read a gracefully
worded welcome and invitation to a tea
party at the rectory, "to celebrate," the
writer said, "my birthday, and your coming
to Pine Ridge." I was caught up by the
wind of destiny, but at the moment my only
thought was of pleasure in the prospect of
soon meeting the Reverend Charles Smith
Cook, the Episcopal missionary. He was a
Yankton Sioux, a graduate of Trinity College
and Seabury Divinity School, and I felt sure
that I should find in him a congenial friend.
I looked forward to the evening with a
peculiar interest. Mr. Cook was delightful,
and so was his gracious young wife, who had
85
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
been a New York girl. She had a sweet
voice and was a trained musician. They had
a little boy three or four years old. Then I
met several young ladies, teachers in the
boarding school, and a young man or two,
and finally Miss Elaine Goodale, who was
not entirely a stranger, as I had read her
"Apple Blossoms" in Boston, and some of
her later articles on Indian education in the
Independent and elsewhere. Miss Goodale
was supervisor of Indian schools in the
Dakotas and Nebraska, and she was then
at Pine Ridge on a tour of inspection. She
was young for such a responsible position,
but appeared equal to it in mentality and
experience. I thought her very dignified
and reserved, but this first evening's ac¬
quaintance showed me that she was
thoroughly in earnest and absolutely sin¬
cere in her work for the Indians. I might
as well admit that her personality impressed
me deeply. I had laid my plans carefully,
and purposed to serve my race for a few
years in my profession, after which I would
go to some city to practice, and I had de¬
cided that it would be wise not to think of
86
A Doctor among the Indians
marriage for the present. I had not given
due weight to the possibility of love.
Events now crowded fast upon one another.
It would seem enough that I had at last
realized the dream of my life — to be of
some service to my people — an ambition
implanted by my earlier Indian teachers
and fostered by my missionary training.
I was really happy in devoting myself mind
and body to my hundreds of patients who
left me but few leisure moments. I soon
found it absolutely necessary to have some
help in the dispensary, and I enlisted the
aid of George Graham, a Scotch half-breed,
and a simple, friendly fellow. I soon taught
him to put up the common salves and oint¬
ments, the cough syrups and other mixtures
which were in most frequent demand. To¬
gether we scoured the shelves from top to
bottom and prepared as best we could for
the issue day crowds.
After the second "Big Issue", I had an¬
other call from Captain Sword. He began,
I believe, by complimenting me upon a very
busy day. "Your reputation," he declared,
"has already travelled the length and breadth
87
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
of the reservation. You treat everybody
alike, and your directions are understood by
the people. No Government doctor has
ever gone freely among them before. It is a
new order of things. But I fear you have
come at a bad time," he added seriously.
"The Ghost dancers have not heeded the
agent's advice and warning. They pay no
attention to us policemen. The craze is
spreading like a prairie fire, and the chiefs
who are encouraging it do not even come to
the agency. They send after their rations
and remain at home. It looks bad."
"Do they really mean mischief?" I asked
incredulously, for Mr. Cook and I had dis¬
cussed the matter and agreed in thinking
that if the attempt was not made to stop it
by force, the craze would die out of itself
before long.
"They say not, and that all they ask is
to be let alone. They say the white man
is not disturbed when he goes to church,"
Sword replied. "I must tell you, however,
that the agent has just ordered the police
to call in all Government employees with
their families to the agency. This means
88
A Doctor among the Indians
that something is going to happen. I have
heard that he will send for soldiers to come
here to stop the Ghost dance. If so, there
will be trouble."
As I was still too new to the situation to
grasp it fully, I concluded that in any case the
only thing for me to do was to apply myself
diligently to my special work, and await the
issue. I had arranged to give a course of
simple talks on physiology and hygiene at
the Government boarding school, and on the
evening of my first talk, I came back to my
quarters rather late, for I had been invited
to join the teachers afterward in their read¬
ing circle, and had then seen Miss Goodale
safe to the rectory.
I had given up two of my rooms to Colonel
Lee, the census taker, and his wife, who
could find 110 other shelter in the crowded
state of the agency, and found them await¬
ing me.
"Well, doc," said the jolly Colonel, "I sup¬
pose you have fixed your eye on the prettiest
of the school teachers by this time!"
"I should be a callous man if I hadn't,"
I laughed.
89
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
"That's the right spirit. And now, here's
a big bundle the stage left for you. Open
it up, doc; it may be some pies or Boston
baked beans from your folks!"
The parcel contained a riding suit of
corduroy lined with leather, and reversible,
also a pair of laced riding-boots reaching to
the thigh, a present from an old friend in
Boston. Nothing could have been more
timely, for I now spent a good part of my
days and not a few nights in the saddle. I
was called to the most distant parts of the
reservation, and had bought a fine white
horse, part Arabian, which I named "Jack
Frost." When I called for George to saddle
him the next morning, I was surprised to
have him hesitate.
"Don't you think, doctor, you had better
keep pretty close to the agency until things
are a little more settled?" he asked.
"Why, George, what do you mean?"
"Well, this news that the troops have
been sent for, whether it is true or not, is
making a good deal of talk. No telling what
some fool Indian may take it into his head
to do next. Some of the white employees
90
A Doctor among the Indians
are not stopping at the agency, they are
going right on to the railroad. I heard
one man say there is going to be an
Injin outbreak and he intends to get out
while he can."
91
VII
THE GHOST DANCE WAR
RELIGIOUS craze such as that of
1890-91 was a thing foreign to the
Indian philosophy. I recalled that a hun¬
dred years before, on the overthrow of
the Algonquin nations, a somewhat similar
faith was evolved by the astute Delaware
prophet, brother to Tecumseh. It meant
that the last hope of race entity had de¬
parted, and my people were groping blindly
after spiritual relief in their bewilderment
and misery. I believe that the first prophets
of the "Red Christ" were innocent enough
and that the people generally were sincere,
but there were doubtless some who went
into it for self-advertisement, and who in¬
troduced new and fantastic features to at¬
tract the crowd.
The ghost dancers had gradually con¬
centrated on the Medicine Root creek and
The Ghost Dance War
the edge of the "Bad Lands," and they were
still further isolated by a new order from the
agent, calling in all those who had not ad¬
hered to the new religion. Several thousand
of these "friendlies" were soon encamped
on the White Clay creek, close by the agency.
It was near the middle of December, with
weather unusually mild for that season. The
dancers held that there would be no snow so
long as their rites continued.
An Indian called Little had been guilty
of some minor offense on the reservation and
had hitherto evaded arrest. Suddenly he
appeared at the agency on an issue day, for
the express purpose, as it seemed, of defying
the authorities. The assembly room of the
Indian police, used also as a council room,
opened out of my dispensary, and on this
particular morning a council was in progress.
I heard some loud talking, but was too busy
to pay particular attention, though my
assistant had gone in to listen to the speeches.
Suddenly the place was in an uproar, and
George burst into the inner office, crying
excitedly "Look out for yourself, friend!
They are going to fight!"
93
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
I went around to see what was going on.
A crowd had gathered just outside the coun¬
cil room, and the police were surrounded
by wild Indians with guns and drawn
knives in their hands. "Hurry up with
them!" one shouted, while another held his
stone war-club over a policeman's head.
The attempt to arrest Little had met with
a stubborn resistance.
At this critical moment, a fine-looking
Indian in citizen's clothes faced the excited
throng, and spoke in a clear, steady, almost
sarcastic voice.
"Stop! Think! What are you going to
do ? Kill these men of our own race ? Then
what ? Kill all these helpless white men,
women and children ? And what then ?
What will these brave words, brave deeds
lead to in the end ? How long can you
hold out? Your country is surrounded with
a network of railroads; thousands of white
soldiers will be here within three days.
What ammunition have you ? what provi¬
sions? What will become of your families?
Think, think, my brothers! this is a child's
madness."
94
The Ghost Dance War
It was the "friendly" chief, American
Horse, and it seems to me as I recall the
incident that this man's voice had almost
magic power. It is likely that he saved us
all from massacre, for the murder of the
police, who represented the authority of the
Government, would surely have been followed
by a general massacre. It is a fact that those
Indians who upheld the agent were in quite
as much danger from their wilder brethren
as were the whites, indeed it was said that
the feeling against them was even stronger.
Jack Red Cloud, son of the chief, thrust the
muzzle of a cocked revolver almost into the
face of American Horse. "It is you and
your kind," he shouted, "who have brought
us to this pass!" That brave man never
flinched. Ignoring his rash accuser, he
quietly reentered the office; the door
closed behind him; the mob dispersed,
and for the moment the danger seemed
over.
That evening I was surprised by a late
call from American Horse, the hero of the
day. His wife entered close behind him.
Scarcely were they seated when my door
95
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
again opened softly, and Captain Sword
came in, followed by Lieutenant Thunder
Bear and most of the Indian police. My
little room was crowded. I handed them
some tobacco, which I had always at hand
for my guests, although I did not smoke
myself. After a silence, the chief got up
and shook hands with me ceremoniously.
In a short speech, he asked my advice in
the difficult situation that confronted them
between the ghost dancers, men of their own
blood, and the Government to which they
had pledged their loyalty.
Thanks to Indian etiquette, I could allow
myself two or three minutes to weigh my
words before replying. I finally said, in
substance: "There is only one thing for
us to do and be just to both sides. We must
use every means for a peaceful settlement of
this difficulty. Let us be patient; let us
continue to reason with the wilder ele¬
ment, even though some hotheads may
threaten our lives. If the worst happens,
however, it is our solemn duty to serve the
United States Government. Let no man
ever say that we were disloyal! Following
96
The Ghost Dance War
such a policy, dead or alive, we shall have
no apology to make."
After the others had withdrawn, Sword
informed me confidentially that certain
young men had threatened to kill American
Horse while asleep in his tent, and that his
friends had prevailed upon him and his wife
to ask my hospitality for a few days. I
showed Mrs. American Horse to a small
room that I had vacant, and soon after¬
ward came three strokes of the office bell —
the signal ior me to report at the agent's
office.
I found there the agent, his chief clerk,
and a visiting inspector, all of whom ob¬
viously regarded the situation as serious.
"You see, doctor," said the agent, "the
occurrence of to-day was planned with re¬
markable accuracy, so that even our alert
police were taken entirely by surprise and
readily overpowered. What will be the
sequel we can not tell, but we must be pre¬
pared for anything. I shall be glad to have
your views," he added.
I told him that I still did not believe there
was any widespread plot, or deliberate
97
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
intention to make war upon the whites. In
my own mind, I felt sure that the arrival of
troops would be construed by the ghost
dancers as a threat or a challenge, and would
put them at once on the defensive. I was
not in favor of that step; neither was Mr.
Cook, who was also called into conference;
but the officials evidently feared a general
uprising, and argued that it was their duty
to safeguard the lives of the employees and
others by calling for the soldiers without
more delay. Sword, Thunder Bear, and
American Horse were sent for and their
opinions appeared to be fully in accord
with those of the agent and inspector, so
the matter was given out as settled. As a
matter of fact, the agent had telegraphed to
Fort Robinson for troops before he made a
pretense of consulting us Indians, and they
were already on their way to Pine Ridge.
I scarcely knew at the time, but gradually
learned afterward, that the Sioux had many
grievances and causes for profound dis¬
content, which lay back of and were more or
less closely related to the ghost dance craze
and the prevailing restlessness and excite-
98
The Ghost Dcmce War
ment. Rations had been cut from time to
time; the people were insufficiently fed, and
their protests and appeals were disregarded.
Never was more ruthless fraud and graft
practiced upon a defenseless people than
upon these poor natives by the politicians !
Never were there more worthless "scraps of
paper" anywhere in the world than many of
the Indian treaties and Government docu¬
ments ! Sickness was prevalent and the
death rate alarming, especially among the
children. Trouble from all these causes had
for some time been developing, but might
have been checked by humane and concilia¬
tory measures. The "Messiah craze" in
itself was scarcely a source of danger, and
one might almost as well call upon the army
to suppress Billy Sunday and his hysterical
followers. Other tribes than the Sioux who
adopted the new religion were let alone,
and the craze died a natural death in the
course of a few months.
Among the leaders of the malcontents at
this time were Jack Red Cloud, No Water,
He Dog, Four Bears, Yellow Bear, and Kick¬
ing Bear. Friendly leaders included Ameri-
99
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
can Horse, Young Man Afraid of his Horses,
Bad Wound, Three Stars. There was still
another set whose attitude was not clearly
defined, and among these men was Red
Cloud, the greatest of them all. He who
had led his people so brilliantly and with
such remarkable results, both in battle and
diplomacy, was now an old man of over
seventy years, living in a frame house which
had been built for him within a half mile of
the agency. He would come to council,
but said little or nothing. No one knew
exactly where he stood, but it seemed that
he was broken in spirit as in body and con¬
vinced of the hopelessness of his people's
cause.
It was Red Cloud who asked the historic
question, at a great council held in the Black
Hills region with a Government commission,
and after good Bishop Whipple had finished
the invocation, "Which God is our brother
praying to now ? Is it the same God whom
they have twice deceived, when they made
treaties with us which they afterward
broke ?"
Early in the morning after the attempted
100
Mato-wa-nahtaka, (Kicking Bear.) High Prif.st of the
" Messiah Craze," 1890-91.
The Ghost Dance War
arrest of Little, George rushed into my
quarters and awakened me. ''Come
quick!" he shouted, "the soldiers are
here!" I looked along the White Clay
creek toward the little railroad town of
Rushville, Nebraska, twenty-five miles away,
and just as the sun rose above the knife-
edged ridges black with stunted pine, I
perceived a moving cloud of dust that marked
the trail of the Ninth Cavalry. There was
instant commotion among the camps of
friendly Indians. Many women and chil¬
dren were coming in to the agency for refuge,
evidently fearing that the dreaded soldiers
might attack their villages by mistake.
Some who had not heard of their impending
arrival hurried to the offices to ask what
it meant. I assured those who appealed
to me that the troops were here only to
preserve order, but their suspicions were
not easily allayed.
As the cavalry came nearer, we saw that
they were colored troopers, wearing buffalo
overcoats and muskrat caps; the Indians
with their quick wit called them "buffalo
soldiers." They halted, and established their
101
From, the Deep Woods to Civilization
temporary camp in the open space before the
agency enclosure. The news had already
gone out through the length and breadth of
the reservation, and the wildest rumors were
in circulation. Indian scouts might be seen
upon every hill top, closely watching the
military encampment.
At this juncture came the startling news
from Fort Yates, some two hundred and
fifty miles to the north of us, that Sitting
Bull had been killed by Indian police while
resisting arrest, and a number of his men with
him, as well as several of the police. We
next heard that the remnant of his band had
fled in our direction, and soon afterward,
that they had been joined by Big Foot's
band from the western part of Cheyenne
River agency, which lay directly in their
road. United States troops continued to
gather at strategic points, and of course
the press seized upon the opportunity to
enlarge upon the strained situation and
predict an "Indian uprising." The reporters
were among us, and managed to secure much
"news" that no one else ever heard of.
Border towns were fortified and cowboys
102
The Ghost Dance War
and militia gathered in readiness to protect
them against the "red devils." Certain
classes of the frontier population indus¬
triously fomented the excitement for what
there was in it for them, since much money
is apt to be spent at such times. As for the
poor Indians, they were quite as badly
scared as the whites and perhaps with more
reason.
General Brooke undertook negotiations
with the ghost dancers, and finally induced
them to come within reach. They camped
on a flat about a mile north of us and in full
view, while the more tractable bands were
still gathered on the south and west. The
large boarding school had locked its doors
and succeeded in holding its hundreds of
Indian children, partly for their own sakes,
and partly as hostages for the good behavior
of their fathers. At the agency were now
gathered all the government employees and
their families, except such as had taken
flight, together with traders, missionaries,
and ranchmen, army officers, and newspaper
men. It was a conglomerate population.
During this time of grave anxiety and
103
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
nervous tension, the cooler heads among us
went about our business, and still refused to
believe in the tragic possibility of an Indian
war. It may be imagined that I was more
than busy, though I had not such long dis¬
tances to cover, for since many Indians
accustomed to comfortable log houses were
compelled to pass the winter in tents, there
was even more sickness than usual. I had
access and welcome to the camps of all the
various groups and factions, a privilege
shared by my good friend Father Jutz, the
Catholic missionary, who was completely
trusted by his people.
The Christmas season was fast approaching,
and this is perhaps the brightest spot in the
mission year. The children of the Sunday
Schools, and indeed all the people, look
eagerly forward to the joyous feast; barrels
and boxes are received and opened, candy
bags made and filled, carols practiced, and
churches decorated with ropes of spicy ever¬
green.
Anxious to relieve the tension in every
way within his power, Mr. Cook and his
helpers went on with their preparations upon
104
The Ghost Dance War
even a larger scale than usual. Since all
of the branch stations had been closed and
the people called in, it was planned to keep
the Christmas tree standing in the chapel
for a week, and to distribute gifts to a
separate congregation each evening. I found
myself pressed into the service, and passed
some happy hours in the rectory. For me,
at that critical time, there was inward struggle
as well as the threat of outward conflict, and
I could not but recall what my "white
mother" had said jokingly one day, referring
to my pleasant friendships with many charm¬
ing Boston girls, "I know one Sioux who has
not been conquered, and I shall not rest
till I hear of his capture!"
I had planned to enter upon my life work
unhampered by any other ties, and declared
that all my love should be vested in my
people and my profession. At last, however,
I had met a woman whose sincerity was
convincing and whose ideals seemed very
like my own. Her childhood had been
spent almost as much out of doors as mine,
on a lonely estate high up in the Berkshire
hills; her ancestry Puritan on one side,
105
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
proud Tories on the other. She had been
moved by the appeals of that wonderful
man, General Armstrong, and had gone to
Hampton as a young girl to teach the
Indians there. After three years, she under¬
took pioneer work in the West as teacher of a
new camp school among the wilder Sioux,
and after much travel and study of their
peculiar problems had been offered the
appointment she now held. She spoke the
Sioux language fluently and went among
the people with the utmost freedom and
confidence. Her methods of work were
very simple and direct. I do not know
what unseen hand had guided me to her
side, but on Christmas day of 1890, Elaine
Goodale and I announced our engagement.
Three days later, we learned that Big
Foot's band of ghost dancers from the
Cheyenne river reservation north of us was
approaching the agency, and that Major
Whiteside was in command of troops with
orders to intercept them.
Late that afternoon, the Seventh Cavalry
under Colonel Forsythe was called to the
saddle and rode off toward Wounded Knee
106
The Ghost Dance War
creek, eighteen miles away. Father Craft,
a Catholic priest with some Indian blood,
who knew Sitting Bull and his people, fol¬
lowed an hour or so later, and I was much
inclined to go too, but my fiancee pointed
out that my duty lay rather at home with
our Indians, and I stayed.
The morning of December 29th was sunny
and pleasant. We were all straining our
ears toward Wounded Knee, and about the
middle of the forenoon we distinctly heard
the reports of the Hotchkiss guns. Two
hours later, a rider was seen approaching at
full speed, and in a few minutes he had dis¬
mounted from his exhausted horse and
handed his message to General Brooke's
orderly. The Indians were watching their
own messenger, who ran on foot along the
northern ridges and carried the news to the
so-called "hostile" camp. It was said that
he delivered his message at almost the same
time as the mounted officer.
The resulting confusion and excitement
was unmistakable. The white teepees dis¬
appeared as if by magic and soon the caravans
were in motion, going toward the natural
107
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
fortress of the "Bad Lands." In the
"friendly" camp there was almost as much
turmoil, and crowds of frightened women
and children poured into the agency. Big
Foot's band had been wiped out by the
troops, and reprisals were naturally looked
for. The enclosure was not barricaded in
any way and we had but a small detachment
of troops for our protection. Sentinels were
placed, and machine guns trained on the
various approaches.
A few hot-headed young braves fired on
the sentinels and wounded two of them. The
Indian police began to answer by shooting
at several braves who were apparently about
to set fire to some of the outlying buildings.
Every married employee was seeking a
place of safety for his family, the interpreter
among them. Just then General Brooke ran
out into the open, shouting at the top of his
voice to the police: "Stop, stop! Doctor,
tell them they must not lire until ordered!"
I did so, as the bullets whistled by us, and
the General's coolness perhaps saved all
our lives, for we were in no position to repel
a large attacking force. Since we did not
108
The Ghost Dance War
reply, the scattered shots soon ceased, but
the situation remained critical for several
days and nights.
My office was full of refugees. I called
one of my good friends aside and asked him
to saddle my two horses and stay by them.
"When general fighting begins, take them
to Miss Goodale and see her to the railroad
if you can," I told him. Then I went over
to the rectory. Mrs. Cook refused to go
without her husband, and Miss Goodale
would not leave while there was a chance of
being of service. The house was crowded
with terrified people, most of them Christian
Indians, whom our friends were doing their
best to pacify.
At dusk, the Seventh Cavalry returned
with their twenty-five dead and I believe
thirty-four wounded, most of them by their
own comrades, who had encircled the In¬
dians, while few of the latter had guns. A
majority of the thirty or more Indian
wounded were women and children, includ¬
ing babies in arms. As there were not tents
enough for all, Mr. Cook offered us the
mission chapel, in which the Christmas tree
109
From the Deejp Woods to Civilization
still stood, for a temporary hospital. We
tore out the pews and covered the floor with
hay and quilts. There we laid the poor
creatures side by side in rows, and the
night was devoted to caring for them as
best we could. Many were frightfully torn
by pieces of shells, and the suffering was
terrible. General Brooke placed me in charge
and I had to do nearly all the work, for al¬
though the army surgeons were more than
ready to help as soon as their own men had
been cared for, the tortured Indians would
scarcely allow a man in uniform to touch
them. Mrs. Cook, Miss Goodale, and several
of Mr. Cook's Indian helpers acted as
volunteer nurses. In spite of all our efforts,
we lost the greater part of them, but a few
recovered, including several children who
had lost all their relatives and who were
adopted into kind Christian families.
On the day following the Wounded Knee
massacre there was a blizzard, in the midst
of which I was ordered out with several
Indian police, to look for a policeman who
was reported to have been wounded and
left some two miles from the agency. We did
110
The Ghost Dance War
not find him. This was the only time during
the whole affair that I carried a weapon; a
friend lent me a revolver which I put in my
overcoat pocket, and it was lost on the ride.
On the third day it cleared, and the ground
was covered with an inch or two of fresh
snow. We had feared that some of the
Indian wounded might have been left on
the field, and a number of us volunteered to
go and see. I was placed in charge of the
expedition of about a hundred civilians, ten
or fifteen of whom were white men. We
were supplied with wagons in which to
convey any whom we might find still alive.
Of course a photographer and several re¬
porters were of the party.
Fully three miles from the scene of the
massacre we found the body of a woman
completely covered with a blanket of snow,
and from this point on we found them
scattered along as they had been relent¬
lessly hunted down and slaughtered while
fleeing for their lives. Some of our people
discovered relatives or friends among the
dead, and there was much wailing and mourn¬
ing. When we reached the spot where the
111
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
Indian camp had stood, among the fragments
of burned tents and other belongings we saw
the frozen bodies lying close together or piled
one upon another. I counted eighty bodies
of men who had been in the council and who
were almost as helpless as the women and
babes when the deadly fire began, for nearly
all their guns had been taken from them. A
reckless and desperate young Indian fired
the first shot when the search for weapons
was well under way, and immediately the
troops opened fire from all sides, killing
not only unarmed men, women, and chil¬
dren, but their own comrades who stood
opposite them, for the camp was entirely
surrounded.
It took all of my nerve to keep my com¬
posure in the face of this spectacle, and of
the excitement and grief of my Indian com¬
panions, nearly every one of whom was
crying aloud or singing his death song.
The white men became very nervous, but
I set them to examining and uncovering
every body to see if one were living. Al¬
though they had been lying untended in the
snow and cold for two days and nights, a
m
The Ghost Dance War
number had survived. Among them I found
a baby of about a year old warmly wrapped
and entirely unhurt. I brought her in, and
she was afterward adopted and educated by
an army officer. One man who was severely
wounded begged me to fill his pipe. When
we brought him into the chapel he was
welcomed by his wife and daughters with
cries of joy, but he died a day or two
later.
Under a wagon I discovered an old woman,
totally blind and entirely helpless. A few
had managed to crawl away to some place of
shelter, and we found in a log store near by
several who were badly hurt and others who
had died after reaching there. After we had
dispatched several wagon loads to the agency,
we observed groups of warriors watching us
from adjacent buttes; probably friends of
the victims who had come there for the same
purpose as ourselves. A majority of our
party, fearing an attack, insisted that some
one ride back to the agency for an escort of
soldiers, and as mine was the best horse,
it fell to me to go. I covered the eighteen
miles in quick time and was not interfered
113
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
with in any way, although if the Indians had
meant mischief they could easily have
picked me off from any of the ravines and
gulches.
All this was a severe ordeal for one who
had so lately put all his faith in the Christian
love and lofty ideals of the white man. Yet
I passed no hasty judgment, and was thank¬
ful that I might be of some service and
relieve even a small part of the suffering.
An appeal published in a Boston paper
brought us liberal supplies of much needed
clothing, and linen for dressings. We worked
on. Bishop Hare of South Dakota visited
us, and was overcome by faintness when he
entered his mission chapel, thus transformed
into a rude hospital.
After some days of extreme tension, and
weeks of anxiety, the "hostiles," so called,
were at last induced to come in and submit
to a general disarmament. Father Jutz,
the Catholic missionary, had gone bravely
among them and used all his influence toward
a peaceful settlement. The troops were all
recalled and took part in a grand review
before General Miles, no doubt intended
114
The Ghost Dance War
to impress the Indians with their superior
force.
In March, all being quiet, Miss Goodale
decided to send in her resignation and go
East to visit her relatives, and our wedding
day was set for the following June.
115
VIII
WAR WITH THE POLITICIANS
"l^THEN the most industrious and ad-
* ^ vanced Indians on the reservation,
to the number of thousands, were ordered
into camp within gunshot of Pine Ridge
agency, they had necessarily left their homes,
their live stock, and most of their household
belongings unguarded. In all troubles be¬
tween the two races, history tells us that the
innocent and faithful Indians have been
sufferers, and this case was no exception.
There was much sickness from exposure,
and much unavoidable sorrow and anxiety.
Furthermore, the "war" being over, these
loyal Indians found that their houses had
been entered and pillaged, and many of
their cattle and horses had disappeared.
The authorities laid all this to the door
of the "hostiles," and no doubt in some
cases the charge may have been true. On
116
War with the Politicians
the other hand, this was a golden opportunity
for white horse and cattle thieves in the
surrounding country, and the ranch owners
within a radius of a hundred miles claimed
large losses also. Moreover, the Govern¬
ment herd of "issue cattle" was found to be
greatly depleted. It was admitted that
some had been killed for food by those
Indians who fled in terror to the "Bad
Lands," but only a limited number could
be accounted for in this way, and little of
the stolen property was ever found. An in¬
spector was ordered to examine and record
these "depredation claims," and Congress
passed a special appropriation of one hundred
thousand dollars to pay them. We shall
hear more of this later.
I have tried to make it clear that there
was no "Indian outbreak" in 1890-91, and
that such trouble as we had may justly be
charged to the dishonest politicians, who
through unfit appointees first robbed the
Indians, then bullied them, and finally in a
panic called for troops to suppress them.
From my first days at Pine Ridge, certain
Indians and white people had taken every
117
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
occasion to whisper into my reluctant ears
the tale of wrongs, real or fancied, committed
by responsible officials on the reservation, or
by their connivance. To me these stories
were unbelievable, from the point of view of
common decency. I held that a great
government such as ours would never con¬
done or permit any such practices, while
administering large trust funds and standing
in the relation of guardian to a race made
helpless by lack of education and of legal
safeguards. At that time, I had not dreamed
what American politics really is, and I had
the most exalted admiration for our noted
public men. Accordingly, I dismissed these
reports as mere gossip or the inventions of
mischief-makers.
In March of 1891 I was invited to address
the Congregational Club of Chicago, and
on my arrival in the city I foun(iv^o my sur¬
prise that the press still fostered thte illusion
of a general Indian uprising in the spring.
It was reported that all the towns adjoining
the Sioux reservations had organized and
were regularly drilling a home guard for
their protection. These alarmists seemed
118
War with the Politicians
either ignorant or forgetful of the fact that
there were only about thirty thousand Sioux
altogether, or perhaps six thousand men of
fighting age, more than half of whom had
been civilized and Christianized for a genera¬
tion and had just proved their loyalty and
steadfastness through a trying time. Fur¬
thermore, the leaders of the late "hostiles"
were even then in confinement in Fort
Sheridan. When I was approached by the
reporters, I reminded them of this, and said
that everything was quiet in the field, but
if there were any danger from the ghost
dancers, Chicago was in the most immediate
peril!
Fortunately we had in the office of Com¬
missioner of Indian Affairs at that time a
sincere man, and one who was deeply in
sympathy with educational and missionary
work, General Morgan of Indiana. He was
a lover of fair play, and throughout my fight
for justice he gave me all the support within
his power. As I have before intimated, I
found at Pine Ridge no conveyance for the
doctor's professional use, and indeed no
medical equipment worthy the name. The
119
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
agency doctor was thrown entirely upon his
own resources, without the support of col¬
leagues, and there was no serious attempt at
sanitation or preventive work. I had spent
a good part of my salary, as well as funds
contributed by friends for the purpose, in
the purchase of suitable medical supplies
and instruments. Finally, I boldly asked
for a team and buggy, also a hospital for
critical cases, with a trained nurse, and a
house for us to live in. Somewhat to my
surprise, all of these were allowed. I was
ambitious to give efficient service, so far
as it was possible, and I loved my work,
though the field was too large and the sick
were too many for one man to care for, and
there were many obstacles in the way. One
was the native prejudice, still strong, against
the white man's medicine, and especially
against any kind of surgical operation.
The people were afraid of amesthesia, and
even in cases where life depended upon it,
they had steadfastly refused to allow a
limb to be amputated. If I so much as put
on a plaster cast, I had no sooner left our
temporary hospital than they took it off.
120
War with the Politicians
It may be of interest to tell how this
prejudice was in part overcome. One day
my friend Three Stars, a Christian chief,
came in with his wife, who had dislocated
her shoulder. "Can you help her?" he
asked. "Yes," I said, "but I must first
put her to sleep. You should have brought
her to me last night, when it first happened,"
I added, "and then that would not have
been necessary."
"You know best," replied Three Stars,
"I leave it entirely with you." In the
presence of a number of the wounded In¬
dians, I administered a small quantity of
chloroform and jerked the arm back into its
socket. She came back to consciousness
laughing. It appeared to them a miracle,
and I was appealed to after that whenever
I dressed a painful wound, to "give me some
of that stuff you gave to Three Stars' wife."
Not long afterwards, I amputated the
leg of a mixed blood, which had been terribly
crushed, and he not only recovered perfectly
but was soon able to get about with ease on
the artificial limb that I procured for him.
My reputation was now established. I had
121
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
gained much valuable experience, and in
this connection I want to express my appre¬
ciation of the kindness of several army sur¬
geons with whom it was my pleasure to
work, one of whom took my place during a
six weeks' leave of absence, when I went
east to be married.
I had some interesting experiences with
the Indian conjurers, or "medicine men,"
to use the names commonly given. I would
rather say, mental healer or Christian scien¬
tist of our day, for the medicine man was
all of that, and further he practised massage
or osteopathy, used the Turkish bath, and
some useful vegetable remedies. But his
main hold on the minds of the people was
gained through his appeals to the spirits and
his magnetic and hypnotic powers.
I was warned that these men would
seriously hamper my work, but I succeeded
in avoiding antagonism by a policy of
friendliness. Even when brought face to
face with them in the homes of my patients,
I preserved a professional and brotherly
attitude. I recall one occasion when a
misunderstanding between the parents of
122
War with the Politicians
a sick child had resulted in a double call.
The father, who was a policeman and a
good friend of mine, urgently requested me
to see his child; while the frantic mother
sent for the most noted of the medicine men.
"Brother," I said, when I found him al¬
ready in attendance, "I am glad you got
here first. I had a long way to come, and
the children need immediate attention."
"I think so too," he replied, "but now that
you are here, I will withdraw."
"Why so? Surely two doctors should be
better than one," I retorted. "Let us con¬
sult together. In the first place, we must
determine what ails the child. Then we
will decide upon the treatment." He seemed
pleased, and I followed up the suggestion of
a consultation by offering to enter with him
the sweat bath he had prepared as a means of
purification before beginning his work. After
that, I had no difficulty in getting his consent
to my treatment of the patient, and in time
he became one of my warm friends. It was
not unusual for him and other conjurers to
call at my office to consult me, or "borrow"
my medicine.
123
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
I had some of the wounded in my care all
winter. I remember one fine looking man
who was severely injured ; a man of ordinary
strength would have succumbed, but his
strength and courage were exceptional, and
best of all, he had perfect faith in my ability
to restore him to health. All through those
months of trial, his pretty young wife was
my faithful assistant. Every morning she
came to see him with her baby on her back,
cheering him and inspiring us both to do our
best. When at last he was able to travel,
they came together to say good-bye. She
handed me something, carefully wrapped in
paper, and asked me not to open it until
they had gone. When I did so, I found
that she had cut off her beautiful long
braids of hair and given them to me in token
of her gratitude!
I was touched by this little illustration of
woman's devotion, and happy in the thought
that I was soon to realize my long dream —
to become a complete man! I thought of
little else than the good we two could do
together, and was perfectly contented with
my salary of twelve hundred dollars a year.
124
War with the Politicians
In spite of all that I had gone through, life
was not yet a serious matter to me. I had
faith in every one, and accepted civilization
and Christianity at their face value — a
great mistake, as I was to learn later on. I
had come back to my people, not to minister
to their physical needs alone, but to be a
missionary in every sense of the word, and
as I was much struck with the loss of manli¬
ness and independence in these, the first
"reservation Indians" I had ever known, I
longed above all things to help them to
regain their self-respect.
On June 18, 1891, I was married to
Elaine Goodale in the Church of the As¬
cension, New York City, by the Rev. Dr.
Donald. Her two sisters were bridesmaids,
and I had my chum in the medical school
for best man, and two Dartmouth class¬
mates as ushers. Many well known people
were present. After the wedding breakfast
in her father's apartments, we went to "Sky
Farm," my wife's birth-place in the beautiful
Berkshire hills, where she and her sister
Dora, as little girls, wrote the "Apple
Blossoms" and other poems. A reception
125
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
was given for us at Dorchester by Mr. and
Mrs. Wood, and after attending the Wellesley
College commencement, and spending a few
days with my wife's family, we returned to
the West by way of Montreal. At Flandreau,
South Dakota, my brother John had gathered
all the family and the whole band of Flan¬
dreau Sioux to welcome us. There my
father had brought me home from Canada,
an absolute wild Indian, only eighteen years
earlier! My honored father had been dead
for some years, but my brothers had arranged
to have a handsome memorial to him erected
and unveiled at that time.
Our new home was building when we
reached Pine Ridge, and we started life
together in the old barracks, while planning
the finishing and furnishing of the new. It
was ready for us early in the fall. I had
gained permission to add an open fireplace
and a few other homelike touches at my own
expense. We had the chiefs and leading
men to dine with us, and quite as often some
of the humbler Indians and poor old women
were our guests. In fact, we kept open
house, and the people loved to come and
126
Elaine Goodale Eastman.
War with the Politicians
talk with us in their own tongue. My wife
accompanied me on many of my trips now
that I had a carriage, and was always pre¬
pared with clean clothing, bandages, and
nourishing food for my needy patients.
There was nothing I called my own save
my dogs and horses and my medicine bags,
yet I was perfectly happy, for I had not only
gained the confidence of my people, but that
of the white residents, and even the border
ranchmen called me in now and then. I
answered every call, and have ridden forty
or fifty miles in a blizzard, over dangerous
roads, sometimes at night, while my young
wife suffered much more than I in the anxiety
with which she awaited my return. That
was a bitterly cold winter, I remember, and
we had only wood fires (soft wood) and no
"modern conveniences"; yet we kept in
perfect health. The year rolled around and
our first child was born — a little girl whom
we called Dora.
Meanwhile, though the troops had been
recalled, we were under military agents;
there were several changes, and our relations
were pleasant with them all. The time
127
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
came for the small annual payment of treaty
money, and the one hundred thousand dollar
payment for depredation claims, of which I
have spoken, was also to be made by a
special disbursing agent. This payment was
not made by check, as usual, but in cash,
and I was asked to be one of the three wit¬
nesses. I told the special agent that, as I
was almost constantly occupied, it would be
impossible for me to witness the payment,
which would take several days; but he
assured me that if only one of the three were
present at a time it would be sufficient, and,
understanding my duties to be only nominal,
I consented.
I was in the office from time to time while
the payment was going on, and saw the people
sign their names, generally by mark, on the
roll which had been prepared, opposite the
amount which each was supposed to receive;
then a clerk at another desk handed each in
turn a handful of silver and bills, and he
passed out as quickly as possible. The
money was not counted out to him, and he
was given no chance to count it until he
got outside. Even then, many could not
128
War with the Politicians
count it, and did not clearly understand
how much it ought to be, while the traders
and others were close at hand to get all or
part of it without delay.
Before I knew it, I was approached by
one and another, who declared that they had
not received the full amount, and I found
that in numerous cases reliable persons had
counted the cash as soon as the payees
came out of the office. A very able white
teacher, a college graduate, counted for
several old people who were proteges of
hers; an influential native minister did the
same, and so did several others; all reported
that the amount was short from ten to fifteen
per cent. When any one brought a shortage
to the attention of the disbursing agent or
his clerk, he was curtly told that he had
made a mistake or lost some of the money.
The complaints grew louder, and other
suspicious circumstances were reported.
Within a few days it was declared that an
investigation would be ordered. The agent
who had made the payment and immediately
left the agency, being informed of the situa¬
tion, came back and tried to procure affidavits
129
Fto?n the Deep Woods to Civilization
to show that it had been an honest payment.
He urged me to sign, as one of the original
witnesses, arguing that I had already com¬
mitted myself. I refused. I said, "After
all, I did not see the full amount paid to each
claimant. As the payment was conducted,
it was impossible for me to do so. I trusted
you, therefore I allowed you to use my name,
but I don't care to sign again."
The regular agent in charge of our Indians
at the time was, as I have said, an army
officer, with military ideas of discipline.
Like myself, he had been in the field much of
the time while the payment was going on,
but had officially vouched for its correctness
and signed all the papers, and he took his
stand upon this. He remonstrated with me
for my position in the matter, and did his
best to avoid an investigation; but I was
convinced that a gross fraud had been com¬
mitted, and in my inexperience I believed
that it had only to be exposed to be corrected.
I determined to do all in my power to secure
justice for those poor, helpless people, even
though it must appear that I was careless in
signing the original papers.
130
War with the Politicians
I added my protest to that of others,
and the department sent out a Quaker, an
inspector whose record was excellent and
who went about the work in a direct and
straightforward way. He engaged a reliable
interpreter, and called in witnesses on both
sides. At the end of a fortnight, he reported
that about ten thousand dollars had been
dishonestly withheld from the Indians. A
few of the better educated and more in¬
fluential, especially mixed bloods, had been
paid in full, while the old and ignorant had
lost as high as fifteen or twenty per cent of
their money. Evidence in support of this
decision was sent to Washington.
After a short interval, I learned with
astonishment that the report of this trusted
inspector had not been accepted by the
Secretary of the Interior, who had ordered
a second investigation to supersede the
first. Naturally, the second investigation
was a farce and quickly ended in "white¬
washing" the special payment. The next
step was to punish those who had testified
for the Indians or tried to bring about an
honest investigation in the face of official
131
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
opposition. Of these, I had been perhaps
the most active and outspoken.
The usual method of disciplining agency
Indians in such a case is to deprive them of
various privileges, possibly of rations also,
and sometimes to imprison them on trivial
pretexts. White men with Indian wives,
and missionaries, may be ordered off the
reservation as "disturbers of the peace,"
while with Government employees, some
grounds are usually found for their dismissal
from the service.
I was promptly charged with "insubordina¬
tion" and other things, but my good friend,
General Morgan, then Commissioner, de¬
clined to entertain the charges, and I, on
my part, kept up the fight at Washington
through influential friends, and made every
effort to prove my case, or rather, the case
of the people, for I had at no time any
personal interest in the payment. The local
authorities followed the usual tactics, and
undertook to force a resignation by making
my position at Pine Ridge intolerable. An
Indian agent has almost autocratic power,
and the conditions of life on an agency are
132
War with the Politicians
such as to make every resident largely
dependent upon his good will. We soon
found ourselves hampered in our work and
harassed by every imaginable annoyance.
My requisitions were overlooked or "for¬
gotten," and it became difficult to secure
the necessaries of life. I would receive a
curt written order to proceed without delay
to some remote point to visit a certain alleged
patient; then, before I had covered the
distance, would be overtaken by a mounted
policeman with arbitrary orders to return
at once to the agency. On driving in rapidly
and reporting to the agent's office for details
of the supposed emergency, I might be re¬
buked for overdriving the horses, and charged
with neglect of some chronic case of which I
had either never been informed, or to which
it had been physically impossible for me to
give regular attention.
This sort of thing went on for several
months, and I was finally summoned to
Washington for a personal conference. I
think I may safely say that my story was
believed by Senators Dawes and Hoar, and
by Commissioner Morgan also. I saw the
133
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
Secretary of the Interior and the President,
but they were non-committal. On my
return, the same inspector who had white¬
washed the payment was directed to investi¬
gate the "strained relations" between the
agent and myself, and my wife, who had
meantime published several very frank letters
in influential eastern papers, was made a
party in the case.
I will not dwell upon the farcical nature
of this "investigation." The inspector was
almost openly against us from the start, and
the upshot of the affair was that I was
shortly offered a transfer. The agent could
not be dislodged, and my position had be¬
come impossible. The superintendent of
the boarding school, a clergyman, and one or
two others who had fought on our side were
also forced to leave. We had many other
warm sympathizers who could not speak
out without risking their livelihood.
We declined to accept the compromise,
being utterly disillusioned and disgusted
with these revelations of Government mis¬
management in the field, and realizing the
helplessness of the best-equipped Indians
134
War with the Politicians
to secure a fair deal for their people. Later
experience, both my own and that of others,
has confirmed me in this view. Had it not
been for strong friends in the East and on the
press, and the unusual boldness and disregard
of personal considerations with which we
had conducted the fight, I could not have
lasted a month. All other means failing,
these men will not hesitate to manufacture
evidence against a man's, or a woman's,
personal reputation in order to attain their
ends.
It was a great disappointment to us both
to give up our plans of work and our first
home, to which we had devoted much loving
thought and most of our little means; but
it seemed to us then the only thing to do.
We had not the heart to begin the same thing
over again elsewhere. I resigned my posi¬
tion in the Indian service, and removed with
my family to the city of St. Paul, where I
proposed to enter upon the independent
practice of medicine.
135
IX
CIVILIZATION AS PREACHED AND
PRACTISED
\ FTER thirty years of exile from the
land of my nativity and the home of
my ancestors, I came back to Minnesota
in 1893. My mother was born on the shores
of Lake Harriet; my great-grandfather's
village is now a part of the beautiful park
system of the city of Minneapolis.
I came to St. Paul with very little money,
for one can not save much out of one hundred
dollars a month, and we had been compelled
to sacrifice nearly all that we had spent on
our little home. It was midwinter, and our
baby daughter was only eight months old;
but our courage was good nevertheless. I
had to wait for the regular state medical
examination before being admitted to
practice, as Minnesota was one of the first
states to pass such a law, and the examina-
136
Civilization as Preached and Practised
tions were searching and covered three
days' time. If I remember rightly, there
were some forty-five applicants who took
them with me, and I was told that nearly
half of them failed to pass. It was especially
hard on country practitioners who had prac¬
tised successfully for many years, but were
weak in theory }f medicine along certain
lines.
Although a young couple in a strange city,
we were cordially received socially, and
while seriously handicapped by lack of
means, we had determined to win out. I
opened an office, hung out my sign, and
waited for patients. It was the hardest
work I had ever done! Most of the time
we were forced to board for the sake of
economy, and were hard put to it to meet
office rent and our modest living expenses.
At this period I was peculiarly tried with
various temptations, by yielding to which it
seemed that I could easily relieve myself
from financial strain. I was persistently
solicited for illegal practice, and this by
persons who were not only intelligent, but
apparently of good social standing. In
137
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
their fear of exposure, they were ready to go
to large expense, and were astonished when
I refused to consider anything of the sort.
A large number came to me for Indian medi¬
cine and treatment. I told them, of course,
that I had no such medicine. Again, one
of the best known "doctors" of this class
in the Northwest invited me to go into
partnership with him. Finally, a prominent
business man of St. Paul offered to back me
up financially if I would put up an "Indian
medicine" under my own name, assuring me
that there was "a fortune in it."
To be sure, I had been bitterly disappointed
in the character of the United States army
and the honor of Government officials. Still,
I had seen the better side of civilization,
and I determined that the good men and
women who had helped me should not be
betrayed. The Christ ideal might be radical,
visionary, even impractical, as judged in the
light of my later experiences; it still seemed
to me logical, and in line with most of my
Indian training. My heart was still strong,
and I had the continual inspiration of a
brave comrade at my side.
138
Civilization as Preached and Practised
With all the rest, I was deeply regretful of
the work that I had left behind. I could
not help thinking that if the President knew,
if the good people of this country knew, of
the wrong, it would yet be righted. I had
not seen half of the savagery of civilization !
While I had plenty of leisure, I began to
put upon paper some of my earliest rec¬
ollections, with the thought that our chil¬
dren might some day like to read of that
wilderness life. WThen my wife discovered
what I had written, she insisted upon send¬
ing it to St. Nicholas. Much to my surprise,
the sketches were immediately accepted and
appeared during the following year. This
was the beginning of my first book, "Indian
Boyhood," which was not completed until
several years later.
We were slowly gaining ground, when one
day a stranger called on me in my office.
He was, I learned, one of the field secretaries
of the International Committee of Y. M.
C. A., and had apparently called to discuss
the feasibility of extending this movement
among the Indians. After we had talked
for some time, he broached the plan of putting
139
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
a man into the Indian field, and ended by
urging me to consider taking up the work.
My first thought was that it was out of the
question to sacrifice my profession and
practice at this juncture, when I was just
getting a promising start. Then, too, I
doubted my fitness for religious work. He
still pressed me to accept, pointing out the
far-reaching importance of this new step,
and declared that they had not been able to
hear of any one else of my race so well fitted
to undertake it. We took the matter under
consideration, and with some reluctance I
agreed to organize the field if they would
meantime educate a young Indian whom I
would name to be my successor. I had in
mind the thought that, when the man I
had chosen should be graduated from the
International Training School at Springfield,
Massachusetts, I could again return to my
practice.
I selected Arthur Tibbetts, a Sioux, who
was duly graduated in three years, when I
resigned in his favor. I had been unable to
keep an office in St. Paul, where we made
our home, but I carried my small medical
140
Civilization as Preached and Practised
case with me on all my trips, and was often
appealed to by the Indians for my profes¬
sional help. I traveled over a large part
of the western states and in Canada, visiting
the mission stations among Indians of all
tribes, and organizing young men's asso¬
ciations wherever conditions permitted. I
think I organized some forty-three associa¬
tions. This gave me a fine opportunity to
study Protestant missionary effort among
Indians. I seriously considered the racial
attitude toward God, and almost uncon¬
sciously reopened the book of my early
religious training, asking myself how it
was that our simple lives were so imbued
with the spirit of worship, while much
church-going among white and nominally
Christian Indians led often to such very
small results.
A new point of view came to me then and
there. This latter was a machine-made
religion. It was supported by money, and
more money could only be asked for on the
showing made; therefore too many of the
workers were after quantity rather than
quality of religious experience.
141
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
I was constantly meeting with groups of
young men of the Sioux, Cheyennes, Crees,
Ojibways, and others, in log cabins or little
frame chapels, and trying to set before them
in simple language the life and character of
the Man Jesus. I was cordially received
everywhere, and always listened to with the
closest attention. Curiously enough, even
among these men who were seeking light on
the white man's ideals, the racial philosophy
emerged from time to time.
I remember one old battle-scarred warrior
who sat among the young men got up and
said, in substance: "Why, we have followed
this law you speak of for untold ages ! We
owned nothing, because everything is from
Him. Food was free, land free as sunshine
and rain. Who has changed all this? The
white man; and yet he says he is a be¬
liever in God! He does not seem to
inherit any of the traits of his Father,
nor does he follow the example set by his
brother Christ."
Another of the older men had attentively
followed our Bible study and attended every
meeting for a whole week. I finally called
142
Civilization as Preached and Practised
upon him for his views. After a long silence,
he said :
"I have come to the conclusion that this
Jesus was an Indian. He was opposed to
material acquirement and to great posses¬
sions. He was inclined to peace. He was
as unpractical as any Indian and set no
price upon his labor of love. These are not
the principles upon which the white man has
founded his civilization. It is strange that
he could not rise to these simple principles
which were commonly observed among our
people."
These words put the spell of an uncom¬
fortable silence upon our company, but it
did not appear that the old man had in¬
tended any sarcasm or unkindness, for after
a minute he added that he was glad we had
selected such an unusual character for our
model.
At the Crow agency I met a Scotchman, a
missionary of fine type, who was doing good
work. This man told me a strange story
of his conversion. As a young man, he had
traveled extensively in this and other coun¬
tries. He spent one winter at Manitoba,
143
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
near an Indian reservation, and there he
met a young Indian who had been converted
by one of his own tribesmen, and was in¬
tensely interested in the life of Christ. This
young man was a constant reader in his
Indian Bible, and he talked of Christ so
eloquently and so movingly as to cause
serious thought on the part of the traveler.
To make a long story short, he finally went
home to Scotland and studied for the min¬
istry, and then returned to America to enter
the field of Indian missions. It happened
that the young Indian who made so deep
an impression on his white friend was my
own uncle, who had been baptized Joseph
Eastman.
My two uncles who were in the Custer
fight lived in Canada from the time of our
flight in 1862, and both died there. I was
happy to be sent to that part of the country
in time to see the elder one alive. He had
been a father to me up to the age of fifteen,
and I had not seen him for over twenty
years. I found him a farmer, living in a
Christian community. I had sent word in
advance of my coming, and my uncle's
144
Civilization as Preached and Practised
family had made of it a great occasion. All
of my old playmates were there. My uncle
was so happy that tears welled up in his
eyes. "When we are old," he smiled, "our
hearts are not strong in moments like this.
The Great Spirit has been kind to let me
see my boy again before I die." The early
days were recalled as we feasted together,
and all agreed that the chances were I
should have been killed before reaching the
age of twenty, if I had remained among
them; for, said they, I was very anxious
to emulate my uncle, who had been a warrior
of great reputation. Afterward I visited the
grave of my grandmother, whose devotion
had meant so much to me as a motherless
child. This was one of the great moments
of my life.
Throughout this period of my work I was
happy, being unhampered by official red
tape in the effort to improve conditions
among my people. The Superintendent of
Indian Affairs in Manitoba was very kind
and gave me every facility to go among the
Indians. He asked me to make a compara¬
tive report on their condition on both sides
145
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
of the border, but this I declined to under¬
take, unwilling to prejudice the Government
officials under whom I must carry on my
work in the United States.
Another trip took me among the Ojibways,
who used to take many a Sioux scalp, while
we prized an eagle feather earned in battle
with them. But those who had actually
engaged in warlike exploits were now old and
much inclined toward a peaceful life. I
met some very able native preachers among
them. I also visited for the first time the
"Five Civilized Tribes" of the Indian Ter¬
ritory, now the state of Oklahoma. As is
well known, these people intermarried largely
among the whites, and had their own govern¬
ments, schools, and thriving towns. When
I appeared at Tahlequah, the Cherokee
capital, the Senate took a recess in honor of
their Sioux visitor. At Bacone College I
addressed the students, and at the Cherokee
male and female seminaries. It was an
odd coincidence that at the latter school I
found one of the young ladies in the act of
reading an essay 011 my wife, Elaine Goodale
Eastman!
146
Civilization as Preached and Practised
Among other duties of my position, I was
expected to make occasional speaking trips
through the East to arouse interest in the
work, and it thus happened that I addressed
large audiences in Chicago, New York,
Boston, and at Lake Mohonk. I was taken
by slum and settlement workers to visit the
slums and dives of the cities, which gave
another shock to my ideals of "Christian
civilization." Of course, I had seen some¬
thing of the poorer parts of Boston during
my medical course, but not at night, and
not in a way to realize the horror and
wretchedness of it as I did now. To be
sure, I had been taught even as a child that
there are always some evil minded men in
every nation, and we knew well what it is
to endure physical hardship, but our poor
lost nothing of their self-respect and dignity.
Our great men not only divided their last
kettle of food with a neighbor, but if great
grief should come to them, such as the death
of child or wife, they would voluntarily give
away their few possessions and begin life
over again in token of their sorrow. We
could not conceive of the extremes of luxury
147
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
and misery existing thus side by side, for it
was common observation with us that the
coarse weeds, if permitted to grow, will
choke out the more delicate flowers. These
things troubled me very much; yet I still
held before my race the highest, and as yet
unattained, ideals of the white man.
One of the strongest rebukes I ever re¬
ceived from an Indian for my acceptance of
these ideals and philosophy was administered
by an old chief of the Sac and Fox tribe in
Iowa. I was invited to visit them by the
churches of Toledo and Tama City, which
were much concerned by the absolute refusal
of this small tribe to accept civilization and
Christianity. I surmise that these good
people hoped to use me as an example of the
benefits of education for the Indian.
I was kindly received at their village, and
made, as I thought, a pretty good speech,
emphasizing the necessity of educating their
children, and urging their acceptance of the
Christian religion. The old chief rose to
answer. He was glad that I had come to
visit them. He was also glad that I was
apparently satisfied with the white man's
148
Civilization as Preached and Practised
religion and his civilization. As for them,
he said, neither of these had seemed good
to them. The white man had showed
neither respect for nature nor reverence
toward God, but, he thought, tried to buy
God with the by-products of nature. He
tried to buy his way into heaven, but he did
not even know where heaven is.
"As for us," he concluded, "we shall still
follow the old trail. If you should live long,
and some day the Great Spirit shall permit
you to visit us again, you will find us still
Indians, eating with wooden spoons out of
bowls of wood. I have done."
I was even more impressed a few minutes
later, when one of his people handed me my
pocket book containing my railway tickets
and a considerable sum of money. I had
not even missed it! I said to the state
missionary who was at my side, "Better let
these Indians alone ! If I had lost my money
in the streets of your Christian city, I should
probably have never seen it again."
My effort was to make the Indian feel that
Christianity is not at fault for the white
man's sins, but rather the lack of it, and I
149
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
freely admitted that this nation is not
Christian, but declared that the Christians
in it are trying to make it so. I found the
facts and the logic of them often hard to
dispute, but was partly consoled by the
wonderful opportunity to come into close
contact with the racial mind, and to refresh
my understanding of the philosophy in
which I had been trained, but which had
been overlaid and superseded by a college
education. I do not know how much good
I accomplished, but I did my best.
150
X
AT THE NATION'S CAPITAL
"1V/TY work for the International Com-
■*- mittee of Young Men's Christian
Associations brought me into close associa¬
tion with some of the best products of
American civilization. I believe that such
men as Richard Morse, John R. Mott, Wilbur
Messer, Charles Ober and his brother, and
others, have through their organization and
personal influence contributed vitally to the
stability and well-being of the nation.
Among the men on the International Com¬
mittee whom I met at this time and who gave
me a strong impression of what they stood
for, were Colonel John J. McCook, David
Murray, Thomas Cochrane, and Cornelius
Vanderbilt. I have said some hard things
of American Christianity, but in these I
referred to the nation as a whole and to the
majority of its people, not to individual
151
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
Christians. Had I not known some such,
I should long ago have gone back to the
woods.
I wished very much to resume my pro¬
fession of medicine, but I was as far as ever
from having the capital for a start, and we
had now three children. At this juncture,
I was confronted by what seemed a hopeful
opportunity. Some of the leading men of
the Sioux, among them my own brother,
Rev. John Eastman, came to me for a con¬
sultation. They argued that I was the man
of their tribe best fitted to look after their
interests at Washington. They had begun
to realize that certain of these interests
were of great importance, involving millions
of dollars. Although not a lawyer, they
gave me power of attorney to act for them in
behalf of these claims, and to appear as
their representative before the Indian Bureau,
the President, and Congress.
After signing the necessary papers, I went
to Washington, where I urged our rights
throughout two sessions and most of a third,
while during the summers I still traveled
among the Sioux. I learned that scarcely
152
Ohiyesa the Second, at Five Years of Age, 1903.
At the Nation s Capital
one of our treaties with the United States
had been carried out in good faith in all of
its provisions. After the early friendship
treaties which involved no cession of land,
the first was signed in 1824. By this agree¬
ment the Sioux gave up a long strip of land
lying along the west bank of the Mississippi,
and including some of northern Missouri
and eastern Iowa. Out of the proceeds,
we paid several thousand dollars to the
Iowa and Otoe Indians who inhabited this
country conjointly with us. Next came the
treaty ratified in 1837, by which we parted
with all the territory lying in the southern
part of Wisconsin, southeastern Minnesota,
and northeastern Iowa. For this vast do¬
main the Government gave us a few thousand
dollars in money and goods, together with
many promises, and established for us a trust
fund of three hundred thousand dollars,
upon which interest at five per cent was to
be paid "forever." This treaty affected
only certain bands of the Sioux.
In 1851 , we ceded another large tract in
Iowa and Minnesota, including some of the
best agricultural lands in the United States,
153
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
and for this we were to receive ten cents an
acre. Two large trust funds were established
for the four bands interested, on which inter¬
est at five per cent was to be paid annually
for fifty years. In addition, the Government
agreed to furnish schools, farmers, black¬
smith shops, etc. for the civilization of the
Sioux. Only nine annual payments had
been made when there was failure to meet
them for two successive years. Much of
our game had disappeared; the people
were starving; and this state of affairs,
together with other frauds on the part of
Government officials and Indian traders,
brought on the frightful "Minnesota massa¬
cre" in 1862. After this tragedy, many of
the Sioux fled into Canada, and the remnant
were moved out, of the state and on to a new
reservation in Nebraska. Furthermore, the
remaining annuities due theiri under the
treaty were arbitrarily confiscated as a
"punishment" for the uprising. It was the
claim for these lost annuities, in particular,
together with some minor matters, that the
Indians now desired to have adjusted, and
for which they sent me to the capital.
154
At the Nation s Capital
Now for the first time I seriously studied
the machinery of government, and before I
knew it, I was a lobbyist. I came to Wash¬
ington with a great respect for our public
men and institutions. Although I had had
some disillusionizing experiences with the
lower type of political henchmen on the
reservations, I reasoned that it was because
they were almost beyond the pale of civiliza¬
tion and clothed with supreme authority
over a helpless and ignorant people, that
they dared do the things they did. Under
the very eye of the law and of society, I
thought, this could scarcely be tolerated. I
was confident that a fair hearing would be
granted, and our wrongs corrected without
undue delay. I had overmuch faith in the
civilized ideal, and I was again disappointed.
I made up my mind at the start that I
would keep aloof from the shyster lawyers,
and indeed I did not expect to need any
legal help until the matter should come before
the Court of Claims, which could not be until
Congress had acted upon it.
At that time — and I am told that it is much
the same now — an Indian could not do busi-
155
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
ness with the Department through his attor¬
ney. The officials received me courteously
enough, and assured me that the matters
I spoke of should be attended to, but as
soon as my back was turned, they pigeon¬
holed them. After waiting patiently, I
would resort to the plan of getting one of
the Massachusetts Senators, who were my
friends, to ask for the papers in the case,
and this was generally effective. The
Bureau chiefs soon learned that I had
studied our treaty agreements and had
some ground for any request that I might
make. Naturally enough, every North¬
western Indian who came to Washington
desired to consult me, and many of them
had come on account of personal grievances
which I could not take up. Complaints of
every description came to my ear, not from
Indians alone, as some were from earnest
white men and women who had served
among the Indians and had come up against
official graft or abuses. I could not help
them much, and had to stick pretty closely
to my main business.
I was soon haunted and pestered by minor
156
At the Nation's Capital
politicians and grafters, each of whom
claimed that he was the right-hand man of
this or that congressman, and that my meas¬
ure could not pass unless I had the vote of
"his" man. Of course, he expected some¬
thing in exchange for that vote, or rather
the promise of it. Armed with a letter of
introduction from one of my staunch eastern
senatorial friends, I would approach a legis¬
lator who was a stranger to me, in the hope
of being allowed to explain to him the pur¬
port of our measure. He would listen a
while and perhaps refer me to some one else.
I would call on the man he named, and to
my disgust be met with a demand for a
liberal percentage on the whole amount to
be recovered. If I refused to listen to this
proposal, I would soon find the legislator in
question "drumming up" some objection
to the bill, and these tactics would be kept
up until we yielded, or made some sort of
compromise. My brother John was with me
in this work. He is a fine character-reader,
and would often say to me on leaving some
one's office, "Do not trust that man; he is
dishonest; he will not keep his word." I
157
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
found after many months of effort, that
political and personal feuds in Congress
persistently delayed measures which I had
looked upon as only common justice; and
two of the injured bands have not received
their dues to this day.
I appeared from time to time before both
House and Senate committees on Indian
Affairs, and a few cases I carried to the
President. In this way I have had personal
relations with four Presidents of the United
States, Harrison, Cleveland, McKinley, and
Roosevelt. At one time I appeared before
the committee of which Senator Allison of
Iowa was chairman, on the question of
allowing the Sisseton Sioux the privilege of
leasing their unused allotments to neigh¬
boring farmers, without first referring the
agreements to the Secretary of the Interior.
The point of the request was that the red
tape and long delays that seem to be in¬
separable from the system, greatly handi¬
capped friendly and honest white farmers
in their dealings with the Indians, and, as a
result, much land lay idle and unbroken.
Some one had circulated a rumor that this
158
At the Nation s Capital
measure was fathered by one of the South
Dakota senators, with the object of securing
some fine Indian lands for his constituents.
As soon as I heard of this, I asked for a hearing,
which was granted, and I told the committee
that this was the Indians' own bill. "We
desire to learn business methods," I said,
"and we can only do this by handling our
own property. You learn by experience to
manage your business. How are we Indians
to learn if you take from us the wisdom that
is born of mistakes, and leave us to suffer
the stings of robbery and deception, with
no opportunity to guard against its recur¬
rence? I know that some will misuse this
privilege, and some will be defrauded, but
the experiment will be worth all it costs."
Instead of asking me further questions upon
the bill, they asked: "Where did you go to
school ? Why are there not more Indians
like you?"
As I have said, nearly every Indian delega¬
tion that came to the capital in those days —
and they were many — appealed to me for
advice, and often had me go over their
business with them before presenting it.
159
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
I was sometimes with them when they had
secured their hearing before the Indian
Commissioner or the committees of Congress,
and in this way I heard some interesting
speeches. The O jib ways have much valu¬
able pine land, aggregating millions of dollars.
Congress had passed an act authorizing a
special commissioner to dispose of the lumber
for the Indians' benefit, but the new man had
not been long in office when it appeared
that he was in with large lumber interests.
There was general complaint, but as usual,
the Indians were only laughed at, for the
official was well entrenched behind the
influence of the lumber kings, and of his
political party.
At last the Ojibways succeeded in bringing
the matter before the House committee on
Indian affairs, of which James Sherman of
New York was chairman. The chief of
the delegation addressed the committee
somewhat as follows:
"You are very wise men, since to you
this great nation entrusts the duty of making
laws for the whole people. Because of this,
we have trusted you, and have hitherto
160
At the Nation's Capital
respected the men whom you have sent to
manage our affairs. You recently sent one
who was formerly of your number to sell
our pines, and he is paid with our money,
ten thousand dollars a year. It has been
proved that he receives money from the
lumber men. He has been underselling all
others. We pray you take him away!
Every day that you allow him to stay, much
money melts away, and great forests fall in
thunder!"
Many good speeches lost their effect be¬
cause of the failure of the uneducated inter¬
preter to render them intelligently, but in
this instance a fine linguist interpreted for
the chief, the Rev. James Gilfillan, for
many years an Episcopal missionary among
the O jib ways and well acquainted with
their language and ways.
The old men often amused me by their
shrewd comments upon our public men.
"Old Tom" Beveredge was the Indians'
hotel-keeper. They all knew him, and his
house was the regular rendezvous. Some
Sioux chiefs who had been to call on President
Harrison thus characterized him :
161
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
Said Young Man Afraid of his Horses:
"He is a man of the old trail; he will never
make a new one !"
White Ghost said: "There is strong reli¬
gious principle in him."
Then American Horse spoke up. "The
missionaries tell us that a man cannot have
two masters; then how can he be a religious
man and a politician at the same time?"
An old chief said of President McKinley:
"I never knew a white man show so much
love for mother and wife." "He has a bigger
heart than most white men," declared Little-
fish, "and this is unfortunate for him. The
white man is a man of business, and has no
use for a heart."
One day, I found a number of the chiefs in
the Senate gallery. They observed closely
the faces and bearing of the legislators and
then gave their verdict. One man they com¬
pared to a fish. Another had not the atti¬
tude of a true man; that is, he held to a pose.
Senator Morgan of Alabama they called a
great councillor. Senator Hoar they esti¬
mated as a patriotic and just statesman.
They picked out Senator Piatt of Connecticut
162
At the Nation's Capital
as being very cautious and a diplomat. They
had much difficulty in judging Senator
Tillman, but on the whole they considered
him to be a fighting man, governed by his
emotions rather than his judgment. Some
said, he is a loyal friend; others held the
reverse. Senator Turpie of Indiana they
took for a preacher, and were pleased with
his air of godliness and reverence. Senator
Frye of Maine they thought must be a rarity
among white men — honest to the core !
It was John Grass who declared that Grover
Cleveland was the bravest white chief he
had ever known. "The harder you press
him," said he, "the stronger he stands."
Theodore Roosevelt has been well known
to the Sioux for over twenty-five years,
dating from the years of his ranch life. He
was well liked by them as a rule. Spotted
Horse said of him, "While he talked, I forgot
that he was a white man."
During Mr. Roosevelt's second admin¬
istration, there was much disappointment
among the Indians. They had cherished
hopes of an honest deal, but things seemed
to be worse than ever. There were more
163
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
frauds committed; and in the way of legis¬
lation, the Burke bill was distinctly a back¬
ward step. The Dawes bill was framed in
the interest of the Indians; the Burke bill
was for the grafters. Therefore there was
much discouragement.
I have been much interested in the point
of view of these older Indians. Our younger
element has now been so thoroughly drilled
in the motives and methods of the white
man, at the same time losing the old mother
and family training through being placed
in boarding school from six years of age on¬
ward, that they have really become an
entirely different race.
During this phase of my life, I was brought
face to face with a new phase of progress
among my people of the Dakotas. Several
of their reservations were allotted in severalty
and the Indians became full citizens and
voters. As the population of these new
states was still small and scattered, the new
voters, although few in number, were of
distinct interest to the candidates for office,
and their favor was eagerly sought. In some
counties, the Indian vote held the balance of
164
At the Nation s Capital
power. Naturally, they looked to the best
educated men of their race to explain to
them the principles and platforms of the
political parties.
At first they continued to get together
according to old custom, calling a council
and giving a preliminary feast, at which
two or three steers would be killed for a
barbecue. After dinner, the tribal herald
called the men together to hear the candi¬
date or his representative. I took active
part in one or two campaigns; but they
have now a number of able young men who
expound politics to them locally.
Some persons imagine that we are still
wild savages, living on the hunt or on rations;
but as a matter of fact, we Sioux are now fully
entrenched, for all practical purposes, in the
warfare of civilized life.
165
XI
BACK TO THE WOODS
TN the summer of 1910, I accepted a
commission to search out and purchase
rare curios and ethnological specimens for
one of the most important collections in
the country. Very few genuine antiques
are now to be found among Indians living
on reservations, and the wilder and more
scattered bands who still treasure them can¬
not easily be induced to give them up. My
method was one of indirection. I would
visit for several days in a camp where I
knew, or had reason to believe, that some
of the coveted articles were to be found.
After I had talked much with the leading
men, feasted them, and made them pres¬
ents, a slight hint would often result in the
chief or medicine man "presenting" me with
some object of historic or ceremonial interest,
which etiquette would not permit to be
166
Back to the Woods
"sold," and which a white man would prob¬
ably not have been allowed to see at all.
Within the zone of railroads and auto¬
mobiles there is, I believe, only one region
left in which a few roving bands of North
American Indians still hold civilization at
bay. The great inland seas of northern
Minnesota and the Province of Ontario are
surrounded by almost impenetrable jungle,
the immense bogs called "muskeggs" filled
with tamaracks, and the higher land with
Norway, white and "jack" pines, white and
red cedar, poplar and birch. The land is
a paradise for moose, deer and bears, as
well as the smaller fur-bearers, and the
glistening black waters are a congenial home
for northern fish of all kinds, of which the
sturgeon is king. The waterfowl breed there
in countless numbers. There are blueberries
and cranberries in abundance, while the
staple cereal of that region, the full-flavored
wild rice, is found in the inland bays by
thousands of acres.
Of this miniature world of freedom and
plenty a few northern Ojibways, a branch
of the great Algonquin race, are the present
167
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
inhabitants, living quite to themselves and
almost unconscious of the bare pathos of
their survival. Here the early French traders
reaped their harvest, and for a century and a
half the land was under the despotic rule of
the Hudson Bay Company. A powerful
forerunner of civilization, this company never
civilized the natives, who, moreover, had
heard the "Black Robe" priests say their
masses under the solemn shade of the Nor¬
way pines upon their island homes, long
before Lewis and Clarke crossed the conti¬
nent, and before many of the prairie tribes
had so much as looked upon the face of the
white man. Fortunately or unfortunately,
the labyrinth in which they dwell has thus
far protected them far more effectually than
any treaty rights could possibly do from
his almost indecent enterprise.
I know of no Indians within the borders of
the United States, except those of Leech,
Cass and Red Lakes in Minnesota, who still
sustain themselves after the old fashion by
hunting, fishing and the gathering of wild
rice and berries. They do, to be sure, have
a trifle of annuity money from the sale of
168
Back to the Woods
their pine lands, and now and then they sell
a few trinkets. Their permanent houses
are of logs or frame, but they really do not
live in them except during the coldest part
of the year. Even then, some of them may
be found far away from their villages, trap¬
ping for furs, which may still be disposed of
at convenient points along the Canadian
border. They travel by canoe or on foot,
as they own very few horses, and there are
no roads through the forest — only narrow
trails, deeply grooved in the virgin soil.
The Leech Lake Ojibways, to whom I
made my first visit, appear perfectly con¬
tented and irresponsible. They have plenty
to eat of the choicest wild game, wild rice
and berries. The making of maple sugar is
a leading industry. The largest band and
by far the most interesting is that which
inhabits Bear Island, plants no gardens,
will have nothing to do with schools or
churches, and meets annually, as of old, for
the "Grand Medicine Dance," or sacred
festival, invoking the protection and blessing
of the "Great Mystery" for the year to
come.
169
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
I am a Sioux, and the Ojibways were once
the fiercest of our enemies, yet I was kindly
welcomed by the principal chief, Majigabo,
who even permitted me to witness the old
rites upon their "sacred ground." This
particular spot, they told me, had been in
use for more than forty years, and the
moose-hide drum, stretched upon a cylinder
of bass-wood, was fully as venerable. The
dance-hall was about a hundred feet long,
roofed with poles and thatch. In the center
was a rude altar, and the entrance faced the
rising sun. While the ceremonies went on,
groups of young men were sitting in the
shade and gambling with primitive dice —
small carved bones shaken in a polished bowl
of bird's-eye maple.
Majigabo is one of the few Indians left
alive who has ventured to defy a great
government with a handful of savages.
Only a few years ago, Captain Wilkinson
was shot down at the head of his troop,
while advancing to frighten the Bear Islanders
into obedience. The trouble originated in
the illegal sale of whisky to the Indians.
One of the tribesmen was summoned to
170
Back to the Woods
Duluth as a witness, and at the close of the
trial turned loose to walk home, a distance
of over a hundred miles. The weather was
severe and he reached his people half-starved
and sick from exposure, and the next time
one was summoned, he not unnaturally
refused to appear. After the death of
Captain Wilkinson, no further attempt was
made at coercion.
"They can take everything else, but they
must let me and these island people alone,"
the chief said to me, and I could not but
sympathize with his attitude. Only last
spring he refused to allow the census taker
to enumerate his people.
The next man I went to see was Boggimogi-
shig. The old war chief of the Sugar Point
band was one of those who most frequently
went against the Eastern Sioux, and was
often successful. This good fortune was
attributed largely to the influence of the
sacred war club, which had been handed
down through several generations of daunt¬
less leaders. I made use of the old-time
Indian etiquette, as well as of all the wit
and humor at my command, to win a wel-
171
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
come, and finally obtained from the old man
the history and traditions of his people, so
far as he knew them, and even the famous
war club itself!
At Red Lake, I found the men just re¬
turned from a successful moose hunt, and
although they greeted me kindly, it appeared
that some of the older warriors, recalling
hand-to-hand scrimmages with my forbears,
were somewhat embarrassed by the presence
of a Sioux visitor. However, after I had
been properly introduced, and had conformed
with the good old customs relating to inter¬
tribal meetings, I secured several things that
I had come in search of, and among them
some very old stories. It appears that a
battle was once fought between Ojibways and
Sioux near the mouth of the stream called
Battle Creek, and while the waters of the
stream ran with blood, the color was even
discernible upon the shores of the lake,
which has ever since been known as Red
Lake. It was this battle, indeed, which
finally decided the question of occupancy,
for it is said that although my people suc¬
ceeded for the time in holding off the Ojib-
172
Back to the Woods
ways, and cast many of the bodies of their
dead enemies into the river, they lost so
heavily themselves and became so dis¬
heartened that they then left forever behind
them their forest life and exchanged the
canoe and birch-bark teepee for the prairie
and the buffalo.
But it is on Rainy Lake, remote and soli¬
tary, and still further to the north and west
upon the equally lovely Lake of the Woods,
that I found the true virgin wilderness, the
final refuge, as it appears, of American big
game and primitive man. The international
line at this point is formed by the Rainy
River, lying deep in its rocky bed and
connecting the two lakes, both of which are
adorned with thousands of exquisite islands
of a gem-like freshness and beauty. The
clear, black waters have washed, ground and
polished these rocky islets into every imag¬
inable fantastic shape and they are all
carpeted with velvety mosses in every shade
of gray and green, and canopied with fairy¬
like verdure. In every direction one is
beckoned by vistas of extraordinary charm.
These aboriginal woodsmen are in type
173
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
quite distinct from the Plains Indians.
They are generally tall and well-propor¬
tioned, of somewhat lighter complexion than
their brethren to the southward, and very
grave and reticent. Their homes and food
are practically those of two centuries ago,
the only change observable being that the
inconvenient blanket is for the most part
discarded and the men carry guns instead of
bows and arrows.
It was the middle of August, the time for
tying into bundles the wild rice straw, in the
great bays where nature has so plentifully
sown it. To each family belong its sheaves,
and when the tying is finished, they are apt
to linger in the neighborhood, the women
making sacks while the men hunt. A month
later comes the harvest. Two by two they
go out in canoes, one to paddle, while the
other seizes the bundle of rice straw and
strikes a few smart blows with a stick. The
ripe grain rattles into the canoe, which,
when half full, is emptied on shore, and so
on until the watery fields are cleared.
I had now to follow these family groups to
their hidden resorts, and the sweet roving
174
Back to the I Foods
instinct of the wild took forcible hold upon
me once more. I was eager to realize for a
few perfect days the old, wild life as I knew
it in my boyhood, and I set out with an
Ojibway guide in his birch canoe, taking
with me little that belonged to the white
man, except his guns, fishing tackle, knives,
and tobacco. The guide carried some In¬
dian-made maple sugar and a sack of wild
rice, a packet of black tea and a kettle, and
we had a blanket apiece. Only think of
pitching your tent upon a new island every
day in the year! Upon many a little rocky
terrace, shaded by pine and cedar trees,
hard by a tiny harbor with its fleet of birchen
canoes, the frail bark lodges stood about in
groups, looking as if they had grown there.
Before each lodge there is a fireplace, and
near at hand the women of the family may
often be seen making nets and baskets, or
cooking the simple meal.
Early in the summer mornings there is a
pleasant stir in camp, when they glide in
canoes over the placid waters, lifting their
nets full of glistening fish. Perhaps the
sturgeon net is successful; then laughter and
175
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
whoops of excitement break the stillness,
for the king of the lake fights for his life
and pulls the boat about vigorously before
he is finally knocked on the head and towed
into camp.
Up on Seine Bay the favorite sport was
hunting the loon, which scarcely ever takes
to the wing, but dives on being approached.
Most people would be put to it to guess in
which direction he would reappear, at a dis¬
tance of from a quarter to half a mile, but
these sons of nature have learned his secret.
As soon as he goes under, the canoes race
for a certain point, and invariably the bird
comes up among them. He is greeted with
derisive laughter and cheers and immediately
dives again, and the maneuver is repeated
until he is winded and caught. The flesh of
the loon lias a strong, fishy flavor, but these
Indians are very fond of it. With them noth¬
ing goes to waste; all meat or fish not needed
for immediate use is cut into thin strips and
smoked or dried; the hoofs of deer and
moose are made into trinkets, the horns into
spoons or tobacco boards, and the bones
pounded to boil out the fat, which is pre-
176
With Guide and Bark Canoe, on Rainy Lake, Ontario.
Bach to the Woods
served in dried bladders or bags of pelican
skin.
At North Bay I heard of a remarkable old
woman, said to be well over ninety years of
age, the daughter of a long-time chief during
the good old days. I called at her solitary
birch-bark teepee, and found her out, but
she soon returned bent under a load of bark
for making mats, with roots and willow twigs
for dye. She was persuaded to sit for her
picture and even to tell some old stories of
her people, which she did with much vivacity.
There are less than a hundred of them left!
The name given to this ancient crone by
the lumber-jacks is shockingly irreverent. It
is told that when she was a handsome young
woman, her father the ruling chief and hon¬
ored by the Hudson Bay Company, more
than one of its employees came courting after
the fashion of those days. But the daughter
of the woods could not endure the sight of a
white man, with his repulsive hairy face. It
seems that one day, when she was approached
by a bearded voyageur, she screamed and
raised her knife, so that the man fled, cursing
her. Thereafter, whenever she saw a white
177
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
man, she would innocently repeat his oath,
until she came to be known among them by
that name.
As we wound in and out of the island laby¬
rinth, new beauties met us at every turn.
At one time there were not less than eight
moose in sight, and the deer were plentiful
and fearless. As we glided through the
water, the Ojibway repeated in his broken
dialect some of their traditions. We passed
" Massacre island," where, more than a hun¬
dred years ago, some French traders are said
to have brought the "fire water" to a large
village of innocent natives, thinking thus to
buy their furs for a trifle. But the Indians,
when crazed with liquor, rose up and killed
them all instead, even a Catholic priest
who was unfortunately of the party. Since
that day, the spirit of the "Black Robe",
who died praying, is believed to haunt the
deserted island, and no Indian ever sets
foot there.
Every day it became harder for me to
leave the woods. Finally I took passage on
a gasoline launch that plied between a lumber
camp and the little city of International
178
Bach to the Woods
Falls. The air had been dense with smoke
all day because of immense forest fires on
both sides of the lake. As it grew dark we
entered a narrow channel between the islands,
when the wind suddenly rose, and the pilot
feared lest we should be blown from the
only known course, for much of the lake is
not charted. He swung about for the nearest
islands, a cluster of three, knowing that only
on one side of one of these was it possible to
land. It was dark as pitch and raining hard
when we were struck broad side on by a
heavy wave; the windows were knocked out
and all the lights extinguished.
There was nothing to do but jump and
swim for it, and it seems almost a miracle
that we all landed safely. There were just
four of us playing Robinson Crusoe on a
lovely little isle of about an acre in extent —
too small to harbor any game. The boat
was gone with all its freight, except a few
things that drifted ashore. Here we re¬
mained for two nights and a day before we
were discovered.
This accident delayed me a day or two, as
I had to buy another canoe and provisions
179
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
for my last plunge into the wilderness. It
carried me up Seine Bay and into the Seine
River. One day we came unexpectedly
upon a little Indian village of neatly made
bark houses in a perfect state of preservation,
but to my surprise it was uninhabited.
What was still stranger, I found that whoever
lived there had left all their goods behind,
dishes, clothing, even bundles of furs all
moth-eaten and ruined. We reached there
late in the afternoon, and I immediately de¬
cided to stay the night. After supper, the
guide told me that a band of Indians had
lived here every winter for several years,
hunting for the Hudson Bay Company. One
winter many of their children were attacked
by a disease unknown to them, and after
several had died, the people fled in terror,
leaving everything behind them. This
happened, he said, eleven years before.
While he was talking, beside the fire we had
built in the rude mud chimney of one of the
deserted cabins, in the perfectly still night,
it all seemed weird and mysterious. Sud¬
denly we heard a loud scratching on the bark
door, as if some hand were feeling for the
180
Bach to the Woods
latch. He stopped speaking and we looked
at one another. The scratching was re¬
peated. " Shall I open the door ? " I said. I
had my hand on the trigger of my Smith and
Wesson. He put more sticks on the fire.
When I got the door open, there stood the
biggest turtle I have ever seen, raised upon
his hind feet, his eyes shining, his tail de¬
fiantly lifted, as if to tell us that he was at
home there and we were the intruders.
181
XII
THE SOUL OF THE WHITE MAN
1VTY last work under the auspices of the
Government was the revision of the
Sioux allotment rolls, including the deter¬
mination of family groups, and the assign¬
ment of surnames when these were lacking.
Originally, the Indians had no family names,
and confusion has been worse confounded by
the admission to the official rolls of vulgar
nicknames, incorrect translations, and Eng¬
lish cognomens injudiciously bestowed upon
children in the various schools. Mr. Hamlin
Garland and Dr. George Bird Grinnell
interested themselves in this matter some
years ago, and President Roosevelt foresaw
the difficulties and complications in the way
of land inheritance, hence my unique com¬
mission.
My method was to select from the personal
names of a family, one which should be rea-
182
The Soul of the White Man
sonably short, euphonious, and easily pro¬
nounced by the white man in the vernacular;
or, failing this, a short translation in which
the essential meaning should be preserved.
All the brothers, their wives and children
were then grouped under this as a family
name, provided their consent could be ob¬
tained to the arrangement.
While fully appreciating the Indian's view¬
point, I have tried to convince him of the
sincerity of his white friends, and that con¬
flicts between the two races have been due as
much to mutual misunderstandings as to the
selfish greed of the white man. These
children of nature once had faith in man as
well as in God. To-day, they would suspect
even their best friend. A "century of dis¬
honor" and abuse of their trust has brought
them to this. Accordingly, it was rumored
among them that the revision of names was
another cunning scheme of the white man
to defraud them of the little land still left
in their possession. The older men would
sit in my office and watch my work day after
day, before being convinced that the under¬
taking was really intended for their benefit
183
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
and that of their heirs. Once satisfied, they
were of great assistance, for some of them
knew by heart the family tree of nearly every
Indian in that particular band for four genera¬
tions. Their memories are remarkable, and
many a fact of historic interest came up in
the course of our discussions.
Such names as "Young Man of whose
Horses the Enemy is Afraid", "He Kills
them on Horseback", and the like, while
highly regarded among us, are not easily
rendered into English nor pronounced in the
Dakota, and aside from such troubles, I had
many difficulties with questionable marriages
and orphaned children whose ancestry was
not clear. Then there were cases of Indian
women who had married United States sol¬
diers and the children had been taken away
from the tribe in infancy, but later returned
as young men and women to claim their
rights in the tribal lands.
I was directed not to recognize a plurality
of wives, such as still existed among a few
of the older men. Old White Bull was a
fine example of the old type, and I well
remember his answer when I reluctantly
184
The Soul of the White Man
informed him that each man must choose
one wife who should bear his name.
"What!" he exclaimed, "these two women
are sisters, both of whom have been my
wives for over half a century. I know the
way of the white man; he takes women un¬
known to each other and to his law. These
two have been faithful to me and I have
been faithful to them. Their children are
my children and their grandchildren are
mine. We are now living together as brother
and sisters. All the people know that we
have been happy together, and nothing but
death can separate us."
This work occupied me for six years, and
gave me insight into the relationships and
intimate history of thirty thousand Sioux.
My first book, "Indian Boyhood", em¬
bodying the recollections of my wild life,
appeared in 1902, and the favor with which
it was received has encouraged me to attempt
a fuller expression of our people's life from
the inside. The present is the eighth that
I have done, always with the devoted co¬
operation of my wife. Although but one
book, "Wigwam Evenings", bears both our
185
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
names, we have worked together, she in the
little leisure remaining to the mother of six
children, and I in the intervals of lecturing
and other employment. For the past twelve
years our home has been in a New England
college town, and our greatest personal con¬
cern the upbringing and education of our
children.
None of my earlier friends who knew me
well would ever have believed that I was
destined to appear in the role of a public
speaker! It may be that I shared the
native gift of oratory in some degree, but I
had also the Indian reticence with strangers.
Perhaps the one man most responsible for
this phase of my work, aside from cir¬
cumstances, was Major James B. Pond of
New York city, the famous lyceum manager.
Soon after the publication of "Indian Boy¬
hood ", I came from South Dakota to
Brooklyn by invitation of the Twentieth
Century Club of that city, to address them
on the Indian. Major Pond heard of this
and invited me to luncheon. lie had my
book with him, and after a good deal of
talk, he persuaded me to go on the lecture
186
The Soul of the White Man
platform under his management. He took
the most cordial interest in the matter, and
himself prepared the copy for my first cir¬
cular. His untimely death during the next
summer put a damper upon my beginning;
nevertheless I filled all the dates he had
made for me, and finding a growing demand,
I have continued in the field ever since.
My chief object has been, not to entertain,
but to present the American Indian in his
true character before Americans. The bar¬
barous and atrocious character commonly
attributed to him has dated from the transi¬
tion period, when the strong drink, powerful
temptations, and commercialism of the white
man led to deep demoralization. Really it
was a campaign of education 011 the Indian
and his true place in American history.
I have been, on the whole, happily sur¬
prised to meet with so cordial a response.
Again and again I have been told by recog¬
nized thinkers, "You present an entirely
new viewpoint. We can never again think
of the Indian as we have done before." A
great psychologist wrote me after reading
"The Soul of the Indian": "My God!
187
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
why did we not know these things sooner ? "
Many of my hearers have admitted that
morality and spirituality are found to thrive
better under the simplest conditions than
in a highly organized society, and that the
virtues are more readily cultivated where the
"struggle for existence" is merely a struggle
with the forces of nature, and not with one's
fellow-men.
The philosophy of the original American
was demonstrably on a high plane, his gift
of eloquence, wit, humor and poetry is well
established; his democracy and community
life was much nearer the ideal than ours
to-day ; his standard of honor and friendship
unsurpassed, and all his faults are the faults
of generous youth.
It was not until I felt that I had to a degree
established these claims, that I consented to
appear on the platform in our ancestral garb
of honor. I feel that I was a pioneer in this
new line of defense of the native American,
not so much of his rights in the land as of
his character and religion. I am glad that
the drift is now toward a better under¬
standing, and that he is become the ac-
188
The Soul of the White Man
knowledged hero of the Boy Scouts and
Camp Fire Girls, as well as of many artists,
sculptors, and sincere writers.
I was invited to represent the North
American Indian at the First Universal
Races Congress in London, England, in 1911.
It was a great privilege to attend that gath¬
ering of distinguished representatives of
53 different nationalities, come together to
mutually acquaint themselves with one an¬
other's progress and racial ideals. I was
entertained by some well known men, but
there was little time for purely social en¬
joyment. What impressed me most was
the perfect equality of the races, which
formed the background of all the dis¬
cussions. It was declared at the outset
that there is no superior race, and no in¬
ferior, since individuals of all races have
proved their innate capacity by their stand¬
ing in the universities of the world, and it
has not seldom happened that men of the
undeveloped races have surpassed students
of the most advanced races in scholarship
and ability.
One little incident caused some of the
189
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
delegates of the Asiatic peoples to approach
me with a special friendliness. I was at a
committee meeting where the platform of
the Congress was being drafted, and as the
first paragraph was read, I noticed that the
word "Christian" appeared several times.
I rose and said, "While I am myself a
believer in the simple principles of Chris¬
tianity, we who are met here are not all of
that religion, and I would suggest that we
substitute a term to which we can all sub¬
scribe, since we meet here not in the name,
but in the spirit of Christianity, of universal
brotherhood." Several sprang up to second
the motion, among them Mr. John Mil-
holland and Dr. Felix Adler, and as I saw
Mr. Edwin D. Mead of Boston near by, I
began to feel more at home. I was invited
by some oriental representatives present to
visit them in their own country, but as I
was tied up with Chautauqua engagements,
I had to take the next boat for home.
A very pleasant occasion of my meeting
men and women distinguished in literature,
was the banquet given to Mark Twain on
his seventieth birthday. Another interest-
190
The Soul of the White Man
ing meeting was the dinner given by the
Rocky Mountain Club of New York to fifteen
western governors. I believe I was the only
speaker there who was not a governor!
When I addressed the Camp Fire Club of
America, composed largely of big game
hunters in all parts of the world, I began
by telling them that I had slept with a
grizzly bear for three months, and often
eaten with him, but had never thought of
giving him away. They seemed to enter
into my mood; and when I went on to tell
the old chief's story of the beaver woman
with one hand (she had lost the other in a
steel trap) and what she and her descendants
did for the tribes of men and animals, as com¬
pared with the harm wrought by the too
hasty builders of a frontier town, I could
not ask for a more sympathetic audience.
It has been my privilege to visit nearly
all sections of our country on lecture tours,
including semi-tropical Florida and the Pacific
coast, the great prairie states, and almost
every nook and corner of picturesque New
England. I have been entertained at most
of our great colleges and universities, from
191
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
coast to coast, and had the honor of ac¬
quaintance with many famous and interest¬
ing people, among whom I might name al¬
most at random, W. D. Howells, Hamlin
Garland, Ernest Thompson Seton, Dr.George
Bird Grinnell, authors; Lorado Taft, sculp¬
tor (at the unveiling of whose colossal Black
Hawk I was privileged to officiate), Edwin W.
Deming, Ernest Blumenschein, and other
noted artists; Mine. Bloomfield Zeisler,
pianist; John Hays Hammond, engineer;
Presidents G. Stanley Hall, Ernest Fox
Nichols, Eliot, Stryker, Harry Pratt Judson,
Dr. Luther Gulick, and other noted educators ;
Rabbi Stephen S. Wise, several bishops, and
prominent clergymen of all denominations,
together with a large circle not so well
known to the public, but whose society has
been to me equally stimulating and delight¬
ful.
Like every one else who is more or less in
the public eye, I have a large correspondence
from unknown friends, and among the most
inspiring letters received have been those
from foreign countries, where, until the
outbreak of the European war, I had not
192
The Soul of the White Man
only generous critics, but translators of
my books in France, Germany, Austria,
Bohemia, Denmark. I am frequently asked
to recommend to readers books on all phases
of Indian life and art, also to criticize such
books both in print and in manuscript.
My work for the Boy Scouts, whose pro¬
gram appeals to me strongly, has given me a
good deal of practice in camp management,
finally leading to the organization of summer
camps for both boys and girls on charming
Granite Lake in the hills of southern New
Hampshire, where my whole family are
enthusiastic helpers in the development of
this form of open-air education, patterned
largely upon my own early training.
From the time I first accepted the Christ
ideal it has grown upon me steadily, but I
also see more and more plainly our modern
divergence from that ideal. I confess I
have wondered much that Christianity is
not practised by the very people who vouch
for that wonderful conception of exemplary
living. It appears that they are anxious to
pass on their religion to all races of men,
but keep very little of it themselves. I have
193
From the Deep Woods to Civilization
not yet seen the meek inherit the earth, or
the peacemakers receive high honor.
Why do we find so much evil and wicked¬
ness practised by the nations composed of
professedly "Christian" individuals? The
pages of history are full of licensed murder
and the plundering of weaker and less devel¬
oped peoples, and obviously the world to-day
has not outgrown this system. Behind the
material and intellectual splendor of our
civilization, primitive savagery and cruelty
and lust hold sway, undiminished, and as it
seems, unheeded. When I let go of my
simple, instinctive nature religion, I hoped
to gain something far loftier as well as more
satisfying to the reason. Alas! it is also
more confusing and contradictory. The
higher and spiritual life, though first in
theory, is clearly secondary, if not entirely
neglected, in actual practice. When I reduce
civilization to its lowest terms, it becomes a
system of life based upon trade. The dollar
is the measure of value, and might still spells
right; otherwise, why war?
Yet even in deep jungles God's own sun¬
light penetrates, and I stand before my own
194
The Soul of the White Man
people still as an advocate of civilization.
Why ? First,, because there is no chance
for our former simple life any more; and
second, because I realize that the white
man's religion is not responsible for his
mistakes. There is every evidence that
God has given him all the light necessary
by which to live in peace and good-will with
his brother; and we also know that many
brilliant civilizations have collapsed in physi¬
cal and moral decadence. It is for us to
avoid their fate if we can.
I am an Indian; and while I have learned
much from civilization, for which I am
grateful, I have never lost my Indian sense
of right and justice. I am for development
and progress along social and spiritual lines,
rather than those of commerce, nationalism,
or material efficiency. Nevertheless, so long
as I live, I am an American.
THE END
INDEX
Adler, Dr. Felix, 190.
Algonquin Indians, 92, 167.
Allison, Senator William B.f
158.
American Horse, 78; his
pacific influence, 94, 95;
interview with Eastman,
96-99; 100, 162.
Anaesthesia, Indian fear of,
120; how Eastman over¬
came it, 121.
"Apple Blossoms", 86.
Armstrong, General, 106.
Arnold, Matthew, 72.
Arnold Arboretum, 71.
Assiniboine Indians, 4, 10.
Assiniboine River, 10.
"Bad Lands", 93, 108.
Bad Wound, 100.
Bancroft, Edgar A., 58.
Bartlett, President, 66.
Battle Creek, 172.
Bear Island, home of Leech
Lake Ojibways, 169.
Beloit College, Eastman
enters, 50; life at, 51-58.
Beveredge, Old Tom, 161.
Bible, Eastman first hears
reading of, 9.
Big Foot, 102, 106, 108.
"Big Issue" day at Pine
Ridge Agency, 79, 80.
Blackfeet Indians, 4.
Black Hawk, 52, 56; figure
of, 192.
Blue Horse, old, 78.
Blumenschein, Ernest, 192.
Boggimogishig, Ojibway war
chief, 171.
Boston, Mass., Eastman's
first impressions of, 64,
65; 68; a medical student
in, 70, 71; charm of, 71,
72; 74, 90, 147.
Boston University, studies
medicine at, 71.
Boy Scouts, 189; interest
in work of, 193.
Brooke, General, negotiations
with Ghost Dancers, 103;
107; efforts to maintain
peace with Indians, 108;
places Eastman in charge
of wounded Indians, 110.
Brooklyn, N. Y., 186.
Buffalo Bill, 78.
Burke Bill, the, 164.
Camp Fire Club of America,
191.
Camp Fire Girls, 189.
Index
Cass Lake, 168.
Chapin, President, 52, 56.
Cherokee Indians, 146.
Cheyenne Indians, 49, 142.
Cheyenne River Agency, 102.
Chicago, 111., 47, 62, 63, 118,
147.
Christ, 8, 71, 142-144, 193.
Christianity, 10, 33, 57, 59,
70, 71, 85, 125, 141, 144,
148, 151, 190, 193, 194.
Church of the Ascension,
New York, Eastman's
marriage in, 125.
Clemens, Samuel L., " Mark
Twain 190.
Cleveland, President Grover,
158; an Indian's opinion
of, 163.
Cochrane, Thomas, 151.
Commissioner of Indian
Affairs, 119.
Congregational Club of
Chicago, address before
the, 118.
Congress of Races. See
First Universal Con¬
gress of Races.
Congress of the United
States, 155, 156, 160.
Cook, Mrs. Charles Smith,
85, 109, 110.
Cook, Rev. Charles Smith,
Eastman's first meeting
with, 85; 88, 98, 104, 109,
110.
Court of Claims, 155.
Craft, Father, 107.
Crazy Horse, 30.
Cree Indians, 4, 142.
Crook, General, 78.
Crow Indians, 4, 143.
Custer, General, 30, 53.
Dartmouth College, East¬
man enters, 61; his life
and activities at, 65-70;
72; graduation at, 74.
Davenport, la., 15.
Dawes, Senator H. L., 133.
Dawes Bill, the, 164.
Deming, Edwin W., 192.
Devil's Lake, N. I)., 9.
Donald, Rev. Dr. Winchester,
Eastman married by, 125.
Dorchester, Mass., 126.
Drink evil, 9, 10, 170, 178,
187.
Eastman, Charles A., early
training, 1; feeling toward
tribal foes, 2; betrayal
and capture of his father,
3; early cause of hatred
for United States, 3; as a
youth with the Sioux, 4-6;
turning-point in his life,
6-8; his father's influence,
8, 9; return with his
father to the United States,
9-13; a narrow escape,
11, 12; on his father's
farm, 14-16; starts his
schooling, 16-30; goes to
Santee, 31-40; experiences
at Santee, 40-50; letter
from his father, 48; earns
his first money, 49; prog¬
ress in his studies, 49,
50; death of his father, 50;
Index
Eastman, Charles A., —
Continued
goes to Beloit College, 51;
first ride on railroad, 51;
life at Beloit, 51, 58; life
at Knox College, 58-60;
choice of a profession, 60;
starts for the East, 61;
the journey, 61-65; in
Boston, 64; at Dartmouth
College, 65-74; reflections
and ambitions, 65; pre¬
pares at Kimball Union
Academy, 66, 67; enters
Dartmouth, 67; humorous
athletic incident, 67;
broadening views, 68, 69;
interest in literature and
history, 69; summer busi¬
ness experiences, 69, 70;
reverence for New Eng¬
land, 70; high ideals, 71;
life in Boston, 71, 74;
acquaintance with emi¬
nent men, 72; lectures at
Wellesley College, 72;
views on social life, 72,
73; graduation at Dart¬
mouth, 74; appointed
government physician at
Pine Ridge Agency, 74;
attends Lake Mohonk con¬
ference, 75; arrival at
Pine Ridge Agency, 76;
meager accommodations,
76, 77; "Big Issue" day,
79, 80; first learns of
G host Dance, 82-85; an
evening with Rev. Charles
S. Cook, 85, 86; first
meeting with his future
wife, 86; busy life at the
Agency, 87; a second
warning of the Ghost
Dance, 87-89; an accept¬
able present, 90; a word
of caution, 90, 91; an
exciting incident and a
brave admonition, 93-95;
advice concerning the
Ghost Dance, 96, 98; cause
of Sioux unrest, 98, 99;
anxiety at the Agency, 99,
100; arrival of the troops,
101; wild rumors and
excitement, 102,103; prep¬
arations for Christmas,
103, 104; engagement to
Miss Goodale, 106; dis¬
turbing news from the " Bad
Lands", 107, 108; trouble
narrowly averted, 108, 109;
caring for the wounded,
109, 110; search for the
wounded after the mas¬
sacre, 110-114; distressing
experience and a severe
ordeal, 113, 114; quiet
restored, 114; property
losses of the Indians, 116,
117; address in Chicago,
118, 119; friendship of the
Indian Commissioner, 119;
demands for proper equip¬
ment, 120; prejudice of
the Indians, 120, 121; fear
of anaesthesia and ampu¬
tation and its removal, 121;
experience with "medicine
men", 122, 123; a touch-
Index
Eastman, Charles A., —
Continued
ing tribute, 124; marriage
in New York, 125; the
new home, 126; birth
of his first child, 127;
dishonesty in payment to
Indians, 128-130; pro¬
test to Washington, 131;
a farcical investigation,
131; strained relations
with Indian bureau, 132,
133; summoned to Wash¬
ington, 133; leaves the
Indian service, 135; re¬
moves to St. Paul, Minn.,
135 ; warm social welcome,
137; temporary hard¬
ships, 137; professional
temptations, 137, 138; dis¬
appointment in official
character, 138; regret for
abandoned work, 139; con¬
tributions to St. Nicholas,
139; field service for Y. M.
C. A., 139-1-11; extended
travel, 141; reflections on
religion, 141; Indian phi¬
losophy, 142, 143; a
Scotchman's story, 143,
144; visits his uncle in
Canada, 144, 145; among
the Ojibways, 146; in
Indian Territory, 146; ad¬
dress at Bacone College,
146; speaking tours in the
East, 147; depressed by
poverty of the slums, 147;
visits the Sac and Fox
tribe, 148; an old chief's
rebuke, 148, 149; efforts
to Christianize the Indians,
150; association with lead¬
ing men, 151; representa¬
tive of Sioux tribe in
Washington, 152-165; ces¬
sions by and treaties with
the Sioux, 153, 154; bad
faith of the government,
154; trials of Washington
life, 155-157; before Con¬
gressional committees, 158;
relations with four Presi¬
dents, 158; arduous duties,
158-160; Indian views of
officials, 160-163; new
phase of Indian life, 164;
Indian political influence,
164, 165; search for Indian
curios and relics, 166-181;
methods of search, 166;
his reception by former
enemies, 170; witnesses
ancient ceremonies, 170;
visits Boggimogishig, 171;
the Sugar Point Ojibways,
171; with the Red Lake
Ojibways, 172; at Rainy
Lake, 173; a fine type of
Indian, 173, 174; har¬
vesting wild rice, 174;
the call of the wild, 175;
hunting the loon, 176; its
curious maneuvers, 176;
an interesting aged squaw,
177; a narrow escape from
drowning, 179; the de¬
serted village, 180; a
strange visitor, 181; last
work for the government.
Index
Eastman, Charles A., —
Continued
182; the Sioux allotment
rolls, 182; confusion of
Indian names, 182;
method of work, 183;
overcoming prejudice, 183;
remarkable memory of the
Indian, 184; difficulties
of the work, 184; publica¬
tion of "Indian Boyhood"
in 1902, 185; "Wigwam
Evenings", 185; writing
in collaboration with Mrs.
Eastman, 185, 186; as a
public speaker, 186; enters
the lecture field, 187;
the object in view, 187;
a cordial response, 187;
an opinion of "The Soul
of the Indian", 187, 188;
the Indian's philosophy,
188; representative to the
First Universal Races Con¬
gress, London, 1911, 198;
impressions of the Con¬
gress, 189; an incident
of the Congress, 190; an
invitation from the Orient,
190; at banquet to Mark
Twain, 190; unique ap¬
pearance as a speaker, 191;
before the Camp Fire Club,
191; extended traveling,
191, 192; large acquaint¬
ance with noted personages,
192; voluminous and in¬
spiring correspondence,
192; interest in the work
of Boy Scouts, 193; camps
for boys and girls, 193;
belief in the Christ ideal,
193; views of Christianity,
193, 194; reflections on
the higher life, 194; his
stand for civilization, 195;
belief in Indian sense of
right and justice, 195; an
American to the end, 195.
Eastman, Mrs. Charles A.
See Goodale, Elaine.
Eastman, Dora, eldest child
of Charles A. Eastman,
127, 136.
Eastman, Rev. John, brother
of Charles A. Eastman, 40,
44; welcomes his brother
on return from his wedding,
126; 152.
Eastman, Joseph, uncle of
Charles A. Eastman, 144.
Eliot, President Charles W.,
192.
Emerson, Ralph Waldo, 72.
First Universal Races
Congress, London, 1911,
189.
"Five Civilized Tribes", 146.
Flandreau, 13; Many Light¬
nings forms colony at, 16;
31; death of Many
Lightnings at, 50; family
gathering in, 126.
Forbes, Major, 9, 10.
Forsythe, Colonel, 106.
Fort Robinson, 98.
Fort Sheridan, 119.
Fort Snelling, 3.
Fort Yates, 102.
Index
Four Bears, 99.
Freeman, President Alice, 72.
Frye, Senator William P., 163.
Galesburg, III., 58.
Garland, Hamlin, 182, 192.
Ghost Dance, the origin of
the, 83, 84; its hold on
the Indians, 84; rapid
spread of the, 88; 89;
foreign to the Indian phi¬
losophy, 92; seat of the
trouble, 93; aggravated by
presence of troops, 98;
its natural death, 99;
negotiations with its vota¬
ries, 103.
Gilfillan, Rev. James, 161.
Goodale, Dora, 125.
Goodale, Elaine (Mrs. Charles
A. Eastman), supervisor
of Indian Schools, 86;
first meeting with East¬
man, 86; 89; ancestry
and early life, 105; takes
up work for Indians, 106;
her engagement, 106;
faithfulness to duty, 109;
duties as a nurse, 110;
resigns from the Indian
service, 115; her marriage,
125; at "Sky Farm ", 125;
birth of her daughter, 127;
strained relations with In¬
dian bureau, 134; 146;
literary work in collabora¬
tion with husband, 185.
Graham, George, assistant at
Pine Ridge Agency, 87; cau¬
tions Eastman, 90; 93, 101.
"Grand Medicine Dance,"
169.
Grass, John, his opinion of
Grover Cleveland, 1C3.
"Great Mystery", 9, 12,
20, 24, 26, 28, 32, 40, 41,
169.
"Great Spirit", 145, 149.
Griffis, Rev. William Eliot,
71.
Grinnell, George Bird, 182,
192.
Gros Ventres Indians, 4.
Gulick, Luther Halsey, 192.
Hall, G. Stanley, 192.
Hammond, John Hays, 192.
Hampton Institute, 106.
Hare, Bishop, 75, 114.
Harney, General, 78.
Harriet, Lake, 136.
Harrison, President Ben¬
jamin, 158, 161.
•He Dog, 99.
Hemenway, Mrs., 72.
Hoar, Senator George F.,
133, 162.
Hole-in-the-Hill, 32.
Homestead laws, 14.
Howells, William Dean, 192.
Hudson Bay Company, 4,
168, 177, 180.
Independent, The, 86.
Indian Affairs, Commissioner
of, 119.
" Indian Boyhood East¬
man's account of his child¬
hood and youth in, v;
publication of, 185; 186.
Index
Indian Police at Pine Ridge
Agency, 82, 85r 88, 93-
97, 108, 110.
Indian sense of right and
justice, Eastman's belief
in, 195.
Indian Territory, 146.
International Committee of
Y. M. C. A. See Y. M.
C. A.
International Falls, 178.
Interna tionalTrainingSchool,
Springfield, Mass., 140.
Iowa Indians, 153.
"Jack Frost", Eastman's
horse at Pine Ridge, 90.
Jack Red Cloud, 95, 99.
Jamestown, N. D., 13.
Jesus. See Christ.
Judson, H. P., 192.
Jutz, Father, 104, 114.
Kicking Bear, 84, 99.
Kimball Union Academy, 66,
67.
Knox College, Eastman
enters, 58, 59.
Lake of the Woods, 173.
Lee, Colonel, 89, 90.
Leech Lake, 168.
Lewis and Clarke expedition,
168.
Lincoln, President Abraham,
56.
Littlefish, 162.
Longfellow, Henry Wads-
worth, 72.
McClure, S. S., 58.
McCook, Colonel John J.,
151.
McKinley, President Wil¬
liam, 158,162.
Majigabo, Ojibway chief,
170; defies the govern¬
ment, 170.
Mandan Indian, 41, 42.
Manitoba, 145.
Many Lightnings, Eastman's
father, 6; his conversion,
7; describes advantages
of civilized life, 7, 8; re¬
turns to United States
with son, 9; Bible reading,
9; his farm, 14; forms
Indian colony at Flan-
dreau, 16; sends son to
school, 16, 17; his logic,
25; advice to his son, 27;
his views of religion and
education, 28, 29; sends
son to Indian mission at
Santee, 30; letter to son,
48; his death, 50.
Mark Twain. See Clem¬
ens, Samuel L.
Massacre Island, 178.
Mead, Edwin D., 190.
Medicine, Indian, 122, 123,
138, 169.
Medicine, study of, 60,71.
Medicine Root Creek, 92.
Messer, Wilbur, 151.
Messiah of the Ghost Dance
religion, 83.
Miles, General Nelson A.,
114.
Milholland, John, 190.
Index
Minneapolis, Minn., 136.
Minnesota, 3, 136, 153, 167.
Minnesota Massacre, 3.
Missouri River, 4, 43, 139.
Mohonk, Lake, 75, 147.
Moody, Dwight L., 74.
Morgan, General, Commis¬
sioner of Indian Affairs,
119, 132, 133.
Morgan, Senator JohnT., 162.
Morse, Richard, 151.
Mott, John R., 151.
Murray, David, 151.
Music, 37.
New York, N. Y., 125, 147.
Nichols, Ernest Fox, 192.
Ninth Cavalry, 101.
North Bay, 177.
Northern Cheyenne Indians,
49.
Northfield, Mass., 74.
No Water, 99.
Ober, Charles, 151.
Occum, Samson, 65, 69.
O-hee-ye-sa, Eastman's In¬
dian name, 16.
Ojibway Indians, 10-12, 142,
146, 160, 161, 167, 169,
170, 172, 175, 178.
Oklahoma, 146.
Old Pine Tree, 69.
Old White Bull, 184.
Otoe Indians, 153.
Painter, Professor, 75.
Parkman, Francis, 72.
Pettibone, Professor, 53.
Phillips, John S., 58.
Philosophy of the Indian, 142,
143, 188.
Pinckney, Judge Merritt, 58.
Pine Ridge Agency, S. D.,
74, 76-135.
Piatt, Senator O. H., 162.
Pond, James B., 186, 187.
Pontiac, 72.
Protestant, 7, 41.
Rainey, Representative, 58.
Rainy Lake, 173.
Rainy River, 173.
"Red Christ", the, 92.
Red Cloud, 100.
Red Lake, 168, 172.
Riggs, Dr. Alfred L., superin¬
tendent of Santee school,
40; introduces Eastman
to school routine, 42, 43;
his personality, 48; sends
Eastman to Beloit College,
50; transfers Eastman to
Knox College, 58; pro¬
poses that Eastman enter
Dartmouth College, 61.
Rock River, 52.
Roosevelt, President Theo¬
dore, 158; Indian admira¬
tion for, 163; foresees
difficulties of Indian land
inheritance, 182.
Rushville, Neb., 101.
Sac and Fox Indians, 56,
148.
St. Nicholas, magazine, 139.
St. Paul, Minn., Eastman
removes to, 135; residence
in, 136-140.
Index
Santee, Neb., Eastman enters
Indian school at, 31; life
at, 31-50.
Seabury Divinity School,
85.
Sears, Major, 40.
Seine Bay, 176, 180.
Seine River, 180.
Seton, Ernest Thompson,
192.
Seventh Cavalry, 106, 109.
Shawmut Congregational
Church, Boston, 71.
Sherman, James, 160.
Sioux Indians, protest of,
3; outbreak of the, 3;
Eastman member of
Wah'peton clan of, 4;
their friends and enemies,
4; country and habits of,
4, 5; 11, 12, 25; pop¬
ularity of Santee Agency
with, 30; 33; Custer
annihilated by, 53;
settler's fear of, 56, 57;
Eastman's ambition to aid,
60; curiosity regarding
the, 63; 65, 68; one of
first army scouts of the,
78; gay dress of a "belle"
of the, 79; "Big Issue"
day with, 79-81; their
idea of medical treatment,
81; ghost dance war with,
82-115; grievances of, 98;
frauds practised on, 99;
Miss Goodale's work
among, 106; Eastman's
missionary efforts with,
142; 146; Eastman rep¬
resentative in Washington
for, 152; cessions by and
treaties with, 153; bad
faith of government with,
154; Eastman pleads for,
158; old chiefs of the,
161-165; Roosevelt popu¬
lar with, 163; political
influence of, 164, 165;
famous battle with, 172;
Eastman revises allotment
rolls of, 182; confusion of
names of, 182-185.
Sioux language, 40, 48, 49.
Sisseton Sioux. See Sioux
Indians.
Sitting Bull, 30, 49, 53, 63,
83, 102, 107.
"Sky Farm", 125.
Slow Bull, 84.
"Soul of an Indian, The",
187.
South College, Beloit, 52.
Spirit-water, 29.
Spotted Horse, 163.
Stryker, M. W., 192.
Sunday, Billy, 99.
Sword, Captain, police chief
at Pine Ridge, 82, 83,
87, 88, 96-98.
Taft, Lorado, 192.
Tahlequah, Ind. Ter., 146.
Tecumseh, 92.
Three Stars, 100, 121.
Thunder Bear, Lieutenant,
96, 98.
Tibbetts, Arthur, 140.
Tillman, Senator Benjamin
R„ 163.
Index
Trinity College, 85.
Turpie, Senator, 163.
Twentieth Century Club of
Brooklyn, 186.
Vanderbilt, Cornelius, 151.
War Club, Sacred, 171.
Washington, D.C., 131, 132,
133, 152, 155.
Webster, Daniel, 69.
Wellesley College, 72, 126.
Welsh, Herbert, 75.
Whipple, Bishop, 75, 100.
White Clay Creek, 93, 101.
White Ghost, 162.
Whiteside, Major, 106.
"Wigwam Evenings", 185.
Wilkinson, Captain, 170, 171.
Williamson, Dr. John P., 48.
Wise, Rabbi Stephen S., 192.
Wood, Frank, Eastman's in¬
debtedness to, 71, 72;
work for, 75; Eastman
entertained by, 126.
Wood, Mrs. Frank, 71, 72,
126.
Wounded Knee Creek, 106,
107.
Wounded Knee Massacre,
110.
Y. M. C. A., Eastman under¬
takes field work for, 139,
140; his work with, 151.
Yankton City, 51.
Yellow Bear, 99.
Young Man Afraid of his
Horses, 100, 162.
Zeisler, Madame Bloom-
field, 192.
206
YALE UNIVERSITY
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