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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:34:23 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:34:23 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/10376-0.txt b/10376-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ccaf314 --- /dev/null +++ b/10376-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3585 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10376 *** + +AMERICAN INDIAN STORIES + +BY + +ZITKALA-SA _(Gertrude Bonnin)_ + +Dakota Sioux Indian + +Lecturer; Author of "Old Indian Legends," "Americanize The First +American," and other stories; Member of the Woman's National Foundation, +League of American Pen-Women, and the Washington Salon + + +"_There is no great; there is no small; in the mind that causeth all_" + +1921 + + + + +CONTENTS + +Impressions of an Indian Childhood + +The School Days of an Indian Girl + +An Indian Teacher Among Indians + +The Great Spirit + +The Soft-Hearted Sioux + +The Trial Path + +A Warrior's Daughter + +A Dream of Her Grandfather + +The Widespread Enigma of Blue-Star Woman + +America's Indian Problem + + + + +IMPRESSIONS OF AN INDIAN CHILDHOOD + +I. + +MY MOTHER. + + +A wigwam of weather-stained canvas stood at the base of some irregularly +ascending hills. A footpath wound its way gently down the sloping land +till it reached the broad river bottom; creeping through the long swamp +grasses that bent over it on either side, it came out on the edge of the +Missouri. + +Here, morning, noon, and evening, my mother came to draw water from the +muddy stream for our household use. Always, when my mother started for +the river, I stopped my play to run along with her. She was only of +medium height. Often she was sad and silent, at which times her full +arched lips were compressed into hard and bitter lines, and shadows fell +under her black eyes. Then I clung to her hand and begged to know what +made the tears fall. + +"Hush; my little daughter must never talk about my tears"; and smiling +through them, she patted my head and said, "Now let me see how fast you +can run today." Whereupon I tore away at my highest possible speed, with +my long black hair blowing in the breeze. + +I was a wild little girl of seven. Loosely clad in a slip of brown +buckskin, and light-footed with a pair of soft moccasins on my feet, I +was as free as the wind that blew my hair, and no less spirited than a +bounding deer. These were my mother's pride,--my wild freedom and +overflowing spirits. She taught me no fear save that of intruding myself +upon others. + +Having gone many paces ahead I stopped, panting for breath, and laughing +with glee as my mother watched my every movement. I was not wholly +conscious of myself, but was more keenly alive to the fire within. It +was as if I were the activity, and my hands and feet were only +experiments for my spirit to work upon. + +Returning from the river, I tugged beside my mother, with my hand upon +the bucket I believed I was carrying. One time, on such a return, I +remember a bit of conversation we had. My grown-up cousin, Warca-Ziwin +(Sunflower), who was then seventeen, always went to the river alone for +water for her mother. Their wigwam was not far from ours; and I saw her +daily going to and from the river. I admired my cousin greatly. So I +said: "Mother, when I am tall as my cousin Warca-Ziwin, you shall not +have to come for water. I will do it for you." + +With a strange tremor in her voice which I could not understand, she +answered, "If the paleface does not take away from us the river we +drink." + +"Mother, who is this bad paleface?" I asked. + +"My little daughter, he is a sham,--a sickly sham! The bronzed Dakota is +the only real man." + +I looked up into my mother's face while she spoke; and seeing her bite +her lips, I knew she was unhappy. This aroused revenge in my small soul. +Stamping my foot on the earth, I cried aloud, "I hate the paleface that +makes my mother cry!" + +Setting the pail of water on the ground, my mother stooped, and +stretching her left hand out on the level with my eyes, she placed her +other arm about me; she pointed to the hill where my uncle and my only +sister lay buried. + +"There is what the paleface has done! Since then your father too has +been buried in a hill nearer the rising sun. We were once very happy. +But the paleface has stolen our lands and driven us hither. Having +defrauded us of our land, the paleface forced us away. + +"Well, it happened on the day we moved camp that your sister and uncle +were both very sick. Many others were ailing, but there seemed to be no +help. We traveled many days and nights; not in the grand, happy way that +we moved camp when I was a little girl, but we were driven, my child, +driven like a herd of buffalo. With every step, your sister, who was not +as large as you are now, shrieked with the painful jar until she was +hoarse with crying. She grew more and more feverish. Her little hands +and cheeks were burning hot. Her little lips were parched and dry, but +she would not drink the water I gave her. Then I discovered that her +throat was swollen and red. My poor child, how I cried with her because +the Great Spirit had forgotten us! + +"At last, when we reached this western country, on the first weary night +your sister died. And soon your uncle died also, leaving a widow and an +orphan daughter, your cousin Warca-Ziwin. Both your sister and uncle +might have been happy with us today, had it not been for the heartless +paleface." + +My mother was silent the rest of the way to our wigwam. Though I saw no +tears in her eyes, I knew that was because I was with her. She seldom +wept before me. + + + + +II. + +THE LEGENDS. + + +During the summer days my mother built her fire in the shadow of our +wigwam. + +In the early morning our simple breakfast was spread upon the grass west +of our tepee. At the farthest point of the shade my mother sat beside +her fire, toasting a savory piece of dried meat. Near her, I sat upon my +feet, eating my dried meat with unleavened bread, and drinking strong +black coffee. + +The morning meal was our quiet hour, when we two were entirely alone. At +noon, several who chanced to be passing by stopped to rest, and to share +our luncheon with us, for they were sure of our hospitality. + +My uncle, whose death my mother ever lamented, was one of our nation's +bravest warriors. His name was on the lips of old men when talking of +the proud feats of valor; and it was mentioned by younger men, too, in +connection with deeds of gallantry. Old women praised him for his +kindness toward them; young women held him up as an ideal to their +sweethearts. Every one loved him, and my mother worshiped his memory. +Thus it happened that even strangers were sure of welcome in our lodge, +if they but asked a favor in my uncle's name. + +Though I heard many strange experiences related by these wayfarers, I +loved best the evening meal, for that was the time old legends were +told. I was always glad when the sun hung low in the west, for then my +mother sent me to invite the neighboring old men and women to eat supper +with us. Running all the way to the wigwams, I halted shyly at the +entrances. Sometimes I stood long moments without saying a word. It was +not any fear that made me so dumb when out upon such a happy errand; nor +was it that I wished to withhold the invitation, for it was all I could +do to observe this very proper silence. But it was a sensing of the +atmosphere, to assure myself that I should not hinder other plans. My +mother used to say to me, as I was almost bounding away for the old +people: "Wait a moment before you invite any one. If other plans are +being discussed, do not interfere, but go elsewhere." + +The old folks knew the meaning of my pauses; and often they coaxed my +confidence by asking, "What do you seek, little granddaughter?" + +"My mother says you are to come to our tepee this evening," I instantly +exploded, and breathed the freer afterwards. + +"Yes, yes, gladly, gladly I shall come!" each replied. Rising at once +and carrying their blankets across one shoulder, they flocked leisurely +from their various wigwams toward our dwelling. + +My mission done, I ran back, skipping and jumping with delight. All out +of breath, I told my mother almost the exact words of the answers to my +invitation. Frequently she asked, "What were they doing when you entered +their tepee?" This taught me to remember all I saw at a single glance. +Often I told my mother my impressions without being questioned. + +While in the neighboring wigwams sometimes an old Indian woman asked me, +"What is your mother doing?" Unless my mother had cautioned me not to +tell, I generally answered her questions without reserve. + +At the arrival of our guests I sat close to my mother, and did not +leave her side without first asking her consent. I ate my supper in +quiet, listening patiently to the talk of the old people, wishing all +the time that they would begin the stories I loved best. At last, when I +could not wait any longer, I whispered in my mother's ear, "Ask them to +tell an Iktomi story, mother." + +Soothing my impatience, my mother said aloud, "My little daughter is +anxious to hear your legends." By this time all were through eating, and +the evening was fast deepening into twilight. + +As each in turn began to tell a legend, I pillowed my head in my +mother's lap; and lying flat upon my back, I watched the stars as they +peeped down upon me, one by one. The increasing interest of the tale +aroused me, and I sat up eagerly listening to every word. The old women +made funny remarks, and laughed so heartily that I could not help +joining them. + +The distant howling of a pack of wolves or the hooting of an owl in the +river bottom frightened me, and I nestled into my mother's lap. She +added some dry sticks to the open fire, and the bright flames leaped up +into the faces of the old folks as they sat around in a great circle. + +On such an evening, I remember the glare of the fire shone on a tattooed +star upon the brow of the old warrior who was telling a story. I watched +him curiously as he made his unconscious gestures. The blue star upon +his bronzed forehead was a puzzle to me. Looking about, I saw two +parallel lines on the chin of one of the old women. The rest had none. I +examined my mother's face, but found no sign there. + +After the warrior's story was finished, I asked the old woman the +meaning of the blue lines on her chin, looking all the while out of the +corners of my eyes at the warrior with the star on his forehead. I was a +little afraid that he would rebuke me for my boldness. + +Here the old woman began: "Why, my grandchild, they are signs,--secret +signs I dare not tell you. I shall, however, tell you a wonderful story +about a woman who had a cross tattooed upon each of her cheeks." + +It was a long story of a woman whose magic power lay hidden behind the +marks upon her face. I fell asleep before the story was completed. + +Ever after that night I felt suspicious of tattooed people. Wherever I +saw one I glanced furtively at the mark and round about it, wondering +what terrible magic power was covered there. + +It was rarely that such a fearful story as this one was told by the camp +fire. Its impression was so acute that the picture still remains vividly +clear and pronounced. + + + + +III. + +THE BEADWORK. + + +Soon after breakfast mother sometimes began her beadwork. On a bright, +clear day, she pulled out the wooden pegs that pinned the skirt of our +wigwam to the ground, and rolled the canvas part way up on its frame of +slender poles. Then the cool morning breezes swept freely through our +dwelling, now and then wafting the perfume of sweet grasses from newly +burnt prairie. + +Untying the long tasseled strings that bound a small brown buckskin bag, +my mother spread upon a mat beside her bunches of colored beads, just as +an artist arranges the paints upon his palette. On a lapboard she +smoothed out a double sheet of soft white buckskin; and drawing from a +beaded case that hung on the left of her wide belt a long, narrow blade, +she trimmed the buckskin into shape. Often she worked upon small +moccasins for her small daughter. Then I became intensely interested in +her designing. With a proud, beaming face, I watched her work. In +imagination, I saw myself walking in a new pair of snugly fitting +moccasins. I felt the envious eyes of my playmates upon the pretty red +beads decorating my feet. + +Close beside my mother I sat on a rug, with a scrap of buckskin in one +hand and an awl in the other. This was the beginning of my practical +observation lessons in the art of beadwork. From a skein of finely +twisted threads of silvery sinews my mother pulled out a single one. +With an awl she pierced the buckskin, and skillfully threaded it with +the white sinew. Picking up the tiny beads one by one, she strung them +with the point of her thread, always twisting it carefully after every +stitch. + +It took many trials before I learned how to knot my sinew thread on the +point of my finger, as I saw her do. Then the next difficulty was in +keeping my thread stiffly twisted, so that I could easily string my +beads upon it. My mother required of me original designs for my lessons +in beading. At first I frequently ensnared many a sunny hour into +working a long design. Soon I learned from self-inflicted punishment to +refrain from drawing complex patterns, for I had to finish whatever I +began. + +After some experience I usually drew easy and simple crosses and +squares. These were some of the set forms. My original designs were not +always symmetrical nor sufficiently characteristic, two faults with +which my mother had little patience. The quietness of her oversight made +me feel strongly responsible and dependent upon my own judgment. She +treated me as a dignified little individual as long as I was on my good +behavior; and how humiliated I was when some boldness of mine drew forth +a rebuke from her! + +In the choice of colors she left me to my own taste. I was pleased with +an outline of yellow upon a background of dark blue, or a combination of +red and myrtle-green. There was another of red with a bluish-gray that +was more conventionally used. When I became a little familiar with +designing and the various pleasing combinations of color, a harder +lesson was given me. It was the sewing on, instead of beads, some tinted +porcupine quills, moistened and flattened between the nails of the thumb +and forefinger. My mother cut off the prickly ends and burned them at +once in the centre fire. These sharp points were poisonous, and worked +into the flesh wherever they lodged. For this reason, my mother said, I +should not do much alone in quills until I was as tall as my cousin +Warca-Ziwin. + +Always after these confining lessons I was wild with surplus spirits, +and found joyous relief in running loose in the open again. Many a +summer afternoon a party of four or five of my playmates roamed over the +hills with me. We each carried a light sharpened rod about four feet +long, with which we pried up certain sweet roots. When we had eaten all +the choice roots we chanced upon, we shouldered our rods and strayed off +into patches of a stalky plant under whose yellow blossoms we found +little crystal drops of gum. Drop by drop we gathered this nature's +rock-candy, until each of us could boast of a lump the size of a small +bird's egg. Soon satiated with its woody flavor, we tossed away our gum, +to return again to the sweet roots. + +I remember well how we used to exchange our necklaces, beaded belts, and +sometimes even our moccasins. We pretended to offer them as gifts to one +another. We delighted in impersonating our own mothers. We talked of +things we had heard them say in their conversations. We imitated their +various manners, even to the inflection of their voices. In the lap of +the prairie we seated ourselves upon our feet, and leaning our painted +cheeks in the palms of our hands, we rested our elbows on our knees, and +bent forward as old women were most accustomed to do. + +While one was telling of some heroic deed recently done by a near +relative, the rest of us listened attentively, and exclaimed in +undertones, "Han! han!" (yes! yes!) whenever the speaker paused for +breath, or sometimes for our sympathy. As the discourse became more +thrilling, according to our ideas, we raised our voices in these +interjections. In these impersonations our parents were led to say only +those things that were in common favor. + +No matter how exciting a tale we might be rehearsing, the mere shifting +of a cloud shadow in the landscape near by was sufficient to change our +impulses; and soon we were all chasing the great shadows that played +among the hills. We shouted and whooped in the chase; laughing and +calling to one another, we were like little sportive nymphs on that +Dakota sea of rolling green. + +On one occasion I forgot the cloud shadow in a strange notion to catch +up with my own shadow. Standing straight and still, I began to glide +after it, putting out one foot cautiously. When, with the greatest care, +I set my foot in advance of myself, my shadow crept onward too. Then +again I tried it; this time with the other foot. Still again my shadow +escaped me. I began to run; and away flew my shadow, always just a step +beyond me. Faster and faster I ran, setting my teeth and clenching my +fists, determined to overtake my own fleet shadow. But ever swifter it +glided before me, while I was growing breathless and hot. Slackening my +speed, I was greatly vexed that my shadow should check its pace also. +Daring it to the utmost, as I thought, I sat down upon a rock imbedded +in the hillside. + +So! my shadow had the impudence to sit down beside me! + +Now my comrades caught up with me, and began to ask why I was running +away so fast. + +"Oh, I was chasing my shadow! Didn't you ever do that?" I inquired, +surprised that they should not understand. + +They planted their moccasined feet firmly upon my shadow to stay it, and +I arose. Again my shadow slipped away, and moved as often as I did. Then +we gave up trying to catch my shadow. + +Before this peculiar experience I have no distinct memory of having +recognized any vital bond between myself and my own shadow. I never gave +it an afterthought. + +Returning our borrowed belts and trinkets, we rambled homeward. That +evening, as on other evenings, I went to sleep over my legends. + + + + +IV. + +THE COFFEE-MAKING. + + +One summer afternoon my mother left me alone in our wigwam while she +went across the way to my aunt's dwelling. + +I did not much like to stay alone in our tepee for I feared a tall, +broad-shouldered crazy man, some forty years old, who walked loose among +the hills. Wiyaka-Napbina (Wearer of a Feather Necklace) was harmless, +and whenever he came into a wigwam he was driven there by extreme +hunger. He went nude except for the half of a red blanket he girdled +around his waist. In one tawny arm he used to carry a heavy bunch of +wild sunflowers that he gathered in his aimless ramblings. His black +hair was matted by the winds, and scorched into a dry red by the +constant summer sun. As he took great strides, placing one brown bare +foot directly in front of the other, he swung his long lean arm to and +fro. + +Frequently he paused in his walk and gazed far backward, shading his +eyes with his hand. He was under the belief that an evil spirit was +haunting his steps. This was what my mother told me once, when I +sneered at such a silly big man. I was brave when my mother was near by, +and Wiyaka-Napbina walking farther and farther away. + +"Pity the man, my child. I knew him when he was a brave and handsome +youth. He was overtaken by a malicious spirit among the hills, one day, +when he went hither and thither after his ponies. Since then he can not +stay away from the hills," she said. + +I felt so sorry for the man in his misfortune that I prayed to the Great +Spirit to restore him. But though I pitied him at a distance, I was +still afraid of him when he appeared near our wigwam. + +Thus, when my mother left me by myself that afternoon I sat in a fearful +mood within our tepee. I recalled all I had ever heard about +Wiyaka-Napbina; and I tried to assure myself that though he might pass +near by, he would not come to our wigwam because there was no little +girl around our grounds. + +Just then, from without a hand lifted the canvas covering of the +entrance; the shadow of a man fell within the wigwam, and a large +roughly moccasined foot was planted inside. + +For a moment I did not dare to breathe or stir, for I thought that could +be no other than Wiyaka-Napbina. The next instant I sighed aloud in +relief. It was an old grandfather who had often told me Iktomi legends. + +"Where is your mother, my little grandchild?" were his first words. + +"My mother is soon coming back from my aunt's tepee," I replied. + +"Then I shall wait awhile for her return," he said, crossing his feet +and seating himself upon a mat. + +At once I began to play the part of a generous hostess. I turned to my +mother's coffeepot. + +Lifting the lid, I found nothing but coffee grounds in the bottom. I set +the pot on a heap of cold ashes in the centre, and filled it half full +of warm Missouri River water. During this performance I felt conscious +of being watched. Then breaking off a small piece of our unleavened +bread, I placed it in a bowl. Turning soon to the coffeepot, which would +never have boiled on a dead fire had I waited forever, I poured out a +cup of worse than muddy warm water. Carrying the bowl in one hand and +cup in the other, I handed the light luncheon to the old warrior. I +offered them to him with the air of bestowing generous hospitality. + +"How! how!" he said, and placed the dishes on the ground in front of his +crossed feet. He nibbled at the bread and sipped from the cup. I sat +back against a pole watching him. I was proud to have succeeded so well +in serving refreshments to a guest all by myself. Before the old warrior +had finished eating, my mother entered. Immediately she wondered where I +had found coffee, for she knew I had never made any, and that she had +left the coffeepot empty. Answering the question in my mother's eyes, +the warrior remarked, "My granddaughter made coffee on a heap of dead +ashes, and served me the moment I came." + +They both laughed, and mother said, "Wait a little longer, and I shall +build a fire." She meant to make some real coffee. But neither she nor +the warrior, whom the law of our custom had compelled to partake of my +insipid hospitality, said anything to embarrass me. They treated my +best judgment, poor as it was, with the utmost respect. It was not till +long years afterward that I learned how ridiculous a thing I had done. + + + + +V. + +THE DEAD MAN'S PLUM BUSH. + + +One autumn afternoon many people came streaming toward the dwelling of +our near neighbor. With painted faces, and wearing broad white bosoms of +elk's teeth, they hurried down the narrow footpath to Haraka Wambdi's +wigwam. Young mothers held their children by the hand, and half pulled +them along in their haste. They overtook and passed by the bent old +grandmothers who were trudging along with crooked canes toward the +centre of excitement. Most of the young braves galloped hither on their +ponies. Toothless warriors, like the old women, came more slowly, though +mounted on lively ponies. They sat proudly erect on their horses. They +wore their eagle plumes, and waved their various trophies of former +wars. + +In front of the wigwam a great fire was built, and several large black +kettles of venison were suspended over it. The crowd were seated about +it on the grass in a great circle. Behind them some of the braves stood +leaning against the necks of their ponies, their tall figures draped in +loose robes which were well drawn over their eyes. + +Young girls, with their faces glowing like bright red autumn leaves, +their glossy braids falling over each ear, sat coquettishly beside their +chaperons. It was a custom for young Indian women to invite some older +relative to escort them to the public feasts. Though it was not an iron +law, it was generally observed. + +Haraka Wambdi was a strong young brave, who had just returned from his +first battle, a warrior. His near relatives, to celebrate his new rank, +were spreading a feast to which the whole of the Indian village was +invited. + +Holding my pretty striped blanket in readiness to throw over my +shoulders, I grew more and more restless as I watched the gay throng +assembling. My mother was busily broiling a wild duck that my aunt had +that morning brought over. + +"Mother, mother, why do you stop to cook a small meal when we are +invited to a feast?" I asked, with a snarl in my voice. + +"My child, learn to wait. On our way to the celebration we are going to +stop at Chanyu's wigwam. His aged mother-in-law is lying very ill, and +I think she would like a taste of this small game." + +Having once seen the suffering on the thin, pinched features of this +dying woman, I felt a momentary shame that I had not remembered her +before. + +On our way I ran ahead of my mother and was reaching out my hand to pick +some purple plums that grew on a small bush, when I was checked by a low +"Sh!" from my mother. + +"Why, mother, I want to taste the plums!" I exclaimed, as I dropped my +hand to my side in disappointment. + +"Never pluck a single plum from this brush, my child, for its roots are +wrapped around an Indian's skeleton. A brave is buried here. While he +lived he was so fond of playing the game of striped plum seeds that, at +his death, his set of plum seeds were buried in his hands. From them +sprang up this little bush." + +Eyeing the forbidden fruit, I trod lightly on the sacred ground, and +dared to speak only in whispers until we had gone many paces from it. +After that time I halted in my ramblings whenever I came in sight of the +plum bush. I grew sober with awe, and was alert to hear a +long-drawn-out whistle rise from the roots of it. Though I had never +heard with my own ears this strange whistle of departed spirits, yet I +had listened so frequently to hear the old folks describe it that I knew +I should recognize it at once. + +The lasting impression of that day, as I recall it now, is what my +mother told me about the dead man's plum bush. + + + + +VI. + +THE GROUND SQUIRREL. + + +In the busy autumn days my cousin Warca-Ziwin's mother came to our +wigwam to help my mother preserve foods for our winter use. I was very +fond of my aunt, because she was not so quiet as my mother. Though she +was older, she was more jovial and less reserved. She was slender and +remarkably erect. While my mother's hair was heavy and black, my aunt +had unusually thin locks. + +Ever since I knew her she wore a string of large blue beads around her +neck,--beads that were precious because my uncle had given them to her +when she was a younger woman. She had a peculiar swing in her gait, +caused by a long stride rarely natural to so slight a figure. It was +during my aunt's visit with us that my mother forgot her accustomed +quietness, often laughing heartily at some of my aunt's witty remarks. + +I loved my aunt threefold: for her hearty laughter, for the cheerfulness +she caused my mother, and most of all for the times she dried my tears +and held me in her lap, when my mother had reproved me. + +Early in the cool mornings, just as the yellow rim of the sun rose above +the hills, we were up and eating our breakfast. We awoke so early that +we saw the sacred hour when a misty smoke hung over a pit surrounded by +an impassable sinking mire. This strange smoke appeared every morning, +both winter and summer; but most visibly in midwinter it rose +immediately above the marshy spot. By the time the full face of the sun +appeared above the eastern horizon, the smoke vanished. Even very old +men, who had known this country the longest, said that the smoke from +this pit had never failed a single day to rise heavenward. + +As I frolicked about our dwelling I used to stop suddenly, and with a +fearful awe watch the smoking of the unknown fires. While the vapor was +visible I was afraid to go very far from our wigwam unless I went with +my mother. + +From a field in the fertile river bottom my mother and aunt gathered an +abundant supply of corn. Near our tepee they spread a large canvas upon +the grass, and dried their sweet corn in it. I was left to watch the +corn, that nothing should disturb it. I played around it with dolls made +of ears of corn. I braided their soft fine silk for hair, and gave them +blankets as various as the scraps I found in my mother's workbag. + +There was a little stranger with a black-and-yellow-striped coat that +used to come to the drying corn. It was a little ground squirrel, who +was so fearless of me that he came to one corner of the canvas and +carried away as much of the sweet corn as he could hold. I wanted very +much to catch him and rub his pretty fur back, but my mother said he +would be so frightened if I caught him that he would bite my fingers. So +I was as content as he to keep the corn between us. Every morning he +came for more corn. Some evenings I have seen him creeping about our +grounds; and when I gave a sudden whoop of recognition he ran quickly +out of sight. + +When mother had dried all the corn she wished, then she sliced great +pumpkins into thin rings; and these she doubled and linked together +into long chains. She hung them on a pole that stretched between two +forked posts. The wind and sun soon thoroughly dried the chains of +pumpkin. Then she packed them away in a case of thick and stiff +buckskin. + +In the sun and wind she also dried many wild fruits,--cherries, berries, +and plums. But chiefest among my early recollections of autumn is that +one of the corn drying and the ground squirrel. + +I have few memories of winter days at this period of my life, though +many of the summer. There is one only which I can recall. + +Some missionaries gave me a little bag of marbles. They were all sizes +and colors. Among them were some of colored glass. Walking with my +mother to the river, on a late winter day, we found great chunks of ice +piled all along the bank. The ice on the river was floating in huge +pieces. As I stood beside one large block, I noticed for the first time +the colors of the rainbow in the crystal ice. Immediately I thought of +my glass marbles at home. With my bare fingers I tried to pick out some +of the colors, for they seemed so near the surface. But my fingers +began to sting with the intense cold, and I had to bite them hard to +keep from crying. + +From that day on, for many a moon, I believed that glass marbles had +river ice inside of them. + + + + +VII. + +THE BIG RED APPLES. + + +The first turning away from the easy, natural flow of my life occurred +in an early spring. It was in my eighth year; in the month of March, I +afterward learned. At this age I knew but one language, and that was my +mother's native tongue. + +From some of my playmates I heard that two paleface missionaries were in +our village. They were from that class of white men who wore big hats +and carried large hearts, they said. Running direct to my mother, I +began to question her why these two strangers were among us. She told +me, after I had teased much, that they had come to take away Indian boys +and girls to the East. My mother did not seem to want me to talk about +them. But in a day or two, I gleaned many wonderful stories from my +playfellows concerning the strangers. + +"Mother, my friend Judéwin is going home with the missionaries. She is +going to a more beautiful country than ours; the palefaces told her +so!" I said wistfully, wishing in my heart that I too might go. + +Mother sat in a chair, and I was hanging on her knee. Within the last +two seasons my big brother Dawée had returned from a three years' +education in the East, and his coming back influenced my mother to take +a farther step from her native way of living. First it was a change from +the buffalo skin to the white man's canvas that covered our wigwam. Now +she had given up her wigwam of slender poles, to live, a foreigner, in a +home of clumsy logs. + +"Yes, my child, several others besides Judéwin are going away with the +palefaces. Your brother said the missionaries had inquired about his +little sister," she said, watching my face very closely. + +My heart thumped so hard against my breast, I wondered if she could hear +it. + +"Did he tell them to take me, mother?" I asked, fearing lest Dawée had +forbidden the palefaces to see me, and that my hope of going to the +Wonderland would be entirely blighted. + +With a sad, slow smile, she answered: "There! I knew you were wishing to +go, because Judéwin has filled your ears with the white man's lies. +Don't believe a word they say! Their words are sweet, but, my child, +their deeds are bitter. You will cry for me, but they will not even +soothe you. Stay with me, my little one! Your brother Dawée says that +going East, away from your mother, is too hard an experience for his +baby sister." + +Thus my mother discouraged my curiosity about the lands beyond our +eastern horizon; for it was not yet an ambition for Letters that was +stirring me. But on the following day the missionaries did come to our +very house. I spied them coming up the footpath leading to our cottage. +A third man was with them, but he was not my brother Dawée. It was +another, a young interpreter, a paleface who had a smattering of the +Indian language. I was ready to run out to meet them, but I did not dare +to displease my mother. With great glee, I jumped up and down on our +ground floor. I begged my mother to open the door, that they would be +sure to come to us. Alas! They came, they saw, and they conquered! + +Judéwin had told me of the great tree where grew red, red apples; and +how we could reach out our hands and pick all the red apples we could +eat. I had never seen apple trees. I had never tasted more than a dozen +red apples in my life; and when I heard of the orchards of the East, I +was eager to roam among them. The missionaries smiled into my eyes and +patted my head. I wondered how mother could say such hard words against +him. + +"Mother, ask them if little girls may have all the red apples they want, +when they go East," I whispered aloud, in my excitement. + +The interpreter heard me, and answered: "Yes, little girl, the nice red +apples are for those who pick them; and you will have a ride on the iron +horse if you go with these good people." + +I had never seen a train, and he knew it. + +"Mother, I am going East! I like big red apples, and I want to ride on +the iron horse! Mother, say yes!" I pleaded. + +My mother said nothing. The missionaries waited in silence; and my eyes +began to blur with tears, though I struggled to choke them back. The +corners of my mouth twitched, and my mother saw me. + +"I am not ready to give you any word," she said to them. "Tomorrow I +shall send you my answer by my son." + +With this they left us. Alone with my mother, I yielded to my tears, and +cried aloud, shaking my head so as not to hear what she was saying to +me. This was the first time I had ever been so unwilling to give up my +own desire that I refused to hearken to my mother's voice. + +There was a solemn silence in our home that night. Before I went to bed +I begged the Great Spirit to make my mother willing I should go with the +missionaries. + +The next morning came, and my mother called me to her side. "My +daughter, do you still persist in wishing to leave your mother?" she +asked. + +"Oh, mother, it is not that I wish to leave you, but I want to see the +wonderful Eastern land," I answered. + +My dear old aunt came to our house that morning, and I heard her say, +"Let her try it." + +I hoped that, as usual, my aunt was pleading on my side. My brother +Dawée came for mother's decision. I dropped my play, and crept close to +my aunt. + +"Yes, Dawée, my daughter, though she does not understand what it all +means, is anxious to go. She will need an education when she is grown, +for then there will be fewer real Dakotas, and many more palefaces. This +tearing her away, so young, from her mother is necessary, if I would +have her an educated woman. The palefaces, who owe us a large debt for +stolen lands, have begun to pay a tardy justice in offering some +education to our children. But I know my daughter must suffer keenly in +this experiment. For her sake, I dread to tell you my reply to the +missionaries. Go, tell them that they may take my little daughter, and +that the Great Spirit shall not fail to reward them according to their +hearts." + +Wrapped in my heavy blanket, I walked with my mother to the carriage +that was soon to take us to the iron horse. I was happy. I met my +playmates, who were also wearing their best thick blankets. We showed +one another our new beaded moccasins, and the width of the belts that +girdled our new dresses. Soon we were being drawn rapidly away by the +white man's horses. When I saw the lonely figure of my mother vanish in +the distance, a sense of regret settled heavily upon me. I felt +suddenly weak, as if I might fall limp to the ground. I was in the hands +of strangers whom my mother did not fully trust. I no longer felt free +to be myself, or to voice my own feelings. The tears trickled down my +cheeks, and I buried my face in the folds of my blanket. Now the first +step, parting me from my mother, was taken, and all my belated tears +availed nothing. + +Having driven thirty miles to the ferryboat, we crossed the Missouri in +the evening. Then riding again a few miles eastward, we stopped before a +massive brick building. I looked at it in amazement, and with a vague +misgiving, for in our village I had never seen so large a house. +Trembling with fear and distrust of the palefaces, my teeth chattering +from the chilly ride, I crept noiselessly in my soft moccasins along the +narrow hall, keeping very close to the bare wall. I was as frightened +and bewildered as the captured young of a wild creature. + + + + +THE SCHOOL DAYS OF AN INDIAN GIRL + +I. + +THE LAND OF RED APPLES. + + +There were eight in our party of bronzed children who were going East +with the missionaries. Among us were three young braves, two tall girls, +and we three little ones, Judéwin, Thowin, and I. + +We had been very impatient to start on our journey to the Red Apple +Country, which, we were told, lay a little beyond the great circular +horizon of the Western prairie. Under a sky of rosy apples we dreamt of +roaming as freely and happily as we had chased the cloud shadows on the +Dakota plains. We had anticipated much pleasure from a ride on the iron +horse, but the throngs of staring palefaces disturbed and troubled us. + +On the train, fair women, with tottering babies on each arm, stopped +their haste and scrutinized the children of absent mothers. Large men, +with heavy bundles in their hands, halted near by, and riveted their +glassy blue eyes upon us. + +I sank deep into the corner of my seat, for I resented being watched. +Directly in front of me, children who were no larger than I hung +themselves upon the backs of their seats, with their bold white faces +toward me. Sometimes they took their forefingers out of their mouths and +pointed at my moccasined feet. Their mothers, instead of reproving such +rude curiosity, looked closely at me, and attracted their children's +further notice to my blanket. This embarrassed me, and kept me +constantly on the verge of tears. + +I sat perfectly still, with my eyes downcast, daring only now and then +to shoot long glances around me. Chancing to turn to the window at my +side, I was quite breathless upon seeing one familiar object. It was the +telegraph pole which strode by at short paces. Very near my mother's +dwelling, along the edge of a road thickly bordered with wild +sunflowers, some poles like these had been planted by white men. Often I +had stopped, on my way down the road, to hold my ear against the pole, +and, hearing its low moaning, I used to wonder what the paleface had +done to hurt it. Now I sat watching for each pole that glided by to be +the last one. + +In this way I had forgotten my uncomfortable surroundings, when I heard +one of my comrades call out my name. I saw the missionary standing very +near, tossing candies and gums into our midst. This amused us all, and +we tried to see who could catch the most of the sweetmeats. + +Though we rode several days inside of the iron horse, I do not recall a +single thing about our luncheons. + +It was night when we reached the school grounds. The lights from the +windows of the large buildings fell upon some of the icicled trees that +stood beneath them. We were led toward an open door, where the +brightness of the lights within flooded out over the heads of the +excited palefaces who blocked our way. My body trembled more from fear +than from the snow I trod upon. + +Entering the house, I stood close against the wall. The strong glaring +light in the large whitewashed room dazzled my eyes. The noisy hurrying +of hard shoes upon a bare wooden floor increased the whirring in my +ears. My only safety seemed to be in keeping next to the wall. As I was +wondering in which direction to escape from all this confusion, two warm +hands grasped me firmly, and in the same moment I was tossed high in +midair. A rosy-cheeked paleface woman caught me in her arms. I was both +frightened and insulted by such trifling. I stared into her eyes, +wishing her to let me stand on my own feet, but she jumped me up and +down with increasing enthusiasm. My mother had never made a plaything of +her wee daughter. Remembering this I began to cry aloud. + +They misunderstood the cause of my tears, and placed me at a white table +loaded with food. There our party were united again. As I did not hush +my crying, one of the older ones whispered to me, "Wait until you are +alone in the night." + +It was very little I could swallow besides my sobs, that evening. + +"Oh, I want my mother and my brother Dawée! I want to go to my aunt!" I +pleaded; but the ears of the palefaces could not hear me. + +From the table we were taken along an upward incline of wooden boxes, +which I learned afterward to call a stairway. At the top was a quiet +hall, dimly lighted. Many narrow beds were in one straight line down the +entire length of the wall. In them lay sleeping brown faces, which +peeped just out of the coverings. I was tucked into bed with one of the +tall girls, because she talked to me in my mother tongue and seemed to +soothe me. + +I had arrived in the wonderful land of rosy skies, but I was not happy, +as I had thought I should be. My long travel and the bewildering sights +had exhausted me. I fell asleep, heaving deep, tired sobs. My tears were +left to dry themselves in streaks, because neither my aunt nor my mother +was near to wipe them away. + + + + +II. + +THE CUTTING OF MY LONG HAIR. + + +The first day in the land of apples was a bitter-cold one; for the snow +still covered the ground, and the trees were bare. A large bell rang for +breakfast, its loud metallic voice crashing through the belfry overhead +and into our sensitive ears. The annoying clatter of shoes on bare +floors gave us no peace. The constant clash of harsh noises, with an +undercurrent of many voices murmuring an unknown tongue, made a bedlam +within which I was securely tied. And though my spirit tore itself in +struggling for its lost freedom, all was useless. + +A paleface woman, with white hair, came up after us. We were placed in a +line of girls who were marching into the dining room. These were Indian +girls, in stiff shoes and closely clinging dresses. The small girls wore +sleeved aprons and shingled hair. As I walked noiselessly in my soft +moccasins, I felt like sinking to the floor, for my blanket had been +stripped from my shoulders. I looked hard at the Indian girls, who +seemed not to care that they were even more immodestly dressed than I, +in their tightly fitting clothes. While we marched in, the boys entered +at an opposite door. I watched for the three young braves who came in +our party. I spied them in the rear ranks, looking as uncomfortable as I +felt. A small bell was tapped, and each of the pupils drew a chair from +under the table. Supposing this act meant they were to be seated, I +pulled out mine and at once slipped into it from one side. But when I +turned my head, I saw that I was the only one seated, and all the rest +at our table remained standing. Just as I began to rise, looking shyly +around to see how chairs were to be used, a second bell was sounded. All +were seated at last, and I had to crawl back into my chair again. I +heard a man's voice at one end of the hall, and I looked around to see +him. But all the others hung their heads over their plates. As I glanced +at the long chain of tables, I caught the eyes of a paleface woman upon +me. Immediately I dropped my eyes, wondering why I was so keenly watched +by the strange woman. The man ceased his mutterings, and then a third +bell was tapped. Every one picked up his knife and fork and began +eating. I began crying instead, for by this time I was afraid to venture +anything more. + +But this eating by formula was not the hardest trial in that first day. +Late in the morning, my friend Judéwin gave me a terrible warning. +Judéwin knew a few words of English; and she had overheard the paleface +woman talk about cutting our long, heavy hair. Our mothers had taught us +that only unskilled warriors who were captured had their hair shingled +by the enemy. Among our people, short hair was worn by mourners, and +shingled hair by cowards! + +We discussed our fate some moments, and when Judéwin said, "We have to +submit, because they are strong," I rebelled. + +"No, I will not submit! I will struggle first!" I answered. + +I watched my chance, and when no one noticed, I disappeared. I crept up +the stairs as quietly as I could in my squeaking shoes,--my moccasins +had been exchanged for shoes. Along the hall I passed, without knowing +whither I was going. Turning aside to an open door, I found a large room +with three white beds in it. The windows were covered with dark green +curtains, which made the room very dim. Thankful that no one was there, +I directed my steps toward the corner farthest from the door. On my +hands and knees I crawled under the bed, and cuddled myself in the dark +corner. + +From my hiding place I peered out, shuddering with fear whenever I heard +footsteps near by. Though in the hall loud voices were calling my name, +and I knew that even Judéwin was searching for me, I did not open my +mouth to answer. Then the steps were quickened and the voices became +excited. The sounds came nearer and nearer. Women and girls entered the +room. I held my breath and watched them open closet doors and peep +behind large trunks. Some one threw up the curtains, and the room was +filled with sudden light. What caused them to stoop and look under the +bed I do not know. I remember being dragged out, though I resisted by +kicking and scratching wildly. In spite of myself, I was carried +downstairs and tied fast in a chair. + +I cried aloud, shaking my head all the while until I felt the cold +blades of the scissors against my neck, and heard them gnaw off one of +my thick braids. Then I lost my spirit. Since the day I was taken from +my mother I had suffered extreme indignities. People had stared at me. I +had been tossed about in the air like a wooden puppet. And now my long +hair was shingled like a coward's! In my anguish I moaned for my mother, +but no one came to comfort me. Not a soul reasoned quietly with me, as +my own mother used to do; for now I was only one of many little animals +driven by a herder. + + + + +III. + +THE SNOW EPISODE. + + +A short time after our arrival we three Dakotas were playing in the +snowdrift. We were all still deaf to the English language, excepting +Judéwin, who always heard such puzzling things. One morning we learned +through her ears that we were forbidden to fall lengthwise in the snow, +as we had been doing, to see our own impressions. However, before many +hours we had forgotten the order, and were having great sport in the +snow, when a shrill voice called us. Looking up, we saw an imperative +hand beckoning us into the house. We shook the snow off ourselves, and +started toward the woman as slowly as we dared. + +Judéwin said: "Now the paleface is angry with us. She is going to punish +us for falling into the snow. If she looks straight into your eyes and +talks loudly, you must wait until she stops. Then, after a tiny pause, +say, 'No.'" The rest of the way we practiced upon the little word "no." + +As it happened, Thowin was summoned to judgment first. The door shut +behind her with a click. + +Judéwin and I stood silently listening at the keyhole. The paleface +woman talked in very severe tones. Her words fell from her lips like +crackling embers, and her inflection ran up like the small end of a +switch. I understood her voice better than the things she was saying. I +was certain we had made her very impatient with us. Judéwin heard enough +of the words to realize all too late that she had taught us the wrong +reply. + +"Oh, poor Thowin!" she gasped, as she put both hands over her ears. + +Just then I heard Thowin's tremulous answer, "No." + +With an angry exclamation, the woman gave her a hard spanking. Then she +stopped to say something. Judéwin said it was this: "Are you going to +obey my word the next time?" + +Thowin answered again with the only word at her command, "No." + +This time the woman meant her blows to smart, for the poor frightened +girl shrieked at the top of her voice. In the midst of the whipping the +blows ceased abruptly, and the woman asked another question: "Are you +going to fall in the snow again?" + +Thowin gave her bad passwood another trial. We heard her say feebly, +"No! No!" + +With this the woman hid away her half-worn slipper, and led the child +out, stroking her black shorn head. Perhaps it occurred to her that +brute force is not the solution for such a problem. She did nothing to +Judéwin nor to me. She only returned to us our unhappy comrade, and left +us alone in the room. + +During the first two or three seasons misunderstandings as ridiculous as +this one of the snow episode frequently took place, bringing +unjustifiable frights and punishments into our little lives. + +Within a year I was able to express myself somewhat in broken English. +As soon as I comprehended a part of what was said and done, a +mischievous spirit of revenge possessed me. One day I was called in from +my play for some misconduct. I had disregarded a rule which seemed to me +very needlessly binding. I was sent into the kitchen to mash the turnips +for dinner. It was noon, and steaming dishes were hastily carried into +the dining-room. I hated turnips, and their odor which came from the +brown jar was offensive to me. With fire in my heart, I took the wooden +tool that the paleface woman held out to me. I stood upon a step, and, +grasping the handle with both hands, I bent in hot rage over the +turnips. I worked my vengeance upon them. All were so busily occupied +that no one noticed me. I saw that the turnips were in a pulp, and that +further beating could not improve them; but the order was, "Mash these +turnips," and mash them I would! I renewed my energy; and as I sent the +masher into the bottom of the jar, I felt a satisfying sensation that +the weight of my body had gone into it. + +Just here a paleface woman came up to my table. As she looked into the +jar, she shoved my hands roughly aside. I stood fearless and angry. She +placed her red hands upon the rim of the jar. Then she gave one lift and +stride away from the table. But lo! the pulpy contents fell through the +crumbled bottom to the floor I She spared me no scolding phrases that I +had earned. I did not heed them. I felt triumphant in my revenge, though +deep within me I was a wee bit sorry to have broken the jar. + +As I sat eating my dinner, and saw that no turnips were served, I +whooped in my heart for having once asserted the rebellion within me. + + + + +IV. + +THE DEVIL. + + +Among the legends the old warriors used to tell me were many stories of +evil spirits. But I was taught to fear them no more than those who +stalked about in material guise. I never knew there was an insolent +chieftain among the bad spirits, who dared to array his forces against +the Great Spirit, until I heard this white man's legend from a paleface +woman. + +Out of a large book she showed me a picture of the white man's devil. I +looked in horror upon the strong claws that grew out of his fur-covered +fingers. His feet were like his hands. Trailing at his heels was a scaly +tail tipped with a serpent's open jaws. His face was a patchwork: he had +bearded cheeks, like some I had seen palefaces wear; his nose was an +eagle's bill, and his sharp-pointed ears were pricked up like those of a +sly fox. Above them a pair of cow's horns curved upward. I trembled with +awe, and my heart throbbed in my throat, as I looked at the king of evil +spirits. Then I heard the paleface woman say that this terrible creature +roamed loose in the world, and that little girls who disobeyed school +regulations were to be tortured by him. + +That night I dreamt about this evil divinity. Once again I seemed to be +in my mother's cottage. An Indian woman had come to visit my mother. On +opposite sides of the kitchen stove, which stood in the center of the +small house, my mother and her guest were seated in straight-backed +chairs. I played with a train of empty spools hitched together on a +string. It was night, and the wick burned feebly. Suddenly I heard some +one turn our door-knob from without. + +My mother and the woman hushed their talk, and both looked toward the +door. It opened gradually. I waited behind the stove. The hinges +squeaked as the door was slowly, very slowly pushed inward. + +Then in rushed the devil! He was tall! He looked exactly like the +picture I had seen of him in the white man's papers. He did not speak to +my mother, because he did not know the Indian language, but his +glittering yellow eyes were fastened upon me. He took long strides +around the stove, passing behind the woman's chair. I threw down my +spools, and ran to my mother. He did not fear her, but followed closely +after me. Then I ran round and round the stove, crying aloud for help. +But my mother and the woman seemed not to know my danger. They sat +still, looking quietly upon the devil's chase after me. At last I grew +dizzy. My head revolved as on a hidden pivot. My knees became numb, and +doubled under my weight like a pair of knife blades without a spring. +Beside my mother's chair I fell in a heap. Just as the devil stooped +over me with outstretched claws my mother awoke from her quiet +indifference, and lifted me on her lap. Whereupon the devil vanished, +and I was awake. + +On the following morning I took my revenge upon the devil. Stealing into +the room where a wall of shelves was filled with books, I drew forth The +Stories of the Bible. With a broken slate pencil I carried in my apron +pocket, I began by scratching out his wicked eyes. A few moments later, +when I was ready to leave the room, there was a ragged hole in the page +where the picture of the devil had once been. + + + + +V. + +IRON ROUTINE + + +A loud-clamoring bell awakened us at half-past six in the cold winter +mornings. From happy dreams of Western rolling lands and unlassoed +freedom we tumbled out upon chilly bare floors back again into a +paleface day. We had short time to jump into our shoes and clothes, and +wet our eyes with icy water, before a small hand bell was vigorously +rung for roll call. + +There were too many drowsy children and too numerous orders for the day +to waste a moment in any apology to nature for giving her children such +a shock in the early morning. We rushed downstairs, bounding over two +high steps at a time, to land in the assembly room. + +A paleface woman, with a yellow-covered roll book open on her arm and a +gnawed pencil in her hand, appeared at the door. Her small, tired face +was coldly lighted with a pair of large gray eyes. + +She stood still in a halo of authority, while over the rim of her +spectacles her eyes pried nervously about the room. Having glanced at +her long list of names and called out the first one, she tossed up her +chin and peered through the crystals of her spectacles to make sure of +the answer "Here." + +Relentlessly her pencil black-marked our daily records if we were not +present to respond to our names, and no chum of ours had done it +successfully for us. No matter if a dull headache or the painful cough +of slow consumption had delayed the absentee, there was only time enough +to mark the tardiness. It was next to impossible to leave the iron +routine after the civilizing machine had once begun its day's buzzing; +and as it was inbred in me to suffer in silence rather than to appeal to +the ears of one whose open eyes could not see my pain, I have many times +trudged in the day's harness heavy-footed, like a dumb sick brute. + +Once I lost a dear classmate. I remember well how she used to mope along +at my side, until one morning she could not raise her head from her +pillow. At her deathbed I stood weeping, as the paleface woman sat near +her moistening the dry lips. Among the folds of the bedclothes I saw +the open pages of the white man's Bible. The dying Indian girl talked +disconnectedly of Jesus the Christ and the paleface who was cooling her +swollen hands and feet. + +I grew bitter, and censured the woman for cruel neglect of our physical +ills. I despised the pencils that moved automatically, and the one +teaspoon which dealt out, from a large bottle, healing to a row of +variously ailing Indian children. I blamed the hard-working, +well-meaning, ignorant woman who was inculcating in our hearts her +superstitious ideas. Though I was sullen in all my little troubles, as +soon as I felt better I was ready again to smile upon the cruel woman. +Within a week I was again actively testing the chains which tightly +bound my individuality like a mummy for burial. + +The melancholy of those black days has left so long a shadow that it +darkens the path of years that have since gone by. These sad memories +rise above those of smoothly grinding school days. Perhaps my Indian +nature is the moaning wind which stirs them now for their present +record. But, however tempestuous this is within me, it comes out as the +low voice of a curiously colored seashell, which is only for those ears +that are bent with compassion to hear it. + + + + +VI. + +FOUR STRANGE SUMMERS. + + +After my first three years of school, I roamed again in the Western +country through four strange summers. + +During this time I seemed to hang in the heart of chaos, beyond the +touch or voice of human aid. My brother, being almost ten years my +senior, did not quite understand my feelings. My mother had never gone +inside of a schoolhouse, and so she was not capable of comforting her +daughter who could read and write. Even nature seemed to have no place +for me. I was neither a wee girl nor a tall one; neither a wild Indian +nor a tame one. This deplorable situation was the effect of my brief +course in the East, and the unsatisfactory "teenth" in a girl's years. + +It was under these trying conditions that, one bright afternoon, as I +sat restless and unhappy in my mother's cabin, I caught the sound of the +spirited step of my brother's pony on the road which passed by our +dwelling. Soon I heard the wheels of a light buckboard, and Dawée's +familiar "Ho!" to his pony. He alighted upon the bare ground in front +of our house. Tying his pony to one of the projecting corner logs of the +low-roofed cottage, he stepped upon the wooden doorstep. + +I met him there with a hurried greeting, and, as I passed by, he looked +a quiet "What?" into my eyes. + +When he began talking with my mother, I slipped the rope from the pony's +bridle. Seizing the reins and bracing my feet against the dashboard, I +wheeled around in an instant. The pony was ever ready to try his speed. +Looking backward, I saw Dawée waving his hand to me. I turned with the +curve in the road and disappeared. I followed the winding road which +crawled upward between the bases of little hillocks. Deep water-worn +ditches ran parallel on either side. A strong wind blew against my +cheeks and fluttered my sleeves. The pony reached the top of the highest +hill, and began an even race on the level lands. There was nothing +moving within that great circular horizon of the Dakota prairies save +the tall grasses, over which the wind blew and rolled off in long, +shadowy waves. + +Within this vast wigwam of blue and green I rode reckless and +insignificant. It satisfied my small consciousness to see the white foam +fly from the pony's mouth. + +Suddenly, out of the earth a coyote came forth at a swinging trot that +was taking the cunning thief toward the hills and the village beyond. +Upon the moment's impulse, I gave him a long chase and a wholesome +fright. As I turned away to go back to the village, the wolf sank down +upon his haunches for rest, for it was a hot summer day; and as I drove +slowly homeward, I saw his sharp nose still pointed at me, until I +vanished below the margin of the hilltops. + +In a little while I came in sight of my mother's house. Dawée stood in +the yard, laughing at an old warrior who was pointing his forefinger, +and again waving his whole hand, toward the hills. With his blanket +drawn over one shoulder, he talked and motioned excitedly. Dawée turned +the old man by the shoulder and pointed me out to him. + +"Oh, han!" (Oh, yes) the warrior muttered, and went his way. He had +climbed the top of his favorite barren hill to survey the surrounding +prairies, when he spied my chase after the coyote. His keen eyes +recognized the pony and driver. At once uneasy for my safety, he had +come running to my mother's cabin to give her warning. I did not +appreciate his kindly interest, for there was an unrest gnawing at my +heart. + +As soon as he went away, I asked Dawée about something else. + +"No, my baby sister, I cannot take you with me to the party tonight," he +replied. Though I was not far from fifteen, and I felt that before long +I should enjoy all the privileges of my tall cousin, Dawée persisted in +calling me his baby sister. + +That moonlight night, I cried in my mother's presence when I heard the +jolly young people pass by our cottage. They were no more young braves +in blankets and eagle plumes, nor Indian maids with prettily painted +cheeks. They had gone three years to school in the East, and had become +civilized. The young men wore the white man's coat and trousers, with +bright neckties. The girls wore tight muslin dresses, with ribbons at +neck and waist. At these gatherings they talked English. I could speak +English almost as well as my brother, but I was not properly dressed to +be taken along. I had no hat, no ribbons, and no close-fitting gown. +Since my return from school I had thrown away my shoes, and wore again +the soft moccasins. + +While Dawée was busily preparing to go I controlled my tears. But when I +heard him bounding away on his pony, I buried my face in my arms and +cried hot tears. + +My mother was troubled by my unhappiness. Coming to my side, she offered +me the only printed matter we had in our home. It was an Indian Bible, +given her some years ago by a missionary. She tried to console me. +"Here, my child, are the white man's papers. Read a little from them," +she said most piously. + +I took it from her hand, for her sake; but my enraged spirit felt more +like burning the book, which afforded me no help, and was a perfect +delusion to my mother. I did not read it, but laid it unopened on the +floor, where I sat on my feet. The dim yellow light of the braided +muslin burning in a small vessel of oil flickered and sizzled in the +awful silent storm which followed my rejection of the Bible. + +Now my wrath against the fates consumed my tears before they reached my +eyes. I sat stony, with a bowed head. My mother threw a shawl over her +head and shoulders, and stepped out into the night. + +After an uncertain solitude, I was suddenly aroused by a loud cry +piercing the night. It was my mother's voice wailing among the barren +hills which held the bones of buried warriors. She called aloud for her +brothers' spirits to support her in her helpless misery. My fingers Grey +icy cold, as I realized that my unrestrained tears had betrayed my +suffering to her, and she was grieving for me. + +Before she returned, though I knew she was on her way, for she had +ceased her weeping, I extinguished the light, and leaned my head on the +window sill. + +Many schemes of running away from my surroundings hovered about in my +mind. A few more moons of such a turmoil drove me away to the eastern +school. I rode on the white man's iron steed, thinking it would bring me +back to my mother in a few winters, when I should be grown tall, and +there would be congenial friends awaiting me. + + + + +VII. + +INCURRING MY MOTHER'S DISPLEASURE. + + +In the second journey to the East I had not come without some +precautions. I had a secret interview with one of our best medicine men, +and when I left his wigwam I carried securely in my sleeve a tiny bunch +of magic roots. This possession assured me of friends wherever I should +go. So absolutely did I believe in its charms that I wore it through all +the school routine for more than a year. Then, before I lost my faith in +the dead roots, I lost the little buckskin bag containing all my good +luck. + +At the close of this second term of three years I was the proud owner of +my first diploma. The following autumn I ventured upon a college career +against my mother's will. + +I had written for her approval, but in her reply I found no +encouragement. She called my notice to her neighbors' children, who had +completed their education in three years. They had returned to their +homes, and were then talking English with the frontier settlers. Her few +words hinted that I had better give up my slow attempt to learn the +white man's ways, and be content to roam over the prairies and find my +living upon wild roots. I silenced her by deliberate disobedience. + +Thus, homeless and heavy-hearted, I began anew my life among strangers. + +As I hid myself in my little room in the college dormitory, away from +the scornful and yet curious eyes of the students, I pined for sympathy. +Often I wept in secret, wishing I had gone West, to be nourished by my +mother's love, instead of remaining among a cold race whose hearts were +frozen hard with prejudice. + +During the fall and winter seasons I scarcely had a real friend, though +by that time several of my classmates were courteous to me at a safe +distance. + +My mother had not yet forgiven my rudeness to her, and I had no moment +for letter-writing. By daylight and lamplight, I spun with reeds and +thistles, until my hands were tired from their weaving, the magic design +which promised me the white man's respect. + +At length, in the spring term, I entered an oratorical contest among the +various classes. As the day of competition approached, it did not seem +possible that the event was so near at hand, but it came. In the chapel +the classes assembled together, with their invited guests. The high +platform was carpeted, and gaily festooned with college colors. A bright +white light illumined the room, and outlined clearly the great polished +beams that arched the domed ceiling. The assembled crowds filled the air +with pulsating murmurs. When the hour for speaking arrived all were +hushed. But on the wall the old clock which pointed out the trying +moment ticked calmly on. + +One after another I saw and heard the orators. Still, I could not +realize that they longed for the favorable decision of the judges as +much as I did. Each contestant received a loud burst of applause, and +some were cheered heartily. Too soon my turn came, and I paused a moment +behind the curtains for a deep breath. After my concluding words, I +heard the same applause that the others had called out. + +Upon my retreating steps, I was astounded to receive from my +fellow-students a large bouquet of roses tied with flowing ribbons. +With the lovely flowers I fled from the stage. This friendly token was +a rebuke to me for the hard feelings I had borne them. + +Later, the decision of the judges awarded me the first place. Then there +was a mad uproar in the hall, where my classmates sang and shouted my +name at the top of their lungs; and the disappointed students howled and +brayed in fearfully dissonant tin trumpets. In this excitement, happy +students rushed forward to offer their congratulations. And I could not +conceal a smile when they wished to escort me in a procession to the +students' parlor, where all were going to calm themselves. Thanking them +for the kind spirit which prompted them to make such a proposition, I +walked alone with the night to my own little room. + +A few weeks afterward, I appeared as the college representative in +another contest. This time the competition was among orators from +different colleges in our State. It was held at the State capital, in +one of the largest opera houses. + +Here again was a strong prejudice against my people. In the evening, as +the great audience filled the house, the student bodies began warring +among themselves. Fortunately, I was spared witnessing any of the noisy +wrangling before the contest began. The slurs against the Indian that +stained the lips of our opponents were already burning like a dry fever +within my breast. + +But after the orations were delivered a deeper burn awaited me. There, +before that vast ocean of eyes, some college rowdies threw out a large +white flag, with a drawing of a most forlorn Indian girl on it. Under +this they had printed in bold black letters words that ridiculed the +college which was represented by a "squaw." Such worse than barbarian +rudeness embittered me. While we waited for the verdict of the judges, I +gleamed fiercely upon the throngs of palefaces. My teeth were hard set, +as I saw the white flag still floating insolently in the air. + +Then anxiously we watched the man carry toward the stage the envelope +containing the final decision. + +There were two prizes given, that night, and one of them was mine! + +The evil spirit laughed within me when the white flag dropped out of +sight, and the hands which hurled it hung limp in defeat. + +Leaving the crowd as quickly as possible, I was soon in my room. The +rest of the night I sat in an armchair and gazed into the crackling +fire. I laughed no more in triumph when thus alone. The little taste of +victory did not satisfy a hunger in my heart. In my mind I saw my mother +far away on the Western plains, and she was holding a charge against me. + + + + +AN INDIAN TEACHER AMONG INDIANS + +I. + +MY FIRST DAY. + + +Though an illness left me unable to continue my college course, my pride +kept me from returning to my mother. Had she known of my worn condition, +she would have said the white man's papers were not worth the freedom +and health I had lost by them. Such a rebuke from my mother would have +been unbearable, and as I felt then it would be far too true to be +comfortable. + +Since the winter when I had my first dreams about red apples I had been +traveling slowly toward the morning horizon. There had been no doubt +about the direction in which I wished to go to spend my energies in a +work for the Indian race. Thus I had written my mother briefly, saying +my plan for the year was to teach in an Eastern Indian school. Sending +this message to her in the West, I started at once eastward. + +Thus I found myself, tired and hot, in a black veiling of car smoke, as +I stood wearily on a street corner of an old-fashioned town, waiting +for a car. In a few moments more I should be on the school grounds, +where a new work was ready for my inexperienced hands. + +Upon entering the school campus, I was surprised at the thickly +clustered buildings which made it a quaint little village, much more +interesting than the town itself. The large trees among the houses gave +the place a cool, refreshing shade, and the grass a deeper green. Within +this large court of grass and trees stood a low green pump. The queer +boxlike case had a revolving handle on its side, which clanked and +creaked constantly. + +I made myself known, and was shown to my room,--a small, carpeted room, +with ghastly walls and ceiling. The two windows, both on the same side, +were curtained with heavy muslin yellowed with age. A clean white bed +was in one corner of the room, and opposite it was a square pine table +covered with a black woolen blanket. + +Without removing my hat from my head, I seated myself in one of the two +stiff-backed chairs that were placed beside the table. For several heart +throbs I sat still looking from ceiling to floor, from wall to wall, +trying hard to imagine years of contentment there. Even while I was +wondering if my exhausted strength would sustain me through this +undertaking, I heard a heavy tread stop at my door. Opening it, I met +the imposing figure of a stately gray-haired man. With a light straw hat +in one hand, and the right hand extended for greeting, he smiled kindly +upon me. For some reason I was awed by his wondrous height and his +strong square shoulders, which I felt were a finger's length above my +head. + +I was always slight, and my serious illness in the early spring had made +me look rather frail and languid. His quick eye measured my height and +breadth. Then he looked into my face. I imagined that a visible shadow +flitted across his countenance as he let my hand fall. I knew he was no +other than my employer. + +"Ah ha! so you are the little Indian girl who created the excitement +among the college orators!" he said, more to himself than to me. I +thought I heard a subtle note of disappointment in his voice. Looking in +from where he stood, with one sweeping glance, he asked if I lacked +anything for my room. + +After he turned to go, I listened to his step until it grew faint and +was lost in the distance. I was aware that my car-smoked appearance had +not concealed the lines of pain on my face. + +For a short moment my spirit laughed at my ill fortune, and I +entertained the idea of exerting myself to make an improvement. But as I +tossed my hat off a leaden weakness came over me, and I felt as if years +of weariness lay like water-soaked logs upon me. I threw myself upon the +bed, and, closing my eyes, forgot my good intention. + + + + +II. + +A TRIP WESTWARD. + + +One sultry month I sat at a desk heaped up with work. Now, as I recall +it, I wonder how I could have dared to disregard nature's warning with +such recklessness. Fortunately, my inheritance of a marvelous endurance +enabled me to bend without breaking. + +Though I had gone to and fro, from my room to the office, in an unhappy +silence, I was watched by those around me. On an early morning I was +summoned to the superintendent's office. For a half-hour I listened to +his words, and when I returned to my room I remembered one sentence +above the rest. It was this: "I am going to turn you loose to pasture!" +He was sending me West to gather Indian pupils for the school, and this +was his way of expressing it. + +I needed nourishment, but the midsummer's travel across the continent to +search the hot prairies for overconfident parents who would entrust +their children to strangers was a lean pasturage. However, I dwelt on +the hope of seeing my mother. I tried to reason that a change was a +rest. Within a couple of days I started toward my mother's home. + +The intense heat and the sticky car smoke that followed my homeward +trail did not noticeably restore my vitality. Hour after hour I gazed +upon the country which was receding rapidly from me. I noticed the +gradual expansion of the horizon as we emerged out of the forests into +the plains. The great high buildings, whose towers overlooked the dense +woodlands, and whose gigantic clusters formed large cities, diminished, +together with the groves, until only little log cabins lay snugly in the +bosom of the vast prairie. The cloud shadows which drifted about on the +waving yellow of long-dried grasses thrilled me like the meeting of old +friends. + +At a small station, consisting of a single frame house with a rickety +board walk around it, I alighted from the iron horse, just thirty miles +from my mother and my brother Dawée. A strong hot wind seemed determined +to blow my hat off, and return me to olden days when I roamed bareheaded +over the hills. After the puffing engine of my train was gone, I stood +on the platform in deep solitude. In the distance I saw the gently +rolling land leap up into bare hills. At their bases a broad gray road +was winding itself round about them until it came by the station. Among +these hills I rode in a light conveyance, with a trusty driver, whose +unkempt flaxen hair hung shaggy about his ears and his leather neck of +reddish tan. From accident or decay he had lost one of his long front +teeth. + +Though I call him a paleface, his cheeks were of a brick red. His moist +blue eyes, blurred and bloodshot, twitched involuntarily. For a long +time he had driven through grass and snow from this solitary station to +the Indian village. His weather-stained clothes fitted badly his warped +shoulders. He was stooped, and his protruding chin, with its tuft of dry +flax, nodded as monotonously as did the head of his faithful beast. + +All the morning I looked about me, recognizing old familiar sky lines of +rugged bluffs and round-topped hills. By the roadside I caught glimpses +of various plants whose sweet roots were delicacies among my people. +When I saw the first cone-shaped wigwam, I could not help uttering an +exclamation which caused my driver a sudden jump out of his drowsy +nodding. + +At noon, as we drove through the eastern edge of the reservation, I grew +very impatient and restless. Constantly I wondered what my mother would +say upon seeing her little daughter grown tall. I had not written her +the day of my arrival, thinking I would surprise her. Crossing a ravine +thicketed with low shrubs and plum bushes, we approached a large yellow +acre of wild sunflowers. Just beyond this nature's garden we drew near +to my mother's cottage. Close by the log cabin stood a little +canvas-covered wigwam. The driver stopped in front of the open door, and +in a long moment my mother appeared at the threshold. + +I had expected her to run out to greet me, but she stood still, all the +while staring at the weather-beaten man at my side. At length, when her +loftiness became unbearable, I called to her, "Mother, why do you stop?" + +This seemed to break the evil moment, and she hastened out to hold my +head against her cheek. + +"My daughter, what madness possessed you to bring home such a fellow?" +she asked, pointing at the driver, who was fumbling in his pockets for +change while he held the bill I gave him between his jagged teeth. + +"Bring him! Why, no, mother, he has brought me! He is a driver!" I +exclaimed. + +Upon this revelation, my mother threw her arms about me and apologized +for her mistaken inference. We laughed away the momentary hurt. Then she +built a brisk fire on the ground in the tepee, and hung a blackened +coffeepot on one of the prongs of a forked pole which leaned over the +flames. Placing a pan on a heap of red embers, she baked some unleavened +bread. This light luncheon she brought into the cabin, and arranged on a +table covered with a checkered oilcloth. + +My mother had never gone to school, and though she meant always to give +up her own customs for such of the white man's ways as pleased her, she +made only compromises. Her two windows, directly opposite each other, +she curtained with a pink-flowered print. The naked logs were unstained, +and rudely carved with the axe so as to fit into one another. The sod +roof was trying to boast of tiny sunflowers, the seeds of which had +probably been planted by the constant wind. As I leaned my head against +the logs, I discovered the peculiar odor that I could not forget. The +rains had soaked the earth and roof so that the smell of damp clay was +but the natural breath of such a dwelling. + +"Mother, why is not your house cemented? Do you have no interest in a +more comfortable shelter?" I asked, when the apparent inconveniences of +her home seemed to suggest indifference on her part. + +"You forget, my child, that I am now old, and I do not work with beads +any more. Your brother Dawée, too, has lost his position, and we are +left without means to buy even a morsel of food," she replied. + +Dawée was a government clerk in our reservation when I last heard from +him. I was surprised upon hearing what my mother said concerning his +lack of employment. Seeing the puzzled expression on my face, she +continued: "Dawée! Oh, has he not told you that the Great Father at +Washington sent a white son to take your brother's pen from him? Since +then Dawée has not been able to make use of the education the Eastern +school has given him." + +I found no words with which to answer satisfactorily. I found no reason +with which to cool my inflamed feelings. + +Dawée was a whole day's journey off on the prairie, and my mother did +not expect him until the next day. We were silent. + +When, at length, I raised my head to hear more clearly the moaning of +the wind in the corner logs, I noticed the daylight streaming into the +dingy room through several places where the logs fitted unevenly. +Turning to my mother, I urged her to tell me more about Dawée's trouble, +but she only said: "Well, my daughter, this village has been these many +winters a refuge for white robbers. The Indian cannot complain to the +Great Father in Washington without suffering outrage for it here. Dawée +tried to secure justice for our tribe in a small matter, and today you +see the folly of it." + +Again, though she stopped to hear what I might say, I was silent. + +"My child, there is only one source of justice, and I have been praying +steadfastly to the Great Spirit to avenge our wrongs," she said, seeing +I did not move my lips. + +My shattered energy was unable to hold longer any faith, and I cried out +desperately: "Mother, don't pray again! The Great Spirit does not care +if we live or die! Let us not look for good or justice: then we shall +not be disappointed!" + +"Sh! my child, do not talk so madly. There is Taku Iyotan Wasaka,[1] to +which I pray," she answered, as she stroked my head again as she used to +do when I was a smaller child. + +[Footnote 1: An absolute Power.] + + + + +III. + +MY MOTHER'S CURSE UPON WHITE SETTLERS. + + +One black night mother and I sat alone in the dim starlight, in front of +our wigwam. We were facing the river, as we talked about the shrinking +limits of the village. She told me about the poverty-stricken white +settlers, who lived in caves dug in the long ravines of the high hills +across the river. + +A whole tribe of broad-footed white beggars had rushed hither to make +claims on those wild lands. Even as she was telling this I spied a small +glimmering light in the bluffs. + +"That is a white man's lodge where you see the burning fire," she said. +Then, a short distance from it, only a little lower than the first, was +another light. As I became accustomed to the night, I saw more and more +twinkling lights, here and there, scattered all along the wide black +margin of the river. + +Still looking toward the distant firelight, my mother continued: "My +daughter, beware of the paleface. It was the cruel paleface who caused +the death of your sister and your uncle, my brave brother. It is this +same paleface who offers in one palm the holy papers, and with the +other gives a holy baptism of firewater. He is the hypocrite who reads +with one eye, 'Thou shalt not kill,' and with the other gloats upon the +sufferings of the Indian race." Then suddenly discovering a new fire in +the bluffs, she exclaimed, "Well, well, my daughter, there is the light +of another white rascal!" + +She sprang to her feet, and, standing firm beside her wigwam, she sent a +curse upon those who sat around the hated white man's light. Raising her +right arm forcibly into line with her eye, she threw her whole might +into her doubled fist as she shot it vehemently at the strangers. Long +she held her outstretched fingers toward the settler's lodge, as if an +invisible power passed from them to the evil at which she aimed. + + + + +IV. + +RETROSPECTION. + + +Leaving my mother, I returned to the school in the East. As months +passed over me, I slowly comprehended that the large army of white +teachers in Indian schools had a larger missionary creed than I had +suspected. + +It was one which included self-preservation quite as much as Indian +education. When I saw an opium-eater holding a position as teacher of +Indians, I did not understand what good was expected, until a Christian +in power replied that this pumpkin-colored creature had a feeble mother +to support. An inebriate paleface sat stupid in a doctor's chair, while +Indian patients carried their ailments to untimely graves, because his +fair wife was dependent upon him for her daily food. + +I find it hard to count that white man a teacher who tortured an +ambitious Indian youth by frequently reminding the brave changeling that +he was nothing but a "government pauper." + +Though I burned with indignation upon discovering on every side +instances no less shameful than those I have mentioned, there was no +present help. Even the few rare ones who have worked nobly for my race +were powerless to choose workmen like themselves. To be sure, a man was +sent from the Great Father to inspect Indian schools, but what he saw +was usually the students' sample work _made_ for exhibition. I was +nettled by this sly cunning of the workmen who hookwinked the Indian's +pale Father at Washington. + +My illness, which prevented the conclusion of my college course, +together with my mother's stories of the encroaching frontier settlers, +left me in no mood to strain my eyes in searching for latent good in my +white co-workers. + +At this stage of my own evolution, I was ready to curse men of small +capacity for being the dwarfs their God had made them. In the process of +my education I had lost all consciousness of the nature world about me. +Thus, when a hidden rage took me to the small white-walled prison which +I then called my room, I unknowingly turned away from my one salvation. + +Alone in my room, I sat like the petrified Indian woman of whom my +mother used to tell me. I wished my heart's burdens would turn me to +unfeeling stone. But alive, in my tomb, I was destitute! + +For the white man's papers I had given up my faith in the Great Spirit. +For these same papers I had forgotten the healing in trees and brooks. +On account of my mother's simple view of life, and my lack of any, I +gave her up, also. I made no friends among the race of people I loathed. +Like a slender tree, I had been uprooted from my mother, nature, and +God. I was shorn of my branches, which had waved in sympathy and love +for home and friends. The natural coat of bark which had protected my +oversensitive nature was scraped off to the very quick. + +Now a cold bare pole I seemed to be, planted in a strange earth. Still, +I seemed to hope a day would come when my mute aching head, reared +upward to the sky, would flash a zigzag lightning across the heavens. +With this dream of vent for a long-pent consciousness, I walked again +amid the crowds. + +At last, one weary day in the schoolroom, a new idea presented itself to +me. It was a new way of solving the problem of my inner self. I liked +it. Thus I resigned my position as teacher; and now I am in an Eastern +city, following the long course of study I have set for myself. Now, as +I look back upon the recent past, I see it from a distance, as a whole. +I remember how, from morning till evening, many specimens of civilized +peoples visited the Indian school. The city folks with canes and +eyeglasses, the countrymen with sunburnt cheeks and clumsy feet, forgot +their relative social ranks in an ignorant curiosity. Both sorts of +these Christian palefaces were alike astounded at seeing the children of +savage warriors so docile and industrious. + +As answers to their shallow inquiries they received the students' sample +work to look upon. Examining the neatly figured pages, and gazing upon +the Indian girls and boys bending over their books, the white visitors +walked out of the schoolhouse well satisfied: they were educating the +children of the red man! They were paying a liberal fee to the +government employees in whose able hands lay the small forest of Indian +timber. + +In this fashion many have passed idly through the Indian schools during +the last decade, afterward to boast of their charity to the North +American Indian. But few there are who have paused to question whether +real life or long-lasting death lies beneath this semblance of +civilization. + + + + +THE GREAT SPIRIT + + +When the spirit swells my breast I love to roam leisurely among the +green hills; or sometimes, sitting on the brink of the murmuring +Missouri, I marvel at the great blue overhead. With half-closed eyes I +watch the huge cloud shadows in their noiseless play upon the high +bluffs opposite me, while into my ear ripple the sweet, soft cadences of +the river's song. Folded hands lie in my lap, for the time forgot. My +heart and I lie small upon the earth like a grain of throbbing sand. +Drifting clouds and tinkling waters, together with the warmth of a +genial summer day, bespeak with eloquence the loving Mystery round about +us. During the idle while I sat upon the sunny river brink, I grew +somewhat, though my response be not so clearly manifest as in the green +grass fringing the edge of the high bluff back of me. + +At length retracing the uncertain footpath scaling the precipitous +embankment, I seek the level lands where grow the wild prairie flowers. +And they, the lovely little folk, soothe my soul with their perfumed +breath. + +Their quaint round faces of varied hue convince the heart which leaps +with glad surprise that they, too, are living symbols of omnipotent +thought. With a child's eager eye I drink in the myriad star shapes +wrought in luxuriant color upon the green. Beautiful is the spiritual +essence they embody. + +I leave them nodding in the breeze, but take along with me their impress +upon my heart. I pause to rest me upon a rock embedded on the side of a +foothill facing the low river bottom. Here the Stone-Boy, of whom the +American aborigine tells, frolics about, shooting his baby arrows and +shouting aloud with glee at the tiny shafts of lightning that flash from +the flying arrow-beaks. What an ideal warrior he became, baffling the +siege of the pests of all the land till he triumphed over their united +attack. And here he lay--Inyan our great-great-grandfather, older than +the hill he rested on, older than the race of men who love to tell of +his wonderful career. + +Interwoven with the thread of this Indian legend of the rock, I fain +would trace a subtle knowledge of the native folk which enabled them to +recognize a kinship to any and all parts of this vast universe. By the +leading of an ancient trail I move toward the Indian village. + +With the strong, happy sense that both great and small are so surely +enfolded in His magnitude that, without a miss, each has his allotted +individual ground of opportunities, I am buoyant with good nature. + +Yellow Breast, swaying upon the slender stem of a wild sunflower, +warbles a sweet assurance of this as I pass near by. Breaking off the +clear crystal song, he turns his wee head from side to side eyeing me +wisely as slowly I plod with moccasined feet. Then again he yields +himself to his song of joy. Flit, flit hither and yon, he fills the +summer sky with his swift, sweet melody. And truly does it seem his +vigorous freedom lies more in his little spirit than in his wing. + +With these thoughts I reach the log cabin whither I am strongly drawn by +the tie of a child to an aged mother. Out bounds my four-footed friend +to meet me, frisking about my path with unmistakable delight. Chän is a +black shaggy dog, "a thoroughbred little mongrel" of whom I am very +fond. Chän seems to understand many words in Sioux, and will go to her +mat even when I whisper the word, though generally I think she is guided +by the tone of the voice. Often she tries to imitate the sliding +inflection and long-drawn-out voice to the amusement of our guests, but +her articulation is quite beyond my ear. In both my hands I hold her +shaggy head and gaze into her large brown eyes. At once the dilated +pupils contract into tiny black dots, as if the roguish spirit within +would evade my questioning. + +Finally resuming the chair at my desk I feel in keen sympathy with my +fellow-creatures, for I seem to see clearly again that all are akin. The +racial lines, which once were bitterly real, now serve nothing more than +marking out a living mosaic of human beings. And even here men of the +same color are like the ivory keys of one instrument where each +resembles all the rest, yet varies from them in pitch and quality of +voice. And those creatures who are for a time mere echoes of another's +note are not unlike the fable of the thin sick man whose distorted +shadow, dressed like a real creature, came to the old master to make him +follow as a shadow. Thus with a compassion for all echoes in human +guise, I greet the solemn-faced "native preacher" whom I find awaiting +me. I listen with respect for God's creature, though he mouth most +strangely the jangling phrases of a bigoted creed. + +As our tribe is one large family, where every person is related to all +the others, he addressed me:-- + +"Cousin, I came from the morning church service to talk with you." + +"Yes?" I said interrogatively, as he paused for some word from me. + +Shifting uneasily about in the straight-backed chair he sat upon, he +began: "Every holy day (Sunday) I look about our little God's house, and +not seeing you there, I am disappointed. This is why I come today. +Cousin, as I watch you from afar, I see no unbecoming behavior and hear +only good reports of you, which all the more burns me with the wish that +you were a church member. Cousin, I was taught long years ago by kind +missionaries to read the holy book. These godly men taught me also the +folly of our old beliefs. + +"There is one God who gives reward or punishment to the race of dead +men. In the upper region the Christian dead are gathered in unceasing +song and prayer. In the deep pit below, the sinful ones dance in +torturing flames. + +"Think upon these things, my cousin, and choose now to avoid the +after-doom of hell fire!" Then followed a long silence in which he +clasped tighter and unclasped again his interlocked fingers. + +Like instantaneous lightning flashes came pictures of my own mother's +making, for she, too, is now a follower of the new superstition. + +"Knocking out the chinking of our log cabin, some evil hand thrust in a +burning taper of braided dry grass, but failed of his intent, for the +fire died out and the half-burned brand fell inward to the floor. +Directly above it, on a shelf, lay the holy book. This is what we found +after our return from a several days' visit. Surely some great power is +hid in the sacred book!" + +Brushing away from my eyes many like pictures, I offered midday meal to +the converted Indian sitting wordless and with downcast face. No sooner +had he risen from the table with "Cousin, I have relished it," than the +church bell rang. + +Thither he hurried forth with his afternoon sermon. I watched him as he +hastened along, his eyes bent fast upon the dusty road till he +disappeared at the end of a quarter of a mile. + +The little incident recalled to mind the copy of a missionary paper +brought to my notice a few days ago, in which a "Christian" pugilist +commented upon a recent article of mine, grossly perverting the spirit +of my pen. Still I would not forget that the pale-faced missionary and +the hoodooed aborigine are both God's creatures, though small indeed +their own conceptions of Infinite Love. A wee child toddling in a wonder +world, I prefer to their dogma my excursions into the natural gardens +where the voice of the Great Spirit is heard in the twittering of birds, +the rippling of mighty waters, and the sweet breathing of flowers. + +Here, in a fleeting quiet, I am awakened by the fluttering robe of the +Great Spirit. To my innermost consciousness the phenomenal universe is a +royal mantle, vibrating with His divine breath. Caught in its flowing +fringes are the spangles and oscillating brilliants of sun, moon, and +stars. + + + + +THE SOFT-HEARTED SIOUX + +I. + + +Beside the open fire I sat within our tepee. With my red blanket wrapped +tightly about my crossed legs, I was thinking of the coming season, my +sixteenth winter. On either side of the wigwam were my parents. My +father was whistling a tune between his teeth while polishing with his +bare hand a red stone pipe he had recently carved. Almost in front of +me, beyond the center fire, my old grandmother sat near the entranceway. + +She turned her face toward her right and addressed most of her words to +my mother. Now and then she spoke to me, but never did she allow her +eyes to rest upon her daughter's husband, my father. It was only upon +rare occasions that my grandmother said anything to him. Thus his ears +were open and ready to catch the smallest wish she might express. +Sometimes when my grandmother had been saying things which pleased him, +my father used to comment upon them. At other times, when he could not +approve of what was spoken, he used to work or smoke silently. + +On this night my old grandmother began her talk about me. Filling the +bowl of her red stone pipe with dry willow bark, she looked across at +me. + +"My grandchild, you are tall and are no longer a little boy." Narrowing +her old eyes, she asked, "My grandchild, when are you going to bring +here a handsome young woman?" I stared into the fire rather than meet +her gaze. Waiting for my answer, she stooped forward and through the +long stem drew a flame into the red stone pipe. + +I smiled while my eyes were still fixed upon the bright fire, but I said +nothing in reply. Turning to my mother, she offered her the pipe. I +glanced at my grandmother. The loose buckskin sleeve fell off at her +elbow and showed a wrist covered with silver bracelets. Holding up the +fingers of her left hand, she named off the desirable young women of our +village. + +"Which one, my grandchild, which one?" she questioned. + +"Hoh!" I said, pulling at my blanket in confusion. "Not yet!" Here my +mother passed the pipe over the fire to my father. Then she, too, began +speaking of what I should do. + +"My son, be always active. Do not dislike a long hunt. Learn to provide +much buffalo meat and many buckskins before you bring home a wife." +Presently my father gave the pipe to my grandmother, and he took his +turn in the exhortations. + +"Ho, my son, I have been counting in my heart the bravest warriors of +our people. There is not one of them who won his title in his sixteenth +winter. My son, it is a great thing for some brave of sixteen winters to +do." + +Not a word had I to give in answer. I knew well the fame of my warrior +father. He had earned the right of speaking such words, though even he +himself was a brave only at my age. Refusing to smoke my grandmother's +pipe because my heart was too much stirred by their words, and sorely +troubled with a fear lest I should disappoint them, I arose to go. +Drawing my blanket over my shoulders, I said, as I stepped toward the +entranceway: "I go to hobble my pony. It is now late in the night." + + + + +II. + + +Nine winters' snows had buried deep that night when my old grandmother, +together with my father and mother, designed my future with the glow of +a camp fire upon it. + +Yet I did not grow up the warrior, huntsman, and husband I was to have +been. At the mission school I learned it was wrong to kill. Nine winters +I hunted for the soft heart of Christ, and prayed for the huntsmen who +chased the buffalo on the plains. + +In the autumn of the tenth year I was sent back to my tribe to preach +Christianity to them. With the white man's Bible in my hand, and the +white man's tender heart in my breast, I returned to my own people. + +Wearing a foreigner's dress, I walked, a stranger, into my father's +village. + +Asking my way, for I had not forgotten my native tongue, an old man led +me toward the tepee where my father lay. From my old companion I learned +that my father had been sick many moons. As we drew near the tepee, I +heard the chanting of a medicine-man within it. At once I wished to +enter in and drive from my home the sorcerer of the plains, but the old +warrior checked me. "Ho, wait outside until the medicine-man leaves your +father," he said. While talking he scanned me from head to feet. Then he +retraced his steps toward the heart of the camping-ground. + +My father's dwelling was on the outer limits of the round-faced village. +With every heartthrob I grew more impatient to enter the wigwam. + +While I turned the leaves of my Bible with nervous fingers, the +medicine-man came forth from the dwelling and walked hurriedly away. His +head and face were closely covered with the loose robe which draped his +entire figure. + +He was tall and large. His long strides I have never forgot. They seemed +to me then the uncanny gait of eternal death. Quickly pocketing my +Bible, I went into the tepee. + +Upon a mat lay my father, with furrowed face and gray hair. His eyes and +cheeks were sunken far into his head. His sallow skin lay thin upon his +pinched nose and high cheekbones. Stooping over him, I took his fevered +hand. "How, Ate?" I greeted him. A light flashed from his listless eyes +and his dried lips parted. "My son!" he murmured, in a feeble voice. +Then again the wave of joy and recognition receded. He closed his eyes, +and his hand dropped from my open palm to the ground. + +Looking about, I saw an old woman sitting with bowed head. Shaking hands +with her, I recognized my mother. I sat down between my father and +mother as I used to do, but I did not feel at home. The place where my +old grandmother used to sit was now unoccupied. With my mother I bowed +my head. Alike our throats were choked and tears were streaming from our +eyes; but far apart in spirit our ideas and faiths separated us. My +grief was for the soul unsaved; and I thought my mother wept to see a +brave man's body broken by sickness. + +Useless was my attempt to change the faith in the medicine-man to that +abstract power named God. Then one day I became righteously mad with +anger that the medicine-man should thus ensnare my father's soul. And +when he came to chant his sacred songs I pointed toward the door and +bade him go! The man's eyes glared upon me for an instant. Slowly +gathering his robe about him, he turned his back upon the sick man and +stepped out of our wigwam. "Ha, ha, ha! my son, I can not live without +the medicine-man!" I heard my father cry when the sacred man was gone. + + + + +III. + + +On a bright day, when the winged seeds of the prairie-grass were flying +hither and thither, I walked solemnly toward the centre of the +camping-ground. My heart beat hard and irregularly at my side. Tighter I +grasped the sacred book I carried under my arm. Now was the beginning of +life's work. + +Though I knew it would be hard, I did not once feel that failure was to +be my reward. As I stepped unevenly on the rolling ground, I thought of +the warriors soon to wash off their war-paints and follow me. + +At length I reached the place where the people had assembled to hear me +preach. In a large circle men and women sat upon the dry red grass. +Within the ring I stood, with the white man's Bible in my hand. I tried +to tell them of the soft heart of Christ. + +In silence the vast circle of bareheaded warriors sat under an afternoon +sun. At last, wiping the wet from my brow, I took my place in the ring. +The hush of the assembly filled me with great hope. + +I was turning my thoughts upward to the sky in gratitude, when a stir +called me to earth again. + +A tall, strong man arose. His loose robe hung in folds over his right +shoulder. A pair of snapping black eyes fastened themselves like the +poisonous fangs of a serpent upon me. He was the medicine-man. A tremor +played about my heart and a chill cooled the fire in my veins. + +Scornfully he pointed a long forefinger in my direction and asked: + +"What loyal son is he who, returning to his father's people, wears a +foreigner's dress?" He paused a moment, and then continued: "The dress +of that foreigner of whom a story says he bound a native of our land, +and heaping dry sticks around him, kindled a fire at his feet!" Waving +his hand toward me, he exclaimed, "Here is the traitor to his people!" + +I was helpless. Before the eyes of the crowd the cunning magician turned +my honest heart into a vile nest of treachery. Alas! the people frowned +as they looked upon me. + +"Listen!" he went on. "Which one of you who have eyed the young man can +see through his bosom and warn the people of the nest of young snakes +hatching there? Whose ear was so acute that he caught the hissing of +snakes whenever the young man opened his mouth? This one has not only +proven false to you, but even to the Great Spirit who made him. He is a +fool! Why do you sit here giving ear to a foolish man who could not +defend his people because he fears to kill, who could not bring venison +to renew the life of his sick father? With his prayers, let him drive +away the enemy! With his soft heart, let him keep off starvation! We +shall go elsewhere to dwell upon an untainted ground." + +With this he disbanded the people. When the sun lowered in the west and +the winds were quiet, the village of cone-shaped tepees was gone. The +medicine-man had won the hearts of the people. + +Only my father's dwelling was left to mark the fighting-ground. + + + + +IV. + + +From a long night at my father's bedside I came out to look upon the +morning. The yellow sun hung equally between the snow-covered land and +the cloudless blue sky. The light of the new day was cold. The strong +breath of winter crusted the snow and fitted crystal shells over the +rivers and lakes. As I stood in front of the tepee, thinking of the vast +prairies which separated us from our tribe, and wondering if the high +sky likewise separated the soft-hearted Son of God from us, the icy +blast from the North blew through my hair and skull. My neglected hair +had grown long and fell upon my neck. + +My father had not risen from his bed since the day the medicine-man led +the people away. Though I read from the Bible and prayed beside him upon +my knees, my father would not listen. Yet I believed my prayers were not +unheeded in heaven. + +"Ha, ha, ha! my son," my father groaned upon the first snowfall. "My +son, our food is gone. There is no one to bring me meat! My son, your +soft heart has unfitted you for everything!" Then covering his face +with the buffalo-robe, he said no more. Now while I stood out in that +cold winter morning, I was starving. For two days I had not seen any +food. But my own cold and hunger did not harass my soul as did the +whining cry of the sick old man. + +Stepping again into the tepee, I untied my snow-shoes, which were +fastened to the tent-poles. + +My poor mother, watching by the sick one, and faithfully heaping wood +upon the centre fire, spoke to me: + +"My son, do not fail again to bring your father meat, or he will starve +to death." + +"How, Ina," I answered, sorrowfully. From the tepee I started forth +again to hunt food for my aged parents. All day I tracked the white +level lands in vain. Nowhere, nowhere were there any other footprints +but my own! In the evening of this third fast-day I came back without +meat. Only a bundle of sticks for the fire I brought on my back. +Dropping the wood outside, I lifted the door-flap and set one foot +within the tepee. + +There I grew dizzy and numb. My eyes swam in tears. Before me lay my +old gray-haired father sobbing like a child. In his horny hands he +clutched the buffalo-robe, and with his teeth he was gnawing off the +edges. Chewing the dry stiff hair and buffalo-skin, my father's eyes +sought my hands. Upon seeing them empty, he cried out: + +"My son, your soft heart will let me starve before you bring me meat! +Two hills eastward stand a herd of cattle. Yet you will see me die +before you bring me food!" + +Leaving my mother lying with covered head upon her mat, I rushed out +into the night. + +With a strange warmth in my heart and swiftness in my feet, I climbed +over the first hill, and soon the second one. The moonlight upon the +white country showed me a clear path to the white man's cattle. With my +hand upon the knife in my belt, I leaned heavily against the fence while +counting the herd. + +Twenty in all I numbered. From among them I chose the best-fattened +creature. Leaping over the fence, I plunged my knife into it. + +My long knife was sharp, and my hands, no more fearful and slow, slashed +off choice chunks of warm flesh. Bending under the meat I had taken for +my starving father, I hurried across the prairie. + +Toward home I fairly ran with the life-giving food I carried upon my +back. Hardly had I climbed the second hill when I heard sounds coming +after me. Faster and faster I ran with my load for my father, but the +sounds were gaining upon me. I heard the clicking of snowshoes and the +squeaking of the leather straps at my heels; yet I did not turn to see +what pursued me, for I was intent upon reaching my father. Suddenly like +thunder an angry voice shouted curses and threats into my ear! A rough +hand wrenched my shoulder and took the meat from me! I stopped +struggling to run. A deafening whir filled my head. The moon and stars +began to move. Now the white prairie was sky, and the stars lay under my +feet. Now again they were turning. At last the starry blue rose up into +place. The noise in my ears was still. A great quiet filled the air. In +my hand I found my long knife dripping with blood. At my feet a man's +figure lay prone in blood-red snow. The horrible scene about me seemed a +trick of my senses, for I could not understand it was real. Looking +long upon the blood-stained snow, the load of meat for my starving +father reached my recognition at last. Quickly I tossed it over my +shoulder and started again homeward. + +Tired and haunted I reached the door of the wigwam. Carrying the food +before me, I entered with it into the tepee. + +"Father, here is food!" I cried, as I dropped the meat near my mother. +No answer came. Turning about, I beheld my gray-haired father dead! I +saw by the unsteady firelight an old gray-haired skeleton lying rigid +and stiff. + +Out into the open I started, but the snow at my feet became bloody. + + + + +V. + + +On the day after my father's death, having led my mother to the camp of +the medicineman, I gave myself up to those who were searching for the +murderer of the paleface. + +They bound me hand and foot. Here in this cell I was placed four days +ago. + +The shrieking winter winds have followed me hither. Rattling the bars, +they howl unceasingly: "Your soft heart! your soft heart will see me die +before you bring me food!" Hark! something is clanking the chain on the +door. It is being opened. From the dark night without a black figure +crosses the threshold. * * * It is the guard. He comes to warn me of my +fate. He tells me that tomorrow I must die. In his stern face I laugh +aloud. I do not fear death. + +Yet I wonder who shall come to welcome me in the realm of strange sight. +Will the loving Jesus grant me pardon and give my soul a soothing sleep? +or will my warrior father greet me and receive me as his son? Will my +spirit fly upward to a happy heaven? or shall I sink into the +bottomless pit, an outcast from a God of infinite love? + +Soon, soon I shall know, for now I see the east is growing red. My heart +is strong. My face is calm. My eyes are dry and eager for new scenes. My +hands hang quietly at my side. Serene and brave, my soul awaits the men +to perch me on the gallows for another flight. I go. + + + + +THE TRIAL PATH + + +It was an autumn night on the plain. The smoke-lapels of the cone-shaped +tepee flapped gently in the breeze. From the low night sky, with its +myriad fire points, a large bright star peeped in at the smoke-hole of +the wigwam between its fluttering lapels, down upon two Dakotas talking +in the dark. The mellow stream from the star above, a maid of twenty +summers, on a bed of sweetgrass, drank in with her wakeful eyes. On the +opposite side of the tepee, beyond the centre fireplace, the grandmother +spread her rug. Though once she had lain down, the telling of a story +has aroused her to a sitting posture. + +Her eyes are tight closed. With a thin palm she strokes her wind-shorn +hair. + +"Yes, my grandchild, the legend says the large bright stars are wise old +warriors, and the small dim ones are handsome young braves," she +reiterates, in a high, tremulous voice. + +"Then this one peeping in at the smoke-hole yonder is my dear old +grandfather," muses the young woman, in long-drawn-out words. + +Her soft rich voice floats through the darkness within the tepee, over +the cold ashes heaped on the centre fire, and passes into the ear of the +toothless old woman, who sits dumb in silent reverie. Thence it flies on +swifter wing over many winter snows, till at last it cleaves the warm +light atmosphere of her grandfather's youth. From there her grandmother +made answer: + +"Listen! I am young again. It is the day of your grandfather's death. +The elder one, I mean, for there were two of them. They were like twins, +though they were not brothers. They were friends, inseparable! All +things, good and bad, they shared together, save one, which made them +mad. In that heated frenzy the younger man slew his most intimate +friend. He killed his elder brother, for long had their affection made +them kin." + +The voice of the old woman broke. Swaying her stooped shoulders to and +fro as she sat upon her feet, she muttered vain exclamations beneath her +breath. Her eyes, closed tight against the night, beheld behind them the +light of bygone days. They saw again a rolling black cloud spread itself +over the land. Her ear heard the deep rumbling of a tempest in the +west. She bent low a cowering head, while angry thunder-birds shrieked +across the sky. "Heyã! heyã!" (No! no!) groaned the toothless +grandmother at the fury she had awakened. But the glorious peace +afterward, when yellow sunshine made the people glad, now lured her +memory onward through the storm. + +"How fast, how loud my heart beats as I listen to the messenger's +horrible tale!" she ejaculates. "From the fresh grave of the murdered +man he hurried to our wigwam. Deliberately crossing his bare shins, he +sat down unbidden beside my father, smoking a long-stemmed pipe. He had +scarce caught his breath when, panting, he began: + +"'He was an only son, and a much-adored brother.' + +"With wild, suspecting eyes he glanced at me as if I were in league with +the man-killer, my lover. My father, exhaling sweet-scented smoke, +assented--'How,' Then interrupting the 'Eya' on the lips of the +round-eyed talebearer, he asked, 'My friend, will you smoke?' He took +the pipe by its red-stone bowl, and pointed the long slender stem +toward the man. 'Yes, yes, my friend,' replied he, and reached out a +long brown arm. + +"For many heart-throbs he puffed out the blue smoke, which hung like a +cloud between us. But even through the smoke-mist I saw his sharp black +eyes glittering toward me. I longed to ask what doom awaited the young +murderer, but dared not open my lips, lest I burst forth into screams +instead. My father plied the question. Returning the pipe, the man +replied: 'Oh, the chieftain and his chosen men have had counsel +together. They have agreed it is not safe to allow a man-killer loose in +our midst. He who kills one of our tribe is an enemy, and must suffer +the fate of a foe.' + +"My temples throbbed like a pair of hearts! + +"While I listened, a crier passed by my father's tepee. Mounted, and +swaying with his pony's steps, he proclaimed in a loud voice these words +(hark! I hear them now!): "Ho-po! Give ear, all you people. A terrible +deed is done. Two friends--ay, brothers in heart--have quarreled +together. Now one lies buried on the hill, while the other sits, a +dreaded man-killer, within his dwelling." Says our chieftain: "He who +kills one of our tribe commits the offense of an enemy. As such he must +be tried. Let the father of the dead man choose the mode of torture or +taking of life. He has suffered livid pain, and he alone can judge how +great the punishment must be to avenge his wrong." It is done. + +"'Come, every one, to witness the judgment of a father upon him who was +once his son's best friend. A wild pony is now lassoed. The man-killer +must mount and ride the ranting beast. Stand you all in two parallel +lines from the centre tepee of the bereaved family to the wigwam +opposite in the great outer ring. Between you, in the wide space, is the +given trial-way. From the outer circle the rider must mount and guide +his pony toward the centre tepee. If, having gone the entire distance, +the man-killer gains the centre tepee still sitting on the pony's back, +his life is spared and pardon given. But should he fall, then he himself +has chosen death.' + +"The crier's words now cease. A lull holds the village breathless. Then +hurrying feet tear along, swish, swish, through the tall grass. Sobbing +women hasten toward the trialway. The muffled groan of the round +camp-ground is unbearable. With my face hid in the folds of my blanket, +I run with the crowd toward the open place in the outer circle of our +village. In a moment the two long files of solemn-faced people mark the +path of the public trial. Ah! I see strong men trying to lead the +lassoed pony, pitching and rearing, with white foam flying from his +mouth. I choke with pain as I recognize my handsome lover desolately +alone, striding with set face toward the lassoed pony. 'Do not fall! +Choose life and me!' I cry in my breast, but over my lips I hold my +thick blanket. + +"In an instant he has leaped astride the frightened beast, and the men +have let go their hold. Like an arrow sprung from a strong bow, the +pony, with extended nostrils, plunges halfway to the centre tepee. With +all his might the rider draws the strong reins in. The pony halts with +wooden legs. The rider is thrown forward by force, but does not fall. +Now the maddened creature pitches, with flying heels. The line of men +and women sways outward. Now it is back in place, safe from the kicking, +snorting thing. + +"The pony is fierce, with its large black eyes bulging out of their +sockets. With humped back and nose to the ground, it leaps into the air. +I shut my eyes. I can not see him fall. + +"A loud shout goes up from the hoarse throats of men and women. I look. +So! The wild horse is conquered. My lover dismounts at the doorway of +the centre wigwam. The pony, wet with sweat and shaking with exhaustion, +stands like a guilty dog at his master's side. Here at the entranceway +of the tepee sit the bereaved father, mother, and sister. The old +warrior father rises. Stepping forward two long strides, he grasps the +hand of the murderer of his only son. Holding it so the people can see, +he cries, with compassionate voice, 'My son!' A murmur of surprise +sweeps like a puff of sudden wind along the lines. + +"The mother, with swollen eyes, with her hair cut square with her +shoulders, now rises. Hurrying to the young man, she takes his right +hand. 'My son!' she greets him. But on the second word her voice shook, +and she turned away in sobs. + +"The young people rivet their eyes upon the young woman. She does not +stir. With bowed head, she sits motionless. The old warrior speaks to +her. 'Shake hands with the young brave, my little daughter. He was your +brother's friend for many years. Now he must be both friend and brother +to you,' + +"Hereupon the girl rises. Slowly reaching out her slender hand, she +cries, with twitching lips, 'My brother!' The trial ends." + +"Grandmother!" exploded the girl on the bed of sweet-grass. "Is this +true?" + +"Tosh!" answered the grandmother, with a warmth in her voice. "It is all +true. During the fifteen winters of our wedded life many ponies passed +from our hands, but this little winner, Ohiyesa, was a constant member +of our family. At length, on that sad day your grandfather died, Ohiyesa +was killed at the grave." + +Though the various groups of stars which move across the sky, marking +the passing of time, told how the night was in its zenith, the old +Dakota woman ventured an explanation of the burial ceremony. + +"My grandchild, I have scarce ever breathed the sacred knowledge in my +heart. Tonight I must tell you one of them. Surely you are old enough +to understand. + +"Our wise medicine-man said I did well to hasten Ohiyesa after his +master. Perchance on the journey along the ghostpath your grandfather +will weary, and in his heart wish for his pony. The creature, already +bound on the spirit-trail, will be drawn by that subtle wish. Together +master and beast will enter the next camp-ground." + +The woman ceased her talking. But only the deep breathing of the girl +broke the quiet, for now the night wind had lulled itself to sleep. + +"Hinnu! hinnu! Asleep! I have been talking in the dark, unheard. I did +wish the girl would plant in her heart this sacred tale," muttered she, +in a querulous voice. + +Nestling into her bed of sweet-scented grass, she dozed away into +another dream. Still the guardian star in the night sky beamed +compassionately down upon the little tepee on the plain. + + + + +A WARRIOR'S DAUGHTER + + +In the afternoon shadow of a large tepee, with red-painted smoke lapels, +sat a warrior father with crossed shins. His head was so poised that his +eye swept easily the vast level land to the eastern horizon line. + +He was the chieftain's bravest warrior. He had won by heroic deeds the +privilege of staking his wigwam within the great circle of tepees. + +He was also one of the most generous gift givers to the toothless old +people. For this he was entitled to the red-painted smoke lapels on his +cone-shaped dwelling. He was proud of his honors. He never wearied of +rehearsing nightly his own brave deeds. Though by wigwam fires he prated +much of his high rank and widespread fame, his great joy was a wee +black-eyed daughter of eight sturdy winters. Thus as he sat upon the +soft grass, with his wife at his side, bent over her bead work, he was +singing a dance song, and beat lightly the rhythm with his slender +hands. + +His shrewd eyes softened with pleasure as he watched the easy movements +of the small body dancing on the green before him. + +Tusee is taking her first dancing lesson. Her tightly-braided hair +curves over both brown ears like a pair of crooked little horns which +glisten in the summer sun. + +With her snugly moccasined feet close together, and a wee hand at her +belt to stay the long string of beads which hang from her bare neck, she +bends her knees gently to the rhythm of her father's voice. + +Now she ventures upon the earnest movement, slightly upward and +sidewise, in a circle. At length the song drops into a closing cadence, +and the little woman, clad in beaded deerskin, sits down beside the +elder one. Like her mother, she sits upon her feet. In a brief moment +the warrior repeats the last refrain. Again Tusee springs to her feet +and dances to the swing of the few final measures. + +Just as the dance was finished, an elderly man, with short, thick hair +loose about his square shoulders, rode into their presence from the +rear, and leaped lightly from his pony's back. Dropping the rawhide rein +to the ground, he tossed himself lazily on the grass. "Hunhe, you have +returned soon," said the warrior, while extending a hand to his little +daughter. + +Quickly the child ran to her father's side and cuddled close to him, +while he tenderly placed a strong arm about her. Both father and child, +eyeing the figure on the grass, waited to hear the man's report. + +"It is true," began the man, with a stranger's accent. "This is the +night of the dance." + +"Hunha!" muttered the warrior with some surprise. + +Propping himself upon his elbows, the man raised his face. His features +were of the Southern type. From an enemy's camp he was taken captive +long years ago by Tusee's father. But the unusual qualities of the slave +had won the Sioux warrior's heart, and for the last three winters the +man had had his freedom. He was made real man again. His hair was +allowed to grow. However, he himself had chosen to stay in the warrior's +family. + +"Hunha!" again ejaculated the warrior father. Then turning to his little +daughter, he asked, "Tusee, do you hear that?" + +"Yes, father, and I am going to dance tonight!" + +With these words she bounded out of his arm and frolicked about in glee. +Hereupon the proud mother's voice rang out in a chiding laugh. + +"My child, in honor of your first dance your father must give a generous +gift. His ponies are wild, and roam beyond the great hill. Pray, what +has he fit to offer?" she questioned, the pair of puzzled eyes fixed +upon her. + +"A pony from the herd, mother, a fleet-footed pony from the herd!" Tusee +shouted with sudden inspiration. + +Pointing a small forefinger toward the man lying on the grass, she +cried, "Uncle, you will go after the pony tomorrow!" And pleased with +her solution of the problem, she skipped wildly about. Her childish +faith in her elders was not conditioned by a knowledge of human +limitations, but thought all things possible to grown-ups. + +"Hähob!" exclaimed the mother, with a rising inflection, implying by the +expletive that her child's buoyant spirit be not weighted with a denial. + +Quickly to the hard request the man replied, "How! I go if Tusee tells +me so!" + +This delighted the little one, whose black eyes brimmed over with light. +Standing in front of the strong man, she clapped her small, brown hands +with joy. + +"That makes me glad! My heart is good! Go, uncle, and bring a handsome +pony!" she cried. In an instant she would have frisked away, but an +impulse held her tilting where she stood. In the man's own tongue, for +he had taught her many words and phrases, she exploded, "Thank you, good +uncle, thank you!" then tore away from sheer excess of glee. + +The proud warrior father, smiling and narrowing his eyes, muttered +approval, "Howo! Hechetu!" + +Like her mother, Tusee has finely pencilled eyebrows and slightly +extended nostrils; but in her sturdiness of form she resembles her +father. + +A loyal daughter, she sits within her tepee making beaded deerskins for +her father, while he longs to stave off her every suitor as all unworthy +of his old heart's pride. But Tusee is not alone in her dwelling. Near +the entrance-way a young brave is half reclining on a mat. In silence he +watches the petals of a wild rose growing on the soft buckskin. Quickly +the young woman slips the beads on the silvery sinew thread, and works +them into the pretty flower design. Finally, in a low, deep voice, the +young man begins: + +"The sun is far past the zenith. It is now only a man's height above the +western edge of land. I hurried hither to tell you tomorrow I join the +war party." + +He pauses for reply, but the maid's head drops lower over her deerskin, +and her lips are more firmly drawn together. He continues: + +"Last night in the moonlight I met your warrior father. He seemed to +know I had just stepped forth from your tepee. I fear he did not like +it, for though I greeted him, he was silent. I halted in his pathway. +With what boldness I dared, while my heart was beating hard and fast, I +asked him for his only daughter. + +"Drawing himself erect to his tallest height, and gathering his loose +robe more closely about his proud figure, he flashed a pair of piercing +eyes upon me. + +"'Young man,' said he, with a cold, slow voice that chilled me to the +marrow of my bones, 'hear me. Naught but an enemy's scalp-lock, plucked +fresh with your own hand, will buy Tusee for your wife,' Then he turned +on his heel and stalked away." + +Tusee thrusts her work aside. With earnest eyes she scans her lover's +face. + +"My father's heart is really kind. He would know if you are brave and +true," murmured the daughter, who wished no ill-will between her two +loved ones. + +Then rising to go, the youth holds out a right hand. "Grasp my hand once +firmly before I go, Hoye. Pray tell me, will you wait and watch for my +return?" + +Tusee only nods assent, for mere words are vain. + +At early dawn the round camp-ground awakes into song. Men and women sing +of bravery and of triumph. They inspire the swelling breasts of the +painted warriors mounted on prancing ponies bedecked with the green +branches of trees. + +Riding slowly around the great ring of cone-shaped tepees, here and +there, a loud-singing warrior swears to avenge a former wrong, and +thrusts a bare brown arm against the purple east, calling the Great +Spirit to hear his vow. All having made the circuit, the singing war +party gallops away southward. + +Astride their ponies laden with food and deerskins, brave elderly women +follow after their warriors. Among the foremost rides a young woman in +elaborately beaded buckskin dress. Proudly mounted, she curbs with the +single rawhide loop a wild-eyed pony. + +It is Tusee on her father's warhorse. Thus the war party of Indian men +and their faithful women vanish beyond the southern skyline. + +A day's journey brings them very near the enemy's borderland. Nightfall +finds a pair of twin tepees nestled in a deep ravine. Within one lounge +the painted warriors, smoking their pipes and telling weird stories by +the firelight, while in the other watchful women crouch uneasily about +their center fire. + +By the first gray light in the east the tepees are banished. They are +gone. The warriors are in the enemy's camp, breaking dreams with their +tomahawks. The women are hid away in secret places in the long thicketed +ravine. + +The day is far spent, the red sun is low over the west. + +At length straggling warriors return, one by one, to the deep hollow. In +the twilight they number their men. Three are missing. Of these absent +ones two are dead; but the third one, a young man, is a captive to the +foe. + +"He-he!" lament the warriors, taking food in haste. + +In silence each woman, with long strides, hurries to and fro, tying +large bundles on her pony's back. Under cover of night the war party +must hasten homeward. Motionless, with bowed head, sits a woman in her +hiding-place. She grieves for her lover. + +In bitterness of spirit she hears the warriors' murmuring words. With +set teeth she plans to cheat the hated enemy of their captive. In the +meanwhile low signals are given, and the war party, unaware of Tusee's +absence, steal quietly away. The soft thud of pony-hoofs grows fainter +and fainter. The gradual hush of the empty ravine whirrs noisily in the +ear of the young woman. Alert for any sound of footfalls nigh, she holds +her breath to listen. Her right hand rests on a long knife in her belt. +Ah, yes, she knows where her pony is hid, but not yet has she need of +him. Satisfied that no danger is nigh, she prowls forth from her place +of hiding. With a panther's tread and pace she climbs the high ridge +beyond the low ravine. From thence she spies the enemy's camp-fires. + +Rooted to the barren bluff the slender woman's figure stands on the +pinnacle of night, outlined against a starry sky. The cool night breeze +wafts to her burning ear snatches of song and drum. With desperate hate +she bites her teeth. + +Tusee beckons the stars to witness. With impassioned voice and uplifted +face she pleads: + +"Great Spirit, speed me to my lover's rescue! Give me swift cunning for +a weapon this night! All-powerful Spirit, grant me my warrior-father's +heart, strong to slay a foe and mighty to save a friend!" + +In the midst of the enemy's camp-ground, underneath a temporary +dance-house, are men and women in gala-day dress. It is late in the +night, but the merry warriors bend and bow their nude, painted bodies +before a bright center fire. To the lusty men's voices and the rhythmic +throbbing drum, they leap and rebound with feathered headgears waving. + +Women with red-painted cheeks and long, braided hair sit in a large +half-circle against the willow railing. They, too, join in the singing, +and rise to dance with their victorious warriors. + +Amid this circular dance arena stands a prisoner bound to a post, +haggard with shame and sorrow. He hangs his disheveled head. + +He stares with unseeing eyes upon the bare earth at his feet. With jeers +and smirking faces the dancers mock the Dakota captive. Rowdy braves and +small boys hoot and yell in derision. + +Silent among the noisy mob, a tall woman, leaning both elbows on the +round willow railing, peers into the lighted arena. The dancing center +fire shines bright into her handsome face, intensifying the night in her +dark eyes. It breaks into myriad points upon her beaded dress. Unmindful +of the surging throng jostling her at either side, she glares in upon +the hateful, scoffing men. Suddenly she turns her head. Tittering maids +whisper near her ear: + +"There! There! See him now, sneering in the captive's face. 'Tis he who +sprang upon the young man and dragged him by his long hair to yonder +post. See! He is handsome! How gracefully he dances!" + +The silent young woman looks toward the bound captive. She sees a +warrior, scarce older than the captive, flourishing a tomahawk in the +Dakota's face. A burning rage darts forth from her eyes and brands him +for a victim of revenge. Her heart mutters within her breast, "Come, I +wish to meet you, vile foe, who captured my lover and tortures him now +with a living death." + +Here the singers hush their voices, and the dancers scatter to their +various resting-places along the willow ring. The victor gives a +reluctant last twirl of his tomahawk, then, like the others, he leaves +the center ground. With head and shoulders swaying from side to side, he +carries a high-pointing chin toward the willow railing. Sitting down +upon the ground with crossed legs, he fans himself with an outspread +turkey wing. + +Now and then he stops his haughty blinking to peep out of the corners of +his eyes. He hears some one clearing her throat gently. It is +unmistakably for his ear. The wing-fan swings irregularly to and fro. At +length he turns a proud face over a bare shoulder and beholds a handsome +woman smiling. + +"Ah, she would speak to a hero!" thumps his heart wildly. + +The singers raise their voices in unison. The music is irresistible. +Again lunges the victor into the open arena. Again he leers into the +captive's face. At every interval between the songs he returns to his +resting-place. Here the young woman awaits him. As he approaches she +smiles boldly into his eyes. He is pleased with her face and her smile. + +Waving his wing-fan spasmodically in front of his face, he sits with his +ears pricked up. He catches a low whisper. A hand taps him lightly on +the shoulder. The handsome woman speaks to him in his own tongue. "Come +out into the night. I wish to tell you who I am." + +He must know what sweet words of praise the handsome woman has for him. +With both hands he spreads the meshes of the loosely woven willows, and +crawls out unnoticed into the dark. + +Before him stands the young woman. Beckoning him with a slender hand, +she steps backward, away from the light and the restless throng of +onlookers. He follows with impatient strides. She quickens her pace. He +lengthens his strides. Then suddenly the woman turns from him and darts +away with amazing speed. Clinching his fists and biting his lower lip, +the young man runs after the fleeing woman. In his maddened pursuit he +forgets the dance arena. + +Beside a cluster of low bushes the woman halts. The young man, panting +for breath and plunging headlong forward, whispers loud, "Pray tell me, +are you a woman or an evil spirit to lure me away?" + +Turning on heels firmly planted in the earth, the woman gives a wild +spring forward, like a panther for its prey. In a husky voice she hissed +between her teeth, "I am a Dakota woman!" + +From her unerring long knife the enemy falls heavily at her feet. The +Great Spirit heard Tusee's prayer on the hilltop. He gave her a +warrior's strong heart to lessen the foe by one. + +A bent old woman's figure, with a bundle like a grandchild slung on her +back, walks round and round the dance-house. The wearied onlookers are +leaving in twos and threes. The tired dancers creep out of the willow +railing, and some go out at the entrance way, till the singers, too, +rise from the drum and are trudging drowsily homeward. Within the arena +the center fire lies broken in red embers. The night no longer lingers +about the willow railing, but, hovering into the dance-house, covers +here and there a snoring man whom sleep has overpowered where he sat. + +The captive in his tight-binding rawhide ropes hangs in hopeless +despair. Close about him the gloom of night is slowly crouching. Yet the +last red, crackling embers cast a faint light upon his long black hair, +and, shining through the thick mats, caress his wan face with undying +hope. + +Still about the dance-house the old woman prowls. Now the embers are +gray with ashes. + +The old bent woman appears at the entrance way. With a cautious, groping +foot she enters. Whispering between her teeth a lullaby for her sleeping +child in her blanket, she searches for something forgotten. + +Noisily snored the dreaming men in the darkest parts. As the lisping old +woman draws nigh, the captive again opens his eyes. + +A forefinger she presses to her lip. The young man arouses himself from +his stupor. His senses belie him. Before his wide-open eyes the old bent +figure straightens into its youthful stature. Tusee herself is beside +him. With a stroke upward and downward she severs the cruel cords with +her sharp blade. Dropping her blanket from her shoulders, so that it +hangs from her girdled waist like a skirt, she shakes the large bundle +into a light shawl for her lover. Quickly she spreads it over his bare +back. + +"Come!" she whispers, and turns to go; but the young man, numb and +helpless, staggers nigh to falling. + +The sight of his weakness makes her strong. A mighty power thrills her +body. Stooping beneath his outstretched arms grasping at the air for +support, Tusee lifts him upon her broad shoulders. With half-running, +triumphant steps she carries him away into the open night. + + + + +A DREAM OF HER GRANDFATHER + + +Her grandfather was a Dakota "medicine man." Among the Indians of his +day he was widely known for his successful healing work. He was one of +the leading men of the tribe and came to Washington, D.C., with one of +the first delegations relative to affairs concerning the Indian people +and the United States government. + +His was the first band of the Great Sioux Nation to make treaties with +the government in the hope of bringing about an amicable arrangement +between the red and white Americans. The journey to the nation's capital +was made almost entirely on pony-back, there being no railroads, and the +Sioux delegation was beset with many hardships on the trail. His visit +to Washington, in behalf of peace among men, proved to be his last +earthly mission. From a sudden illness, he died and was buried here. + +When his small granddaughter grew up she learned the white man's tongue, +and followed in the footsteps of her grandfather to the very seat of +government to carry on his humanitarian work. Though her days were +filled with problems for welfare work among her people, she had a +strange dream one night during her stay in Washington. The dream was +this: Returning from an afternoon out, she found a large cedar chest had +been delivered to her home in her absence. She sniffed the sweet perfume +of the red wood, which reminded her of the breath of the forest,--and +admired the box so neatly made, without trimmings. It looked so clean, +strong and durable in its native genuineness. With elation, she took the +tag in her hand and read her name aloud. "Who sent me this cedar chest?" +she asked, and was told it came from her grandfather. + +Wondering what gift it could be her grandfather wished now to confer +upon her, wholly disregarding his death years ago, she was all eagerness +to open the mystery chest. + +She remembered her childhood days and the stories she loved to hear +about the unusual powers of her grandfather,--recalled how she, the wee +girl, had coveted the medicine bags, beaded and embroidered in porcupine +quills, in symbols designed by the great "medicine man," her +grandfather. Well did she remember her merited rebuke that such things +were never made for relics. Treasures came in due time to those ready to +receive them. + +In great expectancy, she lifted the heavy lid of the cedar chest. "Oh!" +she exclaimed, with a note of disappointment, seeing no beaded Indian +regalia or trinkets. "Why does my grandfather send such a light gift in +a heavy, large box?" She was mystified and much perplexed. + +The gift was a fantastic thing, of texture far more delicate than a +spider's filmy web. It was a vision! A picture of an Indian camp, not +painted on canvas nor yet written. It was dream-stuff, suspended in the +thin air, filling the inclosure of the cedar wood container. As she +looked upon it, the picture grew more and more real, exceeding the +proportions of the chest. It was all so illusive a breath might have +blown it away; yet there it was, real as life,--a circular camp of white +cone-shaped tepees, astir with Indian people. The village crier, with +flowing head-dress of eagle plumes, mounted on a prancing white pony, +rode within the arena. Indian men, women and children stopped in groups +and clusters, while bright painted faces peered out of tepee doors, to +listen to the chieftain's crier. + +At this point, she, too, heard the full melodious voice. She heard +distinctly the Dakota words he proclaimed to the people. "Be glad! +Rejoice! Look up, and see the new day dawning! Help is near! Hear me, +every one." + +She caught the glad tidings and was thrilled with new hope for her +people. + + + + +THE WIDESPREAD ENIGMA CONCERNING BLUE-STAR WOMAN + + +It was summer on the western plains. Fields of golden sunflowers facing +eastward, greeted the rising sun. Blue-Star Woman, with windshorn braids +of white hair over each ear, sat in the shade of her log hut before an +open fire. Lonely but unmolested she dwelt here like the ground squirrel +that took its abode nearby,--both through the easy tolerance of the land +owner. The Indian woman held a skillet over the burning embers. A large +round cake, with long slashes in its center, was baking and crowding the +capacity of the frying pan. + +In deep abstraction Blue-Star Woman prepared her morning meal. "Who am +I?" had become the obsessing riddle of her life. She was no longer a +young woman, being in her fifty-third year. In the eyes of the white +man's law, it was required of her to give proof of her membership in the +Sioux tribe. The unwritten law of heart prompted her naturally to say, +"I am a being. I am Blue-Star Woman. A piece of earth is my birthright." + +It was taught, for reasons now forgot, that an Indian should never +pronounce his or her name in answer to any inquiry. It was probably a +means of protection in the days of black magic. Be this as it may, +Blue-Star Woman lived in times when this teaching was disregarded. It +gained her nothing, however, to pronounce her name to the government +official to whom she applied for her share of tribal land. His +persistent question was always, "Who were your parents?" + +Blue-Star Woman was left an orphan at a tender age. She did not remember +them. They were long gone to the spirit-land,-and she could not +understand why they should be recalled to earth on her account. It was +another one of the old, old teachings of her race that the names of the +dead should not be idly spoken. It had become a sacrilege to mention +carelessly the name of any departed one, especially in matters of +disputes over worldy possessions. The unfortunate circumstances of her +early childhood, together with the lack of written records of a roving +people, placed a formidable barrier between her and her heritage. The +fact was events of far greater importance to the tribe than her +reincarnation had passed unrecorded in books. The verbal reports of the +old-time men and women of the tribe were varied,--some were actually +contradictory. Blue-Star Woman was unable to find even a twig of her +family tree. + +She sharpened one end of a long stick and with it speared the fried +bread when it was browned. Heedless of the hot bread's "Tsing!" in a +high treble as it was lifted from the fire, she added it to the six +others which had preceded it. It had been many a moon since she had had +a meal of fried bread, for she was too poor to buy at any one time all +the necessary ingredients, particularly the fat in which to fry it. +During the breadmaking, the smoke-blackened coffeepot boiled over. The +aroma of freshly made coffee smote her nostrils and roused her from the +tantalizing memories. + +The day before, friendly spirits, the unseen ones, had guided her +aimless footsteps to her Indian neighbor's house. No sooner had she +entered than she saw on the table some grocery bundles. "Iye-que, +fortunate one!" she exclaimed as she took the straight-backed chair +offered her. At once the Indian hostess untied the bundles and measured +out a cupful of green coffee beans and a pound of lard. She gave them to +Blue-Star Woman, saying, "I want to share my good fortune. Take these +home with you." Thus it was that Blue-Star Woman had come into +unexpected possession of the materials which now contributed richly to +her breakfast. + +The generosity of her friend had often saved her from starvation. +Generosity is said to be a fault of Indian people, but neither the +Pilgrim Fathers nor Blue-Star Woman ever held it seriously against them. +Blue-Star Woman was even grateful for this gift of food. She was fond of +coffee,-that black drink brought hither by those daring voyagers of long +ago. The coffee habit was one of the signs of her progress in the white +man's civilization, also had she emerged from the tepee into a log hut, +another achievement. She had learned to read the primer and to write her +name. Little Blue-Star attended school unhindered by a fond mother's +fears that a foreign teacher might not spare the rod with her darling. + +Blue-Star Woman was her individual name. For untold ages the Indian +race had not used family names. A new-born child was given a brand-new +name. Blue-Star Woman was proud to write her name for which she would +not be required to substitute another's upon her marriage, as is the +custom of civilized peoples. + +"The times are changed now," she muttered under her breath. "My +individual name seems to mean nothing." Looking out into space, she saw +the nodding sunflowers, and they acquiesced with her. Their drying +leaves reminded her of the near approach of autumn. Then soon, very +soon, the ice would freeze along the banks of the muddy river. The day +of the first ice was her birthday. She would be fifty-four winters old. +How futile had been all these winters to secure her a share in tribal +lands. A weary smile flickered across her face as she sat there on the +ground like a bronze figure of patience and long-suffering. + +The breadmaking was finished. The skillet was set aside to cool. She +poured the appetizing coffee into her tin cup. With fried bread and +black coffee she regaled herself. Again her mind reverted to her +riddle. "The missionary preacher said he could not explain the white +man's law to me. He who reads daily from the Holy Bible, which he tells +me is God's book, cannot understand mere man's laws. This also puzzles +me," thought she to herself. "Once a wise leader of our people, +addressing a president of this country, said: 'I am a man. You are +another. The Great Spirit is our witness!' This is simple and easy to +understand, but the times are changed. The white man's laws are +strange." + +Blue-Star Woman broke off a piece of fried bread between a thumb and +forefinger. She ate it hungrily, and sipped from her cup of fragrant +coffee. "I do not understand the white man's law. It's like walking in +the dark. In this darkness, I am growing fearful of everything." + +Oblivious to the world, she had not heard the footfall of two Indian men +who now stood before her. + +Their short-cropped hair looked blue-black in contrast to the faded +civilian clothes they wore. Their white man's shoes were rusty and +unpolished. To the unconventional eyes of the old Indian woman, their +celluloid collars appeared like shining marks of civilization. Blue-Star +Woman looked up from the lap of mother earth without rising. "Hinnu, +hinnu!" she ejaculated in undisguised surprise. "Pray, who are these +would-be white men?" she inquired. + +In one voice and by an assumed relationship the two Indian men addressed +her. "Aunt, I shake hands with you." Again Blue-Star Woman remarked, +"Oh, indeed! these near white men speak my native tongue and shake hands +according to our custom." Did she guess the truth, she would have known +they were simply deluded mortals, deceiving others and themselves most +of all. Boisterously laughing and making conversation, they each in turn +gripped her withered hand. + +Like a sudden flurry of wind, tossing loose ends of things, they broke +into her quiet morning hour and threw her groping thoughts into greater +chaos. Masking their real errand with long-drawn faces, they feigned a +concern for her welfare only. "We come to ask how you are living. We +heard you were slowly starving to death. We heard you are one of those +Indians who have been cheated out of their share in tribal lands by the +government officials." + +Blue-Star Woman became intensely interested. + +"You see we are educated in the white man's ways," they said with +protruding chests. One unconsciously thrust his thumbs into the +arm-holes of his ill-fitting coat and strutted about in his pride. "We +can help you get your land. We want to help our aunt. All old people +like you ought to be helped before the younger ones. The old will die +soon, and they may never get the benefit of their land unless some one +like us helps them to get their rights, without further delay." + +Blue-Star Woman listened attentively. + +Motioning to the mats she spread upon the ground, she said: "Be seated, +my nephews." She accepted the relationship assumed for the occasion. "I +will give you some breakfast." Quickly she set before them a generous +helping of fried bread and cups of coffee. Resuming her own meal, she +continued, "You are wonderfully kind. It is true, my nephews, that I +have grown old trying to secure my share of land. It may not be long +till I shall pass under the sod." + +The two men responded with "How, how," which meant, "Go on with your +story. We are all ears." Blue-Star Woman had not yet detected any +particular sharpness about their ears, but by an impulse she looked up +into their faces and scrutinized them. They were busily engaged in +eating. Their eyes were fast upon the food on the mat in front of their +crossed shins. Inwardly she made a passing observation how, like +ravenous wolves, her nephews devoured their food. Coyotes in midwinter +could not have been more starved. Without comment she offered them the +remaining fried cakes, and between them they took it all. She offered +the second helping of coffee, which they accepted without hesitancy. +Filling their cups, she placed her empty coffeepot on the dead ashes. + +To them she rehearsed her many hardships. It had become a habit now to +tell her long story of disappointments with all its petty details. It +was only another instance of good intentions gone awry. It was a paradox +upon a land of prophecy that its path to future glory be stained with +the blood of its aborigines. Incongruous as it is, the two nephews, with +their white associates, were glad of a condition so profitable to them. +Their solicitation for Blue-Star Woman was not at all altruistic. They +thrived in their grafting business. They and their occupation were the +by-product of an unwieldly bureaucracy over the nation's wards. + +"Dear aunt, you failed to establish the facts of your identity," they +told her. Hereupon Blue-Star Woman's countenance fell. It was ever the +same old words. It was the old song of the government official she +loathed to hear. The next remark restored her courage. "If any one can +discover evidence, it's us! I tell you, aunt, we'll fix it all up for +you." It was a great relief to the old Indian woman to be thus +unburdened of her riddle, with a prospect of possessing land. "There is +one thing you will have to do,--that is, to pay us half of your land and +money when you get them." Here was a pause, and Blue-Star Woman answered +slowly, "Y-e-s," in an uncertain frame of mind. + +The shrewd schemers noted her behavior. "Wouldn't you rather have a half +of a crust of bread than none at all?" they asked. She was duly +impressed with the force of their argument. In her heart she agreed, "A +little something to eat is better than nothing!" The two men talked in +regular relays. The flow of smooth words was continuous and so much like +purring that all the woman's suspicions were put soundly to sleep. "Look +here, aunt, you know very well that prairie fire is met with a +back-fire." Blue-Star Woman, recalling her experiences in fire-fighting, +quickly responded, "Yes, oh, yes." + +"In just the same way, we fight crooks with crooks. We have clever white +lawyers working with us. They are the back-fire." Then, as if +remembering some particular incident, they both laughed aloud and said, +"Yes, and sometimes they use us as the back-fire! We trade fifty-fifty." + +Blue-Star Woman sat with her chin in the palm of one hand with elbow +resting in the other. She rocked herself slightly forward and backward. +At length she answered, "Yes, I will pay you half of my share in tribal +land and money when I get them. In bygone days, brave young men of the +order of the White-Horse-Riders sought out the aged, the poor, the +widows and orphans to aid them, but they did their good work without +pay. The White-Horse-Riders are gone. The times are changed. I am a poor +old Indian woman. I need warm clothing before winter begins to blow its +icicles through us. I need fire wood. I need food. As you have said, a +little help is better than none." + +Hereupon the two pretenders scored another success. + +They rose to their feet. They had eaten up all the fried bread and +drained the coffeepot. They shook hands with Blue-Star Woman and +departed. In the quiet that followed their departure she sat munching +her small piece of bread, which, by a lucky chance, she had taken on her +plate before the hungry wolves had come. Very slowly she ate the +fragment of fried bread as if to increase it by diligent mastication. A +self-condemning sense of guilt disturbed her. In her dire need she had +become involved with tricksters. Her nephews laughingly told her, "We +use crooks, and crooks use us in the skirmish over Indian lands." + +The friendly shade of the house shrank away from her and hid itself +under the narrow eaves of the dirt covered roof. She shrugged her +shoulders. The sun high in the sky had witnessed the affair and now +glared down upon her white head. Gathering upon her arm the mats and +cooking utensils, she hobbled into her log hut. + +Under the brooding wilderness silence, on the Sioux Indian Reservation, +the superintendent summoned together the leading Indian men of the +tribe. He read a letter which he had received from headquarters in +Washington, D.C. It announced the enrollment of Blue-Star Woman on their +tribal roll of members and the approval of allotting land to her. + +It came as a great shock to the tribesmen. Without their knowledge and +consent their property was given to a strange woman. They protested in +vain. The superintendent said, "I received this letter from Washington. +I have read it to you for your information. I have fulfilled my duty. I +can do no more." With these fateful words he dismissed the assembly. + +Heavy hearted, Chief High Flier returned to his dwelling. Smoking his +long-stemmed pipe he pondered over the case of Blue-Star Woman. The +Indian's guardian had got into a way of usurping autocratic power in +disposing of the wards' property. It was growing intolerable. "No doubt +this Indian woman is entitled to allotment, but where? Certainly not +here," he thought to himself. + +Laying down his pipe, he called his little granddaughter from her play, +"You are my interpreter and scribe," he said. "Bring your paper and +pencil." A letter was written in the child's sprawling hand, and signed +by the old chieftain. It read: + +"My Friend: + +"I make letter to you. My heart is sad. Washington give my tribe's land +to a woman called Blue-Star. We do not know her. We were not asked to +give land, but our land is taken from us to give to another Indian. This +is not right. Lots of little children of my tribe have no land. Why this +strange woman get our land which belongs to our children? Go to +Washington and ask if our treaties tell him to give our property away +without asking us. Tell him I thought we made good treaties on paper, +but now our children cry for food. We are too poor. We cannot give even +to our own little children. Washington is very rich. Washington now +owns our country. If he wants to help this poor Indian woman, Blue-Star, +let him give her some of his land and his money. This is all I will say +until you answer me. I shake hands with you with my heart. The Great +Spirit hears my words. They are true. + +"Your friend, + +"CHIEF HIGH FLIER. + +"X (his mark)." + +The letter was addressed to a prominent American woman. A stamp was +carefully placed on the envelope. + +Early the next morning, before the dew was off the grass, the +chieftain's riding pony was caught from the pasture and brought to his +log house. It was saddled and bridled by a younger man, his son with +whom he made his home. The old chieftain came out, carrying in one hand +his long-stemmed pipe and tobacco pouch. His blanket was loosely girdled +about his waist. Tightly holding the saddle horn, he placed a moccasined +foot carefully into the stirrup and pulled himself up awkwardly into the +saddle, muttering to himself, "Alas, I can no more leap into my saddle. +I now must crawl about in my helplessness." He was past eighty years of +age, and no longer agile. + +He set upon his ten-mile trip to the only post office for hundreds of +miles around. In his shirt pocket, he carried the letter destined, in +due season, to reach the heart of American people. His pony, grown old +in service, jogged along the dusty road. Memories of other days thronged +the wayside, and for the lonely rider transformed all the country. Those +days were gone when the Indian youths were taught to be truthful,--to be +merciful to the poor. Those days were gone when moral cleanliness was a +chief virtue; when public feasts were given in honor of the virtuous +girls and young men of the tribe. Untold mischief is now possible +through these broken ancient laws. The younger generation were not being +properly trained in the high virtues. A slowly starving race was growing +mad, and the pitifully weak sold their lands for a pot of porridge. + +"He, he, he! He, he, he!" he lamented. "Small Voice Woman, my own +relative is being represented as the mother of this strange +Blue-Star--the papers were made by two young Indian men who have +learned the white man's ways. Why must I be forced to accept the +mischief of children? My memory is clear. My reputation for veracity is +well known. + +"Small Voice Woman lived in my house until her death. She had only one +child and it was a _boy_!" He held his hand over this thumping heart, +and was reminded of the letter in his pocket. "This letter,--what will +happen when it reaches my good friend?" he asked himself. The chieftain +rubbed his dim eyes and groaned, "If only my good friend knew the folly +of turning my letter into the hands of bureaucrats! In face of repeated +defeat, I am daring once more to send this one letter." An inner voice +said in his ear, "And this one letter will share the same fate of the +other letters." + +Startled by the unexpected voice, he jerked upon the bridle reins and +brought the drowsy pony to a sudden halt. There was no one near. He +found himself a mile from the post office, for the cluster of government +buildings, where lived the superintendent, were now in plain sight. His +thin frame shook with emotion. He could not go there with his letter. + +He dismounted from his pony. His quavering voice chanted a bravery song +as he gathered dry grasses and the dead stalks of last year's +sunflowers. He built a fire, and crying aloud, for his sorrow was +greater than he could bear, he cast the letter into the flames. The fire +consumed it. He sent his message on the wings of fire and he believed +she would get it. He yet trusted that help would come to his people +before it was too late. The pony tossed his head in a readiness to go. +He knew he was on the return trip and he was glad to travel. + +The wind which blew so gently at dawn was now increased into a gale as +the sun approached the zenith. The chieftain, on his way home, sensed a +coming storm. He looked upward to the sky and around in every direction. +Behind him, in the distance, he saw a cloud of dust. He saw several +horsemen whipping their ponies and riding at great speed. Occasionally +he heard their shouts, as if calling after some one. He slackened his +pony's pace and frequently looked over his shoulder to see who the +riders were advancing in hot haste upon him. He was growing curious. In +a short time the riders surrounded him. On their coats shone brass +buttons, and on their hats were gold cords and tassels. They were Indian +police. + +"Wan!" he exclaimed, finding himself the object of their chase. It was +their foolish ilk who had murdered the great leader, Sitting Bull. +"Pray, what is the joke? Why do young men surround an old man quietly +riding home?" + +"Uncle," said the spokesman, "we are hirelings, as you know. We are sent +by the government superintendent to arrest you and take you back with +us. The superintendent says you are one of the bad Indians, singing war +songs and opposing the government all the time; this morning you were +seen trying to set fire to the government agency." + +"Hunhunhe!" replied the old chief, placing the palm of his hand over his +mouth agap in astonishment. "All this is unbelievable!" + +The policeman took hold of the pony's bridle and turned the reluctant +little beast around. They led it back with them and the old chieftain +set unresisting in the saddle. High Flier was taken before the +superintendent, who charged him with setting fires to destroy government +buildings and found him guilty. Thus Chief High Flier was sent to jail. +He had already suffered much during his life. He was the voiceless man +of America. And now in his old age he was cast into prison. The chagrin +of it all, together with his utter helplessness to defend his own or his +people's human rights, weighed heavily upon his spirit. + +The foul air of the dingy cell nauseated him who loved the open. He sat +wearily down upon the tattered mattress, which lay on the rough board +floor. He drew his robe closely about his tall figure, holding it +partially over his face, his hands covered within the folds. In profound +gloom the gray-haired prisoner sat there, without a stir for long hours +and knew not when the day ended and night began. He sat buried in his +desperation. His eyes were closed, but he could not sleep. Bread and +water in tin receptacles set upon the floor beside him untouched. He was +not hungry. Venturesome mice crept out upon the floor and scampered in +the dim starlight streaming through the iron bars of the cell window. +They squeaked as they dared each other to run across his moccasined +feet, but the chieftain neither saw nor heard them. + +A terrific struggle was waged within his being. He fought as he never +fought before. Tenaciously he hung upon hope for the day of +salvation--that hope hoary with age. Defying all odds against him, he +refused to surrender faith in good people. + +Underneath his blanket, wrapped so closely about him, stole a luminous +light. Before his stricken consciousness appeared a vision. Lo, his good +friend, the American woman to whom he had sent his messages by fire, now +stood there a legion! A vast multitude of women, with uplifted hands, +gazed upon a huge stone image. Their upturned faces were eager and very +earnest. The stone figure was that of a woman upon the brink of the +Great Waters, facing eastward. The myriad living hands remained uplifted +till the stone woman began to show signs of life. Very majestically she +turned around, and, lo, she smiled upon this great galaxy of American +women. She was the Statue of Liberty! It was she, who, though +representing human liberty, formerly turned her back upon the American +aborigine. Her face was aglow with compassion. Her eyes swept across the +outspread continent of America, the home of the red man. + +At this moment her torch flamed brighter and whiter till its radiance +reached into the obscure and remote places of the land. Her light of +liberty penetrated Indian reservations. A loud shout of joy rose up from +the Indians of the earth, everywhere! + +All too soon the picture was gone. Chief High Flier awoke. He lay +prostrate on the floor where during the night he had fallen. He rose and +took his seat again upon the mattress. Another day was ushered into his +life. In his heart lay the secret vision of hope born in the midnight of +his sorrows. It enabled him to serve his jail sentence with a mute +dignity which baffled those who saw him. + +Finally came the day of his release. There was rejoicing over all the +land. The desolate hills that harbored wailing voices nightly now were +hushed and still. Only gladness filled the air. A crowd gathered around +the jail to greet the chieftain. His son stood at the entrance way, +while the guard unlocked the prison door. Serenely quiet, the old +Indian chief stepped forth. An unseen stone in his path caused him to +stumble slightly, but his son grasped him by the hand and steadied his +tottering steps. He led him to a heavy lumber wagon drawn by a small +pony team which he had brought to take him home. The people thronged +about him--hundreds shook hands with him and went away singing native +songs of joy for the safe return to them of their absent one. + +Among the happy people came Blue-Star Woman's two nephews. Each shook +the chieftain's hand. One of them held out an ink pad saying, "We are +glad we were able to get you out of jail. We have great influence with +the Indian Bureau in Washington, D.C. When you need help, let us know. +Here press your thumb in this pad." His companion took from his pocket a +document prepared for the old chief's signature, and held it on the +wagon wheel for the thumb mark. The chieftain was taken by surprise. He +looked into his son's eyes to know the meaning of these two men. "It is +our agreement," he explained to his old father. "I pledged to pay them +half of your land if they got you out of jail." + +The old chieftain sighed, but made no comment. Words were vain. He +pressed his indelible thumb mark, his signature it was, upon the deed, +and drove home with his son. + + + * * * * * + + +AMERICA'S INDIAN PROBLEM + +The hospitality of the American aborigine, it is told, saved the early +settlers from starvation during the first bleak winters. In +commemoration of having been so well received, Newport erected "a cross +as a sign of English dominion." With sweet words he quieted the +suspicions of Chief Powhatan, his friend. He "told him that the arms (of +the cross) represented Powhatan and himself, and the middle their united +league." + +DeSoto and his Spaniards were graciously received by the Indian Princess +Cofachiqui in the South. While on a sight-seeing tour they entered the +ancestral tombs of those Indians. DeSoto "dipped into the pearls and +gave his two joined hands full to each cavalier to make rosaries of, he +said, to say prayers for their sins on. We imagine if their prayers were +in proportion to their sins they must have spent the most of their time +at their devotions." + +It was in this fashion that the old world snatched away the fee in the +land of the new. It was in this fashion that America was divided +between the powers of Europe and the aborigines were dispossessed of +their country. The barbaric rule of might from which the paleface had +fled hither for refuge caught up with him again, and in the melee the +hospitable native suffered "legal disability." + +History tells that it was from the English and the Spanish our +government inherited its legal victims, the American Indians, whom to +this day we hold as wards and not as citizens of their own freedom +loving land. A long century of dishonor followed this inheritance of +somebody's loot. Now the time is at hand when the American Indian shall +have his day in court through the help of the women of America. The +stain upon America's fair name is to be removed, and the remnant of the +Indian nation, suffering from malnutrition, is to number among the +invited invisible guests at your dinner tables. + +In this undertaking there must be cooperation of head, heart and hand. +We serve both our own government and a voiceless people within our +midst. We would open the door of American opportunity to the red man and +encourage him to find his rightful place in our American life. We would +remove the barriers that hinder his normal development. + +Wardship is no substitute for American citizenship, therefore we seek +his enfranchisement. The many treaties made in good faith with the +Indian by our government we would like to see equitably settled. By a +constructive program we hope to do away with the "piecemeal legislation" +affecting Indians here and there which has proven an exceedingly +expensive and disappointing method. + +Do you know what _your_ Bureau of Indian Affairs, in Washington, D.C., +really is? How it is organized and how it deals with wards of the +nation? This is our first study. Let us be informed of facts and then we +may formulate our opinions. In the remaining space allowed me I shall +quote from the report of the Bureau of Municipal Research, in their +investigation of the Indian Bureau, published by them in the September +issue, 1915, No. 65, "Municipal Research," 261 Broadway, New York City. +This report is just as good for our use today as when it was first made, +for very little, if any, change has been made in the administration of +Indian Affairs since then. + + +PREFATORY NOTE. + +"While this report was printed for the information of members of +Congress, it was not made a part of the report of the Joint Commission +of Congress, at whose request it was prepared, and is not available for +distribution." + + +UNPUBLISHED DIGEST OF STATUTORY AND TREATY PROVISIONS GOVERNING INDIAN +FUNDS. + +"When in 1913 inquiry was made into the accounting and reporting methods +of the Indian Office by the President's Commission on Economy and +Efficiency, it was found there was no digest of the provisions of +statutes and treaties with Indian tribes governing Indian funds and the +trust obligations of the government. Such a digest was therefore +prepared. It was not completed, however, until after Congress adjourned +March 4, 1913. Then, instead of being published, it found its way into +the pigeon-holes in the Interior Department and the Civil Service +Commission, where the working papers and unpublished reports of the +commission were ordered stored. The digest itself would make a document +of about three hundred pages." + + +UNPUBLISHED OUTLINE OF ORGANIZATION. + +"By order of the President, the commission, in cooperation with various +persons assigned to this work, also prepared at great pains a complete +analysis of the organization of every department, office and commission +of the federal government as of July 1, 1912. This represented a +complete picture of the government as a whole in summary outline; it +also represented an accurate picture of every administrative bureau, +office, and of every operative or field station, and showed in his +working relation each of the 500,000 officers and employes in the public +service. The report in typewritten form was one of the working documents +used in the preparation of the 'budget' submitted by President Taft to +Congress in February, 1913. The 'budget' was ordered printed by +Congress, but the cost thereof was to be charged against the President's +appropriation. There was not enough money remaining in this +appropriation to warrant the printing of the report on organization. It, +therefore, also found repose in a dark closet." + + +TOO VOLUMINOUS TO BE MADE PART OF THIS SERIES. + +"Congress alone could make the necessary provision for the publication +of these materials; the documents are too voluminous to be printed as a +part of this series, even if official permission were granted. It is +again suggested, however, that the data might be made readily accessible +and available to students by placing in manuscript division of the +Library of Congress one copy of the unpublished reports and working +papers of the President's Commission on Economy and Efficiency. This +action was recommended by the commission, but the only official action +taken was to order that the materials be placed under lock and key in +the Civil Service Commission." + + +NEED FOR SPECIAL CARE IN MANAGEMENT. + +"The need for special care in the management of Indian Affairs lies in +the fact that in theory of law the Indian has not the rights of a +citizen. He has not even the rights of a foreign resident. The Indian +individually does not have access to the courts; he can not individually +appeal to the administrative and judicial branches of the public service +for the enforcement of his rights. He himself is considered as a ward of +the United States. His property and funds are held in trust. * * * The +Indian Office is the agency of the government for administering both the +guardianship of the Indian and the trusteeship of his properties." + + +CONDITIONS ADVERSE TO GOOD ADMINISTRATION. + +"The legal status of the Indian and his property is the condition which +makes it incumbent on the government to assume the obligation of +protector. What is of special interest in this inquiry is to note the +conditions under which the Indian Office has been required to conduct +its business. In no other relation are the agents of the government +under conditions more adverse to efficient administration. The +influence which make for the infidelity to trusteeship, for subversion +of properties and funds, for the violation of physical and moral welfare +have been powerful. The opportunities and inducements are much greater +than those which have operated with ruinous effect on other branches of +public service and on the trustees and officers of our great private +corporations. In many instances, the integrity of these have been broken +down." + + +GOVERNMENT MACHINERY INADEQUATE. + +"* * * Behind the sham protection, which operated largely as a blind to +publicity, have been at all times great wealth in the form of Indian +funds to be subverted; valuable lands, mines, oil fields, and other +natural resources to be despoiled or appropriated to the use of the +trader; and large profits to be made by those dealing with trustees who +were animated by motives of gain. This has been the situation in which +the Indian Service has been for more than a century--the Indian during +all this time having his rights and properties to greater or less extent +neglected; the guardian, the government, in many instances, passive to +conditions which have contributed to his undoing." + + +OPPORTUNITIES STILL PRESENT. + +"And still, due to the increasing value of his remaining estate, there +is left an inducement to fraud, corruption, and institutional +incompetence almost beyond the possibility of comprehension. The +properties and funds of the Indians today are estimated at not less than +one thousand millions of dollars. There is still a great obligation to +be discharged, which must run through many years. The government itself +owes many millions of dollars for Indian moneys which it has converted +to its own use, and it is of interest to note that it does not know and +the officers do not know what is the present condition of the Indian +funds in their keeping." + + +PRIMARY DEFECTS. + +"* * * The story of the mismanagement of Indian Affairs is only a +chapter in the history of the mismanagement of corporate trusts. The +Indian has been the victim of the same kind of neglect, the same +abortive processes, the same malpractices as have the life insurance +policyholders, the bank depositor, the industrial and transportation +shareholder. The form of organization of the trusteeship has been one +which does not provide for independent audit and supervision. The +institutional methods and practices have been such that they do not +provide either a fact basis for official judgment or publicity of facts +which, if made available, would supply evidence of infidelity. In the +operation of this machinery, there has not been the means provided for +effective official scrutiny and the public conscience could not be +reached." + + +AMPLE PRECEDENTS TO BE FOLLOWED. + +"Precedents to be followed are ample. In private corporate trusts that +have been mismanaged a basis of appeal has been found only when some +favorable circumstance has brought to light conditions so shocking as to +cause those people who have possessed political power, as a matter of +self-protection, to demand a thorough reorganization and revision of +methods. The same motive has lain back of legislation for the Indian. +But the motive to political action has been less effective, for the +reason that in the past the Indians who have acted in self-protection +have either been killed or placed in confinement. All the machinery of +government has been set to work to repress rather than to provide +adequate means for justly dealing with a large population which had no +political rights."--Edict Magazine. + + + * * * * * + + +_This Book should be in every home_ + +Old Indian Legends + + +25 Seminole Avenue, Forest Hill, L.I., N.Y., + +August 25, 1919. + +Dear Zitkala-Sa: + +I thank you for your book on Indian legends. I have read them with +exquisite pleasure. Like all folk tales they mirror the child life of +the world. There is in them a note of wild, strange music. + +You have translated them into our language in a way that will keep them +alive in the hearts of men. They are so young, so fresh, so full of the +odors of the virgin forest untrod by the foot of white man! The thoughts +of your people seem dipped in the colors of the rainbow, palpitant with +the play of winds, eerie with the thrill of a spirit-world unseen but +felt and feared. + +Your tales of birds, beast, tree and spirit can not but hold captive the +hearts of all children. They will kindle in their young minds that +eternal wonder which creates poetry and keeps life fresh and eager. I +wish you and your little book of Indian tales all success. + +I am always + +Sincerely your friend, + +(Signed) HELEN KELLER. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of American Indian stories, by Zitkala-Sa + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10376 *** diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: American Indian stories + +Author: Zitkala-Sa + +Release Date: December 3, 2003 [EBook #10376] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AMERICAN INDIAN STORIES *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Brett Koonce and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team + + + + + +AMERICAN INDIAN STORIES + +BY + +ZITKALA-SA _(Gertrude Bonnin)_ + +Dakota Sioux Indian + +Lecturer; Author of "Old Indian Legends," "Americanize The First +American," and other stories; Member of the Woman's National Foundation, +League of American Pen-Women, and the Washington Salon + + +"_There is no great; there is no small; in the mind that causeth all_" + +1921 + + + + +CONTENTS + +Impressions of an Indian Childhood + +The School Days of an Indian Girl + +An Indian Teacher Among Indians + +The Great Spirit + +The Soft-Hearted Sioux + +The Trial Path + +A Warrior's Daughter + +A Dream of Her Grandfather + +The Widespread Enigma of Blue-Star Woman + +America's Indian Problem + + + + +IMPRESSIONS OF AN INDIAN CHILDHOOD + +I. + +MY MOTHER. + + +A wigwam of weather-stained canvas stood at the base of some irregularly +ascending hills. A footpath wound its way gently down the sloping land +till it reached the broad river bottom; creeping through the long swamp +grasses that bent over it on either side, it came out on the edge of the +Missouri. + +Here, morning, noon, and evening, my mother came to draw water from the +muddy stream for our household use. Always, when my mother started for +the river, I stopped my play to run along with her. She was only of +medium height. Often she was sad and silent, at which times her full +arched lips were compressed into hard and bitter lines, and shadows fell +under her black eyes. Then I clung to her hand and begged to know what +made the tears fall. + +"Hush; my little daughter must never talk about my tears"; and smiling +through them, she patted my head and said, "Now let me see how fast you +can run today." Whereupon I tore away at my highest possible speed, with +my long black hair blowing in the breeze. + +I was a wild little girl of seven. Loosely clad in a slip of brown +buckskin, and light-footed with a pair of soft moccasins on my feet, I +was as free as the wind that blew my hair, and no less spirited than a +bounding deer. These were my mother's pride,--my wild freedom and +overflowing spirits. She taught me no fear save that of intruding myself +upon others. + +Having gone many paces ahead I stopped, panting for breath, and laughing +with glee as my mother watched my every movement. I was not wholly +conscious of myself, but was more keenly alive to the fire within. It +was as if I were the activity, and my hands and feet were only +experiments for my spirit to work upon. + +Returning from the river, I tugged beside my mother, with my hand upon +the bucket I believed I was carrying. One time, on such a return, I +remember a bit of conversation we had. My grown-up cousin, Warca-Ziwin +(Sunflower), who was then seventeen, always went to the river alone for +water for her mother. Their wigwam was not far from ours; and I saw her +daily going to and from the river. I admired my cousin greatly. So I +said: "Mother, when I am tall as my cousin Warca-Ziwin, you shall not +have to come for water. I will do it for you." + +With a strange tremor in her voice which I could not understand, she +answered, "If the paleface does not take away from us the river we +drink." + +"Mother, who is this bad paleface?" I asked. + +"My little daughter, he is a sham,--a sickly sham! The bronzed Dakota is +the only real man." + +I looked up into my mother's face while she spoke; and seeing her bite +her lips, I knew she was unhappy. This aroused revenge in my small soul. +Stamping my foot on the earth, I cried aloud, "I hate the paleface that +makes my mother cry!" + +Setting the pail of water on the ground, my mother stooped, and +stretching her left hand out on the level with my eyes, she placed her +other arm about me; she pointed to the hill where my uncle and my only +sister lay buried. + +"There is what the paleface has done! Since then your father too has +been buried in a hill nearer the rising sun. We were once very happy. +But the paleface has stolen our lands and driven us hither. Having +defrauded us of our land, the paleface forced us away. + +"Well, it happened on the day we moved camp that your sister and uncle +were both very sick. Many others were ailing, but there seemed to be no +help. We traveled many days and nights; not in the grand, happy way that +we moved camp when I was a little girl, but we were driven, my child, +driven like a herd of buffalo. With every step, your sister, who was not +as large as you are now, shrieked with the painful jar until she was +hoarse with crying. She grew more and more feverish. Her little hands +and cheeks were burning hot. Her little lips were parched and dry, but +she would not drink the water I gave her. Then I discovered that her +throat was swollen and red. My poor child, how I cried with her because +the Great Spirit had forgotten us! + +"At last, when we reached this western country, on the first weary night +your sister died. And soon your uncle died also, leaving a widow and an +orphan daughter, your cousin Warca-Ziwin. Both your sister and uncle +might have been happy with us today, had it not been for the heartless +paleface." + +My mother was silent the rest of the way to our wigwam. Though I saw no +tears in her eyes, I knew that was because I was with her. She seldom +wept before me. + + + + +II. + +THE LEGENDS. + + +During the summer days my mother built her fire in the shadow of our +wigwam. + +In the early morning our simple breakfast was spread upon the grass west +of our tepee. At the farthest point of the shade my mother sat beside +her fire, toasting a savory piece of dried meat. Near her, I sat upon my +feet, eating my dried meat with unleavened bread, and drinking strong +black coffee. + +The morning meal was our quiet hour, when we two were entirely alone. At +noon, several who chanced to be passing by stopped to rest, and to share +our luncheon with us, for they were sure of our hospitality. + +My uncle, whose death my mother ever lamented, was one of our nation's +bravest warriors. His name was on the lips of old men when talking of +the proud feats of valor; and it was mentioned by younger men, too, in +connection with deeds of gallantry. Old women praised him for his +kindness toward them; young women held him up as an ideal to their +sweethearts. Every one loved him, and my mother worshiped his memory. +Thus it happened that even strangers were sure of welcome in our lodge, +if they but asked a favor in my uncle's name. + +Though I heard many strange experiences related by these wayfarers, I +loved best the evening meal, for that was the time old legends were +told. I was always glad when the sun hung low in the west, for then my +mother sent me to invite the neighboring old men and women to eat supper +with us. Running all the way to the wigwams, I halted shyly at the +entrances. Sometimes I stood long moments without saying a word. It was +not any fear that made me so dumb when out upon such a happy errand; nor +was it that I wished to withhold the invitation, for it was all I could +do to observe this very proper silence. But it was a sensing of the +atmosphere, to assure myself that I should not hinder other plans. My +mother used to say to me, as I was almost bounding away for the old +people: "Wait a moment before you invite any one. If other plans are +being discussed, do not interfere, but go elsewhere." + +The old folks knew the meaning of my pauses; and often they coaxed my +confidence by asking, "What do you seek, little granddaughter?" + +"My mother says you are to come to our tepee this evening," I instantly +exploded, and breathed the freer afterwards. + +"Yes, yes, gladly, gladly I shall come!" each replied. Rising at once +and carrying their blankets across one shoulder, they flocked leisurely +from their various wigwams toward our dwelling. + +My mission done, I ran back, skipping and jumping with delight. All out +of breath, I told my mother almost the exact words of the answers to my +invitation. Frequently she asked, "What were they doing when you entered +their tepee?" This taught me to remember all I saw at a single glance. +Often I told my mother my impressions without being questioned. + +While in the neighboring wigwams sometimes an old Indian woman asked me, +"What is your mother doing?" Unless my mother had cautioned me not to +tell, I generally answered her questions without reserve. + +At the arrival of our guests I sat close to my mother, and did not +leave her side without first asking her consent. I ate my supper in +quiet, listening patiently to the talk of the old people, wishing all +the time that they would begin the stories I loved best. At last, when I +could not wait any longer, I whispered in my mother's ear, "Ask them to +tell an Iktomi story, mother." + +Soothing my impatience, my mother said aloud, "My little daughter is +anxious to hear your legends." By this time all were through eating, and +the evening was fast deepening into twilight. + +As each in turn began to tell a legend, I pillowed my head in my +mother's lap; and lying flat upon my back, I watched the stars as they +peeped down upon me, one by one. The increasing interest of the tale +aroused me, and I sat up eagerly listening to every word. The old women +made funny remarks, and laughed so heartily that I could not help +joining them. + +The distant howling of a pack of wolves or the hooting of an owl in the +river bottom frightened me, and I nestled into my mother's lap. She +added some dry sticks to the open fire, and the bright flames leaped up +into the faces of the old folks as they sat around in a great circle. + +On such an evening, I remember the glare of the fire shone on a tattooed +star upon the brow of the old warrior who was telling a story. I watched +him curiously as he made his unconscious gestures. The blue star upon +his bronzed forehead was a puzzle to me. Looking about, I saw two +parallel lines on the chin of one of the old women. The rest had none. I +examined my mother's face, but found no sign there. + +After the warrior's story was finished, I asked the old woman the +meaning of the blue lines on her chin, looking all the while out of the +corners of my eyes at the warrior with the star on his forehead. I was a +little afraid that he would rebuke me for my boldness. + +Here the old woman began: "Why, my grandchild, they are signs,--secret +signs I dare not tell you. I shall, however, tell you a wonderful story +about a woman who had a cross tattooed upon each of her cheeks." + +It was a long story of a woman whose magic power lay hidden behind the +marks upon her face. I fell asleep before the story was completed. + +Ever after that night I felt suspicious of tattooed people. Wherever I +saw one I glanced furtively at the mark and round about it, wondering +what terrible magic power was covered there. + +It was rarely that such a fearful story as this one was told by the camp +fire. Its impression was so acute that the picture still remains vividly +clear and pronounced. + + + + +III. + +THE BEADWORK. + + +Soon after breakfast mother sometimes began her beadwork. On a bright, +clear day, she pulled out the wooden pegs that pinned the skirt of our +wigwam to the ground, and rolled the canvas part way up on its frame of +slender poles. Then the cool morning breezes swept freely through our +dwelling, now and then wafting the perfume of sweet grasses from newly +burnt prairie. + +Untying the long tasseled strings that bound a small brown buckskin bag, +my mother spread upon a mat beside her bunches of colored beads, just as +an artist arranges the paints upon his palette. On a lapboard she +smoothed out a double sheet of soft white buckskin; and drawing from a +beaded case that hung on the left of her wide belt a long, narrow blade, +she trimmed the buckskin into shape. Often she worked upon small +moccasins for her small daughter. Then I became intensely interested in +her designing. With a proud, beaming face, I watched her work. In +imagination, I saw myself walking in a new pair of snugly fitting +moccasins. I felt the envious eyes of my playmates upon the pretty red +beads decorating my feet. + +Close beside my mother I sat on a rug, with a scrap of buckskin in one +hand and an awl in the other. This was the beginning of my practical +observation lessons in the art of beadwork. From a skein of finely +twisted threads of silvery sinews my mother pulled out a single one. +With an awl she pierced the buckskin, and skillfully threaded it with +the white sinew. Picking up the tiny beads one by one, she strung them +with the point of her thread, always twisting it carefully after every +stitch. + +It took many trials before I learned how to knot my sinew thread on the +point of my finger, as I saw her do. Then the next difficulty was in +keeping my thread stiffly twisted, so that I could easily string my +beads upon it. My mother required of me original designs for my lessons +in beading. At first I frequently ensnared many a sunny hour into +working a long design. Soon I learned from self-inflicted punishment to +refrain from drawing complex patterns, for I had to finish whatever I +began. + +After some experience I usually drew easy and simple crosses and +squares. These were some of the set forms. My original designs were not +always symmetrical nor sufficiently characteristic, two faults with +which my mother had little patience. The quietness of her oversight made +me feel strongly responsible and dependent upon my own judgment. She +treated me as a dignified little individual as long as I was on my good +behavior; and how humiliated I was when some boldness of mine drew forth +a rebuke from her! + +In the choice of colors she left me to my own taste. I was pleased with +an outline of yellow upon a background of dark blue, or a combination of +red and myrtle-green. There was another of red with a bluish-gray that +was more conventionally used. When I became a little familiar with +designing and the various pleasing combinations of color, a harder +lesson was given me. It was the sewing on, instead of beads, some tinted +porcupine quills, moistened and flattened between the nails of the thumb +and forefinger. My mother cut off the prickly ends and burned them at +once in the centre fire. These sharp points were poisonous, and worked +into the flesh wherever they lodged. For this reason, my mother said, I +should not do much alone in quills until I was as tall as my cousin +Warca-Ziwin. + +Always after these confining lessons I was wild with surplus spirits, +and found joyous relief in running loose in the open again. Many a +summer afternoon a party of four or five of my playmates roamed over the +hills with me. We each carried a light sharpened rod about four feet +long, with which we pried up certain sweet roots. When we had eaten all +the choice roots we chanced upon, we shouldered our rods and strayed off +into patches of a stalky plant under whose yellow blossoms we found +little crystal drops of gum. Drop by drop we gathered this nature's +rock-candy, until each of us could boast of a lump the size of a small +bird's egg. Soon satiated with its woody flavor, we tossed away our gum, +to return again to the sweet roots. + +I remember well how we used to exchange our necklaces, beaded belts, and +sometimes even our moccasins. We pretended to offer them as gifts to one +another. We delighted in impersonating our own mothers. We talked of +things we had heard them say in their conversations. We imitated their +various manners, even to the inflection of their voices. In the lap of +the prairie we seated ourselves upon our feet, and leaning our painted +cheeks in the palms of our hands, we rested our elbows on our knees, and +bent forward as old women were most accustomed to do. + +While one was telling of some heroic deed recently done by a near +relative, the rest of us listened attentively, and exclaimed in +undertones, "Han! han!" (yes! yes!) whenever the speaker paused for +breath, or sometimes for our sympathy. As the discourse became more +thrilling, according to our ideas, we raised our voices in these +interjections. In these impersonations our parents were led to say only +those things that were in common favor. + +No matter how exciting a tale we might be rehearsing, the mere shifting +of a cloud shadow in the landscape near by was sufficient to change our +impulses; and soon we were all chasing the great shadows that played +among the hills. We shouted and whooped in the chase; laughing and +calling to one another, we were like little sportive nymphs on that +Dakota sea of rolling green. + +On one occasion I forgot the cloud shadow in a strange notion to catch +up with my own shadow. Standing straight and still, I began to glide +after it, putting out one foot cautiously. When, with the greatest care, +I set my foot in advance of myself, my shadow crept onward too. Then +again I tried it; this time with the other foot. Still again my shadow +escaped me. I began to run; and away flew my shadow, always just a step +beyond me. Faster and faster I ran, setting my teeth and clenching my +fists, determined to overtake my own fleet shadow. But ever swifter it +glided before me, while I was growing breathless and hot. Slackening my +speed, I was greatly vexed that my shadow should check its pace also. +Daring it to the utmost, as I thought, I sat down upon a rock imbedded +in the hillside. + +So! my shadow had the impudence to sit down beside me! + +Now my comrades caught up with me, and began to ask why I was running +away so fast. + +"Oh, I was chasing my shadow! Didn't you ever do that?" I inquired, +surprised that they should not understand. + +They planted their moccasined feet firmly upon my shadow to stay it, and +I arose. Again my shadow slipped away, and moved as often as I did. Then +we gave up trying to catch my shadow. + +Before this peculiar experience I have no distinct memory of having +recognized any vital bond between myself and my own shadow. I never gave +it an afterthought. + +Returning our borrowed belts and trinkets, we rambled homeward. That +evening, as on other evenings, I went to sleep over my legends. + + + + +IV. + +THE COFFEE-MAKING. + + +One summer afternoon my mother left me alone in our wigwam while she +went across the way to my aunt's dwelling. + +I did not much like to stay alone in our tepee for I feared a tall, +broad-shouldered crazy man, some forty years old, who walked loose among +the hills. Wiyaka-Napbina (Wearer of a Feather Necklace) was harmless, +and whenever he came into a wigwam he was driven there by extreme +hunger. He went nude except for the half of a red blanket he girdled +around his waist. In one tawny arm he used to carry a heavy bunch of +wild sunflowers that he gathered in his aimless ramblings. His black +hair was matted by the winds, and scorched into a dry red by the +constant summer sun. As he took great strides, placing one brown bare +foot directly in front of the other, he swung his long lean arm to and +fro. + +Frequently he paused in his walk and gazed far backward, shading his +eyes with his hand. He was under the belief that an evil spirit was +haunting his steps. This was what my mother told me once, when I +sneered at such a silly big man. I was brave when my mother was near by, +and Wiyaka-Napbina walking farther and farther away. + +"Pity the man, my child. I knew him when he was a brave and handsome +youth. He was overtaken by a malicious spirit among the hills, one day, +when he went hither and thither after his ponies. Since then he can not +stay away from the hills," she said. + +I felt so sorry for the man in his misfortune that I prayed to the Great +Spirit to restore him. But though I pitied him at a distance, I was +still afraid of him when he appeared near our wigwam. + +Thus, when my mother left me by myself that afternoon I sat in a fearful +mood within our tepee. I recalled all I had ever heard about +Wiyaka-Napbina; and I tried to assure myself that though he might pass +near by, he would not come to our wigwam because there was no little +girl around our grounds. + +Just then, from without a hand lifted the canvas covering of the +entrance; the shadow of a man fell within the wigwam, and a large +roughly moccasined foot was planted inside. + +For a moment I did not dare to breathe or stir, for I thought that could +be no other than Wiyaka-Napbina. The next instant I sighed aloud in +relief. It was an old grandfather who had often told me Iktomi legends. + +"Where is your mother, my little grandchild?" were his first words. + +"My mother is soon coming back from my aunt's tepee," I replied. + +"Then I shall wait awhile for her return," he said, crossing his feet +and seating himself upon a mat. + +At once I began to play the part of a generous hostess. I turned to my +mother's coffeepot. + +Lifting the lid, I found nothing but coffee grounds in the bottom. I set +the pot on a heap of cold ashes in the centre, and filled it half full +of warm Missouri River water. During this performance I felt conscious +of being watched. Then breaking off a small piece of our unleavened +bread, I placed it in a bowl. Turning soon to the coffeepot, which would +never have boiled on a dead fire had I waited forever, I poured out a +cup of worse than muddy warm water. Carrying the bowl in one hand and +cup in the other, I handed the light luncheon to the old warrior. I +offered them to him with the air of bestowing generous hospitality. + +"How! how!" he said, and placed the dishes on the ground in front of his +crossed feet. He nibbled at the bread and sipped from the cup. I sat +back against a pole watching him. I was proud to have succeeded so well +in serving refreshments to a guest all by myself. Before the old warrior +had finished eating, my mother entered. Immediately she wondered where I +had found coffee, for she knew I had never made any, and that she had +left the coffeepot empty. Answering the question in my mother's eyes, +the warrior remarked, "My granddaughter made coffee on a heap of dead +ashes, and served me the moment I came." + +They both laughed, and mother said, "Wait a little longer, and I shall +build a fire." She meant to make some real coffee. But neither she nor +the warrior, whom the law of our custom had compelled to partake of my +insipid hospitality, said anything to embarrass me. They treated my +best judgment, poor as it was, with the utmost respect. It was not till +long years afterward that I learned how ridiculous a thing I had done. + + + + +V. + +THE DEAD MAN'S PLUM BUSH. + + +One autumn afternoon many people came streaming toward the dwelling of +our near neighbor. With painted faces, and wearing broad white bosoms of +elk's teeth, they hurried down the narrow footpath to Haraka Wambdi's +wigwam. Young mothers held their children by the hand, and half pulled +them along in their haste. They overtook and passed by the bent old +grandmothers who were trudging along with crooked canes toward the +centre of excitement. Most of the young braves galloped hither on their +ponies. Toothless warriors, like the old women, came more slowly, though +mounted on lively ponies. They sat proudly erect on their horses. They +wore their eagle plumes, and waved their various trophies of former +wars. + +In front of the wigwam a great fire was built, and several large black +kettles of venison were suspended over it. The crowd were seated about +it on the grass in a great circle. Behind them some of the braves stood +leaning against the necks of their ponies, their tall figures draped in +loose robes which were well drawn over their eyes. + +Young girls, with their faces glowing like bright red autumn leaves, +their glossy braids falling over each ear, sat coquettishly beside their +chaperons. It was a custom for young Indian women to invite some older +relative to escort them to the public feasts. Though it was not an iron +law, it was generally observed. + +Haraka Wambdi was a strong young brave, who had just returned from his +first battle, a warrior. His near relatives, to celebrate his new rank, +were spreading a feast to which the whole of the Indian village was +invited. + +Holding my pretty striped blanket in readiness to throw over my +shoulders, I grew more and more restless as I watched the gay throng +assembling. My mother was busily broiling a wild duck that my aunt had +that morning brought over. + +"Mother, mother, why do you stop to cook a small meal when we are +invited to a feast?" I asked, with a snarl in my voice. + +"My child, learn to wait. On our way to the celebration we are going to +stop at Chanyu's wigwam. His aged mother-in-law is lying very ill, and +I think she would like a taste of this small game." + +Having once seen the suffering on the thin, pinched features of this +dying woman, I felt a momentary shame that I had not remembered her +before. + +On our way I ran ahead of my mother and was reaching out my hand to pick +some purple plums that grew on a small bush, when I was checked by a low +"Sh!" from my mother. + +"Why, mother, I want to taste the plums!" I exclaimed, as I dropped my +hand to my side in disappointment. + +"Never pluck a single plum from this brush, my child, for its roots are +wrapped around an Indian's skeleton. A brave is buried here. While he +lived he was so fond of playing the game of striped plum seeds that, at +his death, his set of plum seeds were buried in his hands. From them +sprang up this little bush." + +Eyeing the forbidden fruit, I trod lightly on the sacred ground, and +dared to speak only in whispers until we had gone many paces from it. +After that time I halted in my ramblings whenever I came in sight of the +plum bush. I grew sober with awe, and was alert to hear a +long-drawn-out whistle rise from the roots of it. Though I had never +heard with my own ears this strange whistle of departed spirits, yet I +had listened so frequently to hear the old folks describe it that I knew +I should recognize it at once. + +The lasting impression of that day, as I recall it now, is what my +mother told me about the dead man's plum bush. + + + + +VI. + +THE GROUND SQUIRREL. + + +In the busy autumn days my cousin Warca-Ziwin's mother came to our +wigwam to help my mother preserve foods for our winter use. I was very +fond of my aunt, because she was not so quiet as my mother. Though she +was older, she was more jovial and less reserved. She was slender and +remarkably erect. While my mother's hair was heavy and black, my aunt +had unusually thin locks. + +Ever since I knew her she wore a string of large blue beads around her +neck,--beads that were precious because my uncle had given them to her +when she was a younger woman. She had a peculiar swing in her gait, +caused by a long stride rarely natural to so slight a figure. It was +during my aunt's visit with us that my mother forgot her accustomed +quietness, often laughing heartily at some of my aunt's witty remarks. + +I loved my aunt threefold: for her hearty laughter, for the cheerfulness +she caused my mother, and most of all for the times she dried my tears +and held me in her lap, when my mother had reproved me. + +Early in the cool mornings, just as the yellow rim of the sun rose above +the hills, we were up and eating our breakfast. We awoke so early that +we saw the sacred hour when a misty smoke hung over a pit surrounded by +an impassable sinking mire. This strange smoke appeared every morning, +both winter and summer; but most visibly in midwinter it rose +immediately above the marshy spot. By the time the full face of the sun +appeared above the eastern horizon, the smoke vanished. Even very old +men, who had known this country the longest, said that the smoke from +this pit had never failed a single day to rise heavenward. + +As I frolicked about our dwelling I used to stop suddenly, and with a +fearful awe watch the smoking of the unknown fires. While the vapor was +visible I was afraid to go very far from our wigwam unless I went with +my mother. + +From a field in the fertile river bottom my mother and aunt gathered an +abundant supply of corn. Near our tepee they spread a large canvas upon +the grass, and dried their sweet corn in it. I was left to watch the +corn, that nothing should disturb it. I played around it with dolls made +of ears of corn. I braided their soft fine silk for hair, and gave them +blankets as various as the scraps I found in my mother's workbag. + +There was a little stranger with a black-and-yellow-striped coat that +used to come to the drying corn. It was a little ground squirrel, who +was so fearless of me that he came to one corner of the canvas and +carried away as much of the sweet corn as he could hold. I wanted very +much to catch him and rub his pretty fur back, but my mother said he +would be so frightened if I caught him that he would bite my fingers. So +I was as content as he to keep the corn between us. Every morning he +came for more corn. Some evenings I have seen him creeping about our +grounds; and when I gave a sudden whoop of recognition he ran quickly +out of sight. + +When mother had dried all the corn she wished, then she sliced great +pumpkins into thin rings; and these she doubled and linked together +into long chains. She hung them on a pole that stretched between two +forked posts. The wind and sun soon thoroughly dried the chains of +pumpkin. Then she packed them away in a case of thick and stiff +buckskin. + +In the sun and wind she also dried many wild fruits,--cherries, berries, +and plums. But chiefest among my early recollections of autumn is that +one of the corn drying and the ground squirrel. + +I have few memories of winter days at this period of my life, though +many of the summer. There is one only which I can recall. + +Some missionaries gave me a little bag of marbles. They were all sizes +and colors. Among them were some of colored glass. Walking with my +mother to the river, on a late winter day, we found great chunks of ice +piled all along the bank. The ice on the river was floating in huge +pieces. As I stood beside one large block, I noticed for the first time +the colors of the rainbow in the crystal ice. Immediately I thought of +my glass marbles at home. With my bare fingers I tried to pick out some +of the colors, for they seemed so near the surface. But my fingers +began to sting with the intense cold, and I had to bite them hard to +keep from crying. + +From that day on, for many a moon, I believed that glass marbles had +river ice inside of them. + + + + +VII. + +THE BIG RED APPLES. + + +The first turning away from the easy, natural flow of my life occurred +in an early spring. It was in my eighth year; in the month of March, I +afterward learned. At this age I knew but one language, and that was my +mother's native tongue. + +From some of my playmates I heard that two paleface missionaries were in +our village. They were from that class of white men who wore big hats +and carried large hearts, they said. Running direct to my mother, I +began to question her why these two strangers were among us. She told +me, after I had teased much, that they had come to take away Indian boys +and girls to the East. My mother did not seem to want me to talk about +them. But in a day or two, I gleaned many wonderful stories from my +playfellows concerning the strangers. + +"Mother, my friend Judéwin is going home with the missionaries. She is +going to a more beautiful country than ours; the palefaces told her +so!" I said wistfully, wishing in my heart that I too might go. + +Mother sat in a chair, and I was hanging on her knee. Within the last +two seasons my big brother Dawée had returned from a three years' +education in the East, and his coming back influenced my mother to take +a farther step from her native way of living. First it was a change from +the buffalo skin to the white man's canvas that covered our wigwam. Now +she had given up her wigwam of slender poles, to live, a foreigner, in a +home of clumsy logs. + +"Yes, my child, several others besides Judéwin are going away with the +palefaces. Your brother said the missionaries had inquired about his +little sister," she said, watching my face very closely. + +My heart thumped so hard against my breast, I wondered if she could hear +it. + +"Did he tell them to take me, mother?" I asked, fearing lest Dawée had +forbidden the palefaces to see me, and that my hope of going to the +Wonderland would be entirely blighted. + +With a sad, slow smile, she answered: "There! I knew you were wishing to +go, because Judéwin has filled your ears with the white man's lies. +Don't believe a word they say! Their words are sweet, but, my child, +their deeds are bitter. You will cry for me, but they will not even +soothe you. Stay with me, my little one! Your brother Dawée says that +going East, away from your mother, is too hard an experience for his +baby sister." + +Thus my mother discouraged my curiosity about the lands beyond our +eastern horizon; for it was not yet an ambition for Letters that was +stirring me. But on the following day the missionaries did come to our +very house. I spied them coming up the footpath leading to our cottage. +A third man was with them, but he was not my brother Dawée. It was +another, a young interpreter, a paleface who had a smattering of the +Indian language. I was ready to run out to meet them, but I did not dare +to displease my mother. With great glee, I jumped up and down on our +ground floor. I begged my mother to open the door, that they would be +sure to come to us. Alas! They came, they saw, and they conquered! + +Judéwin had told me of the great tree where grew red, red apples; and +how we could reach out our hands and pick all the red apples we could +eat. I had never seen apple trees. I had never tasted more than a dozen +red apples in my life; and when I heard of the orchards of the East, I +was eager to roam among them. The missionaries smiled into my eyes and +patted my head. I wondered how mother could say such hard words against +him. + +"Mother, ask them if little girls may have all the red apples they want, +when they go East," I whispered aloud, in my excitement. + +The interpreter heard me, and answered: "Yes, little girl, the nice red +apples are for those who pick them; and you will have a ride on the iron +horse if you go with these good people." + +I had never seen a train, and he knew it. + +"Mother, I am going East! I like big red apples, and I want to ride on +the iron horse! Mother, say yes!" I pleaded. + +My mother said nothing. The missionaries waited in silence; and my eyes +began to blur with tears, though I struggled to choke them back. The +corners of my mouth twitched, and my mother saw me. + +"I am not ready to give you any word," she said to them. "Tomorrow I +shall send you my answer by my son." + +With this they left us. Alone with my mother, I yielded to my tears, and +cried aloud, shaking my head so as not to hear what she was saying to +me. This was the first time I had ever been so unwilling to give up my +own desire that I refused to hearken to my mother's voice. + +There was a solemn silence in our home that night. Before I went to bed +I begged the Great Spirit to make my mother willing I should go with the +missionaries. + +The next morning came, and my mother called me to her side. "My +daughter, do you still persist in wishing to leave your mother?" she +asked. + +"Oh, mother, it is not that I wish to leave you, but I want to see the +wonderful Eastern land," I answered. + +My dear old aunt came to our house that morning, and I heard her say, +"Let her try it." + +I hoped that, as usual, my aunt was pleading on my side. My brother +Dawée came for mother's decision. I dropped my play, and crept close to +my aunt. + +"Yes, Dawée, my daughter, though she does not understand what it all +means, is anxious to go. She will need an education when she is grown, +for then there will be fewer real Dakotas, and many more palefaces. This +tearing her away, so young, from her mother is necessary, if I would +have her an educated woman. The palefaces, who owe us a large debt for +stolen lands, have begun to pay a tardy justice in offering some +education to our children. But I know my daughter must suffer keenly in +this experiment. For her sake, I dread to tell you my reply to the +missionaries. Go, tell them that they may take my little daughter, and +that the Great Spirit shall not fail to reward them according to their +hearts." + +Wrapped in my heavy blanket, I walked with my mother to the carriage +that was soon to take us to the iron horse. I was happy. I met my +playmates, who were also wearing their best thick blankets. We showed +one another our new beaded moccasins, and the width of the belts that +girdled our new dresses. Soon we were being drawn rapidly away by the +white man's horses. When I saw the lonely figure of my mother vanish in +the distance, a sense of regret settled heavily upon me. I felt +suddenly weak, as if I might fall limp to the ground. I was in the hands +of strangers whom my mother did not fully trust. I no longer felt free +to be myself, or to voice my own feelings. The tears trickled down my +cheeks, and I buried my face in the folds of my blanket. Now the first +step, parting me from my mother, was taken, and all my belated tears +availed nothing. + +Having driven thirty miles to the ferryboat, we crossed the Missouri in +the evening. Then riding again a few miles eastward, we stopped before a +massive brick building. I looked at it in amazement, and with a vague +misgiving, for in our village I had never seen so large a house. +Trembling with fear and distrust of the palefaces, my teeth chattering +from the chilly ride, I crept noiselessly in my soft moccasins along the +narrow hall, keeping very close to the bare wall. I was as frightened +and bewildered as the captured young of a wild creature. + + + + +THE SCHOOL DAYS OF AN INDIAN GIRL + +I. + +THE LAND OF RED APPLES. + + +There were eight in our party of bronzed children who were going East +with the missionaries. Among us were three young braves, two tall girls, +and we three little ones, Judéwin, Thowin, and I. + +We had been very impatient to start on our journey to the Red Apple +Country, which, we were told, lay a little beyond the great circular +horizon of the Western prairie. Under a sky of rosy apples we dreamt of +roaming as freely and happily as we had chased the cloud shadows on the +Dakota plains. We had anticipated much pleasure from a ride on the iron +horse, but the throngs of staring palefaces disturbed and troubled us. + +On the train, fair women, with tottering babies on each arm, stopped +their haste and scrutinized the children of absent mothers. Large men, +with heavy bundles in their hands, halted near by, and riveted their +glassy blue eyes upon us. + +I sank deep into the corner of my seat, for I resented being watched. +Directly in front of me, children who were no larger than I hung +themselves upon the backs of their seats, with their bold white faces +toward me. Sometimes they took their forefingers out of their mouths and +pointed at my moccasined feet. Their mothers, instead of reproving such +rude curiosity, looked closely at me, and attracted their children's +further notice to my blanket. This embarrassed me, and kept me +constantly on the verge of tears. + +I sat perfectly still, with my eyes downcast, daring only now and then +to shoot long glances around me. Chancing to turn to the window at my +side, I was quite breathless upon seeing one familiar object. It was the +telegraph pole which strode by at short paces. Very near my mother's +dwelling, along the edge of a road thickly bordered with wild +sunflowers, some poles like these had been planted by white men. Often I +had stopped, on my way down the road, to hold my ear against the pole, +and, hearing its low moaning, I used to wonder what the paleface had +done to hurt it. Now I sat watching for each pole that glided by to be +the last one. + +In this way I had forgotten my uncomfortable surroundings, when I heard +one of my comrades call out my name. I saw the missionary standing very +near, tossing candies and gums into our midst. This amused us all, and +we tried to see who could catch the most of the sweetmeats. + +Though we rode several days inside of the iron horse, I do not recall a +single thing about our luncheons. + +It was night when we reached the school grounds. The lights from the +windows of the large buildings fell upon some of the icicled trees that +stood beneath them. We were led toward an open door, where the +brightness of the lights within flooded out over the heads of the +excited palefaces who blocked our way. My body trembled more from fear +than from the snow I trod upon. + +Entering the house, I stood close against the wall. The strong glaring +light in the large whitewashed room dazzled my eyes. The noisy hurrying +of hard shoes upon a bare wooden floor increased the whirring in my +ears. My only safety seemed to be in keeping next to the wall. As I was +wondering in which direction to escape from all this confusion, two warm +hands grasped me firmly, and in the same moment I was tossed high in +midair. A rosy-cheeked paleface woman caught me in her arms. I was both +frightened and insulted by such trifling. I stared into her eyes, +wishing her to let me stand on my own feet, but she jumped me up and +down with increasing enthusiasm. My mother had never made a plaything of +her wee daughter. Remembering this I began to cry aloud. + +They misunderstood the cause of my tears, and placed me at a white table +loaded with food. There our party were united again. As I did not hush +my crying, one of the older ones whispered to me, "Wait until you are +alone in the night." + +It was very little I could swallow besides my sobs, that evening. + +"Oh, I want my mother and my brother Dawée! I want to go to my aunt!" I +pleaded; but the ears of the palefaces could not hear me. + +From the table we were taken along an upward incline of wooden boxes, +which I learned afterward to call a stairway. At the top was a quiet +hall, dimly lighted. Many narrow beds were in one straight line down the +entire length of the wall. In them lay sleeping brown faces, which +peeped just out of the coverings. I was tucked into bed with one of the +tall girls, because she talked to me in my mother tongue and seemed to +soothe me. + +I had arrived in the wonderful land of rosy skies, but I was not happy, +as I had thought I should be. My long travel and the bewildering sights +had exhausted me. I fell asleep, heaving deep, tired sobs. My tears were +left to dry themselves in streaks, because neither my aunt nor my mother +was near to wipe them away. + + + + +II. + +THE CUTTING OF MY LONG HAIR. + + +The first day in the land of apples was a bitter-cold one; for the snow +still covered the ground, and the trees were bare. A large bell rang for +breakfast, its loud metallic voice crashing through the belfry overhead +and into our sensitive ears. The annoying clatter of shoes on bare +floors gave us no peace. The constant clash of harsh noises, with an +undercurrent of many voices murmuring an unknown tongue, made a bedlam +within which I was securely tied. And though my spirit tore itself in +struggling for its lost freedom, all was useless. + +A paleface woman, with white hair, came up after us. We were placed in a +line of girls who were marching into the dining room. These were Indian +girls, in stiff shoes and closely clinging dresses. The small girls wore +sleeved aprons and shingled hair. As I walked noiselessly in my soft +moccasins, I felt like sinking to the floor, for my blanket had been +stripped from my shoulders. I looked hard at the Indian girls, who +seemed not to care that they were even more immodestly dressed than I, +in their tightly fitting clothes. While we marched in, the boys entered +at an opposite door. I watched for the three young braves who came in +our party. I spied them in the rear ranks, looking as uncomfortable as I +felt. A small bell was tapped, and each of the pupils drew a chair from +under the table. Supposing this act meant they were to be seated, I +pulled out mine and at once slipped into it from one side. But when I +turned my head, I saw that I was the only one seated, and all the rest +at our table remained standing. Just as I began to rise, looking shyly +around to see how chairs were to be used, a second bell was sounded. All +were seated at last, and I had to crawl back into my chair again. I +heard a man's voice at one end of the hall, and I looked around to see +him. But all the others hung their heads over their plates. As I glanced +at the long chain of tables, I caught the eyes of a paleface woman upon +me. Immediately I dropped my eyes, wondering why I was so keenly watched +by the strange woman. The man ceased his mutterings, and then a third +bell was tapped. Every one picked up his knife and fork and began +eating. I began crying instead, for by this time I was afraid to venture +anything more. + +But this eating by formula was not the hardest trial in that first day. +Late in the morning, my friend Judéwin gave me a terrible warning. +Judéwin knew a few words of English; and she had overheard the paleface +woman talk about cutting our long, heavy hair. Our mothers had taught us +that only unskilled warriors who were captured had their hair shingled +by the enemy. Among our people, short hair was worn by mourners, and +shingled hair by cowards! + +We discussed our fate some moments, and when Judéwin said, "We have to +submit, because they are strong," I rebelled. + +"No, I will not submit! I will struggle first!" I answered. + +I watched my chance, and when no one noticed, I disappeared. I crept up +the stairs as quietly as I could in my squeaking shoes,--my moccasins +had been exchanged for shoes. Along the hall I passed, without knowing +whither I was going. Turning aside to an open door, I found a large room +with three white beds in it. The windows were covered with dark green +curtains, which made the room very dim. Thankful that no one was there, +I directed my steps toward the corner farthest from the door. On my +hands and knees I crawled under the bed, and cuddled myself in the dark +corner. + +From my hiding place I peered out, shuddering with fear whenever I heard +footsteps near by. Though in the hall loud voices were calling my name, +and I knew that even Judéwin was searching for me, I did not open my +mouth to answer. Then the steps were quickened and the voices became +excited. The sounds came nearer and nearer. Women and girls entered the +room. I held my breath and watched them open closet doors and peep +behind large trunks. Some one threw up the curtains, and the room was +filled with sudden light. What caused them to stoop and look under the +bed I do not know. I remember being dragged out, though I resisted by +kicking and scratching wildly. In spite of myself, I was carried +downstairs and tied fast in a chair. + +I cried aloud, shaking my head all the while until I felt the cold +blades of the scissors against my neck, and heard them gnaw off one of +my thick braids. Then I lost my spirit. Since the day I was taken from +my mother I had suffered extreme indignities. People had stared at me. I +had been tossed about in the air like a wooden puppet. And now my long +hair was shingled like a coward's! In my anguish I moaned for my mother, +but no one came to comfort me. Not a soul reasoned quietly with me, as +my own mother used to do; for now I was only one of many little animals +driven by a herder. + + + + +III. + +THE SNOW EPISODE. + + +A short time after our arrival we three Dakotas were playing in the +snowdrift. We were all still deaf to the English language, excepting +Judéwin, who always heard such puzzling things. One morning we learned +through her ears that we were forbidden to fall lengthwise in the snow, +as we had been doing, to see our own impressions. However, before many +hours we had forgotten the order, and were having great sport in the +snow, when a shrill voice called us. Looking up, we saw an imperative +hand beckoning us into the house. We shook the snow off ourselves, and +started toward the woman as slowly as we dared. + +Judéwin said: "Now the paleface is angry with us. She is going to punish +us for falling into the snow. If she looks straight into your eyes and +talks loudly, you must wait until she stops. Then, after a tiny pause, +say, 'No.'" The rest of the way we practiced upon the little word "no." + +As it happened, Thowin was summoned to judgment first. The door shut +behind her with a click. + +Judéwin and I stood silently listening at the keyhole. The paleface +woman talked in very severe tones. Her words fell from her lips like +crackling embers, and her inflection ran up like the small end of a +switch. I understood her voice better than the things she was saying. I +was certain we had made her very impatient with us. Judéwin heard enough +of the words to realize all too late that she had taught us the wrong +reply. + +"Oh, poor Thowin!" she gasped, as she put both hands over her ears. + +Just then I heard Thowin's tremulous answer, "No." + +With an angry exclamation, the woman gave her a hard spanking. Then she +stopped to say something. Judéwin said it was this: "Are you going to +obey my word the next time?" + +Thowin answered again with the only word at her command, "No." + +This time the woman meant her blows to smart, for the poor frightened +girl shrieked at the top of her voice. In the midst of the whipping the +blows ceased abruptly, and the woman asked another question: "Are you +going to fall in the snow again?" + +Thowin gave her bad passwood another trial. We heard her say feebly, +"No! No!" + +With this the woman hid away her half-worn slipper, and led the child +out, stroking her black shorn head. Perhaps it occurred to her that +brute force is not the solution for such a problem. She did nothing to +Judéwin nor to me. She only returned to us our unhappy comrade, and left +us alone in the room. + +During the first two or three seasons misunderstandings as ridiculous as +this one of the snow episode frequently took place, bringing +unjustifiable frights and punishments into our little lives. + +Within a year I was able to express myself somewhat in broken English. +As soon as I comprehended a part of what was said and done, a +mischievous spirit of revenge possessed me. One day I was called in from +my play for some misconduct. I had disregarded a rule which seemed to me +very needlessly binding. I was sent into the kitchen to mash the turnips +for dinner. It was noon, and steaming dishes were hastily carried into +the dining-room. I hated turnips, and their odor which came from the +brown jar was offensive to me. With fire in my heart, I took the wooden +tool that the paleface woman held out to me. I stood upon a step, and, +grasping the handle with both hands, I bent in hot rage over the +turnips. I worked my vengeance upon them. All were so busily occupied +that no one noticed me. I saw that the turnips were in a pulp, and that +further beating could not improve them; but the order was, "Mash these +turnips," and mash them I would! I renewed my energy; and as I sent the +masher into the bottom of the jar, I felt a satisfying sensation that +the weight of my body had gone into it. + +Just here a paleface woman came up to my table. As she looked into the +jar, she shoved my hands roughly aside. I stood fearless and angry. She +placed her red hands upon the rim of the jar. Then she gave one lift and +stride away from the table. But lo! the pulpy contents fell through the +crumbled bottom to the floor I She spared me no scolding phrases that I +had earned. I did not heed them. I felt triumphant in my revenge, though +deep within me I was a wee bit sorry to have broken the jar. + +As I sat eating my dinner, and saw that no turnips were served, I +whooped in my heart for having once asserted the rebellion within me. + + + + +IV. + +THE DEVIL. + + +Among the legends the old warriors used to tell me were many stories of +evil spirits. But I was taught to fear them no more than those who +stalked about in material guise. I never knew there was an insolent +chieftain among the bad spirits, who dared to array his forces against +the Great Spirit, until I heard this white man's legend from a paleface +woman. + +Out of a large book she showed me a picture of the white man's devil. I +looked in horror upon the strong claws that grew out of his fur-covered +fingers. His feet were like his hands. Trailing at his heels was a scaly +tail tipped with a serpent's open jaws. His face was a patchwork: he had +bearded cheeks, like some I had seen palefaces wear; his nose was an +eagle's bill, and his sharp-pointed ears were pricked up like those of a +sly fox. Above them a pair of cow's horns curved upward. I trembled with +awe, and my heart throbbed in my throat, as I looked at the king of evil +spirits. Then I heard the paleface woman say that this terrible creature +roamed loose in the world, and that little girls who disobeyed school +regulations were to be tortured by him. + +That night I dreamt about this evil divinity. Once again I seemed to be +in my mother's cottage. An Indian woman had come to visit my mother. On +opposite sides of the kitchen stove, which stood in the center of the +small house, my mother and her guest were seated in straight-backed +chairs. I played with a train of empty spools hitched together on a +string. It was night, and the wick burned feebly. Suddenly I heard some +one turn our door-knob from without. + +My mother and the woman hushed their talk, and both looked toward the +door. It opened gradually. I waited behind the stove. The hinges +squeaked as the door was slowly, very slowly pushed inward. + +Then in rushed the devil! He was tall! He looked exactly like the +picture I had seen of him in the white man's papers. He did not speak to +my mother, because he did not know the Indian language, but his +glittering yellow eyes were fastened upon me. He took long strides +around the stove, passing behind the woman's chair. I threw down my +spools, and ran to my mother. He did not fear her, but followed closely +after me. Then I ran round and round the stove, crying aloud for help. +But my mother and the woman seemed not to know my danger. They sat +still, looking quietly upon the devil's chase after me. At last I grew +dizzy. My head revolved as on a hidden pivot. My knees became numb, and +doubled under my weight like a pair of knife blades without a spring. +Beside my mother's chair I fell in a heap. Just as the devil stooped +over me with outstretched claws my mother awoke from her quiet +indifference, and lifted me on her lap. Whereupon the devil vanished, +and I was awake. + +On the following morning I took my revenge upon the devil. Stealing into +the room where a wall of shelves was filled with books, I drew forth The +Stories of the Bible. With a broken slate pencil I carried in my apron +pocket, I began by scratching out his wicked eyes. A few moments later, +when I was ready to leave the room, there was a ragged hole in the page +where the picture of the devil had once been. + + + + +V. + +IRON ROUTINE + + +A loud-clamoring bell awakened us at half-past six in the cold winter +mornings. From happy dreams of Western rolling lands and unlassoed +freedom we tumbled out upon chilly bare floors back again into a +paleface day. We had short time to jump into our shoes and clothes, and +wet our eyes with icy water, before a small hand bell was vigorously +rung for roll call. + +There were too many drowsy children and too numerous orders for the day +to waste a moment in any apology to nature for giving her children such +a shock in the early morning. We rushed downstairs, bounding over two +high steps at a time, to land in the assembly room. + +A paleface woman, with a yellow-covered roll book open on her arm and a +gnawed pencil in her hand, appeared at the door. Her small, tired face +was coldly lighted with a pair of large gray eyes. + +She stood still in a halo of authority, while over the rim of her +spectacles her eyes pried nervously about the room. Having glanced at +her long list of names and called out the first one, she tossed up her +chin and peered through the crystals of her spectacles to make sure of +the answer "Here." + +Relentlessly her pencil black-marked our daily records if we were not +present to respond to our names, and no chum of ours had done it +successfully for us. No matter if a dull headache or the painful cough +of slow consumption had delayed the absentee, there was only time enough +to mark the tardiness. It was next to impossible to leave the iron +routine after the civilizing machine had once begun its day's buzzing; +and as it was inbred in me to suffer in silence rather than to appeal to +the ears of one whose open eyes could not see my pain, I have many times +trudged in the day's harness heavy-footed, like a dumb sick brute. + +Once I lost a dear classmate. I remember well how she used to mope along +at my side, until one morning she could not raise her head from her +pillow. At her deathbed I stood weeping, as the paleface woman sat near +her moistening the dry lips. Among the folds of the bedclothes I saw +the open pages of the white man's Bible. The dying Indian girl talked +disconnectedly of Jesus the Christ and the paleface who was cooling her +swollen hands and feet. + +I grew bitter, and censured the woman for cruel neglect of our physical +ills. I despised the pencils that moved automatically, and the one +teaspoon which dealt out, from a large bottle, healing to a row of +variously ailing Indian children. I blamed the hard-working, +well-meaning, ignorant woman who was inculcating in our hearts her +superstitious ideas. Though I was sullen in all my little troubles, as +soon as I felt better I was ready again to smile upon the cruel woman. +Within a week I was again actively testing the chains which tightly +bound my individuality like a mummy for burial. + +The melancholy of those black days has left so long a shadow that it +darkens the path of years that have since gone by. These sad memories +rise above those of smoothly grinding school days. Perhaps my Indian +nature is the moaning wind which stirs them now for their present +record. But, however tempestuous this is within me, it comes out as the +low voice of a curiously colored seashell, which is only for those ears +that are bent with compassion to hear it. + + + + +VI. + +FOUR STRANGE SUMMERS. + + +After my first three years of school, I roamed again in the Western +country through four strange summers. + +During this time I seemed to hang in the heart of chaos, beyond the +touch or voice of human aid. My brother, being almost ten years my +senior, did not quite understand my feelings. My mother had never gone +inside of a schoolhouse, and so she was not capable of comforting her +daughter who could read and write. Even nature seemed to have no place +for me. I was neither a wee girl nor a tall one; neither a wild Indian +nor a tame one. This deplorable situation was the effect of my brief +course in the East, and the unsatisfactory "teenth" in a girl's years. + +It was under these trying conditions that, one bright afternoon, as I +sat restless and unhappy in my mother's cabin, I caught the sound of the +spirited step of my brother's pony on the road which passed by our +dwelling. Soon I heard the wheels of a light buckboard, and Dawée's +familiar "Ho!" to his pony. He alighted upon the bare ground in front +of our house. Tying his pony to one of the projecting corner logs of the +low-roofed cottage, he stepped upon the wooden doorstep. + +I met him there with a hurried greeting, and, as I passed by, he looked +a quiet "What?" into my eyes. + +When he began talking with my mother, I slipped the rope from the pony's +bridle. Seizing the reins and bracing my feet against the dashboard, I +wheeled around in an instant. The pony was ever ready to try his speed. +Looking backward, I saw Dawée waving his hand to me. I turned with the +curve in the road and disappeared. I followed the winding road which +crawled upward between the bases of little hillocks. Deep water-worn +ditches ran parallel on either side. A strong wind blew against my +cheeks and fluttered my sleeves. The pony reached the top of the highest +hill, and began an even race on the level lands. There was nothing +moving within that great circular horizon of the Dakota prairies save +the tall grasses, over which the wind blew and rolled off in long, +shadowy waves. + +Within this vast wigwam of blue and green I rode reckless and +insignificant. It satisfied my small consciousness to see the white foam +fly from the pony's mouth. + +Suddenly, out of the earth a coyote came forth at a swinging trot that +was taking the cunning thief toward the hills and the village beyond. +Upon the moment's impulse, I gave him a long chase and a wholesome +fright. As I turned away to go back to the village, the wolf sank down +upon his haunches for rest, for it was a hot summer day; and as I drove +slowly homeward, I saw his sharp nose still pointed at me, until I +vanished below the margin of the hilltops. + +In a little while I came in sight of my mother's house. Dawée stood in +the yard, laughing at an old warrior who was pointing his forefinger, +and again waving his whole hand, toward the hills. With his blanket +drawn over one shoulder, he talked and motioned excitedly. Dawée turned +the old man by the shoulder and pointed me out to him. + +"Oh, han!" (Oh, yes) the warrior muttered, and went his way. He had +climbed the top of his favorite barren hill to survey the surrounding +prairies, when he spied my chase after the coyote. His keen eyes +recognized the pony and driver. At once uneasy for my safety, he had +come running to my mother's cabin to give her warning. I did not +appreciate his kindly interest, for there was an unrest gnawing at my +heart. + +As soon as he went away, I asked Dawée about something else. + +"No, my baby sister, I cannot take you with me to the party tonight," he +replied. Though I was not far from fifteen, and I felt that before long +I should enjoy all the privileges of my tall cousin, Dawée persisted in +calling me his baby sister. + +That moonlight night, I cried in my mother's presence when I heard the +jolly young people pass by our cottage. They were no more young braves +in blankets and eagle plumes, nor Indian maids with prettily painted +cheeks. They had gone three years to school in the East, and had become +civilized. The young men wore the white man's coat and trousers, with +bright neckties. The girls wore tight muslin dresses, with ribbons at +neck and waist. At these gatherings they talked English. I could speak +English almost as well as my brother, but I was not properly dressed to +be taken along. I had no hat, no ribbons, and no close-fitting gown. +Since my return from school I had thrown away my shoes, and wore again +the soft moccasins. + +While Dawée was busily preparing to go I controlled my tears. But when I +heard him bounding away on his pony, I buried my face in my arms and +cried hot tears. + +My mother was troubled by my unhappiness. Coming to my side, she offered +me the only printed matter we had in our home. It was an Indian Bible, +given her some years ago by a missionary. She tried to console me. +"Here, my child, are the white man's papers. Read a little from them," +she said most piously. + +I took it from her hand, for her sake; but my enraged spirit felt more +like burning the book, which afforded me no help, and was a perfect +delusion to my mother. I did not read it, but laid it unopened on the +floor, where I sat on my feet. The dim yellow light of the braided +muslin burning in a small vessel of oil flickered and sizzled in the +awful silent storm which followed my rejection of the Bible. + +Now my wrath against the fates consumed my tears before they reached my +eyes. I sat stony, with a bowed head. My mother threw a shawl over her +head and shoulders, and stepped out into the night. + +After an uncertain solitude, I was suddenly aroused by a loud cry +piercing the night. It was my mother's voice wailing among the barren +hills which held the bones of buried warriors. She called aloud for her +brothers' spirits to support her in her helpless misery. My fingers Grey +icy cold, as I realized that my unrestrained tears had betrayed my +suffering to her, and she was grieving for me. + +Before she returned, though I knew she was on her way, for she had +ceased her weeping, I extinguished the light, and leaned my head on the +window sill. + +Many schemes of running away from my surroundings hovered about in my +mind. A few more moons of such a turmoil drove me away to the eastern +school. I rode on the white man's iron steed, thinking it would bring me +back to my mother in a few winters, when I should be grown tall, and +there would be congenial friends awaiting me. + + + + +VII. + +INCURRING MY MOTHER'S DISPLEASURE. + + +In the second journey to the East I had not come without some +precautions. I had a secret interview with one of our best medicine men, +and when I left his wigwam I carried securely in my sleeve a tiny bunch +of magic roots. This possession assured me of friends wherever I should +go. So absolutely did I believe in its charms that I wore it through all +the school routine for more than a year. Then, before I lost my faith in +the dead roots, I lost the little buckskin bag containing all my good +luck. + +At the close of this second term of three years I was the proud owner of +my first diploma. The following autumn I ventured upon a college career +against my mother's will. + +I had written for her approval, but in her reply I found no +encouragement. She called my notice to her neighbors' children, who had +completed their education in three years. They had returned to their +homes, and were then talking English with the frontier settlers. Her few +words hinted that I had better give up my slow attempt to learn the +white man's ways, and be content to roam over the prairies and find my +living upon wild roots. I silenced her by deliberate disobedience. + +Thus, homeless and heavy-hearted, I began anew my life among strangers. + +As I hid myself in my little room in the college dormitory, away from +the scornful and yet curious eyes of the students, I pined for sympathy. +Often I wept in secret, wishing I had gone West, to be nourished by my +mother's love, instead of remaining among a cold race whose hearts were +frozen hard with prejudice. + +During the fall and winter seasons I scarcely had a real friend, though +by that time several of my classmates were courteous to me at a safe +distance. + +My mother had not yet forgiven my rudeness to her, and I had no moment +for letter-writing. By daylight and lamplight, I spun with reeds and +thistles, until my hands were tired from their weaving, the magic design +which promised me the white man's respect. + +At length, in the spring term, I entered an oratorical contest among the +various classes. As the day of competition approached, it did not seem +possible that the event was so near at hand, but it came. In the chapel +the classes assembled together, with their invited guests. The high +platform was carpeted, and gaily festooned with college colors. A bright +white light illumined the room, and outlined clearly the great polished +beams that arched the domed ceiling. The assembled crowds filled the air +with pulsating murmurs. When the hour for speaking arrived all were +hushed. But on the wall the old clock which pointed out the trying +moment ticked calmly on. + +One after another I saw and heard the orators. Still, I could not +realize that they longed for the favorable decision of the judges as +much as I did. Each contestant received a loud burst of applause, and +some were cheered heartily. Too soon my turn came, and I paused a moment +behind the curtains for a deep breath. After my concluding words, I +heard the same applause that the others had called out. + +Upon my retreating steps, I was astounded to receive from my +fellow-students a large bouquet of roses tied with flowing ribbons. +With the lovely flowers I fled from the stage. This friendly token was +a rebuke to me for the hard feelings I had borne them. + +Later, the decision of the judges awarded me the first place. Then there +was a mad uproar in the hall, where my classmates sang and shouted my +name at the top of their lungs; and the disappointed students howled and +brayed in fearfully dissonant tin trumpets. In this excitement, happy +students rushed forward to offer their congratulations. And I could not +conceal a smile when they wished to escort me in a procession to the +students' parlor, where all were going to calm themselves. Thanking them +for the kind spirit which prompted them to make such a proposition, I +walked alone with the night to my own little room. + +A few weeks afterward, I appeared as the college representative in +another contest. This time the competition was among orators from +different colleges in our State. It was held at the State capital, in +one of the largest opera houses. + +Here again was a strong prejudice against my people. In the evening, as +the great audience filled the house, the student bodies began warring +among themselves. Fortunately, I was spared witnessing any of the noisy +wrangling before the contest began. The slurs against the Indian that +stained the lips of our opponents were already burning like a dry fever +within my breast. + +But after the orations were delivered a deeper burn awaited me. There, +before that vast ocean of eyes, some college rowdies threw out a large +white flag, with a drawing of a most forlorn Indian girl on it. Under +this they had printed in bold black letters words that ridiculed the +college which was represented by a "squaw." Such worse than barbarian +rudeness embittered me. While we waited for the verdict of the judges, I +gleamed fiercely upon the throngs of palefaces. My teeth were hard set, +as I saw the white flag still floating insolently in the air. + +Then anxiously we watched the man carry toward the stage the envelope +containing the final decision. + +There were two prizes given, that night, and one of them was mine! + +The evil spirit laughed within me when the white flag dropped out of +sight, and the hands which hurled it hung limp in defeat. + +Leaving the crowd as quickly as possible, I was soon in my room. The +rest of the night I sat in an armchair and gazed into the crackling +fire. I laughed no more in triumph when thus alone. The little taste of +victory did not satisfy a hunger in my heart. In my mind I saw my mother +far away on the Western plains, and she was holding a charge against me. + + + + +AN INDIAN TEACHER AMONG INDIANS + +I. + +MY FIRST DAY. + + +Though an illness left me unable to continue my college course, my pride +kept me from returning to my mother. Had she known of my worn condition, +she would have said the white man's papers were not worth the freedom +and health I had lost by them. Such a rebuke from my mother would have +been unbearable, and as I felt then it would be far too true to be +comfortable. + +Since the winter when I had my first dreams about red apples I had been +traveling slowly toward the morning horizon. There had been no doubt +about the direction in which I wished to go to spend my energies in a +work for the Indian race. Thus I had written my mother briefly, saying +my plan for the year was to teach in an Eastern Indian school. Sending +this message to her in the West, I started at once eastward. + +Thus I found myself, tired and hot, in a black veiling of car smoke, as +I stood wearily on a street corner of an old-fashioned town, waiting +for a car. In a few moments more I should be on the school grounds, +where a new work was ready for my inexperienced hands. + +Upon entering the school campus, I was surprised at the thickly +clustered buildings which made it a quaint little village, much more +interesting than the town itself. The large trees among the houses gave +the place a cool, refreshing shade, and the grass a deeper green. Within +this large court of grass and trees stood a low green pump. The queer +boxlike case had a revolving handle on its side, which clanked and +creaked constantly. + +I made myself known, and was shown to my room,--a small, carpeted room, +with ghastly walls and ceiling. The two windows, both on the same side, +were curtained with heavy muslin yellowed with age. A clean white bed +was in one corner of the room, and opposite it was a square pine table +covered with a black woolen blanket. + +Without removing my hat from my head, I seated myself in one of the two +stiff-backed chairs that were placed beside the table. For several heart +throbs I sat still looking from ceiling to floor, from wall to wall, +trying hard to imagine years of contentment there. Even while I was +wondering if my exhausted strength would sustain me through this +undertaking, I heard a heavy tread stop at my door. Opening it, I met +the imposing figure of a stately gray-haired man. With a light straw hat +in one hand, and the right hand extended for greeting, he smiled kindly +upon me. For some reason I was awed by his wondrous height and his +strong square shoulders, which I felt were a finger's length above my +head. + +I was always slight, and my serious illness in the early spring had made +me look rather frail and languid. His quick eye measured my height and +breadth. Then he looked into my face. I imagined that a visible shadow +flitted across his countenance as he let my hand fall. I knew he was no +other than my employer. + +"Ah ha! so you are the little Indian girl who created the excitement +among the college orators!" he said, more to himself than to me. I +thought I heard a subtle note of disappointment in his voice. Looking in +from where he stood, with one sweeping glance, he asked if I lacked +anything for my room. + +After he turned to go, I listened to his step until it grew faint and +was lost in the distance. I was aware that my car-smoked appearance had +not concealed the lines of pain on my face. + +For a short moment my spirit laughed at my ill fortune, and I +entertained the idea of exerting myself to make an improvement. But as I +tossed my hat off a leaden weakness came over me, and I felt as if years +of weariness lay like water-soaked logs upon me. I threw myself upon the +bed, and, closing my eyes, forgot my good intention. + + + + +II. + +A TRIP WESTWARD. + + +One sultry month I sat at a desk heaped up with work. Now, as I recall +it, I wonder how I could have dared to disregard nature's warning with +such recklessness. Fortunately, my inheritance of a marvelous endurance +enabled me to bend without breaking. + +Though I had gone to and fro, from my room to the office, in an unhappy +silence, I was watched by those around me. On an early morning I was +summoned to the superintendent's office. For a half-hour I listened to +his words, and when I returned to my room I remembered one sentence +above the rest. It was this: "I am going to turn you loose to pasture!" +He was sending me West to gather Indian pupils for the school, and this +was his way of expressing it. + +I needed nourishment, but the midsummer's travel across the continent to +search the hot prairies for overconfident parents who would entrust +their children to strangers was a lean pasturage. However, I dwelt on +the hope of seeing my mother. I tried to reason that a change was a +rest. Within a couple of days I started toward my mother's home. + +The intense heat and the sticky car smoke that followed my homeward +trail did not noticeably restore my vitality. Hour after hour I gazed +upon the country which was receding rapidly from me. I noticed the +gradual expansion of the horizon as we emerged out of the forests into +the plains. The great high buildings, whose towers overlooked the dense +woodlands, and whose gigantic clusters formed large cities, diminished, +together with the groves, until only little log cabins lay snugly in the +bosom of the vast prairie. The cloud shadows which drifted about on the +waving yellow of long-dried grasses thrilled me like the meeting of old +friends. + +At a small station, consisting of a single frame house with a rickety +board walk around it, I alighted from the iron horse, just thirty miles +from my mother and my brother Dawée. A strong hot wind seemed determined +to blow my hat off, and return me to olden days when I roamed bareheaded +over the hills. After the puffing engine of my train was gone, I stood +on the platform in deep solitude. In the distance I saw the gently +rolling land leap up into bare hills. At their bases a broad gray road +was winding itself round about them until it came by the station. Among +these hills I rode in a light conveyance, with a trusty driver, whose +unkempt flaxen hair hung shaggy about his ears and his leather neck of +reddish tan. From accident or decay he had lost one of his long front +teeth. + +Though I call him a paleface, his cheeks were of a brick red. His moist +blue eyes, blurred and bloodshot, twitched involuntarily. For a long +time he had driven through grass and snow from this solitary station to +the Indian village. His weather-stained clothes fitted badly his warped +shoulders. He was stooped, and his protruding chin, with its tuft of dry +flax, nodded as monotonously as did the head of his faithful beast. + +All the morning I looked about me, recognizing old familiar sky lines of +rugged bluffs and round-topped hills. By the roadside I caught glimpses +of various plants whose sweet roots were delicacies among my people. +When I saw the first cone-shaped wigwam, I could not help uttering an +exclamation which caused my driver a sudden jump out of his drowsy +nodding. + +At noon, as we drove through the eastern edge of the reservation, I grew +very impatient and restless. Constantly I wondered what my mother would +say upon seeing her little daughter grown tall. I had not written her +the day of my arrival, thinking I would surprise her. Crossing a ravine +thicketed with low shrubs and plum bushes, we approached a large yellow +acre of wild sunflowers. Just beyond this nature's garden we drew near +to my mother's cottage. Close by the log cabin stood a little +canvas-covered wigwam. The driver stopped in front of the open door, and +in a long moment my mother appeared at the threshold. + +I had expected her to run out to greet me, but she stood still, all the +while staring at the weather-beaten man at my side. At length, when her +loftiness became unbearable, I called to her, "Mother, why do you stop?" + +This seemed to break the evil moment, and she hastened out to hold my +head against her cheek. + +"My daughter, what madness possessed you to bring home such a fellow?" +she asked, pointing at the driver, who was fumbling in his pockets for +change while he held the bill I gave him between his jagged teeth. + +"Bring him! Why, no, mother, he has brought me! He is a driver!" I +exclaimed. + +Upon this revelation, my mother threw her arms about me and apologized +for her mistaken inference. We laughed away the momentary hurt. Then she +built a brisk fire on the ground in the tepee, and hung a blackened +coffeepot on one of the prongs of a forked pole which leaned over the +flames. Placing a pan on a heap of red embers, she baked some unleavened +bread. This light luncheon she brought into the cabin, and arranged on a +table covered with a checkered oilcloth. + +My mother had never gone to school, and though she meant always to give +up her own customs for such of the white man's ways as pleased her, she +made only compromises. Her two windows, directly opposite each other, +she curtained with a pink-flowered print. The naked logs were unstained, +and rudely carved with the axe so as to fit into one another. The sod +roof was trying to boast of tiny sunflowers, the seeds of which had +probably been planted by the constant wind. As I leaned my head against +the logs, I discovered the peculiar odor that I could not forget. The +rains had soaked the earth and roof so that the smell of damp clay was +but the natural breath of such a dwelling. + +"Mother, why is not your house cemented? Do you have no interest in a +more comfortable shelter?" I asked, when the apparent inconveniences of +her home seemed to suggest indifference on her part. + +"You forget, my child, that I am now old, and I do not work with beads +any more. Your brother Dawée, too, has lost his position, and we are +left without means to buy even a morsel of food," she replied. + +Dawée was a government clerk in our reservation when I last heard from +him. I was surprised upon hearing what my mother said concerning his +lack of employment. Seeing the puzzled expression on my face, she +continued: "Dawée! Oh, has he not told you that the Great Father at +Washington sent a white son to take your brother's pen from him? Since +then Dawée has not been able to make use of the education the Eastern +school has given him." + +I found no words with which to answer satisfactorily. I found no reason +with which to cool my inflamed feelings. + +Dawée was a whole day's journey off on the prairie, and my mother did +not expect him until the next day. We were silent. + +When, at length, I raised my head to hear more clearly the moaning of +the wind in the corner logs, I noticed the daylight streaming into the +dingy room through several places where the logs fitted unevenly. +Turning to my mother, I urged her to tell me more about Dawée's trouble, +but she only said: "Well, my daughter, this village has been these many +winters a refuge for white robbers. The Indian cannot complain to the +Great Father in Washington without suffering outrage for it here. Dawée +tried to secure justice for our tribe in a small matter, and today you +see the folly of it." + +Again, though she stopped to hear what I might say, I was silent. + +"My child, there is only one source of justice, and I have been praying +steadfastly to the Great Spirit to avenge our wrongs," she said, seeing +I did not move my lips. + +My shattered energy was unable to hold longer any faith, and I cried out +desperately: "Mother, don't pray again! The Great Spirit does not care +if we live or die! Let us not look for good or justice: then we shall +not be disappointed!" + +"Sh! my child, do not talk so madly. There is Taku Iyotan Wasaka,[1] to +which I pray," she answered, as she stroked my head again as she used to +do when I was a smaller child. + +[Footnote 1: An absolute Power.] + + + + +III. + +MY MOTHER'S CURSE UPON WHITE SETTLERS. + + +One black night mother and I sat alone in the dim starlight, in front of +our wigwam. We were facing the river, as we talked about the shrinking +limits of the village. She told me about the poverty-stricken white +settlers, who lived in caves dug in the long ravines of the high hills +across the river. + +A whole tribe of broad-footed white beggars had rushed hither to make +claims on those wild lands. Even as she was telling this I spied a small +glimmering light in the bluffs. + +"That is a white man's lodge where you see the burning fire," she said. +Then, a short distance from it, only a little lower than the first, was +another light. As I became accustomed to the night, I saw more and more +twinkling lights, here and there, scattered all along the wide black +margin of the river. + +Still looking toward the distant firelight, my mother continued: "My +daughter, beware of the paleface. It was the cruel paleface who caused +the death of your sister and your uncle, my brave brother. It is this +same paleface who offers in one palm the holy papers, and with the +other gives a holy baptism of firewater. He is the hypocrite who reads +with one eye, 'Thou shalt not kill,' and with the other gloats upon the +sufferings of the Indian race." Then suddenly discovering a new fire in +the bluffs, she exclaimed, "Well, well, my daughter, there is the light +of another white rascal!" + +She sprang to her feet, and, standing firm beside her wigwam, she sent a +curse upon those who sat around the hated white man's light. Raising her +right arm forcibly into line with her eye, she threw her whole might +into her doubled fist as she shot it vehemently at the strangers. Long +she held her outstretched fingers toward the settler's lodge, as if an +invisible power passed from them to the evil at which she aimed. + + + + +IV. + +RETROSPECTION. + + +Leaving my mother, I returned to the school in the East. As months +passed over me, I slowly comprehended that the large army of white +teachers in Indian schools had a larger missionary creed than I had +suspected. + +It was one which included self-preservation quite as much as Indian +education. When I saw an opium-eater holding a position as teacher of +Indians, I did not understand what good was expected, until a Christian +in power replied that this pumpkin-colored creature had a feeble mother +to support. An inebriate paleface sat stupid in a doctor's chair, while +Indian patients carried their ailments to untimely graves, because his +fair wife was dependent upon him for her daily food. + +I find it hard to count that white man a teacher who tortured an +ambitious Indian youth by frequently reminding the brave changeling that +he was nothing but a "government pauper." + +Though I burned with indignation upon discovering on every side +instances no less shameful than those I have mentioned, there was no +present help. Even the few rare ones who have worked nobly for my race +were powerless to choose workmen like themselves. To be sure, a man was +sent from the Great Father to inspect Indian schools, but what he saw +was usually the students' sample work _made_ for exhibition. I was +nettled by this sly cunning of the workmen who hookwinked the Indian's +pale Father at Washington. + +My illness, which prevented the conclusion of my college course, +together with my mother's stories of the encroaching frontier settlers, +left me in no mood to strain my eyes in searching for latent good in my +white co-workers. + +At this stage of my own evolution, I was ready to curse men of small +capacity for being the dwarfs their God had made them. In the process of +my education I had lost all consciousness of the nature world about me. +Thus, when a hidden rage took me to the small white-walled prison which +I then called my room, I unknowingly turned away from my one salvation. + +Alone in my room, I sat like the petrified Indian woman of whom my +mother used to tell me. I wished my heart's burdens would turn me to +unfeeling stone. But alive, in my tomb, I was destitute! + +For the white man's papers I had given up my faith in the Great Spirit. +For these same papers I had forgotten the healing in trees and brooks. +On account of my mother's simple view of life, and my lack of any, I +gave her up, also. I made no friends among the race of people I loathed. +Like a slender tree, I had been uprooted from my mother, nature, and +God. I was shorn of my branches, which had waved in sympathy and love +for home and friends. The natural coat of bark which had protected my +oversensitive nature was scraped off to the very quick. + +Now a cold bare pole I seemed to be, planted in a strange earth. Still, +I seemed to hope a day would come when my mute aching head, reared +upward to the sky, would flash a zigzag lightning across the heavens. +With this dream of vent for a long-pent consciousness, I walked again +amid the crowds. + +At last, one weary day in the schoolroom, a new idea presented itself to +me. It was a new way of solving the problem of my inner self. I liked +it. Thus I resigned my position as teacher; and now I am in an Eastern +city, following the long course of study I have set for myself. Now, as +I look back upon the recent past, I see it from a distance, as a whole. +I remember how, from morning till evening, many specimens of civilized +peoples visited the Indian school. The city folks with canes and +eyeglasses, the countrymen with sunburnt cheeks and clumsy feet, forgot +their relative social ranks in an ignorant curiosity. Both sorts of +these Christian palefaces were alike astounded at seeing the children of +savage warriors so docile and industrious. + +As answers to their shallow inquiries they received the students' sample +work to look upon. Examining the neatly figured pages, and gazing upon +the Indian girls and boys bending over their books, the white visitors +walked out of the schoolhouse well satisfied: they were educating the +children of the red man! They were paying a liberal fee to the +government employees in whose able hands lay the small forest of Indian +timber. + +In this fashion many have passed idly through the Indian schools during +the last decade, afterward to boast of their charity to the North +American Indian. But few there are who have paused to question whether +real life or long-lasting death lies beneath this semblance of +civilization. + + + + +THE GREAT SPIRIT + + +When the spirit swells my breast I love to roam leisurely among the +green hills; or sometimes, sitting on the brink of the murmuring +Missouri, I marvel at the great blue overhead. With half-closed eyes I +watch the huge cloud shadows in their noiseless play upon the high +bluffs opposite me, while into my ear ripple the sweet, soft cadences of +the river's song. Folded hands lie in my lap, for the time forgot. My +heart and I lie small upon the earth like a grain of throbbing sand. +Drifting clouds and tinkling waters, together with the warmth of a +genial summer day, bespeak with eloquence the loving Mystery round about +us. During the idle while I sat upon the sunny river brink, I grew +somewhat, though my response be not so clearly manifest as in the green +grass fringing the edge of the high bluff back of me. + +At length retracing the uncertain footpath scaling the precipitous +embankment, I seek the level lands where grow the wild prairie flowers. +And they, the lovely little folk, soothe my soul with their perfumed +breath. + +Their quaint round faces of varied hue convince the heart which leaps +with glad surprise that they, too, are living symbols of omnipotent +thought. With a child's eager eye I drink in the myriad star shapes +wrought in luxuriant color upon the green. Beautiful is the spiritual +essence they embody. + +I leave them nodding in the breeze, but take along with me their impress +upon my heart. I pause to rest me upon a rock embedded on the side of a +foothill facing the low river bottom. Here the Stone-Boy, of whom the +American aborigine tells, frolics about, shooting his baby arrows and +shouting aloud with glee at the tiny shafts of lightning that flash from +the flying arrow-beaks. What an ideal warrior he became, baffling the +siege of the pests of all the land till he triumphed over their united +attack. And here he lay--Inyan our great-great-grandfather, older than +the hill he rested on, older than the race of men who love to tell of +his wonderful career. + +Interwoven with the thread of this Indian legend of the rock, I fain +would trace a subtle knowledge of the native folk which enabled them to +recognize a kinship to any and all parts of this vast universe. By the +leading of an ancient trail I move toward the Indian village. + +With the strong, happy sense that both great and small are so surely +enfolded in His magnitude that, without a miss, each has his allotted +individual ground of opportunities, I am buoyant with good nature. + +Yellow Breast, swaying upon the slender stem of a wild sunflower, +warbles a sweet assurance of this as I pass near by. Breaking off the +clear crystal song, he turns his wee head from side to side eyeing me +wisely as slowly I plod with moccasined feet. Then again he yields +himself to his song of joy. Flit, flit hither and yon, he fills the +summer sky with his swift, sweet melody. And truly does it seem his +vigorous freedom lies more in his little spirit than in his wing. + +With these thoughts I reach the log cabin whither I am strongly drawn by +the tie of a child to an aged mother. Out bounds my four-footed friend +to meet me, frisking about my path with unmistakable delight. Chän is a +black shaggy dog, "a thoroughbred little mongrel" of whom I am very +fond. Chän seems to understand many words in Sioux, and will go to her +mat even when I whisper the word, though generally I think she is guided +by the tone of the voice. Often she tries to imitate the sliding +inflection and long-drawn-out voice to the amusement of our guests, but +her articulation is quite beyond my ear. In both my hands I hold her +shaggy head and gaze into her large brown eyes. At once the dilated +pupils contract into tiny black dots, as if the roguish spirit within +would evade my questioning. + +Finally resuming the chair at my desk I feel in keen sympathy with my +fellow-creatures, for I seem to see clearly again that all are akin. The +racial lines, which once were bitterly real, now serve nothing more than +marking out a living mosaic of human beings. And even here men of the +same color are like the ivory keys of one instrument where each +resembles all the rest, yet varies from them in pitch and quality of +voice. And those creatures who are for a time mere echoes of another's +note are not unlike the fable of the thin sick man whose distorted +shadow, dressed like a real creature, came to the old master to make him +follow as a shadow. Thus with a compassion for all echoes in human +guise, I greet the solemn-faced "native preacher" whom I find awaiting +me. I listen with respect for God's creature, though he mouth most +strangely the jangling phrases of a bigoted creed. + +As our tribe is one large family, where every person is related to all +the others, he addressed me:-- + +"Cousin, I came from the morning church service to talk with you." + +"Yes?" I said interrogatively, as he paused for some word from me. + +Shifting uneasily about in the straight-backed chair he sat upon, he +began: "Every holy day (Sunday) I look about our little God's house, and +not seeing you there, I am disappointed. This is why I come today. +Cousin, as I watch you from afar, I see no unbecoming behavior and hear +only good reports of you, which all the more burns me with the wish that +you were a church member. Cousin, I was taught long years ago by kind +missionaries to read the holy book. These godly men taught me also the +folly of our old beliefs. + +"There is one God who gives reward or punishment to the race of dead +men. In the upper region the Christian dead are gathered in unceasing +song and prayer. In the deep pit below, the sinful ones dance in +torturing flames. + +"Think upon these things, my cousin, and choose now to avoid the +after-doom of hell fire!" Then followed a long silence in which he +clasped tighter and unclasped again his interlocked fingers. + +Like instantaneous lightning flashes came pictures of my own mother's +making, for she, too, is now a follower of the new superstition. + +"Knocking out the chinking of our log cabin, some evil hand thrust in a +burning taper of braided dry grass, but failed of his intent, for the +fire died out and the half-burned brand fell inward to the floor. +Directly above it, on a shelf, lay the holy book. This is what we found +after our return from a several days' visit. Surely some great power is +hid in the sacred book!" + +Brushing away from my eyes many like pictures, I offered midday meal to +the converted Indian sitting wordless and with downcast face. No sooner +had he risen from the table with "Cousin, I have relished it," than the +church bell rang. + +Thither he hurried forth with his afternoon sermon. I watched him as he +hastened along, his eyes bent fast upon the dusty road till he +disappeared at the end of a quarter of a mile. + +The little incident recalled to mind the copy of a missionary paper +brought to my notice a few days ago, in which a "Christian" pugilist +commented upon a recent article of mine, grossly perverting the spirit +of my pen. Still I would not forget that the pale-faced missionary and +the hoodooed aborigine are both God's creatures, though small indeed +their own conceptions of Infinite Love. A wee child toddling in a wonder +world, I prefer to their dogma my excursions into the natural gardens +where the voice of the Great Spirit is heard in the twittering of birds, +the rippling of mighty waters, and the sweet breathing of flowers. + +Here, in a fleeting quiet, I am awakened by the fluttering robe of the +Great Spirit. To my innermost consciousness the phenomenal universe is a +royal mantle, vibrating with His divine breath. Caught in its flowing +fringes are the spangles and oscillating brilliants of sun, moon, and +stars. + + + + +THE SOFT-HEARTED SIOUX + +I. + + +Beside the open fire I sat within our tepee. With my red blanket wrapped +tightly about my crossed legs, I was thinking of the coming season, my +sixteenth winter. On either side of the wigwam were my parents. My +father was whistling a tune between his teeth while polishing with his +bare hand a red stone pipe he had recently carved. Almost in front of +me, beyond the center fire, my old grandmother sat near the entranceway. + +She turned her face toward her right and addressed most of her words to +my mother. Now and then she spoke to me, but never did she allow her +eyes to rest upon her daughter's husband, my father. It was only upon +rare occasions that my grandmother said anything to him. Thus his ears +were open and ready to catch the smallest wish she might express. +Sometimes when my grandmother had been saying things which pleased him, +my father used to comment upon them. At other times, when he could not +approve of what was spoken, he used to work or smoke silently. + +On this night my old grandmother began her talk about me. Filling the +bowl of her red stone pipe with dry willow bark, she looked across at +me. + +"My grandchild, you are tall and are no longer a little boy." Narrowing +her old eyes, she asked, "My grandchild, when are you going to bring +here a handsome young woman?" I stared into the fire rather than meet +her gaze. Waiting for my answer, she stooped forward and through the +long stem drew a flame into the red stone pipe. + +I smiled while my eyes were still fixed upon the bright fire, but I said +nothing in reply. Turning to my mother, she offered her the pipe. I +glanced at my grandmother. The loose buckskin sleeve fell off at her +elbow and showed a wrist covered with silver bracelets. Holding up the +fingers of her left hand, she named off the desirable young women of our +village. + +"Which one, my grandchild, which one?" she questioned. + +"Hoh!" I said, pulling at my blanket in confusion. "Not yet!" Here my +mother passed the pipe over the fire to my father. Then she, too, began +speaking of what I should do. + +"My son, be always active. Do not dislike a long hunt. Learn to provide +much buffalo meat and many buckskins before you bring home a wife." +Presently my father gave the pipe to my grandmother, and he took his +turn in the exhortations. + +"Ho, my son, I have been counting in my heart the bravest warriors of +our people. There is not one of them who won his title in his sixteenth +winter. My son, it is a great thing for some brave of sixteen winters to +do." + +Not a word had I to give in answer. I knew well the fame of my warrior +father. He had earned the right of speaking such words, though even he +himself was a brave only at my age. Refusing to smoke my grandmother's +pipe because my heart was too much stirred by their words, and sorely +troubled with a fear lest I should disappoint them, I arose to go. +Drawing my blanket over my shoulders, I said, as I stepped toward the +entranceway: "I go to hobble my pony. It is now late in the night." + + + + +II. + + +Nine winters' snows had buried deep that night when my old grandmother, +together with my father and mother, designed my future with the glow of +a camp fire upon it. + +Yet I did not grow up the warrior, huntsman, and husband I was to have +been. At the mission school I learned it was wrong to kill. Nine winters +I hunted for the soft heart of Christ, and prayed for the huntsmen who +chased the buffalo on the plains. + +In the autumn of the tenth year I was sent back to my tribe to preach +Christianity to them. With the white man's Bible in my hand, and the +white man's tender heart in my breast, I returned to my own people. + +Wearing a foreigner's dress, I walked, a stranger, into my father's +village. + +Asking my way, for I had not forgotten my native tongue, an old man led +me toward the tepee where my father lay. From my old companion I learned +that my father had been sick many moons. As we drew near the tepee, I +heard the chanting of a medicine-man within it. At once I wished to +enter in and drive from my home the sorcerer of the plains, but the old +warrior checked me. "Ho, wait outside until the medicine-man leaves your +father," he said. While talking he scanned me from head to feet. Then he +retraced his steps toward the heart of the camping-ground. + +My father's dwelling was on the outer limits of the round-faced village. +With every heartthrob I grew more impatient to enter the wigwam. + +While I turned the leaves of my Bible with nervous fingers, the +medicine-man came forth from the dwelling and walked hurriedly away. His +head and face were closely covered with the loose robe which draped his +entire figure. + +He was tall and large. His long strides I have never forgot. They seemed +to me then the uncanny gait of eternal death. Quickly pocketing my +Bible, I went into the tepee. + +Upon a mat lay my father, with furrowed face and gray hair. His eyes and +cheeks were sunken far into his head. His sallow skin lay thin upon his +pinched nose and high cheekbones. Stooping over him, I took his fevered +hand. "How, Ate?" I greeted him. A light flashed from his listless eyes +and his dried lips parted. "My son!" he murmured, in a feeble voice. +Then again the wave of joy and recognition receded. He closed his eyes, +and his hand dropped from my open palm to the ground. + +Looking about, I saw an old woman sitting with bowed head. Shaking hands +with her, I recognized my mother. I sat down between my father and +mother as I used to do, but I did not feel at home. The place where my +old grandmother used to sit was now unoccupied. With my mother I bowed +my head. Alike our throats were choked and tears were streaming from our +eyes; but far apart in spirit our ideas and faiths separated us. My +grief was for the soul unsaved; and I thought my mother wept to see a +brave man's body broken by sickness. + +Useless was my attempt to change the faith in the medicine-man to that +abstract power named God. Then one day I became righteously mad with +anger that the medicine-man should thus ensnare my father's soul. And +when he came to chant his sacred songs I pointed toward the door and +bade him go! The man's eyes glared upon me for an instant. Slowly +gathering his robe about him, he turned his back upon the sick man and +stepped out of our wigwam. "Ha, ha, ha! my son, I can not live without +the medicine-man!" I heard my father cry when the sacred man was gone. + + + + +III. + + +On a bright day, when the winged seeds of the prairie-grass were flying +hither and thither, I walked solemnly toward the centre of the +camping-ground. My heart beat hard and irregularly at my side. Tighter I +grasped the sacred book I carried under my arm. Now was the beginning of +life's work. + +Though I knew it would be hard, I did not once feel that failure was to +be my reward. As I stepped unevenly on the rolling ground, I thought of +the warriors soon to wash off their war-paints and follow me. + +At length I reached the place where the people had assembled to hear me +preach. In a large circle men and women sat upon the dry red grass. +Within the ring I stood, with the white man's Bible in my hand. I tried +to tell them of the soft heart of Christ. + +In silence the vast circle of bareheaded warriors sat under an afternoon +sun. At last, wiping the wet from my brow, I took my place in the ring. +The hush of the assembly filled me with great hope. + +I was turning my thoughts upward to the sky in gratitude, when a stir +called me to earth again. + +A tall, strong man arose. His loose robe hung in folds over his right +shoulder. A pair of snapping black eyes fastened themselves like the +poisonous fangs of a serpent upon me. He was the medicine-man. A tremor +played about my heart and a chill cooled the fire in my veins. + +Scornfully he pointed a long forefinger in my direction and asked: + +"What loyal son is he who, returning to his father's people, wears a +foreigner's dress?" He paused a moment, and then continued: "The dress +of that foreigner of whom a story says he bound a native of our land, +and heaping dry sticks around him, kindled a fire at his feet!" Waving +his hand toward me, he exclaimed, "Here is the traitor to his people!" + +I was helpless. Before the eyes of the crowd the cunning magician turned +my honest heart into a vile nest of treachery. Alas! the people frowned +as they looked upon me. + +"Listen!" he went on. "Which one of you who have eyed the young man can +see through his bosom and warn the people of the nest of young snakes +hatching there? Whose ear was so acute that he caught the hissing of +snakes whenever the young man opened his mouth? This one has not only +proven false to you, but even to the Great Spirit who made him. He is a +fool! Why do you sit here giving ear to a foolish man who could not +defend his people because he fears to kill, who could not bring venison +to renew the life of his sick father? With his prayers, let him drive +away the enemy! With his soft heart, let him keep off starvation! We +shall go elsewhere to dwell upon an untainted ground." + +With this he disbanded the people. When the sun lowered in the west and +the winds were quiet, the village of cone-shaped tepees was gone. The +medicine-man had won the hearts of the people. + +Only my father's dwelling was left to mark the fighting-ground. + + + + +IV. + + +From a long night at my father's bedside I came out to look upon the +morning. The yellow sun hung equally between the snow-covered land and +the cloudless blue sky. The light of the new day was cold. The strong +breath of winter crusted the snow and fitted crystal shells over the +rivers and lakes. As I stood in front of the tepee, thinking of the vast +prairies which separated us from our tribe, and wondering if the high +sky likewise separated the soft-hearted Son of God from us, the icy +blast from the North blew through my hair and skull. My neglected hair +had grown long and fell upon my neck. + +My father had not risen from his bed since the day the medicine-man led +the people away. Though I read from the Bible and prayed beside him upon +my knees, my father would not listen. Yet I believed my prayers were not +unheeded in heaven. + +"Ha, ha, ha! my son," my father groaned upon the first snowfall. "My +son, our food is gone. There is no one to bring me meat! My son, your +soft heart has unfitted you for everything!" Then covering his face +with the buffalo-robe, he said no more. Now while I stood out in that +cold winter morning, I was starving. For two days I had not seen any +food. But my own cold and hunger did not harass my soul as did the +whining cry of the sick old man. + +Stepping again into the tepee, I untied my snow-shoes, which were +fastened to the tent-poles. + +My poor mother, watching by the sick one, and faithfully heaping wood +upon the centre fire, spoke to me: + +"My son, do not fail again to bring your father meat, or he will starve +to death." + +"How, Ina," I answered, sorrowfully. From the tepee I started forth +again to hunt food for my aged parents. All day I tracked the white +level lands in vain. Nowhere, nowhere were there any other footprints +but my own! In the evening of this third fast-day I came back without +meat. Only a bundle of sticks for the fire I brought on my back. +Dropping the wood outside, I lifted the door-flap and set one foot +within the tepee. + +There I grew dizzy and numb. My eyes swam in tears. Before me lay my +old gray-haired father sobbing like a child. In his horny hands he +clutched the buffalo-robe, and with his teeth he was gnawing off the +edges. Chewing the dry stiff hair and buffalo-skin, my father's eyes +sought my hands. Upon seeing them empty, he cried out: + +"My son, your soft heart will let me starve before you bring me meat! +Two hills eastward stand a herd of cattle. Yet you will see me die +before you bring me food!" + +Leaving my mother lying with covered head upon her mat, I rushed out +into the night. + +With a strange warmth in my heart and swiftness in my feet, I climbed +over the first hill, and soon the second one. The moonlight upon the +white country showed me a clear path to the white man's cattle. With my +hand upon the knife in my belt, I leaned heavily against the fence while +counting the herd. + +Twenty in all I numbered. From among them I chose the best-fattened +creature. Leaping over the fence, I plunged my knife into it. + +My long knife was sharp, and my hands, no more fearful and slow, slashed +off choice chunks of warm flesh. Bending under the meat I had taken for +my starving father, I hurried across the prairie. + +Toward home I fairly ran with the life-giving food I carried upon my +back. Hardly had I climbed the second hill when I heard sounds coming +after me. Faster and faster I ran with my load for my father, but the +sounds were gaining upon me. I heard the clicking of snowshoes and the +squeaking of the leather straps at my heels; yet I did not turn to see +what pursued me, for I was intent upon reaching my father. Suddenly like +thunder an angry voice shouted curses and threats into my ear! A rough +hand wrenched my shoulder and took the meat from me! I stopped +struggling to run. A deafening whir filled my head. The moon and stars +began to move. Now the white prairie was sky, and the stars lay under my +feet. Now again they were turning. At last the starry blue rose up into +place. The noise in my ears was still. A great quiet filled the air. In +my hand I found my long knife dripping with blood. At my feet a man's +figure lay prone in blood-red snow. The horrible scene about me seemed a +trick of my senses, for I could not understand it was real. Looking +long upon the blood-stained snow, the load of meat for my starving +father reached my recognition at last. Quickly I tossed it over my +shoulder and started again homeward. + +Tired and haunted I reached the door of the wigwam. Carrying the food +before me, I entered with it into the tepee. + +"Father, here is food!" I cried, as I dropped the meat near my mother. +No answer came. Turning about, I beheld my gray-haired father dead! I +saw by the unsteady firelight an old gray-haired skeleton lying rigid +and stiff. + +Out into the open I started, but the snow at my feet became bloody. + + + + +V. + + +On the day after my father's death, having led my mother to the camp of +the medicineman, I gave myself up to those who were searching for the +murderer of the paleface. + +They bound me hand and foot. Here in this cell I was placed four days +ago. + +The shrieking winter winds have followed me hither. Rattling the bars, +they howl unceasingly: "Your soft heart! your soft heart will see me die +before you bring me food!" Hark! something is clanking the chain on the +door. It is being opened. From the dark night without a black figure +crosses the threshold. * * * It is the guard. He comes to warn me of my +fate. He tells me that tomorrow I must die. In his stern face I laugh +aloud. I do not fear death. + +Yet I wonder who shall come to welcome me in the realm of strange sight. +Will the loving Jesus grant me pardon and give my soul a soothing sleep? +or will my warrior father greet me and receive me as his son? Will my +spirit fly upward to a happy heaven? or shall I sink into the +bottomless pit, an outcast from a God of infinite love? + +Soon, soon I shall know, for now I see the east is growing red. My heart +is strong. My face is calm. My eyes are dry and eager for new scenes. My +hands hang quietly at my side. Serene and brave, my soul awaits the men +to perch me on the gallows for another flight. I go. + + + + +THE TRIAL PATH + + +It was an autumn night on the plain. The smoke-lapels of the cone-shaped +tepee flapped gently in the breeze. From the low night sky, with its +myriad fire points, a large bright star peeped in at the smoke-hole of +the wigwam between its fluttering lapels, down upon two Dakotas talking +in the dark. The mellow stream from the star above, a maid of twenty +summers, on a bed of sweetgrass, drank in with her wakeful eyes. On the +opposite side of the tepee, beyond the centre fireplace, the grandmother +spread her rug. Though once she had lain down, the telling of a story +has aroused her to a sitting posture. + +Her eyes are tight closed. With a thin palm she strokes her wind-shorn +hair. + +"Yes, my grandchild, the legend says the large bright stars are wise old +warriors, and the small dim ones are handsome young braves," she +reiterates, in a high, tremulous voice. + +"Then this one peeping in at the smoke-hole yonder is my dear old +grandfather," muses the young woman, in long-drawn-out words. + +Her soft rich voice floats through the darkness within the tepee, over +the cold ashes heaped on the centre fire, and passes into the ear of the +toothless old woman, who sits dumb in silent reverie. Thence it flies on +swifter wing over many winter snows, till at last it cleaves the warm +light atmosphere of her grandfather's youth. From there her grandmother +made answer: + +"Listen! I am young again. It is the day of your grandfather's death. +The elder one, I mean, for there were two of them. They were like twins, +though they were not brothers. They were friends, inseparable! All +things, good and bad, they shared together, save one, which made them +mad. In that heated frenzy the younger man slew his most intimate +friend. He killed his elder brother, for long had their affection made +them kin." + +The voice of the old woman broke. Swaying her stooped shoulders to and +fro as she sat upon her feet, she muttered vain exclamations beneath her +breath. Her eyes, closed tight against the night, beheld behind them the +light of bygone days. They saw again a rolling black cloud spread itself +over the land. Her ear heard the deep rumbling of a tempest in the +west. She bent low a cowering head, while angry thunder-birds shrieked +across the sky. "Heyã! heyã!" (No! no!) groaned the toothless +grandmother at the fury she had awakened. But the glorious peace +afterward, when yellow sunshine made the people glad, now lured her +memory onward through the storm. + +"How fast, how loud my heart beats as I listen to the messenger's +horrible tale!" she ejaculates. "From the fresh grave of the murdered +man he hurried to our wigwam. Deliberately crossing his bare shins, he +sat down unbidden beside my father, smoking a long-stemmed pipe. He had +scarce caught his breath when, panting, he began: + +"'He was an only son, and a much-adored brother.' + +"With wild, suspecting eyes he glanced at me as if I were in league with +the man-killer, my lover. My father, exhaling sweet-scented smoke, +assented--'How,' Then interrupting the 'Eya' on the lips of the +round-eyed talebearer, he asked, 'My friend, will you smoke?' He took +the pipe by its red-stone bowl, and pointed the long slender stem +toward the man. 'Yes, yes, my friend,' replied he, and reached out a +long brown arm. + +"For many heart-throbs he puffed out the blue smoke, which hung like a +cloud between us. But even through the smoke-mist I saw his sharp black +eyes glittering toward me. I longed to ask what doom awaited the young +murderer, but dared not open my lips, lest I burst forth into screams +instead. My father plied the question. Returning the pipe, the man +replied: 'Oh, the chieftain and his chosen men have had counsel +together. They have agreed it is not safe to allow a man-killer loose in +our midst. He who kills one of our tribe is an enemy, and must suffer +the fate of a foe.' + +"My temples throbbed like a pair of hearts! + +"While I listened, a crier passed by my father's tepee. Mounted, and +swaying with his pony's steps, he proclaimed in a loud voice these words +(hark! I hear them now!): "Ho-po! Give ear, all you people. A terrible +deed is done. Two friends--ay, brothers in heart--have quarreled +together. Now one lies buried on the hill, while the other sits, a +dreaded man-killer, within his dwelling." Says our chieftain: "He who +kills one of our tribe commits the offense of an enemy. As such he must +be tried. Let the father of the dead man choose the mode of torture or +taking of life. He has suffered livid pain, and he alone can judge how +great the punishment must be to avenge his wrong." It is done. + +"'Come, every one, to witness the judgment of a father upon him who was +once his son's best friend. A wild pony is now lassoed. The man-killer +must mount and ride the ranting beast. Stand you all in two parallel +lines from the centre tepee of the bereaved family to the wigwam +opposite in the great outer ring. Between you, in the wide space, is the +given trial-way. From the outer circle the rider must mount and guide +his pony toward the centre tepee. If, having gone the entire distance, +the man-killer gains the centre tepee still sitting on the pony's back, +his life is spared and pardon given. But should he fall, then he himself +has chosen death.' + +"The crier's words now cease. A lull holds the village breathless. Then +hurrying feet tear along, swish, swish, through the tall grass. Sobbing +women hasten toward the trialway. The muffled groan of the round +camp-ground is unbearable. With my face hid in the folds of my blanket, +I run with the crowd toward the open place in the outer circle of our +village. In a moment the two long files of solemn-faced people mark the +path of the public trial. Ah! I see strong men trying to lead the +lassoed pony, pitching and rearing, with white foam flying from his +mouth. I choke with pain as I recognize my handsome lover desolately +alone, striding with set face toward the lassoed pony. 'Do not fall! +Choose life and me!' I cry in my breast, but over my lips I hold my +thick blanket. + +"In an instant he has leaped astride the frightened beast, and the men +have let go their hold. Like an arrow sprung from a strong bow, the +pony, with extended nostrils, plunges halfway to the centre tepee. With +all his might the rider draws the strong reins in. The pony halts with +wooden legs. The rider is thrown forward by force, but does not fall. +Now the maddened creature pitches, with flying heels. The line of men +and women sways outward. Now it is back in place, safe from the kicking, +snorting thing. + +"The pony is fierce, with its large black eyes bulging out of their +sockets. With humped back and nose to the ground, it leaps into the air. +I shut my eyes. I can not see him fall. + +"A loud shout goes up from the hoarse throats of men and women. I look. +So! The wild horse is conquered. My lover dismounts at the doorway of +the centre wigwam. The pony, wet with sweat and shaking with exhaustion, +stands like a guilty dog at his master's side. Here at the entranceway +of the tepee sit the bereaved father, mother, and sister. The old +warrior father rises. Stepping forward two long strides, he grasps the +hand of the murderer of his only son. Holding it so the people can see, +he cries, with compassionate voice, 'My son!' A murmur of surprise +sweeps like a puff of sudden wind along the lines. + +"The mother, with swollen eyes, with her hair cut square with her +shoulders, now rises. Hurrying to the young man, she takes his right +hand. 'My son!' she greets him. But on the second word her voice shook, +and she turned away in sobs. + +"The young people rivet their eyes upon the young woman. She does not +stir. With bowed head, she sits motionless. The old warrior speaks to +her. 'Shake hands with the young brave, my little daughter. He was your +brother's friend for many years. Now he must be both friend and brother +to you,' + +"Hereupon the girl rises. Slowly reaching out her slender hand, she +cries, with twitching lips, 'My brother!' The trial ends." + +"Grandmother!" exploded the girl on the bed of sweet-grass. "Is this +true?" + +"Tosh!" answered the grandmother, with a warmth in her voice. "It is all +true. During the fifteen winters of our wedded life many ponies passed +from our hands, but this little winner, Ohiyesa, was a constant member +of our family. At length, on that sad day your grandfather died, Ohiyesa +was killed at the grave." + +Though the various groups of stars which move across the sky, marking +the passing of time, told how the night was in its zenith, the old +Dakota woman ventured an explanation of the burial ceremony. + +"My grandchild, I have scarce ever breathed the sacred knowledge in my +heart. Tonight I must tell you one of them. Surely you are old enough +to understand. + +"Our wise medicine-man said I did well to hasten Ohiyesa after his +master. Perchance on the journey along the ghostpath your grandfather +will weary, and in his heart wish for his pony. The creature, already +bound on the spirit-trail, will be drawn by that subtle wish. Together +master and beast will enter the next camp-ground." + +The woman ceased her talking. But only the deep breathing of the girl +broke the quiet, for now the night wind had lulled itself to sleep. + +"Hinnu! hinnu! Asleep! I have been talking in the dark, unheard. I did +wish the girl would plant in her heart this sacred tale," muttered she, +in a querulous voice. + +Nestling into her bed of sweet-scented grass, she dozed away into +another dream. Still the guardian star in the night sky beamed +compassionately down upon the little tepee on the plain. + + + + +A WARRIOR'S DAUGHTER + + +In the afternoon shadow of a large tepee, with red-painted smoke lapels, +sat a warrior father with crossed shins. His head was so poised that his +eye swept easily the vast level land to the eastern horizon line. + +He was the chieftain's bravest warrior. He had won by heroic deeds the +privilege of staking his wigwam within the great circle of tepees. + +He was also one of the most generous gift givers to the toothless old +people. For this he was entitled to the red-painted smoke lapels on his +cone-shaped dwelling. He was proud of his honors. He never wearied of +rehearsing nightly his own brave deeds. Though by wigwam fires he prated +much of his high rank and widespread fame, his great joy was a wee +black-eyed daughter of eight sturdy winters. Thus as he sat upon the +soft grass, with his wife at his side, bent over her bead work, he was +singing a dance song, and beat lightly the rhythm with his slender +hands. + +His shrewd eyes softened with pleasure as he watched the easy movements +of the small body dancing on the green before him. + +Tusee is taking her first dancing lesson. Her tightly-braided hair +curves over both brown ears like a pair of crooked little horns which +glisten in the summer sun. + +With her snugly moccasined feet close together, and a wee hand at her +belt to stay the long string of beads which hang from her bare neck, she +bends her knees gently to the rhythm of her father's voice. + +Now she ventures upon the earnest movement, slightly upward and +sidewise, in a circle. At length the song drops into a closing cadence, +and the little woman, clad in beaded deerskin, sits down beside the +elder one. Like her mother, she sits upon her feet. In a brief moment +the warrior repeats the last refrain. Again Tusee springs to her feet +and dances to the swing of the few final measures. + +Just as the dance was finished, an elderly man, with short, thick hair +loose about his square shoulders, rode into their presence from the +rear, and leaped lightly from his pony's back. Dropping the rawhide rein +to the ground, he tossed himself lazily on the grass. "Hunhe, you have +returned soon," said the warrior, while extending a hand to his little +daughter. + +Quickly the child ran to her father's side and cuddled close to him, +while he tenderly placed a strong arm about her. Both father and child, +eyeing the figure on the grass, waited to hear the man's report. + +"It is true," began the man, with a stranger's accent. "This is the +night of the dance." + +"Hunha!" muttered the warrior with some surprise. + +Propping himself upon his elbows, the man raised his face. His features +were of the Southern type. From an enemy's camp he was taken captive +long years ago by Tusee's father. But the unusual qualities of the slave +had won the Sioux warrior's heart, and for the last three winters the +man had had his freedom. He was made real man again. His hair was +allowed to grow. However, he himself had chosen to stay in the warrior's +family. + +"Hunha!" again ejaculated the warrior father. Then turning to his little +daughter, he asked, "Tusee, do you hear that?" + +"Yes, father, and I am going to dance tonight!" + +With these words she bounded out of his arm and frolicked about in glee. +Hereupon the proud mother's voice rang out in a chiding laugh. + +"My child, in honor of your first dance your father must give a generous +gift. His ponies are wild, and roam beyond the great hill. Pray, what +has he fit to offer?" she questioned, the pair of puzzled eyes fixed +upon her. + +"A pony from the herd, mother, a fleet-footed pony from the herd!" Tusee +shouted with sudden inspiration. + +Pointing a small forefinger toward the man lying on the grass, she +cried, "Uncle, you will go after the pony tomorrow!" And pleased with +her solution of the problem, she skipped wildly about. Her childish +faith in her elders was not conditioned by a knowledge of human +limitations, but thought all things possible to grown-ups. + +"Hähob!" exclaimed the mother, with a rising inflection, implying by the +expletive that her child's buoyant spirit be not weighted with a denial. + +Quickly to the hard request the man replied, "How! I go if Tusee tells +me so!" + +This delighted the little one, whose black eyes brimmed over with light. +Standing in front of the strong man, she clapped her small, brown hands +with joy. + +"That makes me glad! My heart is good! Go, uncle, and bring a handsome +pony!" she cried. In an instant she would have frisked away, but an +impulse held her tilting where she stood. In the man's own tongue, for +he had taught her many words and phrases, she exploded, "Thank you, good +uncle, thank you!" then tore away from sheer excess of glee. + +The proud warrior father, smiling and narrowing his eyes, muttered +approval, "Howo! Hechetu!" + +Like her mother, Tusee has finely pencilled eyebrows and slightly +extended nostrils; but in her sturdiness of form she resembles her +father. + +A loyal daughter, she sits within her tepee making beaded deerskins for +her father, while he longs to stave off her every suitor as all unworthy +of his old heart's pride. But Tusee is not alone in her dwelling. Near +the entrance-way a young brave is half reclining on a mat. In silence he +watches the petals of a wild rose growing on the soft buckskin. Quickly +the young woman slips the beads on the silvery sinew thread, and works +them into the pretty flower design. Finally, in a low, deep voice, the +young man begins: + +"The sun is far past the zenith. It is now only a man's height above the +western edge of land. I hurried hither to tell you tomorrow I join the +war party." + +He pauses for reply, but the maid's head drops lower over her deerskin, +and her lips are more firmly drawn together. He continues: + +"Last night in the moonlight I met your warrior father. He seemed to +know I had just stepped forth from your tepee. I fear he did not like +it, for though I greeted him, he was silent. I halted in his pathway. +With what boldness I dared, while my heart was beating hard and fast, I +asked him for his only daughter. + +"Drawing himself erect to his tallest height, and gathering his loose +robe more closely about his proud figure, he flashed a pair of piercing +eyes upon me. + +"'Young man,' said he, with a cold, slow voice that chilled me to the +marrow of my bones, 'hear me. Naught but an enemy's scalp-lock, plucked +fresh with your own hand, will buy Tusee for your wife,' Then he turned +on his heel and stalked away." + +Tusee thrusts her work aside. With earnest eyes she scans her lover's +face. + +"My father's heart is really kind. He would know if you are brave and +true," murmured the daughter, who wished no ill-will between her two +loved ones. + +Then rising to go, the youth holds out a right hand. "Grasp my hand once +firmly before I go, Hoye. Pray tell me, will you wait and watch for my +return?" + +Tusee only nods assent, for mere words are vain. + +At early dawn the round camp-ground awakes into song. Men and women sing +of bravery and of triumph. They inspire the swelling breasts of the +painted warriors mounted on prancing ponies bedecked with the green +branches of trees. + +Riding slowly around the great ring of cone-shaped tepees, here and +there, a loud-singing warrior swears to avenge a former wrong, and +thrusts a bare brown arm against the purple east, calling the Great +Spirit to hear his vow. All having made the circuit, the singing war +party gallops away southward. + +Astride their ponies laden with food and deerskins, brave elderly women +follow after their warriors. Among the foremost rides a young woman in +elaborately beaded buckskin dress. Proudly mounted, she curbs with the +single rawhide loop a wild-eyed pony. + +It is Tusee on her father's warhorse. Thus the war party of Indian men +and their faithful women vanish beyond the southern skyline. + +A day's journey brings them very near the enemy's borderland. Nightfall +finds a pair of twin tepees nestled in a deep ravine. Within one lounge +the painted warriors, smoking their pipes and telling weird stories by +the firelight, while in the other watchful women crouch uneasily about +their center fire. + +By the first gray light in the east the tepees are banished. They are +gone. The warriors are in the enemy's camp, breaking dreams with their +tomahawks. The women are hid away in secret places in the long thicketed +ravine. + +The day is far spent, the red sun is low over the west. + +At length straggling warriors return, one by one, to the deep hollow. In +the twilight they number their men. Three are missing. Of these absent +ones two are dead; but the third one, a young man, is a captive to the +foe. + +"He-he!" lament the warriors, taking food in haste. + +In silence each woman, with long strides, hurries to and fro, tying +large bundles on her pony's back. Under cover of night the war party +must hasten homeward. Motionless, with bowed head, sits a woman in her +hiding-place. She grieves for her lover. + +In bitterness of spirit she hears the warriors' murmuring words. With +set teeth she plans to cheat the hated enemy of their captive. In the +meanwhile low signals are given, and the war party, unaware of Tusee's +absence, steal quietly away. The soft thud of pony-hoofs grows fainter +and fainter. The gradual hush of the empty ravine whirrs noisily in the +ear of the young woman. Alert for any sound of footfalls nigh, she holds +her breath to listen. Her right hand rests on a long knife in her belt. +Ah, yes, she knows where her pony is hid, but not yet has she need of +him. Satisfied that no danger is nigh, she prowls forth from her place +of hiding. With a panther's tread and pace she climbs the high ridge +beyond the low ravine. From thence she spies the enemy's camp-fires. + +Rooted to the barren bluff the slender woman's figure stands on the +pinnacle of night, outlined against a starry sky. The cool night breeze +wafts to her burning ear snatches of song and drum. With desperate hate +she bites her teeth. + +Tusee beckons the stars to witness. With impassioned voice and uplifted +face she pleads: + +"Great Spirit, speed me to my lover's rescue! Give me swift cunning for +a weapon this night! All-powerful Spirit, grant me my warrior-father's +heart, strong to slay a foe and mighty to save a friend!" + +In the midst of the enemy's camp-ground, underneath a temporary +dance-house, are men and women in gala-day dress. It is late in the +night, but the merry warriors bend and bow their nude, painted bodies +before a bright center fire. To the lusty men's voices and the rhythmic +throbbing drum, they leap and rebound with feathered headgears waving. + +Women with red-painted cheeks and long, braided hair sit in a large +half-circle against the willow railing. They, too, join in the singing, +and rise to dance with their victorious warriors. + +Amid this circular dance arena stands a prisoner bound to a post, +haggard with shame and sorrow. He hangs his disheveled head. + +He stares with unseeing eyes upon the bare earth at his feet. With jeers +and smirking faces the dancers mock the Dakota captive. Rowdy braves and +small boys hoot and yell in derision. + +Silent among the noisy mob, a tall woman, leaning both elbows on the +round willow railing, peers into the lighted arena. The dancing center +fire shines bright into her handsome face, intensifying the night in her +dark eyes. It breaks into myriad points upon her beaded dress. Unmindful +of the surging throng jostling her at either side, she glares in upon +the hateful, scoffing men. Suddenly she turns her head. Tittering maids +whisper near her ear: + +"There! There! See him now, sneering in the captive's face. 'Tis he who +sprang upon the young man and dragged him by his long hair to yonder +post. See! He is handsome! How gracefully he dances!" + +The silent young woman looks toward the bound captive. She sees a +warrior, scarce older than the captive, flourishing a tomahawk in the +Dakota's face. A burning rage darts forth from her eyes and brands him +for a victim of revenge. Her heart mutters within her breast, "Come, I +wish to meet you, vile foe, who captured my lover and tortures him now +with a living death." + +Here the singers hush their voices, and the dancers scatter to their +various resting-places along the willow ring. The victor gives a +reluctant last twirl of his tomahawk, then, like the others, he leaves +the center ground. With head and shoulders swaying from side to side, he +carries a high-pointing chin toward the willow railing. Sitting down +upon the ground with crossed legs, he fans himself with an outspread +turkey wing. + +Now and then he stops his haughty blinking to peep out of the corners of +his eyes. He hears some one clearing her throat gently. It is +unmistakably for his ear. The wing-fan swings irregularly to and fro. At +length he turns a proud face over a bare shoulder and beholds a handsome +woman smiling. + +"Ah, she would speak to a hero!" thumps his heart wildly. + +The singers raise their voices in unison. The music is irresistible. +Again lunges the victor into the open arena. Again he leers into the +captive's face. At every interval between the songs he returns to his +resting-place. Here the young woman awaits him. As he approaches she +smiles boldly into his eyes. He is pleased with her face and her smile. + +Waving his wing-fan spasmodically in front of his face, he sits with his +ears pricked up. He catches a low whisper. A hand taps him lightly on +the shoulder. The handsome woman speaks to him in his own tongue. "Come +out into the night. I wish to tell you who I am." + +He must know what sweet words of praise the handsome woman has for him. +With both hands he spreads the meshes of the loosely woven willows, and +crawls out unnoticed into the dark. + +Before him stands the young woman. Beckoning him with a slender hand, +she steps backward, away from the light and the restless throng of +onlookers. He follows with impatient strides. She quickens her pace. He +lengthens his strides. Then suddenly the woman turns from him and darts +away with amazing speed. Clinching his fists and biting his lower lip, +the young man runs after the fleeing woman. In his maddened pursuit he +forgets the dance arena. + +Beside a cluster of low bushes the woman halts. The young man, panting +for breath and plunging headlong forward, whispers loud, "Pray tell me, +are you a woman or an evil spirit to lure me away?" + +Turning on heels firmly planted in the earth, the woman gives a wild +spring forward, like a panther for its prey. In a husky voice she hissed +between her teeth, "I am a Dakota woman!" + +From her unerring long knife the enemy falls heavily at her feet. The +Great Spirit heard Tusee's prayer on the hilltop. He gave her a +warrior's strong heart to lessen the foe by one. + +A bent old woman's figure, with a bundle like a grandchild slung on her +back, walks round and round the dance-house. The wearied onlookers are +leaving in twos and threes. The tired dancers creep out of the willow +railing, and some go out at the entrance way, till the singers, too, +rise from the drum and are trudging drowsily homeward. Within the arena +the center fire lies broken in red embers. The night no longer lingers +about the willow railing, but, hovering into the dance-house, covers +here and there a snoring man whom sleep has overpowered where he sat. + +The captive in his tight-binding rawhide ropes hangs in hopeless +despair. Close about him the gloom of night is slowly crouching. Yet the +last red, crackling embers cast a faint light upon his long black hair, +and, shining through the thick mats, caress his wan face with undying +hope. + +Still about the dance-house the old woman prowls. Now the embers are +gray with ashes. + +The old bent woman appears at the entrance way. With a cautious, groping +foot she enters. Whispering between her teeth a lullaby for her sleeping +child in her blanket, she searches for something forgotten. + +Noisily snored the dreaming men in the darkest parts. As the lisping old +woman draws nigh, the captive again opens his eyes. + +A forefinger she presses to her lip. The young man arouses himself from +his stupor. His senses belie him. Before his wide-open eyes the old bent +figure straightens into its youthful stature. Tusee herself is beside +him. With a stroke upward and downward she severs the cruel cords with +her sharp blade. Dropping her blanket from her shoulders, so that it +hangs from her girdled waist like a skirt, she shakes the large bundle +into a light shawl for her lover. Quickly she spreads it over his bare +back. + +"Come!" she whispers, and turns to go; but the young man, numb and +helpless, staggers nigh to falling. + +The sight of his weakness makes her strong. A mighty power thrills her +body. Stooping beneath his outstretched arms grasping at the air for +support, Tusee lifts him upon her broad shoulders. With half-running, +triumphant steps she carries him away into the open night. + + + + +A DREAM OF HER GRANDFATHER + + +Her grandfather was a Dakota "medicine man." Among the Indians of his +day he was widely known for his successful healing work. He was one of +the leading men of the tribe and came to Washington, D.C., with one of +the first delegations relative to affairs concerning the Indian people +and the United States government. + +His was the first band of the Great Sioux Nation to make treaties with +the government in the hope of bringing about an amicable arrangement +between the red and white Americans. The journey to the nation's capital +was made almost entirely on pony-back, there being no railroads, and the +Sioux delegation was beset with many hardships on the trail. His visit +to Washington, in behalf of peace among men, proved to be his last +earthly mission. From a sudden illness, he died and was buried here. + +When his small granddaughter grew up she learned the white man's tongue, +and followed in the footsteps of her grandfather to the very seat of +government to carry on his humanitarian work. Though her days were +filled with problems for welfare work among her people, she had a +strange dream one night during her stay in Washington. The dream was +this: Returning from an afternoon out, she found a large cedar chest had +been delivered to her home in her absence. She sniffed the sweet perfume +of the red wood, which reminded her of the breath of the forest,--and +admired the box so neatly made, without trimmings. It looked so clean, +strong and durable in its native genuineness. With elation, she took the +tag in her hand and read her name aloud. "Who sent me this cedar chest?" +she asked, and was told it came from her grandfather. + +Wondering what gift it could be her grandfather wished now to confer +upon her, wholly disregarding his death years ago, she was all eagerness +to open the mystery chest. + +She remembered her childhood days and the stories she loved to hear +about the unusual powers of her grandfather,--recalled how she, the wee +girl, had coveted the medicine bags, beaded and embroidered in porcupine +quills, in symbols designed by the great "medicine man," her +grandfather. Well did she remember her merited rebuke that such things +were never made for relics. Treasures came in due time to those ready to +receive them. + +In great expectancy, she lifted the heavy lid of the cedar chest. "Oh!" +she exclaimed, with a note of disappointment, seeing no beaded Indian +regalia or trinkets. "Why does my grandfather send such a light gift in +a heavy, large box?" She was mystified and much perplexed. + +The gift was a fantastic thing, of texture far more delicate than a +spider's filmy web. It was a vision! A picture of an Indian camp, not +painted on canvas nor yet written. It was dream-stuff, suspended in the +thin air, filling the inclosure of the cedar wood container. As she +looked upon it, the picture grew more and more real, exceeding the +proportions of the chest. It was all so illusive a breath might have +blown it away; yet there it was, real as life,--a circular camp of white +cone-shaped tepees, astir with Indian people. The village crier, with +flowing head-dress of eagle plumes, mounted on a prancing white pony, +rode within the arena. Indian men, women and children stopped in groups +and clusters, while bright painted faces peered out of tepee doors, to +listen to the chieftain's crier. + +At this point, she, too, heard the full melodious voice. She heard +distinctly the Dakota words he proclaimed to the people. "Be glad! +Rejoice! Look up, and see the new day dawning! Help is near! Hear me, +every one." + +She caught the glad tidings and was thrilled with new hope for her +people. + + + + +THE WIDESPREAD ENIGMA CONCERNING BLUE-STAR WOMAN + + +It was summer on the western plains. Fields of golden sunflowers facing +eastward, greeted the rising sun. Blue-Star Woman, with windshorn braids +of white hair over each ear, sat in the shade of her log hut before an +open fire. Lonely but unmolested she dwelt here like the ground squirrel +that took its abode nearby,--both through the easy tolerance of the land +owner. The Indian woman held a skillet over the burning embers. A large +round cake, with long slashes in its center, was baking and crowding the +capacity of the frying pan. + +In deep abstraction Blue-Star Woman prepared her morning meal. "Who am +I?" had become the obsessing riddle of her life. She was no longer a +young woman, being in her fifty-third year. In the eyes of the white +man's law, it was required of her to give proof of her membership in the +Sioux tribe. The unwritten law of heart prompted her naturally to say, +"I am a being. I am Blue-Star Woman. A piece of earth is my birthright." + +It was taught, for reasons now forgot, that an Indian should never +pronounce his or her name in answer to any inquiry. It was probably a +means of protection in the days of black magic. Be this as it may, +Blue-Star Woman lived in times when this teaching was disregarded. It +gained her nothing, however, to pronounce her name to the government +official to whom she applied for her share of tribal land. His +persistent question was always, "Who were your parents?" + +Blue-Star Woman was left an orphan at a tender age. She did not remember +them. They were long gone to the spirit-land,-and she could not +understand why they should be recalled to earth on her account. It was +another one of the old, old teachings of her race that the names of the +dead should not be idly spoken. It had become a sacrilege to mention +carelessly the name of any departed one, especially in matters of +disputes over worldy possessions. The unfortunate circumstances of her +early childhood, together with the lack of written records of a roving +people, placed a formidable barrier between her and her heritage. The +fact was events of far greater importance to the tribe than her +reincarnation had passed unrecorded in books. The verbal reports of the +old-time men and women of the tribe were varied,--some were actually +contradictory. Blue-Star Woman was unable to find even a twig of her +family tree. + +She sharpened one end of a long stick and with it speared the fried +bread when it was browned. Heedless of the hot bread's "Tsing!" in a +high treble as it was lifted from the fire, she added it to the six +others which had preceded it. It had been many a moon since she had had +a meal of fried bread, for she was too poor to buy at any one time all +the necessary ingredients, particularly the fat in which to fry it. +During the breadmaking, the smoke-blackened coffeepot boiled over. The +aroma of freshly made coffee smote her nostrils and roused her from the +tantalizing memories. + +The day before, friendly spirits, the unseen ones, had guided her +aimless footsteps to her Indian neighbor's house. No sooner had she +entered than she saw on the table some grocery bundles. "Iye-que, +fortunate one!" she exclaimed as she took the straight-backed chair +offered her. At once the Indian hostess untied the bundles and measured +out a cupful of green coffee beans and a pound of lard. She gave them to +Blue-Star Woman, saying, "I want to share my good fortune. Take these +home with you." Thus it was that Blue-Star Woman had come into +unexpected possession of the materials which now contributed richly to +her breakfast. + +The generosity of her friend had often saved her from starvation. +Generosity is said to be a fault of Indian people, but neither the +Pilgrim Fathers nor Blue-Star Woman ever held it seriously against them. +Blue-Star Woman was even grateful for this gift of food. She was fond of +coffee,-that black drink brought hither by those daring voyagers of long +ago. The coffee habit was one of the signs of her progress in the white +man's civilization, also had she emerged from the tepee into a log hut, +another achievement. She had learned to read the primer and to write her +name. Little Blue-Star attended school unhindered by a fond mother's +fears that a foreign teacher might not spare the rod with her darling. + +Blue-Star Woman was her individual name. For untold ages the Indian +race had not used family names. A new-born child was given a brand-new +name. Blue-Star Woman was proud to write her name for which she would +not be required to substitute another's upon her marriage, as is the +custom of civilized peoples. + +"The times are changed now," she muttered under her breath. "My +individual name seems to mean nothing." Looking out into space, she saw +the nodding sunflowers, and they acquiesced with her. Their drying +leaves reminded her of the near approach of autumn. Then soon, very +soon, the ice would freeze along the banks of the muddy river. The day +of the first ice was her birthday. She would be fifty-four winters old. +How futile had been all these winters to secure her a share in tribal +lands. A weary smile flickered across her face as she sat there on the +ground like a bronze figure of patience and long-suffering. + +The breadmaking was finished. The skillet was set aside to cool. She +poured the appetizing coffee into her tin cup. With fried bread and +black coffee she regaled herself. Again her mind reverted to her +riddle. "The missionary preacher said he could not explain the white +man's law to me. He who reads daily from the Holy Bible, which he tells +me is God's book, cannot understand mere man's laws. This also puzzles +me," thought she to herself. "Once a wise leader of our people, +addressing a president of this country, said: 'I am a man. You are +another. The Great Spirit is our witness!' This is simple and easy to +understand, but the times are changed. The white man's laws are +strange." + +Blue-Star Woman broke off a piece of fried bread between a thumb and +forefinger. She ate it hungrily, and sipped from her cup of fragrant +coffee. "I do not understand the white man's law. It's like walking in +the dark. In this darkness, I am growing fearful of everything." + +Oblivious to the world, she had not heard the footfall of two Indian men +who now stood before her. + +Their short-cropped hair looked blue-black in contrast to the faded +civilian clothes they wore. Their white man's shoes were rusty and +unpolished. To the unconventional eyes of the old Indian woman, their +celluloid collars appeared like shining marks of civilization. Blue-Star +Woman looked up from the lap of mother earth without rising. "Hinnu, +hinnu!" she ejaculated in undisguised surprise. "Pray, who are these +would-be white men?" she inquired. + +In one voice and by an assumed relationship the two Indian men addressed +her. "Aunt, I shake hands with you." Again Blue-Star Woman remarked, +"Oh, indeed! these near white men speak my native tongue and shake hands +according to our custom." Did she guess the truth, she would have known +they were simply deluded mortals, deceiving others and themselves most +of all. Boisterously laughing and making conversation, they each in turn +gripped her withered hand. + +Like a sudden flurry of wind, tossing loose ends of things, they broke +into her quiet morning hour and threw her groping thoughts into greater +chaos. Masking their real errand with long-drawn faces, they feigned a +concern for her welfare only. "We come to ask how you are living. We +heard you were slowly starving to death. We heard you are one of those +Indians who have been cheated out of their share in tribal lands by the +government officials." + +Blue-Star Woman became intensely interested. + +"You see we are educated in the white man's ways," they said with +protruding chests. One unconsciously thrust his thumbs into the +arm-holes of his ill-fitting coat and strutted about in his pride. "We +can help you get your land. We want to help our aunt. All old people +like you ought to be helped before the younger ones. The old will die +soon, and they may never get the benefit of their land unless some one +like us helps them to get their rights, without further delay." + +Blue-Star Woman listened attentively. + +Motioning to the mats she spread upon the ground, she said: "Be seated, +my nephews." She accepted the relationship assumed for the occasion. "I +will give you some breakfast." Quickly she set before them a generous +helping of fried bread and cups of coffee. Resuming her own meal, she +continued, "You are wonderfully kind. It is true, my nephews, that I +have grown old trying to secure my share of land. It may not be long +till I shall pass under the sod." + +The two men responded with "How, how," which meant, "Go on with your +story. We are all ears." Blue-Star Woman had not yet detected any +particular sharpness about their ears, but by an impulse she looked up +into their faces and scrutinized them. They were busily engaged in +eating. Their eyes were fast upon the food on the mat in front of their +crossed shins. Inwardly she made a passing observation how, like +ravenous wolves, her nephews devoured their food. Coyotes in midwinter +could not have been more starved. Without comment she offered them the +remaining fried cakes, and between them they took it all. She offered +the second helping of coffee, which they accepted without hesitancy. +Filling their cups, she placed her empty coffeepot on the dead ashes. + +To them she rehearsed her many hardships. It had become a habit now to +tell her long story of disappointments with all its petty details. It +was only another instance of good intentions gone awry. It was a paradox +upon a land of prophecy that its path to future glory be stained with +the blood of its aborigines. Incongruous as it is, the two nephews, with +their white associates, were glad of a condition so profitable to them. +Their solicitation for Blue-Star Woman was not at all altruistic. They +thrived in their grafting business. They and their occupation were the +by-product of an unwieldly bureaucracy over the nation's wards. + +"Dear aunt, you failed to establish the facts of your identity," they +told her. Hereupon Blue-Star Woman's countenance fell. It was ever the +same old words. It was the old song of the government official she +loathed to hear. The next remark restored her courage. "If any one can +discover evidence, it's us! I tell you, aunt, we'll fix it all up for +you." It was a great relief to the old Indian woman to be thus +unburdened of her riddle, with a prospect of possessing land. "There is +one thing you will have to do,--that is, to pay us half of your land and +money when you get them." Here was a pause, and Blue-Star Woman answered +slowly, "Y-e-s," in an uncertain frame of mind. + +The shrewd schemers noted her behavior. "Wouldn't you rather have a half +of a crust of bread than none at all?" they asked. She was duly +impressed with the force of their argument. In her heart she agreed, "A +little something to eat is better than nothing!" The two men talked in +regular relays. The flow of smooth words was continuous and so much like +purring that all the woman's suspicions were put soundly to sleep. "Look +here, aunt, you know very well that prairie fire is met with a +back-fire." Blue-Star Woman, recalling her experiences in fire-fighting, +quickly responded, "Yes, oh, yes." + +"In just the same way, we fight crooks with crooks. We have clever white +lawyers working with us. They are the back-fire." Then, as if +remembering some particular incident, they both laughed aloud and said, +"Yes, and sometimes they use us as the back-fire! We trade fifty-fifty." + +Blue-Star Woman sat with her chin in the palm of one hand with elbow +resting in the other. She rocked herself slightly forward and backward. +At length she answered, "Yes, I will pay you half of my share in tribal +land and money when I get them. In bygone days, brave young men of the +order of the White-Horse-Riders sought out the aged, the poor, the +widows and orphans to aid them, but they did their good work without +pay. The White-Horse-Riders are gone. The times are changed. I am a poor +old Indian woman. I need warm clothing before winter begins to blow its +icicles through us. I need fire wood. I need food. As you have said, a +little help is better than none." + +Hereupon the two pretenders scored another success. + +They rose to their feet. They had eaten up all the fried bread and +drained the coffeepot. They shook hands with Blue-Star Woman and +departed. In the quiet that followed their departure she sat munching +her small piece of bread, which, by a lucky chance, she had taken on her +plate before the hungry wolves had come. Very slowly she ate the +fragment of fried bread as if to increase it by diligent mastication. A +self-condemning sense of guilt disturbed her. In her dire need she had +become involved with tricksters. Her nephews laughingly told her, "We +use crooks, and crooks use us in the skirmish over Indian lands." + +The friendly shade of the house shrank away from her and hid itself +under the narrow eaves of the dirt covered roof. She shrugged her +shoulders. The sun high in the sky had witnessed the affair and now +glared down upon her white head. Gathering upon her arm the mats and +cooking utensils, she hobbled into her log hut. + +Under the brooding wilderness silence, on the Sioux Indian Reservation, +the superintendent summoned together the leading Indian men of the +tribe. He read a letter which he had received from headquarters in +Washington, D.C. It announced the enrollment of Blue-Star Woman on their +tribal roll of members and the approval of allotting land to her. + +It came as a great shock to the tribesmen. Without their knowledge and +consent their property was given to a strange woman. They protested in +vain. The superintendent said, "I received this letter from Washington. +I have read it to you for your information. I have fulfilled my duty. I +can do no more." With these fateful words he dismissed the assembly. + +Heavy hearted, Chief High Flier returned to his dwelling. Smoking his +long-stemmed pipe he pondered over the case of Blue-Star Woman. The +Indian's guardian had got into a way of usurping autocratic power in +disposing of the wards' property. It was growing intolerable. "No doubt +this Indian woman is entitled to allotment, but where? Certainly not +here," he thought to himself. + +Laying down his pipe, he called his little granddaughter from her play, +"You are my interpreter and scribe," he said. "Bring your paper and +pencil." A letter was written in the child's sprawling hand, and signed +by the old chieftain. It read: + +"My Friend: + +"I make letter to you. My heart is sad. Washington give my tribe's land +to a woman called Blue-Star. We do not know her. We were not asked to +give land, but our land is taken from us to give to another Indian. This +is not right. Lots of little children of my tribe have no land. Why this +strange woman get our land which belongs to our children? Go to +Washington and ask if our treaties tell him to give our property away +without asking us. Tell him I thought we made good treaties on paper, +but now our children cry for food. We are too poor. We cannot give even +to our own little children. Washington is very rich. Washington now +owns our country. If he wants to help this poor Indian woman, Blue-Star, +let him give her some of his land and his money. This is all I will say +until you answer me. I shake hands with you with my heart. The Great +Spirit hears my words. They are true. + +"Your friend, + +"CHIEF HIGH FLIER. + +"X (his mark)." + +The letter was addressed to a prominent American woman. A stamp was +carefully placed on the envelope. + +Early the next morning, before the dew was off the grass, the +chieftain's riding pony was caught from the pasture and brought to his +log house. It was saddled and bridled by a younger man, his son with +whom he made his home. The old chieftain came out, carrying in one hand +his long-stemmed pipe and tobacco pouch. His blanket was loosely girdled +about his waist. Tightly holding the saddle horn, he placed a moccasined +foot carefully into the stirrup and pulled himself up awkwardly into the +saddle, muttering to himself, "Alas, I can no more leap into my saddle. +I now must crawl about in my helplessness." He was past eighty years of +age, and no longer agile. + +He set upon his ten-mile trip to the only post office for hundreds of +miles around. In his shirt pocket, he carried the letter destined, in +due season, to reach the heart of American people. His pony, grown old +in service, jogged along the dusty road. Memories of other days thronged +the wayside, and for the lonely rider transformed all the country. Those +days were gone when the Indian youths were taught to be truthful,--to be +merciful to the poor. Those days were gone when moral cleanliness was a +chief virtue; when public feasts were given in honor of the virtuous +girls and young men of the tribe. Untold mischief is now possible +through these broken ancient laws. The younger generation were not being +properly trained in the high virtues. A slowly starving race was growing +mad, and the pitifully weak sold their lands for a pot of porridge. + +"He, he, he! He, he, he!" he lamented. "Small Voice Woman, my own +relative is being represented as the mother of this strange +Blue-Star--the papers were made by two young Indian men who have +learned the white man's ways. Why must I be forced to accept the +mischief of children? My memory is clear. My reputation for veracity is +well known. + +"Small Voice Woman lived in my house until her death. She had only one +child and it was a _boy_!" He held his hand over this thumping heart, +and was reminded of the letter in his pocket. "This letter,--what will +happen when it reaches my good friend?" he asked himself. The chieftain +rubbed his dim eyes and groaned, "If only my good friend knew the folly +of turning my letter into the hands of bureaucrats! In face of repeated +defeat, I am daring once more to send this one letter." An inner voice +said in his ear, "And this one letter will share the same fate of the +other letters." + +Startled by the unexpected voice, he jerked upon the bridle reins and +brought the drowsy pony to a sudden halt. There was no one near. He +found himself a mile from the post office, for the cluster of government +buildings, where lived the superintendent, were now in plain sight. His +thin frame shook with emotion. He could not go there with his letter. + +He dismounted from his pony. His quavering voice chanted a bravery song +as he gathered dry grasses and the dead stalks of last year's +sunflowers. He built a fire, and crying aloud, for his sorrow was +greater than he could bear, he cast the letter into the flames. The fire +consumed it. He sent his message on the wings of fire and he believed +she would get it. He yet trusted that help would come to his people +before it was too late. The pony tossed his head in a readiness to go. +He knew he was on the return trip and he was glad to travel. + +The wind which blew so gently at dawn was now increased into a gale as +the sun approached the zenith. The chieftain, on his way home, sensed a +coming storm. He looked upward to the sky and around in every direction. +Behind him, in the distance, he saw a cloud of dust. He saw several +horsemen whipping their ponies and riding at great speed. Occasionally +he heard their shouts, as if calling after some one. He slackened his +pony's pace and frequently looked over his shoulder to see who the +riders were advancing in hot haste upon him. He was growing curious. In +a short time the riders surrounded him. On their coats shone brass +buttons, and on their hats were gold cords and tassels. They were Indian +police. + +"Wan!" he exclaimed, finding himself the object of their chase. It was +their foolish ilk who had murdered the great leader, Sitting Bull. +"Pray, what is the joke? Why do young men surround an old man quietly +riding home?" + +"Uncle," said the spokesman, "we are hirelings, as you know. We are sent +by the government superintendent to arrest you and take you back with +us. The superintendent says you are one of the bad Indians, singing war +songs and opposing the government all the time; this morning you were +seen trying to set fire to the government agency." + +"Hunhunhe!" replied the old chief, placing the palm of his hand over his +mouth agap in astonishment. "All this is unbelievable!" + +The policeman took hold of the pony's bridle and turned the reluctant +little beast around. They led it back with them and the old chieftain +set unresisting in the saddle. High Flier was taken before the +superintendent, who charged him with setting fires to destroy government +buildings and found him guilty. Thus Chief High Flier was sent to jail. +He had already suffered much during his life. He was the voiceless man +of America. And now in his old age he was cast into prison. The chagrin +of it all, together with his utter helplessness to defend his own or his +people's human rights, weighed heavily upon his spirit. + +The foul air of the dingy cell nauseated him who loved the open. He sat +wearily down upon the tattered mattress, which lay on the rough board +floor. He drew his robe closely about his tall figure, holding it +partially over his face, his hands covered within the folds. In profound +gloom the gray-haired prisoner sat there, without a stir for long hours +and knew not when the day ended and night began. He sat buried in his +desperation. His eyes were closed, but he could not sleep. Bread and +water in tin receptacles set upon the floor beside him untouched. He was +not hungry. Venturesome mice crept out upon the floor and scampered in +the dim starlight streaming through the iron bars of the cell window. +They squeaked as they dared each other to run across his moccasined +feet, but the chieftain neither saw nor heard them. + +A terrific struggle was waged within his being. He fought as he never +fought before. Tenaciously he hung upon hope for the day of +salvation--that hope hoary with age. Defying all odds against him, he +refused to surrender faith in good people. + +Underneath his blanket, wrapped so closely about him, stole a luminous +light. Before his stricken consciousness appeared a vision. Lo, his good +friend, the American woman to whom he had sent his messages by fire, now +stood there a legion! A vast multitude of women, with uplifted hands, +gazed upon a huge stone image. Their upturned faces were eager and very +earnest. The stone figure was that of a woman upon the brink of the +Great Waters, facing eastward. The myriad living hands remained uplifted +till the stone woman began to show signs of life. Very majestically she +turned around, and, lo, she smiled upon this great galaxy of American +women. She was the Statue of Liberty! It was she, who, though +representing human liberty, formerly turned her back upon the American +aborigine. Her face was aglow with compassion. Her eyes swept across the +outspread continent of America, the home of the red man. + +At this moment her torch flamed brighter and whiter till its radiance +reached into the obscure and remote places of the land. Her light of +liberty penetrated Indian reservations. A loud shout of joy rose up from +the Indians of the earth, everywhere! + +All too soon the picture was gone. Chief High Flier awoke. He lay +prostrate on the floor where during the night he had fallen. He rose and +took his seat again upon the mattress. Another day was ushered into his +life. In his heart lay the secret vision of hope born in the midnight of +his sorrows. It enabled him to serve his jail sentence with a mute +dignity which baffled those who saw him. + +Finally came the day of his release. There was rejoicing over all the +land. The desolate hills that harbored wailing voices nightly now were +hushed and still. Only gladness filled the air. A crowd gathered around +the jail to greet the chieftain. His son stood at the entrance way, +while the guard unlocked the prison door. Serenely quiet, the old +Indian chief stepped forth. An unseen stone in his path caused him to +stumble slightly, but his son grasped him by the hand and steadied his +tottering steps. He led him to a heavy lumber wagon drawn by a small +pony team which he had brought to take him home. The people thronged +about him--hundreds shook hands with him and went away singing native +songs of joy for the safe return to them of their absent one. + +Among the happy people came Blue-Star Woman's two nephews. Each shook +the chieftain's hand. One of them held out an ink pad saying, "We are +glad we were able to get you out of jail. We have great influence with +the Indian Bureau in Washington, D.C. When you need help, let us know. +Here press your thumb in this pad." His companion took from his pocket a +document prepared for the old chief's signature, and held it on the +wagon wheel for the thumb mark. The chieftain was taken by surprise. He +looked into his son's eyes to know the meaning of these two men. "It is +our agreement," he explained to his old father. "I pledged to pay them +half of your land if they got you out of jail." + +The old chieftain sighed, but made no comment. Words were vain. He +pressed his indelible thumb mark, his signature it was, upon the deed, +and drove home with his son. + + + * * * * * + + +AMERICA'S INDIAN PROBLEM + +The hospitality of the American aborigine, it is told, saved the early +settlers from starvation during the first bleak winters. In +commemoration of having been so well received, Newport erected "a cross +as a sign of English dominion." With sweet words he quieted the +suspicions of Chief Powhatan, his friend. He "told him that the arms (of +the cross) represented Powhatan and himself, and the middle their united +league." + +DeSoto and his Spaniards were graciously received by the Indian Princess +Cofachiqui in the South. While on a sight-seeing tour they entered the +ancestral tombs of those Indians. DeSoto "dipped into the pearls and +gave his two joined hands full to each cavalier to make rosaries of, he +said, to say prayers for their sins on. We imagine if their prayers were +in proportion to their sins they must have spent the most of their time +at their devotions." + +It was in this fashion that the old world snatched away the fee in the +land of the new. It was in this fashion that America was divided +between the powers of Europe and the aborigines were dispossessed of +their country. The barbaric rule of might from which the paleface had +fled hither for refuge caught up with him again, and in the melee the +hospitable native suffered "legal disability." + +History tells that it was from the English and the Spanish our +government inherited its legal victims, the American Indians, whom to +this day we hold as wards and not as citizens of their own freedom +loving land. A long century of dishonor followed this inheritance of +somebody's loot. Now the time is at hand when the American Indian shall +have his day in court through the help of the women of America. The +stain upon America's fair name is to be removed, and the remnant of the +Indian nation, suffering from malnutrition, is to number among the +invited invisible guests at your dinner tables. + +In this undertaking there must be cooperation of head, heart and hand. +We serve both our own government and a voiceless people within our +midst. We would open the door of American opportunity to the red man and +encourage him to find his rightful place in our American life. We would +remove the barriers that hinder his normal development. + +Wardship is no substitute for American citizenship, therefore we seek +his enfranchisement. The many treaties made in good faith with the +Indian by our government we would like to see equitably settled. By a +constructive program we hope to do away with the "piecemeal legislation" +affecting Indians here and there which has proven an exceedingly +expensive and disappointing method. + +Do you know what _your_ Bureau of Indian Affairs, in Washington, D.C., +really is? How it is organized and how it deals with wards of the +nation? This is our first study. Let us be informed of facts and then we +may formulate our opinions. In the remaining space allowed me I shall +quote from the report of the Bureau of Municipal Research, in their +investigation of the Indian Bureau, published by them in the September +issue, 1915, No. 65, "Municipal Research," 261 Broadway, New York City. +This report is just as good for our use today as when it was first made, +for very little, if any, change has been made in the administration of +Indian Affairs since then. + + +PREFATORY NOTE. + +"While this report was printed for the information of members of +Congress, it was not made a part of the report of the Joint Commission +of Congress, at whose request it was prepared, and is not available for +distribution." + + +UNPUBLISHED DIGEST OF STATUTORY AND TREATY PROVISIONS GOVERNING INDIAN +FUNDS. + +"When in 1913 inquiry was made into the accounting and reporting methods +of the Indian Office by the President's Commission on Economy and +Efficiency, it was found there was no digest of the provisions of +statutes and treaties with Indian tribes governing Indian funds and the +trust obligations of the government. Such a digest was therefore +prepared. It was not completed, however, until after Congress adjourned +March 4, 1913. Then, instead of being published, it found its way into +the pigeon-holes in the Interior Department and the Civil Service +Commission, where the working papers and unpublished reports of the +commission were ordered stored. The digest itself would make a document +of about three hundred pages." + + +UNPUBLISHED OUTLINE OF ORGANIZATION. + +"By order of the President, the commission, in cooperation with various +persons assigned to this work, also prepared at great pains a complete +analysis of the organization of every department, office and commission +of the federal government as of July 1, 1912. This represented a +complete picture of the government as a whole in summary outline; it +also represented an accurate picture of every administrative bureau, +office, and of every operative or field station, and showed in his +working relation each of the 500,000 officers and employes in the public +service. The report in typewritten form was one of the working documents +used in the preparation of the 'budget' submitted by President Taft to +Congress in February, 1913. The 'budget' was ordered printed by +Congress, but the cost thereof was to be charged against the President's +appropriation. There was not enough money remaining in this +appropriation to warrant the printing of the report on organization. It, +therefore, also found repose in a dark closet." + + +TOO VOLUMINOUS TO BE MADE PART OF THIS SERIES. + +"Congress alone could make the necessary provision for the publication +of these materials; the documents are too voluminous to be printed as a +part of this series, even if official permission were granted. It is +again suggested, however, that the data might be made readily accessible +and available to students by placing in manuscript division of the +Library of Congress one copy of the unpublished reports and working +papers of the President's Commission on Economy and Efficiency. This +action was recommended by the commission, but the only official action +taken was to order that the materials be placed under lock and key in +the Civil Service Commission." + + +NEED FOR SPECIAL CARE IN MANAGEMENT. + +"The need for special care in the management of Indian Affairs lies in +the fact that in theory of law the Indian has not the rights of a +citizen. He has not even the rights of a foreign resident. The Indian +individually does not have access to the courts; he can not individually +appeal to the administrative and judicial branches of the public service +for the enforcement of his rights. He himself is considered as a ward of +the United States. His property and funds are held in trust. * * * The +Indian Office is the agency of the government for administering both the +guardianship of the Indian and the trusteeship of his properties." + + +CONDITIONS ADVERSE TO GOOD ADMINISTRATION. + +"The legal status of the Indian and his property is the condition which +makes it incumbent on the government to assume the obligation of +protector. What is of special interest in this inquiry is to note the +conditions under which the Indian Office has been required to conduct +its business. In no other relation are the agents of the government +under conditions more adverse to efficient administration. The +influence which make for the infidelity to trusteeship, for subversion +of properties and funds, for the violation of physical and moral welfare +have been powerful. The opportunities and inducements are much greater +than those which have operated with ruinous effect on other branches of +public service and on the trustees and officers of our great private +corporations. In many instances, the integrity of these have been broken +down." + + +GOVERNMENT MACHINERY INADEQUATE. + +"* * * Behind the sham protection, which operated largely as a blind to +publicity, have been at all times great wealth in the form of Indian +funds to be subverted; valuable lands, mines, oil fields, and other +natural resources to be despoiled or appropriated to the use of the +trader; and large profits to be made by those dealing with trustees who +were animated by motives of gain. This has been the situation in which +the Indian Service has been for more than a century--the Indian during +all this time having his rights and properties to greater or less extent +neglected; the guardian, the government, in many instances, passive to +conditions which have contributed to his undoing." + + +OPPORTUNITIES STILL PRESENT. + +"And still, due to the increasing value of his remaining estate, there +is left an inducement to fraud, corruption, and institutional +incompetence almost beyond the possibility of comprehension. The +properties and funds of the Indians today are estimated at not less than +one thousand millions of dollars. There is still a great obligation to +be discharged, which must run through many years. The government itself +owes many millions of dollars for Indian moneys which it has converted +to its own use, and it is of interest to note that it does not know and +the officers do not know what is the present condition of the Indian +funds in their keeping." + + +PRIMARY DEFECTS. + +"* * * The story of the mismanagement of Indian Affairs is only a +chapter in the history of the mismanagement of corporate trusts. The +Indian has been the victim of the same kind of neglect, the same +abortive processes, the same malpractices as have the life insurance +policyholders, the bank depositor, the industrial and transportation +shareholder. The form of organization of the trusteeship has been one +which does not provide for independent audit and supervision. The +institutional methods and practices have been such that they do not +provide either a fact basis for official judgment or publicity of facts +which, if made available, would supply evidence of infidelity. In the +operation of this machinery, there has not been the means provided for +effective official scrutiny and the public conscience could not be +reached." + + +AMPLE PRECEDENTS TO BE FOLLOWED. + +"Precedents to be followed are ample. In private corporate trusts that +have been mismanaged a basis of appeal has been found only when some +favorable circumstance has brought to light conditions so shocking as to +cause those people who have possessed political power, as a matter of +self-protection, to demand a thorough reorganization and revision of +methods. The same motive has lain back of legislation for the Indian. +But the motive to political action has been less effective, for the +reason that in the past the Indians who have acted in self-protection +have either been killed or placed in confinement. All the machinery of +government has been set to work to repress rather than to provide +adequate means for justly dealing with a large population which had no +political rights."--Edict Magazine. + + + * * * * * + + +_This Book should be in every home_ + +Old Indian Legends + + +25 Seminole Avenue, Forest Hill, L.I., N.Y., + +August 25, 1919. + +Dear Zitkala-Sa: + +I thank you for your book on Indian legends. I have read them with +exquisite pleasure. Like all folk tales they mirror the child life of +the world. There is in them a note of wild, strange music. + +You have translated them into our language in a way that will keep them +alive in the hearts of men. They are so young, so fresh, so full of the +odors of the virgin forest untrod by the foot of white man! The thoughts +of your people seem dipped in the colors of the rainbow, palpitant with +the play of winds, eerie with the thrill of a spirit-world unseen but +felt and feared. + +Your tales of birds, beast, tree and spirit can not but hold captive the +hearts of all children. They will kindle in their young minds that +eternal wonder which creates poetry and keeps life fresh and eager. I +wish you and your little book of Indian tales all success. + +I am always + +Sincerely your friend, + +(Signed) HELEN KELLER. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of American Indian stories, by Zitkala-Sa + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AMERICAN INDIAN STORIES *** + +***** This file should be named 10376-8.txt or 10376-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/3/7/10376/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Brett Koonce and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: American Indian stories + +Author: Zitkala-Sa + +Release Date: December 3, 2003 [EBook #10376] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AMERICAN INDIAN STORIES *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Brett Koonce and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team + + + + + +AMERICAN INDIAN STORIES + +BY + +ZITKALA-SA _(Gertrude Bonnin)_ + +Dakota Sioux Indian + +Lecturer; Author of "Old Indian Legends," "Americanize The First +American," and other stories; Member of the Woman's National Foundation, +League of American Pen-Women, and the Washington Salon + + +"_There is no great; there is no small; in the mind that causeth all_" + +1921 + + + + +CONTENTS + +Impressions of an Indian Childhood + +The School Days of an Indian Girl + +An Indian Teacher Among Indians + +The Great Spirit + +The Soft-Hearted Sioux + +The Trial Path + +A Warrior's Daughter + +A Dream of Her Grandfather + +The Widespread Enigma of Blue-Star Woman + +America's Indian Problem + + + + +IMPRESSIONS OF AN INDIAN CHILDHOOD + +I. + +MY MOTHER. + + +A wigwam of weather-stained canvas stood at the base of some irregularly +ascending hills. A footpath wound its way gently down the sloping land +till it reached the broad river bottom; creeping through the long swamp +grasses that bent over it on either side, it came out on the edge of the +Missouri. + +Here, morning, noon, and evening, my mother came to draw water from the +muddy stream for our household use. Always, when my mother started for +the river, I stopped my play to run along with her. She was only of +medium height. Often she was sad and silent, at which times her full +arched lips were compressed into hard and bitter lines, and shadows fell +under her black eyes. Then I clung to her hand and begged to know what +made the tears fall. + +"Hush; my little daughter must never talk about my tears"; and smiling +through them, she patted my head and said, "Now let me see how fast you +can run today." Whereupon I tore away at my highest possible speed, with +my long black hair blowing in the breeze. + +I was a wild little girl of seven. Loosely clad in a slip of brown +buckskin, and light-footed with a pair of soft moccasins on my feet, I +was as free as the wind that blew my hair, and no less spirited than a +bounding deer. These were my mother's pride,--my wild freedom and +overflowing spirits. She taught me no fear save that of intruding myself +upon others. + +Having gone many paces ahead I stopped, panting for breath, and laughing +with glee as my mother watched my every movement. I was not wholly +conscious of myself, but was more keenly alive to the fire within. It +was as if I were the activity, and my hands and feet were only +experiments for my spirit to work upon. + +Returning from the river, I tugged beside my mother, with my hand upon +the bucket I believed I was carrying. One time, on such a return, I +remember a bit of conversation we had. My grown-up cousin, Warca-Ziwin +(Sunflower), who was then seventeen, always went to the river alone for +water for her mother. Their wigwam was not far from ours; and I saw her +daily going to and from the river. I admired my cousin greatly. So I +said: "Mother, when I am tall as my cousin Warca-Ziwin, you shall not +have to come for water. I will do it for you." + +With a strange tremor in her voice which I could not understand, she +answered, "If the paleface does not take away from us the river we +drink." + +"Mother, who is this bad paleface?" I asked. + +"My little daughter, he is a sham,--a sickly sham! The bronzed Dakota is +the only real man." + +I looked up into my mother's face while she spoke; and seeing her bite +her lips, I knew she was unhappy. This aroused revenge in my small soul. +Stamping my foot on the earth, I cried aloud, "I hate the paleface that +makes my mother cry!" + +Setting the pail of water on the ground, my mother stooped, and +stretching her left hand out on the level with my eyes, she placed her +other arm about me; she pointed to the hill where my uncle and my only +sister lay buried. + +"There is what the paleface has done! Since then your father too has +been buried in a hill nearer the rising sun. We were once very happy. +But the paleface has stolen our lands and driven us hither. Having +defrauded us of our land, the paleface forced us away. + +"Well, it happened on the day we moved camp that your sister and uncle +were both very sick. Many others were ailing, but there seemed to be no +help. We traveled many days and nights; not in the grand, happy way that +we moved camp when I was a little girl, but we were driven, my child, +driven like a herd of buffalo. With every step, your sister, who was not +as large as you are now, shrieked with the painful jar until she was +hoarse with crying. She grew more and more feverish. Her little hands +and cheeks were burning hot. Her little lips were parched and dry, but +she would not drink the water I gave her. Then I discovered that her +throat was swollen and red. My poor child, how I cried with her because +the Great Spirit had forgotten us! + +"At last, when we reached this western country, on the first weary night +your sister died. And soon your uncle died also, leaving a widow and an +orphan daughter, your cousin Warca-Ziwin. Both your sister and uncle +might have been happy with us today, had it not been for the heartless +paleface." + +My mother was silent the rest of the way to our wigwam. Though I saw no +tears in her eyes, I knew that was because I was with her. She seldom +wept before me. + + + + +II. + +THE LEGENDS. + + +During the summer days my mother built her fire in the shadow of our +wigwam. + +In the early morning our simple breakfast was spread upon the grass west +of our tepee. At the farthest point of the shade my mother sat beside +her fire, toasting a savory piece of dried meat. Near her, I sat upon my +feet, eating my dried meat with unleavened bread, and drinking strong +black coffee. + +The morning meal was our quiet hour, when we two were entirely alone. At +noon, several who chanced to be passing by stopped to rest, and to share +our luncheon with us, for they were sure of our hospitality. + +My uncle, whose death my mother ever lamented, was one of our nation's +bravest warriors. His name was on the lips of old men when talking of +the proud feats of valor; and it was mentioned by younger men, too, in +connection with deeds of gallantry. Old women praised him for his +kindness toward them; young women held him up as an ideal to their +sweethearts. Every one loved him, and my mother worshiped his memory. +Thus it happened that even strangers were sure of welcome in our lodge, +if they but asked a favor in my uncle's name. + +Though I heard many strange experiences related by these wayfarers, I +loved best the evening meal, for that was the time old legends were +told. I was always glad when the sun hung low in the west, for then my +mother sent me to invite the neighboring old men and women to eat supper +with us. Running all the way to the wigwams, I halted shyly at the +entrances. Sometimes I stood long moments without saying a word. It was +not any fear that made me so dumb when out upon such a happy errand; nor +was it that I wished to withhold the invitation, for it was all I could +do to observe this very proper silence. But it was a sensing of the +atmosphere, to assure myself that I should not hinder other plans. My +mother used to say to me, as I was almost bounding away for the old +people: "Wait a moment before you invite any one. If other plans are +being discussed, do not interfere, but go elsewhere." + +The old folks knew the meaning of my pauses; and often they coaxed my +confidence by asking, "What do you seek, little granddaughter?" + +"My mother says you are to come to our tepee this evening," I instantly +exploded, and breathed the freer afterwards. + +"Yes, yes, gladly, gladly I shall come!" each replied. Rising at once +and carrying their blankets across one shoulder, they flocked leisurely +from their various wigwams toward our dwelling. + +My mission done, I ran back, skipping and jumping with delight. All out +of breath, I told my mother almost the exact words of the answers to my +invitation. Frequently she asked, "What were they doing when you entered +their tepee?" This taught me to remember all I saw at a single glance. +Often I told my mother my impressions without being questioned. + +While in the neighboring wigwams sometimes an old Indian woman asked me, +"What is your mother doing?" Unless my mother had cautioned me not to +tell, I generally answered her questions without reserve. + +At the arrival of our guests I sat close to my mother, and did not +leave her side without first asking her consent. I ate my supper in +quiet, listening patiently to the talk of the old people, wishing all +the time that they would begin the stories I loved best. At last, when I +could not wait any longer, I whispered in my mother's ear, "Ask them to +tell an Iktomi story, mother." + +Soothing my impatience, my mother said aloud, "My little daughter is +anxious to hear your legends." By this time all were through eating, and +the evening was fast deepening into twilight. + +As each in turn began to tell a legend, I pillowed my head in my +mother's lap; and lying flat upon my back, I watched the stars as they +peeped down upon me, one by one. The increasing interest of the tale +aroused me, and I sat up eagerly listening to every word. The old women +made funny remarks, and laughed so heartily that I could not help +joining them. + +The distant howling of a pack of wolves or the hooting of an owl in the +river bottom frightened me, and I nestled into my mother's lap. She +added some dry sticks to the open fire, and the bright flames leaped up +into the faces of the old folks as they sat around in a great circle. + +On such an evening, I remember the glare of the fire shone on a tattooed +star upon the brow of the old warrior who was telling a story. I watched +him curiously as he made his unconscious gestures. The blue star upon +his bronzed forehead was a puzzle to me. Looking about, I saw two +parallel lines on the chin of one of the old women. The rest had none. I +examined my mother's face, but found no sign there. + +After the warrior's story was finished, I asked the old woman the +meaning of the blue lines on her chin, looking all the while out of the +corners of my eyes at the warrior with the star on his forehead. I was a +little afraid that he would rebuke me for my boldness. + +Here the old woman began: "Why, my grandchild, they are signs,--secret +signs I dare not tell you. I shall, however, tell you a wonderful story +about a woman who had a cross tattooed upon each of her cheeks." + +It was a long story of a woman whose magic power lay hidden behind the +marks upon her face. I fell asleep before the story was completed. + +Ever after that night I felt suspicious of tattooed people. Wherever I +saw one I glanced furtively at the mark and round about it, wondering +what terrible magic power was covered there. + +It was rarely that such a fearful story as this one was told by the camp +fire. Its impression was so acute that the picture still remains vividly +clear and pronounced. + + + + +III. + +THE BEADWORK. + + +Soon after breakfast mother sometimes began her beadwork. On a bright, +clear day, she pulled out the wooden pegs that pinned the skirt of our +wigwam to the ground, and rolled the canvas part way up on its frame of +slender poles. Then the cool morning breezes swept freely through our +dwelling, now and then wafting the perfume of sweet grasses from newly +burnt prairie. + +Untying the long tasseled strings that bound a small brown buckskin bag, +my mother spread upon a mat beside her bunches of colored beads, just as +an artist arranges the paints upon his palette. On a lapboard she +smoothed out a double sheet of soft white buckskin; and drawing from a +beaded case that hung on the left of her wide belt a long, narrow blade, +she trimmed the buckskin into shape. Often she worked upon small +moccasins for her small daughter. Then I became intensely interested in +her designing. With a proud, beaming face, I watched her work. In +imagination, I saw myself walking in a new pair of snugly fitting +moccasins. I felt the envious eyes of my playmates upon the pretty red +beads decorating my feet. + +Close beside my mother I sat on a rug, with a scrap of buckskin in one +hand and an awl in the other. This was the beginning of my practical +observation lessons in the art of beadwork. From a skein of finely +twisted threads of silvery sinews my mother pulled out a single one. +With an awl she pierced the buckskin, and skillfully threaded it with +the white sinew. Picking up the tiny beads one by one, she strung them +with the point of her thread, always twisting it carefully after every +stitch. + +It took many trials before I learned how to knot my sinew thread on the +point of my finger, as I saw her do. Then the next difficulty was in +keeping my thread stiffly twisted, so that I could easily string my +beads upon it. My mother required of me original designs for my lessons +in beading. At first I frequently ensnared many a sunny hour into +working a long design. Soon I learned from self-inflicted punishment to +refrain from drawing complex patterns, for I had to finish whatever I +began. + +After some experience I usually drew easy and simple crosses and +squares. These were some of the set forms. My original designs were not +always symmetrical nor sufficiently characteristic, two faults with +which my mother had little patience. The quietness of her oversight made +me feel strongly responsible and dependent upon my own judgment. She +treated me as a dignified little individual as long as I was on my good +behavior; and how humiliated I was when some boldness of mine drew forth +a rebuke from her! + +In the choice of colors she left me to my own taste. I was pleased with +an outline of yellow upon a background of dark blue, or a combination of +red and myrtle-green. There was another of red with a bluish-gray that +was more conventionally used. When I became a little familiar with +designing and the various pleasing combinations of color, a harder +lesson was given me. It was the sewing on, instead of beads, some tinted +porcupine quills, moistened and flattened between the nails of the thumb +and forefinger. My mother cut off the prickly ends and burned them at +once in the centre fire. These sharp points were poisonous, and worked +into the flesh wherever they lodged. For this reason, my mother said, I +should not do much alone in quills until I was as tall as my cousin +Warca-Ziwin. + +Always after these confining lessons I was wild with surplus spirits, +and found joyous relief in running loose in the open again. Many a +summer afternoon a party of four or five of my playmates roamed over the +hills with me. We each carried a light sharpened rod about four feet +long, with which we pried up certain sweet roots. When we had eaten all +the choice roots we chanced upon, we shouldered our rods and strayed off +into patches of a stalky plant under whose yellow blossoms we found +little crystal drops of gum. Drop by drop we gathered this nature's +rock-candy, until each of us could boast of a lump the size of a small +bird's egg. Soon satiated with its woody flavor, we tossed away our gum, +to return again to the sweet roots. + +I remember well how we used to exchange our necklaces, beaded belts, and +sometimes even our moccasins. We pretended to offer them as gifts to one +another. We delighted in impersonating our own mothers. We talked of +things we had heard them say in their conversations. We imitated their +various manners, even to the inflection of their voices. In the lap of +the prairie we seated ourselves upon our feet, and leaning our painted +cheeks in the palms of our hands, we rested our elbows on our knees, and +bent forward as old women were most accustomed to do. + +While one was telling of some heroic deed recently done by a near +relative, the rest of us listened attentively, and exclaimed in +undertones, "Han! han!" (yes! yes!) whenever the speaker paused for +breath, or sometimes for our sympathy. As the discourse became more +thrilling, according to our ideas, we raised our voices in these +interjections. In these impersonations our parents were led to say only +those things that were in common favor. + +No matter how exciting a tale we might be rehearsing, the mere shifting +of a cloud shadow in the landscape near by was sufficient to change our +impulses; and soon we were all chasing the great shadows that played +among the hills. We shouted and whooped in the chase; laughing and +calling to one another, we were like little sportive nymphs on that +Dakota sea of rolling green. + +On one occasion I forgot the cloud shadow in a strange notion to catch +up with my own shadow. Standing straight and still, I began to glide +after it, putting out one foot cautiously. When, with the greatest care, +I set my foot in advance of myself, my shadow crept onward too. Then +again I tried it; this time with the other foot. Still again my shadow +escaped me. I began to run; and away flew my shadow, always just a step +beyond me. Faster and faster I ran, setting my teeth and clenching my +fists, determined to overtake my own fleet shadow. But ever swifter it +glided before me, while I was growing breathless and hot. Slackening my +speed, I was greatly vexed that my shadow should check its pace also. +Daring it to the utmost, as I thought, I sat down upon a rock imbedded +in the hillside. + +So! my shadow had the impudence to sit down beside me! + +Now my comrades caught up with me, and began to ask why I was running +away so fast. + +"Oh, I was chasing my shadow! Didn't you ever do that?" I inquired, +surprised that they should not understand. + +They planted their moccasined feet firmly upon my shadow to stay it, and +I arose. Again my shadow slipped away, and moved as often as I did. Then +we gave up trying to catch my shadow. + +Before this peculiar experience I have no distinct memory of having +recognized any vital bond between myself and my own shadow. I never gave +it an afterthought. + +Returning our borrowed belts and trinkets, we rambled homeward. That +evening, as on other evenings, I went to sleep over my legends. + + + + +IV. + +THE COFFEE-MAKING. + + +One summer afternoon my mother left me alone in our wigwam while she +went across the way to my aunt's dwelling. + +I did not much like to stay alone in our tepee for I feared a tall, +broad-shouldered crazy man, some forty years old, who walked loose among +the hills. Wiyaka-Napbina (Wearer of a Feather Necklace) was harmless, +and whenever he came into a wigwam he was driven there by extreme +hunger. He went nude except for the half of a red blanket he girdled +around his waist. In one tawny arm he used to carry a heavy bunch of +wild sunflowers that he gathered in his aimless ramblings. His black +hair was matted by the winds, and scorched into a dry red by the +constant summer sun. As he took great strides, placing one brown bare +foot directly in front of the other, he swung his long lean arm to and +fro. + +Frequently he paused in his walk and gazed far backward, shading his +eyes with his hand. He was under the belief that an evil spirit was +haunting his steps. This was what my mother told me once, when I +sneered at such a silly big man. I was brave when my mother was near by, +and Wiyaka-Napbina walking farther and farther away. + +"Pity the man, my child. I knew him when he was a brave and handsome +youth. He was overtaken by a malicious spirit among the hills, one day, +when he went hither and thither after his ponies. Since then he can not +stay away from the hills," she said. + +I felt so sorry for the man in his misfortune that I prayed to the Great +Spirit to restore him. But though I pitied him at a distance, I was +still afraid of him when he appeared near our wigwam. + +Thus, when my mother left me by myself that afternoon I sat in a fearful +mood within our tepee. I recalled all I had ever heard about +Wiyaka-Napbina; and I tried to assure myself that though he might pass +near by, he would not come to our wigwam because there was no little +girl around our grounds. + +Just then, from without a hand lifted the canvas covering of the +entrance; the shadow of a man fell within the wigwam, and a large +roughly moccasined foot was planted inside. + +For a moment I did not dare to breathe or stir, for I thought that could +be no other than Wiyaka-Napbina. The next instant I sighed aloud in +relief. It was an old grandfather who had often told me Iktomi legends. + +"Where is your mother, my little grandchild?" were his first words. + +"My mother is soon coming back from my aunt's tepee," I replied. + +"Then I shall wait awhile for her return," he said, crossing his feet +and seating himself upon a mat. + +At once I began to play the part of a generous hostess. I turned to my +mother's coffeepot. + +Lifting the lid, I found nothing but coffee grounds in the bottom. I set +the pot on a heap of cold ashes in the centre, and filled it half full +of warm Missouri River water. During this performance I felt conscious +of being watched. Then breaking off a small piece of our unleavened +bread, I placed it in a bowl. Turning soon to the coffeepot, which would +never have boiled on a dead fire had I waited forever, I poured out a +cup of worse than muddy warm water. Carrying the bowl in one hand and +cup in the other, I handed the light luncheon to the old warrior. I +offered them to him with the air of bestowing generous hospitality. + +"How! how!" he said, and placed the dishes on the ground in front of his +crossed feet. He nibbled at the bread and sipped from the cup. I sat +back against a pole watching him. I was proud to have succeeded so well +in serving refreshments to a guest all by myself. Before the old warrior +had finished eating, my mother entered. Immediately she wondered where I +had found coffee, for she knew I had never made any, and that she had +left the coffeepot empty. Answering the question in my mother's eyes, +the warrior remarked, "My granddaughter made coffee on a heap of dead +ashes, and served me the moment I came." + +They both laughed, and mother said, "Wait a little longer, and I shall +build a fire." She meant to make some real coffee. But neither she nor +the warrior, whom the law of our custom had compelled to partake of my +insipid hospitality, said anything to embarrass me. They treated my +best judgment, poor as it was, with the utmost respect. It was not till +long years afterward that I learned how ridiculous a thing I had done. + + + + +V. + +THE DEAD MAN'S PLUM BUSH. + + +One autumn afternoon many people came streaming toward the dwelling of +our near neighbor. With painted faces, and wearing broad white bosoms of +elk's teeth, they hurried down the narrow footpath to Haraka Wambdi's +wigwam. Young mothers held their children by the hand, and half pulled +them along in their haste. They overtook and passed by the bent old +grandmothers who were trudging along with crooked canes toward the +centre of excitement. Most of the young braves galloped hither on their +ponies. Toothless warriors, like the old women, came more slowly, though +mounted on lively ponies. They sat proudly erect on their horses. They +wore their eagle plumes, and waved their various trophies of former +wars. + +In front of the wigwam a great fire was built, and several large black +kettles of venison were suspended over it. The crowd were seated about +it on the grass in a great circle. Behind them some of the braves stood +leaning against the necks of their ponies, their tall figures draped in +loose robes which were well drawn over their eyes. + +Young girls, with their faces glowing like bright red autumn leaves, +their glossy braids falling over each ear, sat coquettishly beside their +chaperons. It was a custom for young Indian women to invite some older +relative to escort them to the public feasts. Though it was not an iron +law, it was generally observed. + +Haraka Wambdi was a strong young brave, who had just returned from his +first battle, a warrior. His near relatives, to celebrate his new rank, +were spreading a feast to which the whole of the Indian village was +invited. + +Holding my pretty striped blanket in readiness to throw over my +shoulders, I grew more and more restless as I watched the gay throng +assembling. My mother was busily broiling a wild duck that my aunt had +that morning brought over. + +"Mother, mother, why do you stop to cook a small meal when we are +invited to a feast?" I asked, with a snarl in my voice. + +"My child, learn to wait. On our way to the celebration we are going to +stop at Chanyu's wigwam. His aged mother-in-law is lying very ill, and +I think she would like a taste of this small game." + +Having once seen the suffering on the thin, pinched features of this +dying woman, I felt a momentary shame that I had not remembered her +before. + +On our way I ran ahead of my mother and was reaching out my hand to pick +some purple plums that grew on a small bush, when I was checked by a low +"Sh!" from my mother. + +"Why, mother, I want to taste the plums!" I exclaimed, as I dropped my +hand to my side in disappointment. + +"Never pluck a single plum from this brush, my child, for its roots are +wrapped around an Indian's skeleton. A brave is buried here. While he +lived he was so fond of playing the game of striped plum seeds that, at +his death, his set of plum seeds were buried in his hands. From them +sprang up this little bush." + +Eyeing the forbidden fruit, I trod lightly on the sacred ground, and +dared to speak only in whispers until we had gone many paces from it. +After that time I halted in my ramblings whenever I came in sight of the +plum bush. I grew sober with awe, and was alert to hear a +long-drawn-out whistle rise from the roots of it. Though I had never +heard with my own ears this strange whistle of departed spirits, yet I +had listened so frequently to hear the old folks describe it that I knew +I should recognize it at once. + +The lasting impression of that day, as I recall it now, is what my +mother told me about the dead man's plum bush. + + + + +VI. + +THE GROUND SQUIRREL. + + +In the busy autumn days my cousin Warca-Ziwin's mother came to our +wigwam to help my mother preserve foods for our winter use. I was very +fond of my aunt, because she was not so quiet as my mother. Though she +was older, she was more jovial and less reserved. She was slender and +remarkably erect. While my mother's hair was heavy and black, my aunt +had unusually thin locks. + +Ever since I knew her she wore a string of large blue beads around her +neck,--beads that were precious because my uncle had given them to her +when she was a younger woman. She had a peculiar swing in her gait, +caused by a long stride rarely natural to so slight a figure. It was +during my aunt's visit with us that my mother forgot her accustomed +quietness, often laughing heartily at some of my aunt's witty remarks. + +I loved my aunt threefold: for her hearty laughter, for the cheerfulness +she caused my mother, and most of all for the times she dried my tears +and held me in her lap, when my mother had reproved me. + +Early in the cool mornings, just as the yellow rim of the sun rose above +the hills, we were up and eating our breakfast. We awoke so early that +we saw the sacred hour when a misty smoke hung over a pit surrounded by +an impassable sinking mire. This strange smoke appeared every morning, +both winter and summer; but most visibly in midwinter it rose +immediately above the marshy spot. By the time the full face of the sun +appeared above the eastern horizon, the smoke vanished. Even very old +men, who had known this country the longest, said that the smoke from +this pit had never failed a single day to rise heavenward. + +As I frolicked about our dwelling I used to stop suddenly, and with a +fearful awe watch the smoking of the unknown fires. While the vapor was +visible I was afraid to go very far from our wigwam unless I went with +my mother. + +From a field in the fertile river bottom my mother and aunt gathered an +abundant supply of corn. Near our tepee they spread a large canvas upon +the grass, and dried their sweet corn in it. I was left to watch the +corn, that nothing should disturb it. I played around it with dolls made +of ears of corn. I braided their soft fine silk for hair, and gave them +blankets as various as the scraps I found in my mother's workbag. + +There was a little stranger with a black-and-yellow-striped coat that +used to come to the drying corn. It was a little ground squirrel, who +was so fearless of me that he came to one corner of the canvas and +carried away as much of the sweet corn as he could hold. I wanted very +much to catch him and rub his pretty fur back, but my mother said he +would be so frightened if I caught him that he would bite my fingers. So +I was as content as he to keep the corn between us. Every morning he +came for more corn. Some evenings I have seen him creeping about our +grounds; and when I gave a sudden whoop of recognition he ran quickly +out of sight. + +When mother had dried all the corn she wished, then she sliced great +pumpkins into thin rings; and these she doubled and linked together +into long chains. She hung them on a pole that stretched between two +forked posts. The wind and sun soon thoroughly dried the chains of +pumpkin. Then she packed them away in a case of thick and stiff +buckskin. + +In the sun and wind she also dried many wild fruits,--cherries, berries, +and plums. But chiefest among my early recollections of autumn is that +one of the corn drying and the ground squirrel. + +I have few memories of winter days at this period of my life, though +many of the summer. There is one only which I can recall. + +Some missionaries gave me a little bag of marbles. They were all sizes +and colors. Among them were some of colored glass. Walking with my +mother to the river, on a late winter day, we found great chunks of ice +piled all along the bank. The ice on the river was floating in huge +pieces. As I stood beside one large block, I noticed for the first time +the colors of the rainbow in the crystal ice. Immediately I thought of +my glass marbles at home. With my bare fingers I tried to pick out some +of the colors, for they seemed so near the surface. But my fingers +began to sting with the intense cold, and I had to bite them hard to +keep from crying. + +From that day on, for many a moon, I believed that glass marbles had +river ice inside of them. + + + + +VII. + +THE BIG RED APPLES. + + +The first turning away from the easy, natural flow of my life occurred +in an early spring. It was in my eighth year; in the month of March, I +afterward learned. At this age I knew but one language, and that was my +mother's native tongue. + +From some of my playmates I heard that two paleface missionaries were in +our village. They were from that class of white men who wore big hats +and carried large hearts, they said. Running direct to my mother, I +began to question her why these two strangers were among us. She told +me, after I had teased much, that they had come to take away Indian boys +and girls to the East. My mother did not seem to want me to talk about +them. But in a day or two, I gleaned many wonderful stories from my +playfellows concerning the strangers. + +"Mother, my friend Judewin is going home with the missionaries. She is +going to a more beautiful country than ours; the palefaces told her +so!" I said wistfully, wishing in my heart that I too might go. + +Mother sat in a chair, and I was hanging on her knee. Within the last +two seasons my big brother Dawee had returned from a three years' +education in the East, and his coming back influenced my mother to take +a farther step from her native way of living. First it was a change from +the buffalo skin to the white man's canvas that covered our wigwam. Now +she had given up her wigwam of slender poles, to live, a foreigner, in a +home of clumsy logs. + +"Yes, my child, several others besides Judewin are going away with the +palefaces. Your brother said the missionaries had inquired about his +little sister," she said, watching my face very closely. + +My heart thumped so hard against my breast, I wondered if she could hear +it. + +"Did he tell them to take me, mother?" I asked, fearing lest Dawee had +forbidden the palefaces to see me, and that my hope of going to the +Wonderland would be entirely blighted. + +With a sad, slow smile, she answered: "There! I knew you were wishing to +go, because Judewin has filled your ears with the white man's lies. +Don't believe a word they say! Their words are sweet, but, my child, +their deeds are bitter. You will cry for me, but they will not even +soothe you. Stay with me, my little one! Your brother Dawee says that +going East, away from your mother, is too hard an experience for his +baby sister." + +Thus my mother discouraged my curiosity about the lands beyond our +eastern horizon; for it was not yet an ambition for Letters that was +stirring me. But on the following day the missionaries did come to our +very house. I spied them coming up the footpath leading to our cottage. +A third man was with them, but he was not my brother Dawee. It was +another, a young interpreter, a paleface who had a smattering of the +Indian language. I was ready to run out to meet them, but I did not dare +to displease my mother. With great glee, I jumped up and down on our +ground floor. I begged my mother to open the door, that they would be +sure to come to us. Alas! They came, they saw, and they conquered! + +Judewin had told me of the great tree where grew red, red apples; and +how we could reach out our hands and pick all the red apples we could +eat. I had never seen apple trees. I had never tasted more than a dozen +red apples in my life; and when I heard of the orchards of the East, I +was eager to roam among them. The missionaries smiled into my eyes and +patted my head. I wondered how mother could say such hard words against +him. + +"Mother, ask them if little girls may have all the red apples they want, +when they go East," I whispered aloud, in my excitement. + +The interpreter heard me, and answered: "Yes, little girl, the nice red +apples are for those who pick them; and you will have a ride on the iron +horse if you go with these good people." + +I had never seen a train, and he knew it. + +"Mother, I am going East! I like big red apples, and I want to ride on +the iron horse! Mother, say yes!" I pleaded. + +My mother said nothing. The missionaries waited in silence; and my eyes +began to blur with tears, though I struggled to choke them back. The +corners of my mouth twitched, and my mother saw me. + +"I am not ready to give you any word," she said to them. "Tomorrow I +shall send you my answer by my son." + +With this they left us. Alone with my mother, I yielded to my tears, and +cried aloud, shaking my head so as not to hear what she was saying to +me. This was the first time I had ever been so unwilling to give up my +own desire that I refused to hearken to my mother's voice. + +There was a solemn silence in our home that night. Before I went to bed +I begged the Great Spirit to make my mother willing I should go with the +missionaries. + +The next morning came, and my mother called me to her side. "My +daughter, do you still persist in wishing to leave your mother?" she +asked. + +"Oh, mother, it is not that I wish to leave you, but I want to see the +wonderful Eastern land," I answered. + +My dear old aunt came to our house that morning, and I heard her say, +"Let her try it." + +I hoped that, as usual, my aunt was pleading on my side. My brother +Dawee came for mother's decision. I dropped my play, and crept close to +my aunt. + +"Yes, Dawee, my daughter, though she does not understand what it all +means, is anxious to go. She will need an education when she is grown, +for then there will be fewer real Dakotas, and many more palefaces. This +tearing her away, so young, from her mother is necessary, if I would +have her an educated woman. The palefaces, who owe us a large debt for +stolen lands, have begun to pay a tardy justice in offering some +education to our children. But I know my daughter must suffer keenly in +this experiment. For her sake, I dread to tell you my reply to the +missionaries. Go, tell them that they may take my little daughter, and +that the Great Spirit shall not fail to reward them according to their +hearts." + +Wrapped in my heavy blanket, I walked with my mother to the carriage +that was soon to take us to the iron horse. I was happy. I met my +playmates, who were also wearing their best thick blankets. We showed +one another our new beaded moccasins, and the width of the belts that +girdled our new dresses. Soon we were being drawn rapidly away by the +white man's horses. When I saw the lonely figure of my mother vanish in +the distance, a sense of regret settled heavily upon me. I felt +suddenly weak, as if I might fall limp to the ground. I was in the hands +of strangers whom my mother did not fully trust. I no longer felt free +to be myself, or to voice my own feelings. The tears trickled down my +cheeks, and I buried my face in the folds of my blanket. Now the first +step, parting me from my mother, was taken, and all my belated tears +availed nothing. + +Having driven thirty miles to the ferryboat, we crossed the Missouri in +the evening. Then riding again a few miles eastward, we stopped before a +massive brick building. I looked at it in amazement, and with a vague +misgiving, for in our village I had never seen so large a house. +Trembling with fear and distrust of the palefaces, my teeth chattering +from the chilly ride, I crept noiselessly in my soft moccasins along the +narrow hall, keeping very close to the bare wall. I was as frightened +and bewildered as the captured young of a wild creature. + + + + +THE SCHOOL DAYS OF AN INDIAN GIRL + +I. + +THE LAND OF RED APPLES. + + +There were eight in our party of bronzed children who were going East +with the missionaries. Among us were three young braves, two tall girls, +and we three little ones, Judewin, Thowin, and I. + +We had been very impatient to start on our journey to the Red Apple +Country, which, we were told, lay a little beyond the great circular +horizon of the Western prairie. Under a sky of rosy apples we dreamt of +roaming as freely and happily as we had chased the cloud shadows on the +Dakota plains. We had anticipated much pleasure from a ride on the iron +horse, but the throngs of staring palefaces disturbed and troubled us. + +On the train, fair women, with tottering babies on each arm, stopped +their haste and scrutinized the children of absent mothers. Large men, +with heavy bundles in their hands, halted near by, and riveted their +glassy blue eyes upon us. + +I sank deep into the corner of my seat, for I resented being watched. +Directly in front of me, children who were no larger than I hung +themselves upon the backs of their seats, with their bold white faces +toward me. Sometimes they took their forefingers out of their mouths and +pointed at my moccasined feet. Their mothers, instead of reproving such +rude curiosity, looked closely at me, and attracted their children's +further notice to my blanket. This embarrassed me, and kept me +constantly on the verge of tears. + +I sat perfectly still, with my eyes downcast, daring only now and then +to shoot long glances around me. Chancing to turn to the window at my +side, I was quite breathless upon seeing one familiar object. It was the +telegraph pole which strode by at short paces. Very near my mother's +dwelling, along the edge of a road thickly bordered with wild +sunflowers, some poles like these had been planted by white men. Often I +had stopped, on my way down the road, to hold my ear against the pole, +and, hearing its low moaning, I used to wonder what the paleface had +done to hurt it. Now I sat watching for each pole that glided by to be +the last one. + +In this way I had forgotten my uncomfortable surroundings, when I heard +one of my comrades call out my name. I saw the missionary standing very +near, tossing candies and gums into our midst. This amused us all, and +we tried to see who could catch the most of the sweetmeats. + +Though we rode several days inside of the iron horse, I do not recall a +single thing about our luncheons. + +It was night when we reached the school grounds. The lights from the +windows of the large buildings fell upon some of the icicled trees that +stood beneath them. We were led toward an open door, where the +brightness of the lights within flooded out over the heads of the +excited palefaces who blocked our way. My body trembled more from fear +than from the snow I trod upon. + +Entering the house, I stood close against the wall. The strong glaring +light in the large whitewashed room dazzled my eyes. The noisy hurrying +of hard shoes upon a bare wooden floor increased the whirring in my +ears. My only safety seemed to be in keeping next to the wall. As I was +wondering in which direction to escape from all this confusion, two warm +hands grasped me firmly, and in the same moment I was tossed high in +midair. A rosy-cheeked paleface woman caught me in her arms. I was both +frightened and insulted by such trifling. I stared into her eyes, +wishing her to let me stand on my own feet, but she jumped me up and +down with increasing enthusiasm. My mother had never made a plaything of +her wee daughter. Remembering this I began to cry aloud. + +They misunderstood the cause of my tears, and placed me at a white table +loaded with food. There our party were united again. As I did not hush +my crying, one of the older ones whispered to me, "Wait until you are +alone in the night." + +It was very little I could swallow besides my sobs, that evening. + +"Oh, I want my mother and my brother Dawee! I want to go to my aunt!" I +pleaded; but the ears of the palefaces could not hear me. + +From the table we were taken along an upward incline of wooden boxes, +which I learned afterward to call a stairway. At the top was a quiet +hall, dimly lighted. Many narrow beds were in one straight line down the +entire length of the wall. In them lay sleeping brown faces, which +peeped just out of the coverings. I was tucked into bed with one of the +tall girls, because she talked to me in my mother tongue and seemed to +soothe me. + +I had arrived in the wonderful land of rosy skies, but I was not happy, +as I had thought I should be. My long travel and the bewildering sights +had exhausted me. I fell asleep, heaving deep, tired sobs. My tears were +left to dry themselves in streaks, because neither my aunt nor my mother +was near to wipe them away. + + + + +II. + +THE CUTTING OF MY LONG HAIR. + + +The first day in the land of apples was a bitter-cold one; for the snow +still covered the ground, and the trees were bare. A large bell rang for +breakfast, its loud metallic voice crashing through the belfry overhead +and into our sensitive ears. The annoying clatter of shoes on bare +floors gave us no peace. The constant clash of harsh noises, with an +undercurrent of many voices murmuring an unknown tongue, made a bedlam +within which I was securely tied. And though my spirit tore itself in +struggling for its lost freedom, all was useless. + +A paleface woman, with white hair, came up after us. We were placed in a +line of girls who were marching into the dining room. These were Indian +girls, in stiff shoes and closely clinging dresses. The small girls wore +sleeved aprons and shingled hair. As I walked noiselessly in my soft +moccasins, I felt like sinking to the floor, for my blanket had been +stripped from my shoulders. I looked hard at the Indian girls, who +seemed not to care that they were even more immodestly dressed than I, +in their tightly fitting clothes. While we marched in, the boys entered +at an opposite door. I watched for the three young braves who came in +our party. I spied them in the rear ranks, looking as uncomfortable as I +felt. A small bell was tapped, and each of the pupils drew a chair from +under the table. Supposing this act meant they were to be seated, I +pulled out mine and at once slipped into it from one side. But when I +turned my head, I saw that I was the only one seated, and all the rest +at our table remained standing. Just as I began to rise, looking shyly +around to see how chairs were to be used, a second bell was sounded. All +were seated at last, and I had to crawl back into my chair again. I +heard a man's voice at one end of the hall, and I looked around to see +him. But all the others hung their heads over their plates. As I glanced +at the long chain of tables, I caught the eyes of a paleface woman upon +me. Immediately I dropped my eyes, wondering why I was so keenly watched +by the strange woman. The man ceased his mutterings, and then a third +bell was tapped. Every one picked up his knife and fork and began +eating. I began crying instead, for by this time I was afraid to venture +anything more. + +But this eating by formula was not the hardest trial in that first day. +Late in the morning, my friend Judewin gave me a terrible warning. +Judewin knew a few words of English; and she had overheard the paleface +woman talk about cutting our long, heavy hair. Our mothers had taught us +that only unskilled warriors who were captured had their hair shingled +by the enemy. Among our people, short hair was worn by mourners, and +shingled hair by cowards! + +We discussed our fate some moments, and when Judewin said, "We have to +submit, because they are strong," I rebelled. + +"No, I will not submit! I will struggle first!" I answered. + +I watched my chance, and when no one noticed, I disappeared. I crept up +the stairs as quietly as I could in my squeaking shoes,--my moccasins +had been exchanged for shoes. Along the hall I passed, without knowing +whither I was going. Turning aside to an open door, I found a large room +with three white beds in it. The windows were covered with dark green +curtains, which made the room very dim. Thankful that no one was there, +I directed my steps toward the corner farthest from the door. On my +hands and knees I crawled under the bed, and cuddled myself in the dark +corner. + +From my hiding place I peered out, shuddering with fear whenever I heard +footsteps near by. Though in the hall loud voices were calling my name, +and I knew that even Judewin was searching for me, I did not open my +mouth to answer. Then the steps were quickened and the voices became +excited. The sounds came nearer and nearer. Women and girls entered the +room. I held my breath and watched them open closet doors and peep +behind large trunks. Some one threw up the curtains, and the room was +filled with sudden light. What caused them to stoop and look under the +bed I do not know. I remember being dragged out, though I resisted by +kicking and scratching wildly. In spite of myself, I was carried +downstairs and tied fast in a chair. + +I cried aloud, shaking my head all the while until I felt the cold +blades of the scissors against my neck, and heard them gnaw off one of +my thick braids. Then I lost my spirit. Since the day I was taken from +my mother I had suffered extreme indignities. People had stared at me. I +had been tossed about in the air like a wooden puppet. And now my long +hair was shingled like a coward's! In my anguish I moaned for my mother, +but no one came to comfort me. Not a soul reasoned quietly with me, as +my own mother used to do; for now I was only one of many little animals +driven by a herder. + + + + +III. + +THE SNOW EPISODE. + + +A short time after our arrival we three Dakotas were playing in the +snowdrift. We were all still deaf to the English language, excepting +Judewin, who always heard such puzzling things. One morning we learned +through her ears that we were forbidden to fall lengthwise in the snow, +as we had been doing, to see our own impressions. However, before many +hours we had forgotten the order, and were having great sport in the +snow, when a shrill voice called us. Looking up, we saw an imperative +hand beckoning us into the house. We shook the snow off ourselves, and +started toward the woman as slowly as we dared. + +Judewin said: "Now the paleface is angry with us. She is going to punish +us for falling into the snow. If she looks straight into your eyes and +talks loudly, you must wait until she stops. Then, after a tiny pause, +say, 'No.'" The rest of the way we practiced upon the little word "no." + +As it happened, Thowin was summoned to judgment first. The door shut +behind her with a click. + +Judewin and I stood silently listening at the keyhole. The paleface +woman talked in very severe tones. Her words fell from her lips like +crackling embers, and her inflection ran up like the small end of a +switch. I understood her voice better than the things she was saying. I +was certain we had made her very impatient with us. Judewin heard enough +of the words to realize all too late that she had taught us the wrong +reply. + +"Oh, poor Thowin!" she gasped, as she put both hands over her ears. + +Just then I heard Thowin's tremulous answer, "No." + +With an angry exclamation, the woman gave her a hard spanking. Then she +stopped to say something. Judewin said it was this: "Are you going to +obey my word the next time?" + +Thowin answered again with the only word at her command, "No." + +This time the woman meant her blows to smart, for the poor frightened +girl shrieked at the top of her voice. In the midst of the whipping the +blows ceased abruptly, and the woman asked another question: "Are you +going to fall in the snow again?" + +Thowin gave her bad passwood another trial. We heard her say feebly, +"No! No!" + +With this the woman hid away her half-worn slipper, and led the child +out, stroking her black shorn head. Perhaps it occurred to her that +brute force is not the solution for such a problem. She did nothing to +Judewin nor to me. She only returned to us our unhappy comrade, and left +us alone in the room. + +During the first two or three seasons misunderstandings as ridiculous as +this one of the snow episode frequently took place, bringing +unjustifiable frights and punishments into our little lives. + +Within a year I was able to express myself somewhat in broken English. +As soon as I comprehended a part of what was said and done, a +mischievous spirit of revenge possessed me. One day I was called in from +my play for some misconduct. I had disregarded a rule which seemed to me +very needlessly binding. I was sent into the kitchen to mash the turnips +for dinner. It was noon, and steaming dishes were hastily carried into +the dining-room. I hated turnips, and their odor which came from the +brown jar was offensive to me. With fire in my heart, I took the wooden +tool that the paleface woman held out to me. I stood upon a step, and, +grasping the handle with both hands, I bent in hot rage over the +turnips. I worked my vengeance upon them. All were so busily occupied +that no one noticed me. I saw that the turnips were in a pulp, and that +further beating could not improve them; but the order was, "Mash these +turnips," and mash them I would! I renewed my energy; and as I sent the +masher into the bottom of the jar, I felt a satisfying sensation that +the weight of my body had gone into it. + +Just here a paleface woman came up to my table. As she looked into the +jar, she shoved my hands roughly aside. I stood fearless and angry. She +placed her red hands upon the rim of the jar. Then she gave one lift and +stride away from the table. But lo! the pulpy contents fell through the +crumbled bottom to the floor I She spared me no scolding phrases that I +had earned. I did not heed them. I felt triumphant in my revenge, though +deep within me I was a wee bit sorry to have broken the jar. + +As I sat eating my dinner, and saw that no turnips were served, I +whooped in my heart for having once asserted the rebellion within me. + + + + +IV. + +THE DEVIL. + + +Among the legends the old warriors used to tell me were many stories of +evil spirits. But I was taught to fear them no more than those who +stalked about in material guise. I never knew there was an insolent +chieftain among the bad spirits, who dared to array his forces against +the Great Spirit, until I heard this white man's legend from a paleface +woman. + +Out of a large book she showed me a picture of the white man's devil. I +looked in horror upon the strong claws that grew out of his fur-covered +fingers. His feet were like his hands. Trailing at his heels was a scaly +tail tipped with a serpent's open jaws. His face was a patchwork: he had +bearded cheeks, like some I had seen palefaces wear; his nose was an +eagle's bill, and his sharp-pointed ears were pricked up like those of a +sly fox. Above them a pair of cow's horns curved upward. I trembled with +awe, and my heart throbbed in my throat, as I looked at the king of evil +spirits. Then I heard the paleface woman say that this terrible creature +roamed loose in the world, and that little girls who disobeyed school +regulations were to be tortured by him. + +That night I dreamt about this evil divinity. Once again I seemed to be +in my mother's cottage. An Indian woman had come to visit my mother. On +opposite sides of the kitchen stove, which stood in the center of the +small house, my mother and her guest were seated in straight-backed +chairs. I played with a train of empty spools hitched together on a +string. It was night, and the wick burned feebly. Suddenly I heard some +one turn our door-knob from without. + +My mother and the woman hushed their talk, and both looked toward the +door. It opened gradually. I waited behind the stove. The hinges +squeaked as the door was slowly, very slowly pushed inward. + +Then in rushed the devil! He was tall! He looked exactly like the +picture I had seen of him in the white man's papers. He did not speak to +my mother, because he did not know the Indian language, but his +glittering yellow eyes were fastened upon me. He took long strides +around the stove, passing behind the woman's chair. I threw down my +spools, and ran to my mother. He did not fear her, but followed closely +after me. Then I ran round and round the stove, crying aloud for help. +But my mother and the woman seemed not to know my danger. They sat +still, looking quietly upon the devil's chase after me. At last I grew +dizzy. My head revolved as on a hidden pivot. My knees became numb, and +doubled under my weight like a pair of knife blades without a spring. +Beside my mother's chair I fell in a heap. Just as the devil stooped +over me with outstretched claws my mother awoke from her quiet +indifference, and lifted me on her lap. Whereupon the devil vanished, +and I was awake. + +On the following morning I took my revenge upon the devil. Stealing into +the room where a wall of shelves was filled with books, I drew forth The +Stories of the Bible. With a broken slate pencil I carried in my apron +pocket, I began by scratching out his wicked eyes. A few moments later, +when I was ready to leave the room, there was a ragged hole in the page +where the picture of the devil had once been. + + + + +V. + +IRON ROUTINE + + +A loud-clamoring bell awakened us at half-past six in the cold winter +mornings. From happy dreams of Western rolling lands and unlassoed +freedom we tumbled out upon chilly bare floors back again into a +paleface day. We had short time to jump into our shoes and clothes, and +wet our eyes with icy water, before a small hand bell was vigorously +rung for roll call. + +There were too many drowsy children and too numerous orders for the day +to waste a moment in any apology to nature for giving her children such +a shock in the early morning. We rushed downstairs, bounding over two +high steps at a time, to land in the assembly room. + +A paleface woman, with a yellow-covered roll book open on her arm and a +gnawed pencil in her hand, appeared at the door. Her small, tired face +was coldly lighted with a pair of large gray eyes. + +She stood still in a halo of authority, while over the rim of her +spectacles her eyes pried nervously about the room. Having glanced at +her long list of names and called out the first one, she tossed up her +chin and peered through the crystals of her spectacles to make sure of +the answer "Here." + +Relentlessly her pencil black-marked our daily records if we were not +present to respond to our names, and no chum of ours had done it +successfully for us. No matter if a dull headache or the painful cough +of slow consumption had delayed the absentee, there was only time enough +to mark the tardiness. It was next to impossible to leave the iron +routine after the civilizing machine had once begun its day's buzzing; +and as it was inbred in me to suffer in silence rather than to appeal to +the ears of one whose open eyes could not see my pain, I have many times +trudged in the day's harness heavy-footed, like a dumb sick brute. + +Once I lost a dear classmate. I remember well how she used to mope along +at my side, until one morning she could not raise her head from her +pillow. At her deathbed I stood weeping, as the paleface woman sat near +her moistening the dry lips. Among the folds of the bedclothes I saw +the open pages of the white man's Bible. The dying Indian girl talked +disconnectedly of Jesus the Christ and the paleface who was cooling her +swollen hands and feet. + +I grew bitter, and censured the woman for cruel neglect of our physical +ills. I despised the pencils that moved automatically, and the one +teaspoon which dealt out, from a large bottle, healing to a row of +variously ailing Indian children. I blamed the hard-working, +well-meaning, ignorant woman who was inculcating in our hearts her +superstitious ideas. Though I was sullen in all my little troubles, as +soon as I felt better I was ready again to smile upon the cruel woman. +Within a week I was again actively testing the chains which tightly +bound my individuality like a mummy for burial. + +The melancholy of those black days has left so long a shadow that it +darkens the path of years that have since gone by. These sad memories +rise above those of smoothly grinding school days. Perhaps my Indian +nature is the moaning wind which stirs them now for their present +record. But, however tempestuous this is within me, it comes out as the +low voice of a curiously colored seashell, which is only for those ears +that are bent with compassion to hear it. + + + + +VI. + +FOUR STRANGE SUMMERS. + + +After my first three years of school, I roamed again in the Western +country through four strange summers. + +During this time I seemed to hang in the heart of chaos, beyond the +touch or voice of human aid. My brother, being almost ten years my +senior, did not quite understand my feelings. My mother had never gone +inside of a schoolhouse, and so she was not capable of comforting her +daughter who could read and write. Even nature seemed to have no place +for me. I was neither a wee girl nor a tall one; neither a wild Indian +nor a tame one. This deplorable situation was the effect of my brief +course in the East, and the unsatisfactory "teenth" in a girl's years. + +It was under these trying conditions that, one bright afternoon, as I +sat restless and unhappy in my mother's cabin, I caught the sound of the +spirited step of my brother's pony on the road which passed by our +dwelling. Soon I heard the wheels of a light buckboard, and Dawee's +familiar "Ho!" to his pony. He alighted upon the bare ground in front +of our house. Tying his pony to one of the projecting corner logs of the +low-roofed cottage, he stepped upon the wooden doorstep. + +I met him there with a hurried greeting, and, as I passed by, he looked +a quiet "What?" into my eyes. + +When he began talking with my mother, I slipped the rope from the pony's +bridle. Seizing the reins and bracing my feet against the dashboard, I +wheeled around in an instant. The pony was ever ready to try his speed. +Looking backward, I saw Dawee waving his hand to me. I turned with the +curve in the road and disappeared. I followed the winding road which +crawled upward between the bases of little hillocks. Deep water-worn +ditches ran parallel on either side. A strong wind blew against my +cheeks and fluttered my sleeves. The pony reached the top of the highest +hill, and began an even race on the level lands. There was nothing +moving within that great circular horizon of the Dakota prairies save +the tall grasses, over which the wind blew and rolled off in long, +shadowy waves. + +Within this vast wigwam of blue and green I rode reckless and +insignificant. It satisfied my small consciousness to see the white foam +fly from the pony's mouth. + +Suddenly, out of the earth a coyote came forth at a swinging trot that +was taking the cunning thief toward the hills and the village beyond. +Upon the moment's impulse, I gave him a long chase and a wholesome +fright. As I turned away to go back to the village, the wolf sank down +upon his haunches for rest, for it was a hot summer day; and as I drove +slowly homeward, I saw his sharp nose still pointed at me, until I +vanished below the margin of the hilltops. + +In a little while I came in sight of my mother's house. Dawee stood in +the yard, laughing at an old warrior who was pointing his forefinger, +and again waving his whole hand, toward the hills. With his blanket +drawn over one shoulder, he talked and motioned excitedly. Dawee turned +the old man by the shoulder and pointed me out to him. + +"Oh, han!" (Oh, yes) the warrior muttered, and went his way. He had +climbed the top of his favorite barren hill to survey the surrounding +prairies, when he spied my chase after the coyote. His keen eyes +recognized the pony and driver. At once uneasy for my safety, he had +come running to my mother's cabin to give her warning. I did not +appreciate his kindly interest, for there was an unrest gnawing at my +heart. + +As soon as he went away, I asked Dawee about something else. + +"No, my baby sister, I cannot take you with me to the party tonight," he +replied. Though I was not far from fifteen, and I felt that before long +I should enjoy all the privileges of my tall cousin, Dawee persisted in +calling me his baby sister. + +That moonlight night, I cried in my mother's presence when I heard the +jolly young people pass by our cottage. They were no more young braves +in blankets and eagle plumes, nor Indian maids with prettily painted +cheeks. They had gone three years to school in the East, and had become +civilized. The young men wore the white man's coat and trousers, with +bright neckties. The girls wore tight muslin dresses, with ribbons at +neck and waist. At these gatherings they talked English. I could speak +English almost as well as my brother, but I was not properly dressed to +be taken along. I had no hat, no ribbons, and no close-fitting gown. +Since my return from school I had thrown away my shoes, and wore again +the soft moccasins. + +While Dawee was busily preparing to go I controlled my tears. But when I +heard him bounding away on his pony, I buried my face in my arms and +cried hot tears. + +My mother was troubled by my unhappiness. Coming to my side, she offered +me the only printed matter we had in our home. It was an Indian Bible, +given her some years ago by a missionary. She tried to console me. +"Here, my child, are the white man's papers. Read a little from them," +she said most piously. + +I took it from her hand, for her sake; but my enraged spirit felt more +like burning the book, which afforded me no help, and was a perfect +delusion to my mother. I did not read it, but laid it unopened on the +floor, where I sat on my feet. The dim yellow light of the braided +muslin burning in a small vessel of oil flickered and sizzled in the +awful silent storm which followed my rejection of the Bible. + +Now my wrath against the fates consumed my tears before they reached my +eyes. I sat stony, with a bowed head. My mother threw a shawl over her +head and shoulders, and stepped out into the night. + +After an uncertain solitude, I was suddenly aroused by a loud cry +piercing the night. It was my mother's voice wailing among the barren +hills which held the bones of buried warriors. She called aloud for her +brothers' spirits to support her in her helpless misery. My fingers Grey +icy cold, as I realized that my unrestrained tears had betrayed my +suffering to her, and she was grieving for me. + +Before she returned, though I knew she was on her way, for she had +ceased her weeping, I extinguished the light, and leaned my head on the +window sill. + +Many schemes of running away from my surroundings hovered about in my +mind. A few more moons of such a turmoil drove me away to the eastern +school. I rode on the white man's iron steed, thinking it would bring me +back to my mother in a few winters, when I should be grown tall, and +there would be congenial friends awaiting me. + + + + +VII. + +INCURRING MY MOTHER'S DISPLEASURE. + + +In the second journey to the East I had not come without some +precautions. I had a secret interview with one of our best medicine men, +and when I left his wigwam I carried securely in my sleeve a tiny bunch +of magic roots. This possession assured me of friends wherever I should +go. So absolutely did I believe in its charms that I wore it through all +the school routine for more than a year. Then, before I lost my faith in +the dead roots, I lost the little buckskin bag containing all my good +luck. + +At the close of this second term of three years I was the proud owner of +my first diploma. The following autumn I ventured upon a college career +against my mother's will. + +I had written for her approval, but in her reply I found no +encouragement. She called my notice to her neighbors' children, who had +completed their education in three years. They had returned to their +homes, and were then talking English with the frontier settlers. Her few +words hinted that I had better give up my slow attempt to learn the +white man's ways, and be content to roam over the prairies and find my +living upon wild roots. I silenced her by deliberate disobedience. + +Thus, homeless and heavy-hearted, I began anew my life among strangers. + +As I hid myself in my little room in the college dormitory, away from +the scornful and yet curious eyes of the students, I pined for sympathy. +Often I wept in secret, wishing I had gone West, to be nourished by my +mother's love, instead of remaining among a cold race whose hearts were +frozen hard with prejudice. + +During the fall and winter seasons I scarcely had a real friend, though +by that time several of my classmates were courteous to me at a safe +distance. + +My mother had not yet forgiven my rudeness to her, and I had no moment +for letter-writing. By daylight and lamplight, I spun with reeds and +thistles, until my hands were tired from their weaving, the magic design +which promised me the white man's respect. + +At length, in the spring term, I entered an oratorical contest among the +various classes. As the day of competition approached, it did not seem +possible that the event was so near at hand, but it came. In the chapel +the classes assembled together, with their invited guests. The high +platform was carpeted, and gaily festooned with college colors. A bright +white light illumined the room, and outlined clearly the great polished +beams that arched the domed ceiling. The assembled crowds filled the air +with pulsating murmurs. When the hour for speaking arrived all were +hushed. But on the wall the old clock which pointed out the trying +moment ticked calmly on. + +One after another I saw and heard the orators. Still, I could not +realize that they longed for the favorable decision of the judges as +much as I did. Each contestant received a loud burst of applause, and +some were cheered heartily. Too soon my turn came, and I paused a moment +behind the curtains for a deep breath. After my concluding words, I +heard the same applause that the others had called out. + +Upon my retreating steps, I was astounded to receive from my +fellow-students a large bouquet of roses tied with flowing ribbons. +With the lovely flowers I fled from the stage. This friendly token was +a rebuke to me for the hard feelings I had borne them. + +Later, the decision of the judges awarded me the first place. Then there +was a mad uproar in the hall, where my classmates sang and shouted my +name at the top of their lungs; and the disappointed students howled and +brayed in fearfully dissonant tin trumpets. In this excitement, happy +students rushed forward to offer their congratulations. And I could not +conceal a smile when they wished to escort me in a procession to the +students' parlor, where all were going to calm themselves. Thanking them +for the kind spirit which prompted them to make such a proposition, I +walked alone with the night to my own little room. + +A few weeks afterward, I appeared as the college representative in +another contest. This time the competition was among orators from +different colleges in our State. It was held at the State capital, in +one of the largest opera houses. + +Here again was a strong prejudice against my people. In the evening, as +the great audience filled the house, the student bodies began warring +among themselves. Fortunately, I was spared witnessing any of the noisy +wrangling before the contest began. The slurs against the Indian that +stained the lips of our opponents were already burning like a dry fever +within my breast. + +But after the orations were delivered a deeper burn awaited me. There, +before that vast ocean of eyes, some college rowdies threw out a large +white flag, with a drawing of a most forlorn Indian girl on it. Under +this they had printed in bold black letters words that ridiculed the +college which was represented by a "squaw." Such worse than barbarian +rudeness embittered me. While we waited for the verdict of the judges, I +gleamed fiercely upon the throngs of palefaces. My teeth were hard set, +as I saw the white flag still floating insolently in the air. + +Then anxiously we watched the man carry toward the stage the envelope +containing the final decision. + +There were two prizes given, that night, and one of them was mine! + +The evil spirit laughed within me when the white flag dropped out of +sight, and the hands which hurled it hung limp in defeat. + +Leaving the crowd as quickly as possible, I was soon in my room. The +rest of the night I sat in an armchair and gazed into the crackling +fire. I laughed no more in triumph when thus alone. The little taste of +victory did not satisfy a hunger in my heart. In my mind I saw my mother +far away on the Western plains, and she was holding a charge against me. + + + + +AN INDIAN TEACHER AMONG INDIANS + +I. + +MY FIRST DAY. + + +Though an illness left me unable to continue my college course, my pride +kept me from returning to my mother. Had she known of my worn condition, +she would have said the white man's papers were not worth the freedom +and health I had lost by them. Such a rebuke from my mother would have +been unbearable, and as I felt then it would be far too true to be +comfortable. + +Since the winter when I had my first dreams about red apples I had been +traveling slowly toward the morning horizon. There had been no doubt +about the direction in which I wished to go to spend my energies in a +work for the Indian race. Thus I had written my mother briefly, saying +my plan for the year was to teach in an Eastern Indian school. Sending +this message to her in the West, I started at once eastward. + +Thus I found myself, tired and hot, in a black veiling of car smoke, as +I stood wearily on a street corner of an old-fashioned town, waiting +for a car. In a few moments more I should be on the school grounds, +where a new work was ready for my inexperienced hands. + +Upon entering the school campus, I was surprised at the thickly +clustered buildings which made it a quaint little village, much more +interesting than the town itself. The large trees among the houses gave +the place a cool, refreshing shade, and the grass a deeper green. Within +this large court of grass and trees stood a low green pump. The queer +boxlike case had a revolving handle on its side, which clanked and +creaked constantly. + +I made myself known, and was shown to my room,--a small, carpeted room, +with ghastly walls and ceiling. The two windows, both on the same side, +were curtained with heavy muslin yellowed with age. A clean white bed +was in one corner of the room, and opposite it was a square pine table +covered with a black woolen blanket. + +Without removing my hat from my head, I seated myself in one of the two +stiff-backed chairs that were placed beside the table. For several heart +throbs I sat still looking from ceiling to floor, from wall to wall, +trying hard to imagine years of contentment there. Even while I was +wondering if my exhausted strength would sustain me through this +undertaking, I heard a heavy tread stop at my door. Opening it, I met +the imposing figure of a stately gray-haired man. With a light straw hat +in one hand, and the right hand extended for greeting, he smiled kindly +upon me. For some reason I was awed by his wondrous height and his +strong square shoulders, which I felt were a finger's length above my +head. + +I was always slight, and my serious illness in the early spring had made +me look rather frail and languid. His quick eye measured my height and +breadth. Then he looked into my face. I imagined that a visible shadow +flitted across his countenance as he let my hand fall. I knew he was no +other than my employer. + +"Ah ha! so you are the little Indian girl who created the excitement +among the college orators!" he said, more to himself than to me. I +thought I heard a subtle note of disappointment in his voice. Looking in +from where he stood, with one sweeping glance, he asked if I lacked +anything for my room. + +After he turned to go, I listened to his step until it grew faint and +was lost in the distance. I was aware that my car-smoked appearance had +not concealed the lines of pain on my face. + +For a short moment my spirit laughed at my ill fortune, and I +entertained the idea of exerting myself to make an improvement. But as I +tossed my hat off a leaden weakness came over me, and I felt as if years +of weariness lay like water-soaked logs upon me. I threw myself upon the +bed, and, closing my eyes, forgot my good intention. + + + + +II. + +A TRIP WESTWARD. + + +One sultry month I sat at a desk heaped up with work. Now, as I recall +it, I wonder how I could have dared to disregard nature's warning with +such recklessness. Fortunately, my inheritance of a marvelous endurance +enabled me to bend without breaking. + +Though I had gone to and fro, from my room to the office, in an unhappy +silence, I was watched by those around me. On an early morning I was +summoned to the superintendent's office. For a half-hour I listened to +his words, and when I returned to my room I remembered one sentence +above the rest. It was this: "I am going to turn you loose to pasture!" +He was sending me West to gather Indian pupils for the school, and this +was his way of expressing it. + +I needed nourishment, but the midsummer's travel across the continent to +search the hot prairies for overconfident parents who would entrust +their children to strangers was a lean pasturage. However, I dwelt on +the hope of seeing my mother. I tried to reason that a change was a +rest. Within a couple of days I started toward my mother's home. + +The intense heat and the sticky car smoke that followed my homeward +trail did not noticeably restore my vitality. Hour after hour I gazed +upon the country which was receding rapidly from me. I noticed the +gradual expansion of the horizon as we emerged out of the forests into +the plains. The great high buildings, whose towers overlooked the dense +woodlands, and whose gigantic clusters formed large cities, diminished, +together with the groves, until only little log cabins lay snugly in the +bosom of the vast prairie. The cloud shadows which drifted about on the +waving yellow of long-dried grasses thrilled me like the meeting of old +friends. + +At a small station, consisting of a single frame house with a rickety +board walk around it, I alighted from the iron horse, just thirty miles +from my mother and my brother Dawee. A strong hot wind seemed determined +to blow my hat off, and return me to olden days when I roamed bareheaded +over the hills. After the puffing engine of my train was gone, I stood +on the platform in deep solitude. In the distance I saw the gently +rolling land leap up into bare hills. At their bases a broad gray road +was winding itself round about them until it came by the station. Among +these hills I rode in a light conveyance, with a trusty driver, whose +unkempt flaxen hair hung shaggy about his ears and his leather neck of +reddish tan. From accident or decay he had lost one of his long front +teeth. + +Though I call him a paleface, his cheeks were of a brick red. His moist +blue eyes, blurred and bloodshot, twitched involuntarily. For a long +time he had driven through grass and snow from this solitary station to +the Indian village. His weather-stained clothes fitted badly his warped +shoulders. He was stooped, and his protruding chin, with its tuft of dry +flax, nodded as monotonously as did the head of his faithful beast. + +All the morning I looked about me, recognizing old familiar sky lines of +rugged bluffs and round-topped hills. By the roadside I caught glimpses +of various plants whose sweet roots were delicacies among my people. +When I saw the first cone-shaped wigwam, I could not help uttering an +exclamation which caused my driver a sudden jump out of his drowsy +nodding. + +At noon, as we drove through the eastern edge of the reservation, I grew +very impatient and restless. Constantly I wondered what my mother would +say upon seeing her little daughter grown tall. I had not written her +the day of my arrival, thinking I would surprise her. Crossing a ravine +thicketed with low shrubs and plum bushes, we approached a large yellow +acre of wild sunflowers. Just beyond this nature's garden we drew near +to my mother's cottage. Close by the log cabin stood a little +canvas-covered wigwam. The driver stopped in front of the open door, and +in a long moment my mother appeared at the threshold. + +I had expected her to run out to greet me, but she stood still, all the +while staring at the weather-beaten man at my side. At length, when her +loftiness became unbearable, I called to her, "Mother, why do you stop?" + +This seemed to break the evil moment, and she hastened out to hold my +head against her cheek. + +"My daughter, what madness possessed you to bring home such a fellow?" +she asked, pointing at the driver, who was fumbling in his pockets for +change while he held the bill I gave him between his jagged teeth. + +"Bring him! Why, no, mother, he has brought me! He is a driver!" I +exclaimed. + +Upon this revelation, my mother threw her arms about me and apologized +for her mistaken inference. We laughed away the momentary hurt. Then she +built a brisk fire on the ground in the tepee, and hung a blackened +coffeepot on one of the prongs of a forked pole which leaned over the +flames. Placing a pan on a heap of red embers, she baked some unleavened +bread. This light luncheon she brought into the cabin, and arranged on a +table covered with a checkered oilcloth. + +My mother had never gone to school, and though she meant always to give +up her own customs for such of the white man's ways as pleased her, she +made only compromises. Her two windows, directly opposite each other, +she curtained with a pink-flowered print. The naked logs were unstained, +and rudely carved with the axe so as to fit into one another. The sod +roof was trying to boast of tiny sunflowers, the seeds of which had +probably been planted by the constant wind. As I leaned my head against +the logs, I discovered the peculiar odor that I could not forget. The +rains had soaked the earth and roof so that the smell of damp clay was +but the natural breath of such a dwelling. + +"Mother, why is not your house cemented? Do you have no interest in a +more comfortable shelter?" I asked, when the apparent inconveniences of +her home seemed to suggest indifference on her part. + +"You forget, my child, that I am now old, and I do not work with beads +any more. Your brother Dawee, too, has lost his position, and we are +left without means to buy even a morsel of food," she replied. + +Dawee was a government clerk in our reservation when I last heard from +him. I was surprised upon hearing what my mother said concerning his +lack of employment. Seeing the puzzled expression on my face, she +continued: "Dawee! Oh, has he not told you that the Great Father at +Washington sent a white son to take your brother's pen from him? Since +then Dawee has not been able to make use of the education the Eastern +school has given him." + +I found no words with which to answer satisfactorily. I found no reason +with which to cool my inflamed feelings. + +Dawee was a whole day's journey off on the prairie, and my mother did +not expect him until the next day. We were silent. + +When, at length, I raised my head to hear more clearly the moaning of +the wind in the corner logs, I noticed the daylight streaming into the +dingy room through several places where the logs fitted unevenly. +Turning to my mother, I urged her to tell me more about Dawee's trouble, +but she only said: "Well, my daughter, this village has been these many +winters a refuge for white robbers. The Indian cannot complain to the +Great Father in Washington without suffering outrage for it here. Dawee +tried to secure justice for our tribe in a small matter, and today you +see the folly of it." + +Again, though she stopped to hear what I might say, I was silent. + +"My child, there is only one source of justice, and I have been praying +steadfastly to the Great Spirit to avenge our wrongs," she said, seeing +I did not move my lips. + +My shattered energy was unable to hold longer any faith, and I cried out +desperately: "Mother, don't pray again! The Great Spirit does not care +if we live or die! Let us not look for good or justice: then we shall +not be disappointed!" + +"Sh! my child, do not talk so madly. There is Taku Iyotan Wasaka,[1] to +which I pray," she answered, as she stroked my head again as she used to +do when I was a smaller child. + +[Footnote 1: An absolute Power.] + + + + +III. + +MY MOTHER'S CURSE UPON WHITE SETTLERS. + + +One black night mother and I sat alone in the dim starlight, in front of +our wigwam. We were facing the river, as we talked about the shrinking +limits of the village. She told me about the poverty-stricken white +settlers, who lived in caves dug in the long ravines of the high hills +across the river. + +A whole tribe of broad-footed white beggars had rushed hither to make +claims on those wild lands. Even as she was telling this I spied a small +glimmering light in the bluffs. + +"That is a white man's lodge where you see the burning fire," she said. +Then, a short distance from it, only a little lower than the first, was +another light. As I became accustomed to the night, I saw more and more +twinkling lights, here and there, scattered all along the wide black +margin of the river. + +Still looking toward the distant firelight, my mother continued: "My +daughter, beware of the paleface. It was the cruel paleface who caused +the death of your sister and your uncle, my brave brother. It is this +same paleface who offers in one palm the holy papers, and with the +other gives a holy baptism of firewater. He is the hypocrite who reads +with one eye, 'Thou shalt not kill,' and with the other gloats upon the +sufferings of the Indian race." Then suddenly discovering a new fire in +the bluffs, she exclaimed, "Well, well, my daughter, there is the light +of another white rascal!" + +She sprang to her feet, and, standing firm beside her wigwam, she sent a +curse upon those who sat around the hated white man's light. Raising her +right arm forcibly into line with her eye, she threw her whole might +into her doubled fist as she shot it vehemently at the strangers. Long +she held her outstretched fingers toward the settler's lodge, as if an +invisible power passed from them to the evil at which she aimed. + + + + +IV. + +RETROSPECTION. + + +Leaving my mother, I returned to the school in the East. As months +passed over me, I slowly comprehended that the large army of white +teachers in Indian schools had a larger missionary creed than I had +suspected. + +It was one which included self-preservation quite as much as Indian +education. When I saw an opium-eater holding a position as teacher of +Indians, I did not understand what good was expected, until a Christian +in power replied that this pumpkin-colored creature had a feeble mother +to support. An inebriate paleface sat stupid in a doctor's chair, while +Indian patients carried their ailments to untimely graves, because his +fair wife was dependent upon him for her daily food. + +I find it hard to count that white man a teacher who tortured an +ambitious Indian youth by frequently reminding the brave changeling that +he was nothing but a "government pauper." + +Though I burned with indignation upon discovering on every side +instances no less shameful than those I have mentioned, there was no +present help. Even the few rare ones who have worked nobly for my race +were powerless to choose workmen like themselves. To be sure, a man was +sent from the Great Father to inspect Indian schools, but what he saw +was usually the students' sample work _made_ for exhibition. I was +nettled by this sly cunning of the workmen who hookwinked the Indian's +pale Father at Washington. + +My illness, which prevented the conclusion of my college course, +together with my mother's stories of the encroaching frontier settlers, +left me in no mood to strain my eyes in searching for latent good in my +white co-workers. + +At this stage of my own evolution, I was ready to curse men of small +capacity for being the dwarfs their God had made them. In the process of +my education I had lost all consciousness of the nature world about me. +Thus, when a hidden rage took me to the small white-walled prison which +I then called my room, I unknowingly turned away from my one salvation. + +Alone in my room, I sat like the petrified Indian woman of whom my +mother used to tell me. I wished my heart's burdens would turn me to +unfeeling stone. But alive, in my tomb, I was destitute! + +For the white man's papers I had given up my faith in the Great Spirit. +For these same papers I had forgotten the healing in trees and brooks. +On account of my mother's simple view of life, and my lack of any, I +gave her up, also. I made no friends among the race of people I loathed. +Like a slender tree, I had been uprooted from my mother, nature, and +God. I was shorn of my branches, which had waved in sympathy and love +for home and friends. The natural coat of bark which had protected my +oversensitive nature was scraped off to the very quick. + +Now a cold bare pole I seemed to be, planted in a strange earth. Still, +I seemed to hope a day would come when my mute aching head, reared +upward to the sky, would flash a zigzag lightning across the heavens. +With this dream of vent for a long-pent consciousness, I walked again +amid the crowds. + +At last, one weary day in the schoolroom, a new idea presented itself to +me. It was a new way of solving the problem of my inner self. I liked +it. Thus I resigned my position as teacher; and now I am in an Eastern +city, following the long course of study I have set for myself. Now, as +I look back upon the recent past, I see it from a distance, as a whole. +I remember how, from morning till evening, many specimens of civilized +peoples visited the Indian school. The city folks with canes and +eyeglasses, the countrymen with sunburnt cheeks and clumsy feet, forgot +their relative social ranks in an ignorant curiosity. Both sorts of +these Christian palefaces were alike astounded at seeing the children of +savage warriors so docile and industrious. + +As answers to their shallow inquiries they received the students' sample +work to look upon. Examining the neatly figured pages, and gazing upon +the Indian girls and boys bending over their books, the white visitors +walked out of the schoolhouse well satisfied: they were educating the +children of the red man! They were paying a liberal fee to the +government employees in whose able hands lay the small forest of Indian +timber. + +In this fashion many have passed idly through the Indian schools during +the last decade, afterward to boast of their charity to the North +American Indian. But few there are who have paused to question whether +real life or long-lasting death lies beneath this semblance of +civilization. + + + + +THE GREAT SPIRIT + + +When the spirit swells my breast I love to roam leisurely among the +green hills; or sometimes, sitting on the brink of the murmuring +Missouri, I marvel at the great blue overhead. With half-closed eyes I +watch the huge cloud shadows in their noiseless play upon the high +bluffs opposite me, while into my ear ripple the sweet, soft cadences of +the river's song. Folded hands lie in my lap, for the time forgot. My +heart and I lie small upon the earth like a grain of throbbing sand. +Drifting clouds and tinkling waters, together with the warmth of a +genial summer day, bespeak with eloquence the loving Mystery round about +us. During the idle while I sat upon the sunny river brink, I grew +somewhat, though my response be not so clearly manifest as in the green +grass fringing the edge of the high bluff back of me. + +At length retracing the uncertain footpath scaling the precipitous +embankment, I seek the level lands where grow the wild prairie flowers. +And they, the lovely little folk, soothe my soul with their perfumed +breath. + +Their quaint round faces of varied hue convince the heart which leaps +with glad surprise that they, too, are living symbols of omnipotent +thought. With a child's eager eye I drink in the myriad star shapes +wrought in luxuriant color upon the green. Beautiful is the spiritual +essence they embody. + +I leave them nodding in the breeze, but take along with me their impress +upon my heart. I pause to rest me upon a rock embedded on the side of a +foothill facing the low river bottom. Here the Stone-Boy, of whom the +American aborigine tells, frolics about, shooting his baby arrows and +shouting aloud with glee at the tiny shafts of lightning that flash from +the flying arrow-beaks. What an ideal warrior he became, baffling the +siege of the pests of all the land till he triumphed over their united +attack. And here he lay--Inyan our great-great-grandfather, older than +the hill he rested on, older than the race of men who love to tell of +his wonderful career. + +Interwoven with the thread of this Indian legend of the rock, I fain +would trace a subtle knowledge of the native folk which enabled them to +recognize a kinship to any and all parts of this vast universe. By the +leading of an ancient trail I move toward the Indian village. + +With the strong, happy sense that both great and small are so surely +enfolded in His magnitude that, without a miss, each has his allotted +individual ground of opportunities, I am buoyant with good nature. + +Yellow Breast, swaying upon the slender stem of a wild sunflower, +warbles a sweet assurance of this as I pass near by. Breaking off the +clear crystal song, he turns his wee head from side to side eyeing me +wisely as slowly I plod with moccasined feet. Then again he yields +himself to his song of joy. Flit, flit hither and yon, he fills the +summer sky with his swift, sweet melody. And truly does it seem his +vigorous freedom lies more in his little spirit than in his wing. + +With these thoughts I reach the log cabin whither I am strongly drawn by +the tie of a child to an aged mother. Out bounds my four-footed friend +to meet me, frisking about my path with unmistakable delight. Chaen is a +black shaggy dog, "a thoroughbred little mongrel" of whom I am very +fond. Chaen seems to understand many words in Sioux, and will go to her +mat even when I whisper the word, though generally I think she is guided +by the tone of the voice. Often she tries to imitate the sliding +inflection and long-drawn-out voice to the amusement of our guests, but +her articulation is quite beyond my ear. In both my hands I hold her +shaggy head and gaze into her large brown eyes. At once the dilated +pupils contract into tiny black dots, as if the roguish spirit within +would evade my questioning. + +Finally resuming the chair at my desk I feel in keen sympathy with my +fellow-creatures, for I seem to see clearly again that all are akin. The +racial lines, which once were bitterly real, now serve nothing more than +marking out a living mosaic of human beings. And even here men of the +same color are like the ivory keys of one instrument where each +resembles all the rest, yet varies from them in pitch and quality of +voice. And those creatures who are for a time mere echoes of another's +note are not unlike the fable of the thin sick man whose distorted +shadow, dressed like a real creature, came to the old master to make him +follow as a shadow. Thus with a compassion for all echoes in human +guise, I greet the solemn-faced "native preacher" whom I find awaiting +me. I listen with respect for God's creature, though he mouth most +strangely the jangling phrases of a bigoted creed. + +As our tribe is one large family, where every person is related to all +the others, he addressed me:-- + +"Cousin, I came from the morning church service to talk with you." + +"Yes?" I said interrogatively, as he paused for some word from me. + +Shifting uneasily about in the straight-backed chair he sat upon, he +began: "Every holy day (Sunday) I look about our little God's house, and +not seeing you there, I am disappointed. This is why I come today. +Cousin, as I watch you from afar, I see no unbecoming behavior and hear +only good reports of you, which all the more burns me with the wish that +you were a church member. Cousin, I was taught long years ago by kind +missionaries to read the holy book. These godly men taught me also the +folly of our old beliefs. + +"There is one God who gives reward or punishment to the race of dead +men. In the upper region the Christian dead are gathered in unceasing +song and prayer. In the deep pit below, the sinful ones dance in +torturing flames. + +"Think upon these things, my cousin, and choose now to avoid the +after-doom of hell fire!" Then followed a long silence in which he +clasped tighter and unclasped again his interlocked fingers. + +Like instantaneous lightning flashes came pictures of my own mother's +making, for she, too, is now a follower of the new superstition. + +"Knocking out the chinking of our log cabin, some evil hand thrust in a +burning taper of braided dry grass, but failed of his intent, for the +fire died out and the half-burned brand fell inward to the floor. +Directly above it, on a shelf, lay the holy book. This is what we found +after our return from a several days' visit. Surely some great power is +hid in the sacred book!" + +Brushing away from my eyes many like pictures, I offered midday meal to +the converted Indian sitting wordless and with downcast face. No sooner +had he risen from the table with "Cousin, I have relished it," than the +church bell rang. + +Thither he hurried forth with his afternoon sermon. I watched him as he +hastened along, his eyes bent fast upon the dusty road till he +disappeared at the end of a quarter of a mile. + +The little incident recalled to mind the copy of a missionary paper +brought to my notice a few days ago, in which a "Christian" pugilist +commented upon a recent article of mine, grossly perverting the spirit +of my pen. Still I would not forget that the pale-faced missionary and +the hoodooed aborigine are both God's creatures, though small indeed +their own conceptions of Infinite Love. A wee child toddling in a wonder +world, I prefer to their dogma my excursions into the natural gardens +where the voice of the Great Spirit is heard in the twittering of birds, +the rippling of mighty waters, and the sweet breathing of flowers. + +Here, in a fleeting quiet, I am awakened by the fluttering robe of the +Great Spirit. To my innermost consciousness the phenomenal universe is a +royal mantle, vibrating with His divine breath. Caught in its flowing +fringes are the spangles and oscillating brilliants of sun, moon, and +stars. + + + + +THE SOFT-HEARTED SIOUX + +I. + + +Beside the open fire I sat within our tepee. With my red blanket wrapped +tightly about my crossed legs, I was thinking of the coming season, my +sixteenth winter. On either side of the wigwam were my parents. My +father was whistling a tune between his teeth while polishing with his +bare hand a red stone pipe he had recently carved. Almost in front of +me, beyond the center fire, my old grandmother sat near the entranceway. + +She turned her face toward her right and addressed most of her words to +my mother. Now and then she spoke to me, but never did she allow her +eyes to rest upon her daughter's husband, my father. It was only upon +rare occasions that my grandmother said anything to him. Thus his ears +were open and ready to catch the smallest wish she might express. +Sometimes when my grandmother had been saying things which pleased him, +my father used to comment upon them. At other times, when he could not +approve of what was spoken, he used to work or smoke silently. + +On this night my old grandmother began her talk about me. Filling the +bowl of her red stone pipe with dry willow bark, she looked across at +me. + +"My grandchild, you are tall and are no longer a little boy." Narrowing +her old eyes, she asked, "My grandchild, when are you going to bring +here a handsome young woman?" I stared into the fire rather than meet +her gaze. Waiting for my answer, she stooped forward and through the +long stem drew a flame into the red stone pipe. + +I smiled while my eyes were still fixed upon the bright fire, but I said +nothing in reply. Turning to my mother, she offered her the pipe. I +glanced at my grandmother. The loose buckskin sleeve fell off at her +elbow and showed a wrist covered with silver bracelets. Holding up the +fingers of her left hand, she named off the desirable young women of our +village. + +"Which one, my grandchild, which one?" she questioned. + +"Hoh!" I said, pulling at my blanket in confusion. "Not yet!" Here my +mother passed the pipe over the fire to my father. Then she, too, began +speaking of what I should do. + +"My son, be always active. Do not dislike a long hunt. Learn to provide +much buffalo meat and many buckskins before you bring home a wife." +Presently my father gave the pipe to my grandmother, and he took his +turn in the exhortations. + +"Ho, my son, I have been counting in my heart the bravest warriors of +our people. There is not one of them who won his title in his sixteenth +winter. My son, it is a great thing for some brave of sixteen winters to +do." + +Not a word had I to give in answer. I knew well the fame of my warrior +father. He had earned the right of speaking such words, though even he +himself was a brave only at my age. Refusing to smoke my grandmother's +pipe because my heart was too much stirred by their words, and sorely +troubled with a fear lest I should disappoint them, I arose to go. +Drawing my blanket over my shoulders, I said, as I stepped toward the +entranceway: "I go to hobble my pony. It is now late in the night." + + + + +II. + + +Nine winters' snows had buried deep that night when my old grandmother, +together with my father and mother, designed my future with the glow of +a camp fire upon it. + +Yet I did not grow up the warrior, huntsman, and husband I was to have +been. At the mission school I learned it was wrong to kill. Nine winters +I hunted for the soft heart of Christ, and prayed for the huntsmen who +chased the buffalo on the plains. + +In the autumn of the tenth year I was sent back to my tribe to preach +Christianity to them. With the white man's Bible in my hand, and the +white man's tender heart in my breast, I returned to my own people. + +Wearing a foreigner's dress, I walked, a stranger, into my father's +village. + +Asking my way, for I had not forgotten my native tongue, an old man led +me toward the tepee where my father lay. From my old companion I learned +that my father had been sick many moons. As we drew near the tepee, I +heard the chanting of a medicine-man within it. At once I wished to +enter in and drive from my home the sorcerer of the plains, but the old +warrior checked me. "Ho, wait outside until the medicine-man leaves your +father," he said. While talking he scanned me from head to feet. Then he +retraced his steps toward the heart of the camping-ground. + +My father's dwelling was on the outer limits of the round-faced village. +With every heartthrob I grew more impatient to enter the wigwam. + +While I turned the leaves of my Bible with nervous fingers, the +medicine-man came forth from the dwelling and walked hurriedly away. His +head and face were closely covered with the loose robe which draped his +entire figure. + +He was tall and large. His long strides I have never forgot. They seemed +to me then the uncanny gait of eternal death. Quickly pocketing my +Bible, I went into the tepee. + +Upon a mat lay my father, with furrowed face and gray hair. His eyes and +cheeks were sunken far into his head. His sallow skin lay thin upon his +pinched nose and high cheekbones. Stooping over him, I took his fevered +hand. "How, Ate?" I greeted him. A light flashed from his listless eyes +and his dried lips parted. "My son!" he murmured, in a feeble voice. +Then again the wave of joy and recognition receded. He closed his eyes, +and his hand dropped from my open palm to the ground. + +Looking about, I saw an old woman sitting with bowed head. Shaking hands +with her, I recognized my mother. I sat down between my father and +mother as I used to do, but I did not feel at home. The place where my +old grandmother used to sit was now unoccupied. With my mother I bowed +my head. Alike our throats were choked and tears were streaming from our +eyes; but far apart in spirit our ideas and faiths separated us. My +grief was for the soul unsaved; and I thought my mother wept to see a +brave man's body broken by sickness. + +Useless was my attempt to change the faith in the medicine-man to that +abstract power named God. Then one day I became righteously mad with +anger that the medicine-man should thus ensnare my father's soul. And +when he came to chant his sacred songs I pointed toward the door and +bade him go! The man's eyes glared upon me for an instant. Slowly +gathering his robe about him, he turned his back upon the sick man and +stepped out of our wigwam. "Ha, ha, ha! my son, I can not live without +the medicine-man!" I heard my father cry when the sacred man was gone. + + + + +III. + + +On a bright day, when the winged seeds of the prairie-grass were flying +hither and thither, I walked solemnly toward the centre of the +camping-ground. My heart beat hard and irregularly at my side. Tighter I +grasped the sacred book I carried under my arm. Now was the beginning of +life's work. + +Though I knew it would be hard, I did not once feel that failure was to +be my reward. As I stepped unevenly on the rolling ground, I thought of +the warriors soon to wash off their war-paints and follow me. + +At length I reached the place where the people had assembled to hear me +preach. In a large circle men and women sat upon the dry red grass. +Within the ring I stood, with the white man's Bible in my hand. I tried +to tell them of the soft heart of Christ. + +In silence the vast circle of bareheaded warriors sat under an afternoon +sun. At last, wiping the wet from my brow, I took my place in the ring. +The hush of the assembly filled me with great hope. + +I was turning my thoughts upward to the sky in gratitude, when a stir +called me to earth again. + +A tall, strong man arose. His loose robe hung in folds over his right +shoulder. A pair of snapping black eyes fastened themselves like the +poisonous fangs of a serpent upon me. He was the medicine-man. A tremor +played about my heart and a chill cooled the fire in my veins. + +Scornfully he pointed a long forefinger in my direction and asked: + +"What loyal son is he who, returning to his father's people, wears a +foreigner's dress?" He paused a moment, and then continued: "The dress +of that foreigner of whom a story says he bound a native of our land, +and heaping dry sticks around him, kindled a fire at his feet!" Waving +his hand toward me, he exclaimed, "Here is the traitor to his people!" + +I was helpless. Before the eyes of the crowd the cunning magician turned +my honest heart into a vile nest of treachery. Alas! the people frowned +as they looked upon me. + +"Listen!" he went on. "Which one of you who have eyed the young man can +see through his bosom and warn the people of the nest of young snakes +hatching there? Whose ear was so acute that he caught the hissing of +snakes whenever the young man opened his mouth? This one has not only +proven false to you, but even to the Great Spirit who made him. He is a +fool! Why do you sit here giving ear to a foolish man who could not +defend his people because he fears to kill, who could not bring venison +to renew the life of his sick father? With his prayers, let him drive +away the enemy! With his soft heart, let him keep off starvation! We +shall go elsewhere to dwell upon an untainted ground." + +With this he disbanded the people. When the sun lowered in the west and +the winds were quiet, the village of cone-shaped tepees was gone. The +medicine-man had won the hearts of the people. + +Only my father's dwelling was left to mark the fighting-ground. + + + + +IV. + + +From a long night at my father's bedside I came out to look upon the +morning. The yellow sun hung equally between the snow-covered land and +the cloudless blue sky. The light of the new day was cold. The strong +breath of winter crusted the snow and fitted crystal shells over the +rivers and lakes. As I stood in front of the tepee, thinking of the vast +prairies which separated us from our tribe, and wondering if the high +sky likewise separated the soft-hearted Son of God from us, the icy +blast from the North blew through my hair and skull. My neglected hair +had grown long and fell upon my neck. + +My father had not risen from his bed since the day the medicine-man led +the people away. Though I read from the Bible and prayed beside him upon +my knees, my father would not listen. Yet I believed my prayers were not +unheeded in heaven. + +"Ha, ha, ha! my son," my father groaned upon the first snowfall. "My +son, our food is gone. There is no one to bring me meat! My son, your +soft heart has unfitted you for everything!" Then covering his face +with the buffalo-robe, he said no more. Now while I stood out in that +cold winter morning, I was starving. For two days I had not seen any +food. But my own cold and hunger did not harass my soul as did the +whining cry of the sick old man. + +Stepping again into the tepee, I untied my snow-shoes, which were +fastened to the tent-poles. + +My poor mother, watching by the sick one, and faithfully heaping wood +upon the centre fire, spoke to me: + +"My son, do not fail again to bring your father meat, or he will starve +to death." + +"How, Ina," I answered, sorrowfully. From the tepee I started forth +again to hunt food for my aged parents. All day I tracked the white +level lands in vain. Nowhere, nowhere were there any other footprints +but my own! In the evening of this third fast-day I came back without +meat. Only a bundle of sticks for the fire I brought on my back. +Dropping the wood outside, I lifted the door-flap and set one foot +within the tepee. + +There I grew dizzy and numb. My eyes swam in tears. Before me lay my +old gray-haired father sobbing like a child. In his horny hands he +clutched the buffalo-robe, and with his teeth he was gnawing off the +edges. Chewing the dry stiff hair and buffalo-skin, my father's eyes +sought my hands. Upon seeing them empty, he cried out: + +"My son, your soft heart will let me starve before you bring me meat! +Two hills eastward stand a herd of cattle. Yet you will see me die +before you bring me food!" + +Leaving my mother lying with covered head upon her mat, I rushed out +into the night. + +With a strange warmth in my heart and swiftness in my feet, I climbed +over the first hill, and soon the second one. The moonlight upon the +white country showed me a clear path to the white man's cattle. With my +hand upon the knife in my belt, I leaned heavily against the fence while +counting the herd. + +Twenty in all I numbered. From among them I chose the best-fattened +creature. Leaping over the fence, I plunged my knife into it. + +My long knife was sharp, and my hands, no more fearful and slow, slashed +off choice chunks of warm flesh. Bending under the meat I had taken for +my starving father, I hurried across the prairie. + +Toward home I fairly ran with the life-giving food I carried upon my +back. Hardly had I climbed the second hill when I heard sounds coming +after me. Faster and faster I ran with my load for my father, but the +sounds were gaining upon me. I heard the clicking of snowshoes and the +squeaking of the leather straps at my heels; yet I did not turn to see +what pursued me, for I was intent upon reaching my father. Suddenly like +thunder an angry voice shouted curses and threats into my ear! A rough +hand wrenched my shoulder and took the meat from me! I stopped +struggling to run. A deafening whir filled my head. The moon and stars +began to move. Now the white prairie was sky, and the stars lay under my +feet. Now again they were turning. At last the starry blue rose up into +place. The noise in my ears was still. A great quiet filled the air. In +my hand I found my long knife dripping with blood. At my feet a man's +figure lay prone in blood-red snow. The horrible scene about me seemed a +trick of my senses, for I could not understand it was real. Looking +long upon the blood-stained snow, the load of meat for my starving +father reached my recognition at last. Quickly I tossed it over my +shoulder and started again homeward. + +Tired and haunted I reached the door of the wigwam. Carrying the food +before me, I entered with it into the tepee. + +"Father, here is food!" I cried, as I dropped the meat near my mother. +No answer came. Turning about, I beheld my gray-haired father dead! I +saw by the unsteady firelight an old gray-haired skeleton lying rigid +and stiff. + +Out into the open I started, but the snow at my feet became bloody. + + + + +V. + + +On the day after my father's death, having led my mother to the camp of +the medicineman, I gave myself up to those who were searching for the +murderer of the paleface. + +They bound me hand and foot. Here in this cell I was placed four days +ago. + +The shrieking winter winds have followed me hither. Rattling the bars, +they howl unceasingly: "Your soft heart! your soft heart will see me die +before you bring me food!" Hark! something is clanking the chain on the +door. It is being opened. From the dark night without a black figure +crosses the threshold. * * * It is the guard. He comes to warn me of my +fate. He tells me that tomorrow I must die. In his stern face I laugh +aloud. I do not fear death. + +Yet I wonder who shall come to welcome me in the realm of strange sight. +Will the loving Jesus grant me pardon and give my soul a soothing sleep? +or will my warrior father greet me and receive me as his son? Will my +spirit fly upward to a happy heaven? or shall I sink into the +bottomless pit, an outcast from a God of infinite love? + +Soon, soon I shall know, for now I see the east is growing red. My heart +is strong. My face is calm. My eyes are dry and eager for new scenes. My +hands hang quietly at my side. Serene and brave, my soul awaits the men +to perch me on the gallows for another flight. I go. + + + + +THE TRIAL PATH + + +It was an autumn night on the plain. The smoke-lapels of the cone-shaped +tepee flapped gently in the breeze. From the low night sky, with its +myriad fire points, a large bright star peeped in at the smoke-hole of +the wigwam between its fluttering lapels, down upon two Dakotas talking +in the dark. The mellow stream from the star above, a maid of twenty +summers, on a bed of sweetgrass, drank in with her wakeful eyes. On the +opposite side of the tepee, beyond the centre fireplace, the grandmother +spread her rug. Though once she had lain down, the telling of a story +has aroused her to a sitting posture. + +Her eyes are tight closed. With a thin palm she strokes her wind-shorn +hair. + +"Yes, my grandchild, the legend says the large bright stars are wise old +warriors, and the small dim ones are handsome young braves," she +reiterates, in a high, tremulous voice. + +"Then this one peeping in at the smoke-hole yonder is my dear old +grandfather," muses the young woman, in long-drawn-out words. + +Her soft rich voice floats through the darkness within the tepee, over +the cold ashes heaped on the centre fire, and passes into the ear of the +toothless old woman, who sits dumb in silent reverie. Thence it flies on +swifter wing over many winter snows, till at last it cleaves the warm +light atmosphere of her grandfather's youth. From there her grandmother +made answer: + +"Listen! I am young again. It is the day of your grandfather's death. +The elder one, I mean, for there were two of them. They were like twins, +though they were not brothers. They were friends, inseparable! All +things, good and bad, they shared together, save one, which made them +mad. In that heated frenzy the younger man slew his most intimate +friend. He killed his elder brother, for long had their affection made +them kin." + +The voice of the old woman broke. Swaying her stooped shoulders to and +fro as she sat upon her feet, she muttered vain exclamations beneath her +breath. Her eyes, closed tight against the night, beheld behind them the +light of bygone days. They saw again a rolling black cloud spread itself +over the land. Her ear heard the deep rumbling of a tempest in the +west. She bent low a cowering head, while angry thunder-birds shrieked +across the sky. "Heya! heya!" (No! no!) groaned the toothless +grandmother at the fury she had awakened. But the glorious peace +afterward, when yellow sunshine made the people glad, now lured her +memory onward through the storm. + +"How fast, how loud my heart beats as I listen to the messenger's +horrible tale!" she ejaculates. "From the fresh grave of the murdered +man he hurried to our wigwam. Deliberately crossing his bare shins, he +sat down unbidden beside my father, smoking a long-stemmed pipe. He had +scarce caught his breath when, panting, he began: + +"'He was an only son, and a much-adored brother.' + +"With wild, suspecting eyes he glanced at me as if I were in league with +the man-killer, my lover. My father, exhaling sweet-scented smoke, +assented--'How,' Then interrupting the 'Eya' on the lips of the +round-eyed talebearer, he asked, 'My friend, will you smoke?' He took +the pipe by its red-stone bowl, and pointed the long slender stem +toward the man. 'Yes, yes, my friend,' replied he, and reached out a +long brown arm. + +"For many heart-throbs he puffed out the blue smoke, which hung like a +cloud between us. But even through the smoke-mist I saw his sharp black +eyes glittering toward me. I longed to ask what doom awaited the young +murderer, but dared not open my lips, lest I burst forth into screams +instead. My father plied the question. Returning the pipe, the man +replied: 'Oh, the chieftain and his chosen men have had counsel +together. They have agreed it is not safe to allow a man-killer loose in +our midst. He who kills one of our tribe is an enemy, and must suffer +the fate of a foe.' + +"My temples throbbed like a pair of hearts! + +"While I listened, a crier passed by my father's tepee. Mounted, and +swaying with his pony's steps, he proclaimed in a loud voice these words +(hark! I hear them now!): "Ho-po! Give ear, all you people. A terrible +deed is done. Two friends--ay, brothers in heart--have quarreled +together. Now one lies buried on the hill, while the other sits, a +dreaded man-killer, within his dwelling." Says our chieftain: "He who +kills one of our tribe commits the offense of an enemy. As such he must +be tried. Let the father of the dead man choose the mode of torture or +taking of life. He has suffered livid pain, and he alone can judge how +great the punishment must be to avenge his wrong." It is done. + +"'Come, every one, to witness the judgment of a father upon him who was +once his son's best friend. A wild pony is now lassoed. The man-killer +must mount and ride the ranting beast. Stand you all in two parallel +lines from the centre tepee of the bereaved family to the wigwam +opposite in the great outer ring. Between you, in the wide space, is the +given trial-way. From the outer circle the rider must mount and guide +his pony toward the centre tepee. If, having gone the entire distance, +the man-killer gains the centre tepee still sitting on the pony's back, +his life is spared and pardon given. But should he fall, then he himself +has chosen death.' + +"The crier's words now cease. A lull holds the village breathless. Then +hurrying feet tear along, swish, swish, through the tall grass. Sobbing +women hasten toward the trialway. The muffled groan of the round +camp-ground is unbearable. With my face hid in the folds of my blanket, +I run with the crowd toward the open place in the outer circle of our +village. In a moment the two long files of solemn-faced people mark the +path of the public trial. Ah! I see strong men trying to lead the +lassoed pony, pitching and rearing, with white foam flying from his +mouth. I choke with pain as I recognize my handsome lover desolately +alone, striding with set face toward the lassoed pony. 'Do not fall! +Choose life and me!' I cry in my breast, but over my lips I hold my +thick blanket. + +"In an instant he has leaped astride the frightened beast, and the men +have let go their hold. Like an arrow sprung from a strong bow, the +pony, with extended nostrils, plunges halfway to the centre tepee. With +all his might the rider draws the strong reins in. The pony halts with +wooden legs. The rider is thrown forward by force, but does not fall. +Now the maddened creature pitches, with flying heels. The line of men +and women sways outward. Now it is back in place, safe from the kicking, +snorting thing. + +"The pony is fierce, with its large black eyes bulging out of their +sockets. With humped back and nose to the ground, it leaps into the air. +I shut my eyes. I can not see him fall. + +"A loud shout goes up from the hoarse throats of men and women. I look. +So! The wild horse is conquered. My lover dismounts at the doorway of +the centre wigwam. The pony, wet with sweat and shaking with exhaustion, +stands like a guilty dog at his master's side. Here at the entranceway +of the tepee sit the bereaved father, mother, and sister. The old +warrior father rises. Stepping forward two long strides, he grasps the +hand of the murderer of his only son. Holding it so the people can see, +he cries, with compassionate voice, 'My son!' A murmur of surprise +sweeps like a puff of sudden wind along the lines. + +"The mother, with swollen eyes, with her hair cut square with her +shoulders, now rises. Hurrying to the young man, she takes his right +hand. 'My son!' she greets him. But on the second word her voice shook, +and she turned away in sobs. + +"The young people rivet their eyes upon the young woman. She does not +stir. With bowed head, she sits motionless. The old warrior speaks to +her. 'Shake hands with the young brave, my little daughter. He was your +brother's friend for many years. Now he must be both friend and brother +to you,' + +"Hereupon the girl rises. Slowly reaching out her slender hand, she +cries, with twitching lips, 'My brother!' The trial ends." + +"Grandmother!" exploded the girl on the bed of sweet-grass. "Is this +true?" + +"Tosh!" answered the grandmother, with a warmth in her voice. "It is all +true. During the fifteen winters of our wedded life many ponies passed +from our hands, but this little winner, Ohiyesa, was a constant member +of our family. At length, on that sad day your grandfather died, Ohiyesa +was killed at the grave." + +Though the various groups of stars which move across the sky, marking +the passing of time, told how the night was in its zenith, the old +Dakota woman ventured an explanation of the burial ceremony. + +"My grandchild, I have scarce ever breathed the sacred knowledge in my +heart. Tonight I must tell you one of them. Surely you are old enough +to understand. + +"Our wise medicine-man said I did well to hasten Ohiyesa after his +master. Perchance on the journey along the ghostpath your grandfather +will weary, and in his heart wish for his pony. The creature, already +bound on the spirit-trail, will be drawn by that subtle wish. Together +master and beast will enter the next camp-ground." + +The woman ceased her talking. But only the deep breathing of the girl +broke the quiet, for now the night wind had lulled itself to sleep. + +"Hinnu! hinnu! Asleep! I have been talking in the dark, unheard. I did +wish the girl would plant in her heart this sacred tale," muttered she, +in a querulous voice. + +Nestling into her bed of sweet-scented grass, she dozed away into +another dream. Still the guardian star in the night sky beamed +compassionately down upon the little tepee on the plain. + + + + +A WARRIOR'S DAUGHTER + + +In the afternoon shadow of a large tepee, with red-painted smoke lapels, +sat a warrior father with crossed shins. His head was so poised that his +eye swept easily the vast level land to the eastern horizon line. + +He was the chieftain's bravest warrior. He had won by heroic deeds the +privilege of staking his wigwam within the great circle of tepees. + +He was also one of the most generous gift givers to the toothless old +people. For this he was entitled to the red-painted smoke lapels on his +cone-shaped dwelling. He was proud of his honors. He never wearied of +rehearsing nightly his own brave deeds. Though by wigwam fires he prated +much of his high rank and widespread fame, his great joy was a wee +black-eyed daughter of eight sturdy winters. Thus as he sat upon the +soft grass, with his wife at his side, bent over her bead work, he was +singing a dance song, and beat lightly the rhythm with his slender +hands. + +His shrewd eyes softened with pleasure as he watched the easy movements +of the small body dancing on the green before him. + +Tusee is taking her first dancing lesson. Her tightly-braided hair +curves over both brown ears like a pair of crooked little horns which +glisten in the summer sun. + +With her snugly moccasined feet close together, and a wee hand at her +belt to stay the long string of beads which hang from her bare neck, she +bends her knees gently to the rhythm of her father's voice. + +Now she ventures upon the earnest movement, slightly upward and +sidewise, in a circle. At length the song drops into a closing cadence, +and the little woman, clad in beaded deerskin, sits down beside the +elder one. Like her mother, she sits upon her feet. In a brief moment +the warrior repeats the last refrain. Again Tusee springs to her feet +and dances to the swing of the few final measures. + +Just as the dance was finished, an elderly man, with short, thick hair +loose about his square shoulders, rode into their presence from the +rear, and leaped lightly from his pony's back. Dropping the rawhide rein +to the ground, he tossed himself lazily on the grass. "Hunhe, you have +returned soon," said the warrior, while extending a hand to his little +daughter. + +Quickly the child ran to her father's side and cuddled close to him, +while he tenderly placed a strong arm about her. Both father and child, +eyeing the figure on the grass, waited to hear the man's report. + +"It is true," began the man, with a stranger's accent. "This is the +night of the dance." + +"Hunha!" muttered the warrior with some surprise. + +Propping himself upon his elbows, the man raised his face. His features +were of the Southern type. From an enemy's camp he was taken captive +long years ago by Tusee's father. But the unusual qualities of the slave +had won the Sioux warrior's heart, and for the last three winters the +man had had his freedom. He was made real man again. His hair was +allowed to grow. However, he himself had chosen to stay in the warrior's +family. + +"Hunha!" again ejaculated the warrior father. Then turning to his little +daughter, he asked, "Tusee, do you hear that?" + +"Yes, father, and I am going to dance tonight!" + +With these words she bounded out of his arm and frolicked about in glee. +Hereupon the proud mother's voice rang out in a chiding laugh. + +"My child, in honor of your first dance your father must give a generous +gift. His ponies are wild, and roam beyond the great hill. Pray, what +has he fit to offer?" she questioned, the pair of puzzled eyes fixed +upon her. + +"A pony from the herd, mother, a fleet-footed pony from the herd!" Tusee +shouted with sudden inspiration. + +Pointing a small forefinger toward the man lying on the grass, she +cried, "Uncle, you will go after the pony tomorrow!" And pleased with +her solution of the problem, she skipped wildly about. Her childish +faith in her elders was not conditioned by a knowledge of human +limitations, but thought all things possible to grown-ups. + +"Haehob!" exclaimed the mother, with a rising inflection, implying by the +expletive that her child's buoyant spirit be not weighted with a denial. + +Quickly to the hard request the man replied, "How! I go if Tusee tells +me so!" + +This delighted the little one, whose black eyes brimmed over with light. +Standing in front of the strong man, she clapped her small, brown hands +with joy. + +"That makes me glad! My heart is good! Go, uncle, and bring a handsome +pony!" she cried. In an instant she would have frisked away, but an +impulse held her tilting where she stood. In the man's own tongue, for +he had taught her many words and phrases, she exploded, "Thank you, good +uncle, thank you!" then tore away from sheer excess of glee. + +The proud warrior father, smiling and narrowing his eyes, muttered +approval, "Howo! Hechetu!" + +Like her mother, Tusee has finely pencilled eyebrows and slightly +extended nostrils; but in her sturdiness of form she resembles her +father. + +A loyal daughter, she sits within her tepee making beaded deerskins for +her father, while he longs to stave off her every suitor as all unworthy +of his old heart's pride. But Tusee is not alone in her dwelling. Near +the entrance-way a young brave is half reclining on a mat. In silence he +watches the petals of a wild rose growing on the soft buckskin. Quickly +the young woman slips the beads on the silvery sinew thread, and works +them into the pretty flower design. Finally, in a low, deep voice, the +young man begins: + +"The sun is far past the zenith. It is now only a man's height above the +western edge of land. I hurried hither to tell you tomorrow I join the +war party." + +He pauses for reply, but the maid's head drops lower over her deerskin, +and her lips are more firmly drawn together. He continues: + +"Last night in the moonlight I met your warrior father. He seemed to +know I had just stepped forth from your tepee. I fear he did not like +it, for though I greeted him, he was silent. I halted in his pathway. +With what boldness I dared, while my heart was beating hard and fast, I +asked him for his only daughter. + +"Drawing himself erect to his tallest height, and gathering his loose +robe more closely about his proud figure, he flashed a pair of piercing +eyes upon me. + +"'Young man,' said he, with a cold, slow voice that chilled me to the +marrow of my bones, 'hear me. Naught but an enemy's scalp-lock, plucked +fresh with your own hand, will buy Tusee for your wife,' Then he turned +on his heel and stalked away." + +Tusee thrusts her work aside. With earnest eyes she scans her lover's +face. + +"My father's heart is really kind. He would know if you are brave and +true," murmured the daughter, who wished no ill-will between her two +loved ones. + +Then rising to go, the youth holds out a right hand. "Grasp my hand once +firmly before I go, Hoye. Pray tell me, will you wait and watch for my +return?" + +Tusee only nods assent, for mere words are vain. + +At early dawn the round camp-ground awakes into song. Men and women sing +of bravery and of triumph. They inspire the swelling breasts of the +painted warriors mounted on prancing ponies bedecked with the green +branches of trees. + +Riding slowly around the great ring of cone-shaped tepees, here and +there, a loud-singing warrior swears to avenge a former wrong, and +thrusts a bare brown arm against the purple east, calling the Great +Spirit to hear his vow. All having made the circuit, the singing war +party gallops away southward. + +Astride their ponies laden with food and deerskins, brave elderly women +follow after their warriors. Among the foremost rides a young woman in +elaborately beaded buckskin dress. Proudly mounted, she curbs with the +single rawhide loop a wild-eyed pony. + +It is Tusee on her father's warhorse. Thus the war party of Indian men +and their faithful women vanish beyond the southern skyline. + +A day's journey brings them very near the enemy's borderland. Nightfall +finds a pair of twin tepees nestled in a deep ravine. Within one lounge +the painted warriors, smoking their pipes and telling weird stories by +the firelight, while in the other watchful women crouch uneasily about +their center fire. + +By the first gray light in the east the tepees are banished. They are +gone. The warriors are in the enemy's camp, breaking dreams with their +tomahawks. The women are hid away in secret places in the long thicketed +ravine. + +The day is far spent, the red sun is low over the west. + +At length straggling warriors return, one by one, to the deep hollow. In +the twilight they number their men. Three are missing. Of these absent +ones two are dead; but the third one, a young man, is a captive to the +foe. + +"He-he!" lament the warriors, taking food in haste. + +In silence each woman, with long strides, hurries to and fro, tying +large bundles on her pony's back. Under cover of night the war party +must hasten homeward. Motionless, with bowed head, sits a woman in her +hiding-place. She grieves for her lover. + +In bitterness of spirit she hears the warriors' murmuring words. With +set teeth she plans to cheat the hated enemy of their captive. In the +meanwhile low signals are given, and the war party, unaware of Tusee's +absence, steal quietly away. The soft thud of pony-hoofs grows fainter +and fainter. The gradual hush of the empty ravine whirrs noisily in the +ear of the young woman. Alert for any sound of footfalls nigh, she holds +her breath to listen. Her right hand rests on a long knife in her belt. +Ah, yes, she knows where her pony is hid, but not yet has she need of +him. Satisfied that no danger is nigh, she prowls forth from her place +of hiding. With a panther's tread and pace she climbs the high ridge +beyond the low ravine. From thence she spies the enemy's camp-fires. + +Rooted to the barren bluff the slender woman's figure stands on the +pinnacle of night, outlined against a starry sky. The cool night breeze +wafts to her burning ear snatches of song and drum. With desperate hate +she bites her teeth. + +Tusee beckons the stars to witness. With impassioned voice and uplifted +face she pleads: + +"Great Spirit, speed me to my lover's rescue! Give me swift cunning for +a weapon this night! All-powerful Spirit, grant me my warrior-father's +heart, strong to slay a foe and mighty to save a friend!" + +In the midst of the enemy's camp-ground, underneath a temporary +dance-house, are men and women in gala-day dress. It is late in the +night, but the merry warriors bend and bow their nude, painted bodies +before a bright center fire. To the lusty men's voices and the rhythmic +throbbing drum, they leap and rebound with feathered headgears waving. + +Women with red-painted cheeks and long, braided hair sit in a large +half-circle against the willow railing. They, too, join in the singing, +and rise to dance with their victorious warriors. + +Amid this circular dance arena stands a prisoner bound to a post, +haggard with shame and sorrow. He hangs his disheveled head. + +He stares with unseeing eyes upon the bare earth at his feet. With jeers +and smirking faces the dancers mock the Dakota captive. Rowdy braves and +small boys hoot and yell in derision. + +Silent among the noisy mob, a tall woman, leaning both elbows on the +round willow railing, peers into the lighted arena. The dancing center +fire shines bright into her handsome face, intensifying the night in her +dark eyes. It breaks into myriad points upon her beaded dress. Unmindful +of the surging throng jostling her at either side, she glares in upon +the hateful, scoffing men. Suddenly she turns her head. Tittering maids +whisper near her ear: + +"There! There! See him now, sneering in the captive's face. 'Tis he who +sprang upon the young man and dragged him by his long hair to yonder +post. See! He is handsome! How gracefully he dances!" + +The silent young woman looks toward the bound captive. She sees a +warrior, scarce older than the captive, flourishing a tomahawk in the +Dakota's face. A burning rage darts forth from her eyes and brands him +for a victim of revenge. Her heart mutters within her breast, "Come, I +wish to meet you, vile foe, who captured my lover and tortures him now +with a living death." + +Here the singers hush their voices, and the dancers scatter to their +various resting-places along the willow ring. The victor gives a +reluctant last twirl of his tomahawk, then, like the others, he leaves +the center ground. With head and shoulders swaying from side to side, he +carries a high-pointing chin toward the willow railing. Sitting down +upon the ground with crossed legs, he fans himself with an outspread +turkey wing. + +Now and then he stops his haughty blinking to peep out of the corners of +his eyes. He hears some one clearing her throat gently. It is +unmistakably for his ear. The wing-fan swings irregularly to and fro. At +length he turns a proud face over a bare shoulder and beholds a handsome +woman smiling. + +"Ah, she would speak to a hero!" thumps his heart wildly. + +The singers raise their voices in unison. The music is irresistible. +Again lunges the victor into the open arena. Again he leers into the +captive's face. At every interval between the songs he returns to his +resting-place. Here the young woman awaits him. As he approaches she +smiles boldly into his eyes. He is pleased with her face and her smile. + +Waving his wing-fan spasmodically in front of his face, he sits with his +ears pricked up. He catches a low whisper. A hand taps him lightly on +the shoulder. The handsome woman speaks to him in his own tongue. "Come +out into the night. I wish to tell you who I am." + +He must know what sweet words of praise the handsome woman has for him. +With both hands he spreads the meshes of the loosely woven willows, and +crawls out unnoticed into the dark. + +Before him stands the young woman. Beckoning him with a slender hand, +she steps backward, away from the light and the restless throng of +onlookers. He follows with impatient strides. She quickens her pace. He +lengthens his strides. Then suddenly the woman turns from him and darts +away with amazing speed. Clinching his fists and biting his lower lip, +the young man runs after the fleeing woman. In his maddened pursuit he +forgets the dance arena. + +Beside a cluster of low bushes the woman halts. The young man, panting +for breath and plunging headlong forward, whispers loud, "Pray tell me, +are you a woman or an evil spirit to lure me away?" + +Turning on heels firmly planted in the earth, the woman gives a wild +spring forward, like a panther for its prey. In a husky voice she hissed +between her teeth, "I am a Dakota woman!" + +From her unerring long knife the enemy falls heavily at her feet. The +Great Spirit heard Tusee's prayer on the hilltop. He gave her a +warrior's strong heart to lessen the foe by one. + +A bent old woman's figure, with a bundle like a grandchild slung on her +back, walks round and round the dance-house. The wearied onlookers are +leaving in twos and threes. The tired dancers creep out of the willow +railing, and some go out at the entrance way, till the singers, too, +rise from the drum and are trudging drowsily homeward. Within the arena +the center fire lies broken in red embers. The night no longer lingers +about the willow railing, but, hovering into the dance-house, covers +here and there a snoring man whom sleep has overpowered where he sat. + +The captive in his tight-binding rawhide ropes hangs in hopeless +despair. Close about him the gloom of night is slowly crouching. Yet the +last red, crackling embers cast a faint light upon his long black hair, +and, shining through the thick mats, caress his wan face with undying +hope. + +Still about the dance-house the old woman prowls. Now the embers are +gray with ashes. + +The old bent woman appears at the entrance way. With a cautious, groping +foot she enters. Whispering between her teeth a lullaby for her sleeping +child in her blanket, she searches for something forgotten. + +Noisily snored the dreaming men in the darkest parts. As the lisping old +woman draws nigh, the captive again opens his eyes. + +A forefinger she presses to her lip. The young man arouses himself from +his stupor. His senses belie him. Before his wide-open eyes the old bent +figure straightens into its youthful stature. Tusee herself is beside +him. With a stroke upward and downward she severs the cruel cords with +her sharp blade. Dropping her blanket from her shoulders, so that it +hangs from her girdled waist like a skirt, she shakes the large bundle +into a light shawl for her lover. Quickly she spreads it over his bare +back. + +"Come!" she whispers, and turns to go; but the young man, numb and +helpless, staggers nigh to falling. + +The sight of his weakness makes her strong. A mighty power thrills her +body. Stooping beneath his outstretched arms grasping at the air for +support, Tusee lifts him upon her broad shoulders. With half-running, +triumphant steps she carries him away into the open night. + + + + +A DREAM OF HER GRANDFATHER + + +Her grandfather was a Dakota "medicine man." Among the Indians of his +day he was widely known for his successful healing work. He was one of +the leading men of the tribe and came to Washington, D.C., with one of +the first delegations relative to affairs concerning the Indian people +and the United States government. + +His was the first band of the Great Sioux Nation to make treaties with +the government in the hope of bringing about an amicable arrangement +between the red and white Americans. The journey to the nation's capital +was made almost entirely on pony-back, there being no railroads, and the +Sioux delegation was beset with many hardships on the trail. His visit +to Washington, in behalf of peace among men, proved to be his last +earthly mission. From a sudden illness, he died and was buried here. + +When his small granddaughter grew up she learned the white man's tongue, +and followed in the footsteps of her grandfather to the very seat of +government to carry on his humanitarian work. Though her days were +filled with problems for welfare work among her people, she had a +strange dream one night during her stay in Washington. The dream was +this: Returning from an afternoon out, she found a large cedar chest had +been delivered to her home in her absence. She sniffed the sweet perfume +of the red wood, which reminded her of the breath of the forest,--and +admired the box so neatly made, without trimmings. It looked so clean, +strong and durable in its native genuineness. With elation, she took the +tag in her hand and read her name aloud. "Who sent me this cedar chest?" +she asked, and was told it came from her grandfather. + +Wondering what gift it could be her grandfather wished now to confer +upon her, wholly disregarding his death years ago, she was all eagerness +to open the mystery chest. + +She remembered her childhood days and the stories she loved to hear +about the unusual powers of her grandfather,--recalled how she, the wee +girl, had coveted the medicine bags, beaded and embroidered in porcupine +quills, in symbols designed by the great "medicine man," her +grandfather. Well did she remember her merited rebuke that such things +were never made for relics. Treasures came in due time to those ready to +receive them. + +In great expectancy, she lifted the heavy lid of the cedar chest. "Oh!" +she exclaimed, with a note of disappointment, seeing no beaded Indian +regalia or trinkets. "Why does my grandfather send such a light gift in +a heavy, large box?" She was mystified and much perplexed. + +The gift was a fantastic thing, of texture far more delicate than a +spider's filmy web. It was a vision! A picture of an Indian camp, not +painted on canvas nor yet written. It was dream-stuff, suspended in the +thin air, filling the inclosure of the cedar wood container. As she +looked upon it, the picture grew more and more real, exceeding the +proportions of the chest. It was all so illusive a breath might have +blown it away; yet there it was, real as life,--a circular camp of white +cone-shaped tepees, astir with Indian people. The village crier, with +flowing head-dress of eagle plumes, mounted on a prancing white pony, +rode within the arena. Indian men, women and children stopped in groups +and clusters, while bright painted faces peered out of tepee doors, to +listen to the chieftain's crier. + +At this point, she, too, heard the full melodious voice. She heard +distinctly the Dakota words he proclaimed to the people. "Be glad! +Rejoice! Look up, and see the new day dawning! Help is near! Hear me, +every one." + +She caught the glad tidings and was thrilled with new hope for her +people. + + + + +THE WIDESPREAD ENIGMA CONCERNING BLUE-STAR WOMAN + + +It was summer on the western plains. Fields of golden sunflowers facing +eastward, greeted the rising sun. Blue-Star Woman, with windshorn braids +of white hair over each ear, sat in the shade of her log hut before an +open fire. Lonely but unmolested she dwelt here like the ground squirrel +that took its abode nearby,--both through the easy tolerance of the land +owner. The Indian woman held a skillet over the burning embers. A large +round cake, with long slashes in its center, was baking and crowding the +capacity of the frying pan. + +In deep abstraction Blue-Star Woman prepared her morning meal. "Who am +I?" had become the obsessing riddle of her life. She was no longer a +young woman, being in her fifty-third year. In the eyes of the white +man's law, it was required of her to give proof of her membership in the +Sioux tribe. The unwritten law of heart prompted her naturally to say, +"I am a being. I am Blue-Star Woman. A piece of earth is my birthright." + +It was taught, for reasons now forgot, that an Indian should never +pronounce his or her name in answer to any inquiry. It was probably a +means of protection in the days of black magic. Be this as it may, +Blue-Star Woman lived in times when this teaching was disregarded. It +gained her nothing, however, to pronounce her name to the government +official to whom she applied for her share of tribal land. His +persistent question was always, "Who were your parents?" + +Blue-Star Woman was left an orphan at a tender age. She did not remember +them. They were long gone to the spirit-land,-and she could not +understand why they should be recalled to earth on her account. It was +another one of the old, old teachings of her race that the names of the +dead should not be idly spoken. It had become a sacrilege to mention +carelessly the name of any departed one, especially in matters of +disputes over worldy possessions. The unfortunate circumstances of her +early childhood, together with the lack of written records of a roving +people, placed a formidable barrier between her and her heritage. The +fact was events of far greater importance to the tribe than her +reincarnation had passed unrecorded in books. The verbal reports of the +old-time men and women of the tribe were varied,--some were actually +contradictory. Blue-Star Woman was unable to find even a twig of her +family tree. + +She sharpened one end of a long stick and with it speared the fried +bread when it was browned. Heedless of the hot bread's "Tsing!" in a +high treble as it was lifted from the fire, she added it to the six +others which had preceded it. It had been many a moon since she had had +a meal of fried bread, for she was too poor to buy at any one time all +the necessary ingredients, particularly the fat in which to fry it. +During the breadmaking, the smoke-blackened coffeepot boiled over. The +aroma of freshly made coffee smote her nostrils and roused her from the +tantalizing memories. + +The day before, friendly spirits, the unseen ones, had guided her +aimless footsteps to her Indian neighbor's house. No sooner had she +entered than she saw on the table some grocery bundles. "Iye-que, +fortunate one!" she exclaimed as she took the straight-backed chair +offered her. At once the Indian hostess untied the bundles and measured +out a cupful of green coffee beans and a pound of lard. She gave them to +Blue-Star Woman, saying, "I want to share my good fortune. Take these +home with you." Thus it was that Blue-Star Woman had come into +unexpected possession of the materials which now contributed richly to +her breakfast. + +The generosity of her friend had often saved her from starvation. +Generosity is said to be a fault of Indian people, but neither the +Pilgrim Fathers nor Blue-Star Woman ever held it seriously against them. +Blue-Star Woman was even grateful for this gift of food. She was fond of +coffee,-that black drink brought hither by those daring voyagers of long +ago. The coffee habit was one of the signs of her progress in the white +man's civilization, also had she emerged from the tepee into a log hut, +another achievement. She had learned to read the primer and to write her +name. Little Blue-Star attended school unhindered by a fond mother's +fears that a foreign teacher might not spare the rod with her darling. + +Blue-Star Woman was her individual name. For untold ages the Indian +race had not used family names. A new-born child was given a brand-new +name. Blue-Star Woman was proud to write her name for which she would +not be required to substitute another's upon her marriage, as is the +custom of civilized peoples. + +"The times are changed now," she muttered under her breath. "My +individual name seems to mean nothing." Looking out into space, she saw +the nodding sunflowers, and they acquiesced with her. Their drying +leaves reminded her of the near approach of autumn. Then soon, very +soon, the ice would freeze along the banks of the muddy river. The day +of the first ice was her birthday. She would be fifty-four winters old. +How futile had been all these winters to secure her a share in tribal +lands. A weary smile flickered across her face as she sat there on the +ground like a bronze figure of patience and long-suffering. + +The breadmaking was finished. The skillet was set aside to cool. She +poured the appetizing coffee into her tin cup. With fried bread and +black coffee she regaled herself. Again her mind reverted to her +riddle. "The missionary preacher said he could not explain the white +man's law to me. He who reads daily from the Holy Bible, which he tells +me is God's book, cannot understand mere man's laws. This also puzzles +me," thought she to herself. "Once a wise leader of our people, +addressing a president of this country, said: 'I am a man. You are +another. The Great Spirit is our witness!' This is simple and easy to +understand, but the times are changed. The white man's laws are +strange." + +Blue-Star Woman broke off a piece of fried bread between a thumb and +forefinger. She ate it hungrily, and sipped from her cup of fragrant +coffee. "I do not understand the white man's law. It's like walking in +the dark. In this darkness, I am growing fearful of everything." + +Oblivious to the world, she had not heard the footfall of two Indian men +who now stood before her. + +Their short-cropped hair looked blue-black in contrast to the faded +civilian clothes they wore. Their white man's shoes were rusty and +unpolished. To the unconventional eyes of the old Indian woman, their +celluloid collars appeared like shining marks of civilization. Blue-Star +Woman looked up from the lap of mother earth without rising. "Hinnu, +hinnu!" she ejaculated in undisguised surprise. "Pray, who are these +would-be white men?" she inquired. + +In one voice and by an assumed relationship the two Indian men addressed +her. "Aunt, I shake hands with you." Again Blue-Star Woman remarked, +"Oh, indeed! these near white men speak my native tongue and shake hands +according to our custom." Did she guess the truth, she would have known +they were simply deluded mortals, deceiving others and themselves most +of all. Boisterously laughing and making conversation, they each in turn +gripped her withered hand. + +Like a sudden flurry of wind, tossing loose ends of things, they broke +into her quiet morning hour and threw her groping thoughts into greater +chaos. Masking their real errand with long-drawn faces, they feigned a +concern for her welfare only. "We come to ask how you are living. We +heard you were slowly starving to death. We heard you are one of those +Indians who have been cheated out of their share in tribal lands by the +government officials." + +Blue-Star Woman became intensely interested. + +"You see we are educated in the white man's ways," they said with +protruding chests. One unconsciously thrust his thumbs into the +arm-holes of his ill-fitting coat and strutted about in his pride. "We +can help you get your land. We want to help our aunt. All old people +like you ought to be helped before the younger ones. The old will die +soon, and they may never get the benefit of their land unless some one +like us helps them to get their rights, without further delay." + +Blue-Star Woman listened attentively. + +Motioning to the mats she spread upon the ground, she said: "Be seated, +my nephews." She accepted the relationship assumed for the occasion. "I +will give you some breakfast." Quickly she set before them a generous +helping of fried bread and cups of coffee. Resuming her own meal, she +continued, "You are wonderfully kind. It is true, my nephews, that I +have grown old trying to secure my share of land. It may not be long +till I shall pass under the sod." + +The two men responded with "How, how," which meant, "Go on with your +story. We are all ears." Blue-Star Woman had not yet detected any +particular sharpness about their ears, but by an impulse she looked up +into their faces and scrutinized them. They were busily engaged in +eating. Their eyes were fast upon the food on the mat in front of their +crossed shins. Inwardly she made a passing observation how, like +ravenous wolves, her nephews devoured their food. Coyotes in midwinter +could not have been more starved. Without comment she offered them the +remaining fried cakes, and between them they took it all. She offered +the second helping of coffee, which they accepted without hesitancy. +Filling their cups, she placed her empty coffeepot on the dead ashes. + +To them she rehearsed her many hardships. It had become a habit now to +tell her long story of disappointments with all its petty details. It +was only another instance of good intentions gone awry. It was a paradox +upon a land of prophecy that its path to future glory be stained with +the blood of its aborigines. Incongruous as it is, the two nephews, with +their white associates, were glad of a condition so profitable to them. +Their solicitation for Blue-Star Woman was not at all altruistic. They +thrived in their grafting business. They and their occupation were the +by-product of an unwieldly bureaucracy over the nation's wards. + +"Dear aunt, you failed to establish the facts of your identity," they +told her. Hereupon Blue-Star Woman's countenance fell. It was ever the +same old words. It was the old song of the government official she +loathed to hear. The next remark restored her courage. "If any one can +discover evidence, it's us! I tell you, aunt, we'll fix it all up for +you." It was a great relief to the old Indian woman to be thus +unburdened of her riddle, with a prospect of possessing land. "There is +one thing you will have to do,--that is, to pay us half of your land and +money when you get them." Here was a pause, and Blue-Star Woman answered +slowly, "Y-e-s," in an uncertain frame of mind. + +The shrewd schemers noted her behavior. "Wouldn't you rather have a half +of a crust of bread than none at all?" they asked. She was duly +impressed with the force of their argument. In her heart she agreed, "A +little something to eat is better than nothing!" The two men talked in +regular relays. The flow of smooth words was continuous and so much like +purring that all the woman's suspicions were put soundly to sleep. "Look +here, aunt, you know very well that prairie fire is met with a +back-fire." Blue-Star Woman, recalling her experiences in fire-fighting, +quickly responded, "Yes, oh, yes." + +"In just the same way, we fight crooks with crooks. We have clever white +lawyers working with us. They are the back-fire." Then, as if +remembering some particular incident, they both laughed aloud and said, +"Yes, and sometimes they use us as the back-fire! We trade fifty-fifty." + +Blue-Star Woman sat with her chin in the palm of one hand with elbow +resting in the other. She rocked herself slightly forward and backward. +At length she answered, "Yes, I will pay you half of my share in tribal +land and money when I get them. In bygone days, brave young men of the +order of the White-Horse-Riders sought out the aged, the poor, the +widows and orphans to aid them, but they did their good work without +pay. The White-Horse-Riders are gone. The times are changed. I am a poor +old Indian woman. I need warm clothing before winter begins to blow its +icicles through us. I need fire wood. I need food. As you have said, a +little help is better than none." + +Hereupon the two pretenders scored another success. + +They rose to their feet. They had eaten up all the fried bread and +drained the coffeepot. They shook hands with Blue-Star Woman and +departed. In the quiet that followed their departure she sat munching +her small piece of bread, which, by a lucky chance, she had taken on her +plate before the hungry wolves had come. Very slowly she ate the +fragment of fried bread as if to increase it by diligent mastication. A +self-condemning sense of guilt disturbed her. In her dire need she had +become involved with tricksters. Her nephews laughingly told her, "We +use crooks, and crooks use us in the skirmish over Indian lands." + +The friendly shade of the house shrank away from her and hid itself +under the narrow eaves of the dirt covered roof. She shrugged her +shoulders. The sun high in the sky had witnessed the affair and now +glared down upon her white head. Gathering upon her arm the mats and +cooking utensils, she hobbled into her log hut. + +Under the brooding wilderness silence, on the Sioux Indian Reservation, +the superintendent summoned together the leading Indian men of the +tribe. He read a letter which he had received from headquarters in +Washington, D.C. It announced the enrollment of Blue-Star Woman on their +tribal roll of members and the approval of allotting land to her. + +It came as a great shock to the tribesmen. Without their knowledge and +consent their property was given to a strange woman. They protested in +vain. The superintendent said, "I received this letter from Washington. +I have read it to you for your information. I have fulfilled my duty. I +can do no more." With these fateful words he dismissed the assembly. + +Heavy hearted, Chief High Flier returned to his dwelling. Smoking his +long-stemmed pipe he pondered over the case of Blue-Star Woman. The +Indian's guardian had got into a way of usurping autocratic power in +disposing of the wards' property. It was growing intolerable. "No doubt +this Indian woman is entitled to allotment, but where? Certainly not +here," he thought to himself. + +Laying down his pipe, he called his little granddaughter from her play, +"You are my interpreter and scribe," he said. "Bring your paper and +pencil." A letter was written in the child's sprawling hand, and signed +by the old chieftain. It read: + +"My Friend: + +"I make letter to you. My heart is sad. Washington give my tribe's land +to a woman called Blue-Star. We do not know her. We were not asked to +give land, but our land is taken from us to give to another Indian. This +is not right. Lots of little children of my tribe have no land. Why this +strange woman get our land which belongs to our children? Go to +Washington and ask if our treaties tell him to give our property away +without asking us. Tell him I thought we made good treaties on paper, +but now our children cry for food. We are too poor. We cannot give even +to our own little children. Washington is very rich. Washington now +owns our country. If he wants to help this poor Indian woman, Blue-Star, +let him give her some of his land and his money. This is all I will say +until you answer me. I shake hands with you with my heart. The Great +Spirit hears my words. They are true. + +"Your friend, + +"CHIEF HIGH FLIER. + +"X (his mark)." + +The letter was addressed to a prominent American woman. A stamp was +carefully placed on the envelope. + +Early the next morning, before the dew was off the grass, the +chieftain's riding pony was caught from the pasture and brought to his +log house. It was saddled and bridled by a younger man, his son with +whom he made his home. The old chieftain came out, carrying in one hand +his long-stemmed pipe and tobacco pouch. His blanket was loosely girdled +about his waist. Tightly holding the saddle horn, he placed a moccasined +foot carefully into the stirrup and pulled himself up awkwardly into the +saddle, muttering to himself, "Alas, I can no more leap into my saddle. +I now must crawl about in my helplessness." He was past eighty years of +age, and no longer agile. + +He set upon his ten-mile trip to the only post office for hundreds of +miles around. In his shirt pocket, he carried the letter destined, in +due season, to reach the heart of American people. His pony, grown old +in service, jogged along the dusty road. Memories of other days thronged +the wayside, and for the lonely rider transformed all the country. Those +days were gone when the Indian youths were taught to be truthful,--to be +merciful to the poor. Those days were gone when moral cleanliness was a +chief virtue; when public feasts were given in honor of the virtuous +girls and young men of the tribe. Untold mischief is now possible +through these broken ancient laws. The younger generation were not being +properly trained in the high virtues. A slowly starving race was growing +mad, and the pitifully weak sold their lands for a pot of porridge. + +"He, he, he! He, he, he!" he lamented. "Small Voice Woman, my own +relative is being represented as the mother of this strange +Blue-Star--the papers were made by two young Indian men who have +learned the white man's ways. Why must I be forced to accept the +mischief of children? My memory is clear. My reputation for veracity is +well known. + +"Small Voice Woman lived in my house until her death. She had only one +child and it was a _boy_!" He held his hand over this thumping heart, +and was reminded of the letter in his pocket. "This letter,--what will +happen when it reaches my good friend?" he asked himself. The chieftain +rubbed his dim eyes and groaned, "If only my good friend knew the folly +of turning my letter into the hands of bureaucrats! In face of repeated +defeat, I am daring once more to send this one letter." An inner voice +said in his ear, "And this one letter will share the same fate of the +other letters." + +Startled by the unexpected voice, he jerked upon the bridle reins and +brought the drowsy pony to a sudden halt. There was no one near. He +found himself a mile from the post office, for the cluster of government +buildings, where lived the superintendent, were now in plain sight. His +thin frame shook with emotion. He could not go there with his letter. + +He dismounted from his pony. His quavering voice chanted a bravery song +as he gathered dry grasses and the dead stalks of last year's +sunflowers. He built a fire, and crying aloud, for his sorrow was +greater than he could bear, he cast the letter into the flames. The fire +consumed it. He sent his message on the wings of fire and he believed +she would get it. He yet trusted that help would come to his people +before it was too late. The pony tossed his head in a readiness to go. +He knew he was on the return trip and he was glad to travel. + +The wind which blew so gently at dawn was now increased into a gale as +the sun approached the zenith. The chieftain, on his way home, sensed a +coming storm. He looked upward to the sky and around in every direction. +Behind him, in the distance, he saw a cloud of dust. He saw several +horsemen whipping their ponies and riding at great speed. Occasionally +he heard their shouts, as if calling after some one. He slackened his +pony's pace and frequently looked over his shoulder to see who the +riders were advancing in hot haste upon him. He was growing curious. In +a short time the riders surrounded him. On their coats shone brass +buttons, and on their hats were gold cords and tassels. They were Indian +police. + +"Wan!" he exclaimed, finding himself the object of their chase. It was +their foolish ilk who had murdered the great leader, Sitting Bull. +"Pray, what is the joke? Why do young men surround an old man quietly +riding home?" + +"Uncle," said the spokesman, "we are hirelings, as you know. We are sent +by the government superintendent to arrest you and take you back with +us. The superintendent says you are one of the bad Indians, singing war +songs and opposing the government all the time; this morning you were +seen trying to set fire to the government agency." + +"Hunhunhe!" replied the old chief, placing the palm of his hand over his +mouth agap in astonishment. "All this is unbelievable!" + +The policeman took hold of the pony's bridle and turned the reluctant +little beast around. They led it back with them and the old chieftain +set unresisting in the saddle. High Flier was taken before the +superintendent, who charged him with setting fires to destroy government +buildings and found him guilty. Thus Chief High Flier was sent to jail. +He had already suffered much during his life. He was the voiceless man +of America. And now in his old age he was cast into prison. The chagrin +of it all, together with his utter helplessness to defend his own or his +people's human rights, weighed heavily upon his spirit. + +The foul air of the dingy cell nauseated him who loved the open. He sat +wearily down upon the tattered mattress, which lay on the rough board +floor. He drew his robe closely about his tall figure, holding it +partially over his face, his hands covered within the folds. In profound +gloom the gray-haired prisoner sat there, without a stir for long hours +and knew not when the day ended and night began. He sat buried in his +desperation. His eyes were closed, but he could not sleep. Bread and +water in tin receptacles set upon the floor beside him untouched. He was +not hungry. Venturesome mice crept out upon the floor and scampered in +the dim starlight streaming through the iron bars of the cell window. +They squeaked as they dared each other to run across his moccasined +feet, but the chieftain neither saw nor heard them. + +A terrific struggle was waged within his being. He fought as he never +fought before. Tenaciously he hung upon hope for the day of +salvation--that hope hoary with age. Defying all odds against him, he +refused to surrender faith in good people. + +Underneath his blanket, wrapped so closely about him, stole a luminous +light. Before his stricken consciousness appeared a vision. Lo, his good +friend, the American woman to whom he had sent his messages by fire, now +stood there a legion! A vast multitude of women, with uplifted hands, +gazed upon a huge stone image. Their upturned faces were eager and very +earnest. The stone figure was that of a woman upon the brink of the +Great Waters, facing eastward. The myriad living hands remained uplifted +till the stone woman began to show signs of life. Very majestically she +turned around, and, lo, she smiled upon this great galaxy of American +women. She was the Statue of Liberty! It was she, who, though +representing human liberty, formerly turned her back upon the American +aborigine. Her face was aglow with compassion. Her eyes swept across the +outspread continent of America, the home of the red man. + +At this moment her torch flamed brighter and whiter till its radiance +reached into the obscure and remote places of the land. Her light of +liberty penetrated Indian reservations. A loud shout of joy rose up from +the Indians of the earth, everywhere! + +All too soon the picture was gone. Chief High Flier awoke. He lay +prostrate on the floor where during the night he had fallen. He rose and +took his seat again upon the mattress. Another day was ushered into his +life. In his heart lay the secret vision of hope born in the midnight of +his sorrows. It enabled him to serve his jail sentence with a mute +dignity which baffled those who saw him. + +Finally came the day of his release. There was rejoicing over all the +land. The desolate hills that harbored wailing voices nightly now were +hushed and still. Only gladness filled the air. A crowd gathered around +the jail to greet the chieftain. His son stood at the entrance way, +while the guard unlocked the prison door. Serenely quiet, the old +Indian chief stepped forth. An unseen stone in his path caused him to +stumble slightly, but his son grasped him by the hand and steadied his +tottering steps. He led him to a heavy lumber wagon drawn by a small +pony team which he had brought to take him home. The people thronged +about him--hundreds shook hands with him and went away singing native +songs of joy for the safe return to them of their absent one. + +Among the happy people came Blue-Star Woman's two nephews. Each shook +the chieftain's hand. One of them held out an ink pad saying, "We are +glad we were able to get you out of jail. We have great influence with +the Indian Bureau in Washington, D.C. When you need help, let us know. +Here press your thumb in this pad." His companion took from his pocket a +document prepared for the old chief's signature, and held it on the +wagon wheel for the thumb mark. The chieftain was taken by surprise. He +looked into his son's eyes to know the meaning of these two men. "It is +our agreement," he explained to his old father. "I pledged to pay them +half of your land if they got you out of jail." + +The old chieftain sighed, but made no comment. Words were vain. He +pressed his indelible thumb mark, his signature it was, upon the deed, +and drove home with his son. + + + * * * * * + + +AMERICA'S INDIAN PROBLEM + +The hospitality of the American aborigine, it is told, saved the early +settlers from starvation during the first bleak winters. In +commemoration of having been so well received, Newport erected "a cross +as a sign of English dominion." With sweet words he quieted the +suspicions of Chief Powhatan, his friend. He "told him that the arms (of +the cross) represented Powhatan and himself, and the middle their united +league." + +DeSoto and his Spaniards were graciously received by the Indian Princess +Cofachiqui in the South. While on a sight-seeing tour they entered the +ancestral tombs of those Indians. DeSoto "dipped into the pearls and +gave his two joined hands full to each cavalier to make rosaries of, he +said, to say prayers for their sins on. We imagine if their prayers were +in proportion to their sins they must have spent the most of their time +at their devotions." + +It was in this fashion that the old world snatched away the fee in the +land of the new. It was in this fashion that America was divided +between the powers of Europe and the aborigines were dispossessed of +their country. The barbaric rule of might from which the paleface had +fled hither for refuge caught up with him again, and in the melee the +hospitable native suffered "legal disability." + +History tells that it was from the English and the Spanish our +government inherited its legal victims, the American Indians, whom to +this day we hold as wards and not as citizens of their own freedom +loving land. A long century of dishonor followed this inheritance of +somebody's loot. Now the time is at hand when the American Indian shall +have his day in court through the help of the women of America. The +stain upon America's fair name is to be removed, and the remnant of the +Indian nation, suffering from malnutrition, is to number among the +invited invisible guests at your dinner tables. + +In this undertaking there must be cooperation of head, heart and hand. +We serve both our own government and a voiceless people within our +midst. We would open the door of American opportunity to the red man and +encourage him to find his rightful place in our American life. We would +remove the barriers that hinder his normal development. + +Wardship is no substitute for American citizenship, therefore we seek +his enfranchisement. The many treaties made in good faith with the +Indian by our government we would like to see equitably settled. By a +constructive program we hope to do away with the "piecemeal legislation" +affecting Indians here and there which has proven an exceedingly +expensive and disappointing method. + +Do you know what _your_ Bureau of Indian Affairs, in Washington, D.C., +really is? How it is organized and how it deals with wards of the +nation? This is our first study. Let us be informed of facts and then we +may formulate our opinions. In the remaining space allowed me I shall +quote from the report of the Bureau of Municipal Research, in their +investigation of the Indian Bureau, published by them in the September +issue, 1915, No. 65, "Municipal Research," 261 Broadway, New York City. +This report is just as good for our use today as when it was first made, +for very little, if any, change has been made in the administration of +Indian Affairs since then. + + +PREFATORY NOTE. + +"While this report was printed for the information of members of +Congress, it was not made a part of the report of the Joint Commission +of Congress, at whose request it was prepared, and is not available for +distribution." + + +UNPUBLISHED DIGEST OF STATUTORY AND TREATY PROVISIONS GOVERNING INDIAN +FUNDS. + +"When in 1913 inquiry was made into the accounting and reporting methods +of the Indian Office by the President's Commission on Economy and +Efficiency, it was found there was no digest of the provisions of +statutes and treaties with Indian tribes governing Indian funds and the +trust obligations of the government. Such a digest was therefore +prepared. It was not completed, however, until after Congress adjourned +March 4, 1913. Then, instead of being published, it found its way into +the pigeon-holes in the Interior Department and the Civil Service +Commission, where the working papers and unpublished reports of the +commission were ordered stored. The digest itself would make a document +of about three hundred pages." + + +UNPUBLISHED OUTLINE OF ORGANIZATION. + +"By order of the President, the commission, in cooperation with various +persons assigned to this work, also prepared at great pains a complete +analysis of the organization of every department, office and commission +of the federal government as of July 1, 1912. This represented a +complete picture of the government as a whole in summary outline; it +also represented an accurate picture of every administrative bureau, +office, and of every operative or field station, and showed in his +working relation each of the 500,000 officers and employes in the public +service. The report in typewritten form was one of the working documents +used in the preparation of the 'budget' submitted by President Taft to +Congress in February, 1913. The 'budget' was ordered printed by +Congress, but the cost thereof was to be charged against the President's +appropriation. There was not enough money remaining in this +appropriation to warrant the printing of the report on organization. It, +therefore, also found repose in a dark closet." + + +TOO VOLUMINOUS TO BE MADE PART OF THIS SERIES. + +"Congress alone could make the necessary provision for the publication +of these materials; the documents are too voluminous to be printed as a +part of this series, even if official permission were granted. It is +again suggested, however, that the data might be made readily accessible +and available to students by placing in manuscript division of the +Library of Congress one copy of the unpublished reports and working +papers of the President's Commission on Economy and Efficiency. This +action was recommended by the commission, but the only official action +taken was to order that the materials be placed under lock and key in +the Civil Service Commission." + + +NEED FOR SPECIAL CARE IN MANAGEMENT. + +"The need for special care in the management of Indian Affairs lies in +the fact that in theory of law the Indian has not the rights of a +citizen. He has not even the rights of a foreign resident. The Indian +individually does not have access to the courts; he can not individually +appeal to the administrative and judicial branches of the public service +for the enforcement of his rights. He himself is considered as a ward of +the United States. His property and funds are held in trust. * * * The +Indian Office is the agency of the government for administering both the +guardianship of the Indian and the trusteeship of his properties." + + +CONDITIONS ADVERSE TO GOOD ADMINISTRATION. + +"The legal status of the Indian and his property is the condition which +makes it incumbent on the government to assume the obligation of +protector. What is of special interest in this inquiry is to note the +conditions under which the Indian Office has been required to conduct +its business. In no other relation are the agents of the government +under conditions more adverse to efficient administration. The +influence which make for the infidelity to trusteeship, for subversion +of properties and funds, for the violation of physical and moral welfare +have been powerful. The opportunities and inducements are much greater +than those which have operated with ruinous effect on other branches of +public service and on the trustees and officers of our great private +corporations. In many instances, the integrity of these have been broken +down." + + +GOVERNMENT MACHINERY INADEQUATE. + +"* * * Behind the sham protection, which operated largely as a blind to +publicity, have been at all times great wealth in the form of Indian +funds to be subverted; valuable lands, mines, oil fields, and other +natural resources to be despoiled or appropriated to the use of the +trader; and large profits to be made by those dealing with trustees who +were animated by motives of gain. This has been the situation in which +the Indian Service has been for more than a century--the Indian during +all this time having his rights and properties to greater or less extent +neglected; the guardian, the government, in many instances, passive to +conditions which have contributed to his undoing." + + +OPPORTUNITIES STILL PRESENT. + +"And still, due to the increasing value of his remaining estate, there +is left an inducement to fraud, corruption, and institutional +incompetence almost beyond the possibility of comprehension. The +properties and funds of the Indians today are estimated at not less than +one thousand millions of dollars. There is still a great obligation to +be discharged, which must run through many years. The government itself +owes many millions of dollars for Indian moneys which it has converted +to its own use, and it is of interest to note that it does not know and +the officers do not know what is the present condition of the Indian +funds in their keeping." + + +PRIMARY DEFECTS. + +"* * * The story of the mismanagement of Indian Affairs is only a +chapter in the history of the mismanagement of corporate trusts. The +Indian has been the victim of the same kind of neglect, the same +abortive processes, the same malpractices as have the life insurance +policyholders, the bank depositor, the industrial and transportation +shareholder. The form of organization of the trusteeship has been one +which does not provide for independent audit and supervision. The +institutional methods and practices have been such that they do not +provide either a fact basis for official judgment or publicity of facts +which, if made available, would supply evidence of infidelity. In the +operation of this machinery, there has not been the means provided for +effective official scrutiny and the public conscience could not be +reached." + + +AMPLE PRECEDENTS TO BE FOLLOWED. + +"Precedents to be followed are ample. In private corporate trusts that +have been mismanaged a basis of appeal has been found only when some +favorable circumstance has brought to light conditions so shocking as to +cause those people who have possessed political power, as a matter of +self-protection, to demand a thorough reorganization and revision of +methods. The same motive has lain back of legislation for the Indian. +But the motive to political action has been less effective, for the +reason that in the past the Indians who have acted in self-protection +have either been killed or placed in confinement. All the machinery of +government has been set to work to repress rather than to provide +adequate means for justly dealing with a large population which had no +political rights."--Edict Magazine. + + + * * * * * + + +_This Book should be in every home_ + +Old Indian Legends + + +25 Seminole Avenue, Forest Hill, L.I., N.Y., + +August 25, 1919. + +Dear Zitkala-Sa: + +I thank you for your book on Indian legends. I have read them with +exquisite pleasure. Like all folk tales they mirror the child life of +the world. There is in them a note of wild, strange music. + +You have translated them into our language in a way that will keep them +alive in the hearts of men. They are so young, so fresh, so full of the +odors of the virgin forest untrod by the foot of white man! The thoughts +of your people seem dipped in the colors of the rainbow, palpitant with +the play of winds, eerie with the thrill of a spirit-world unseen but +felt and feared. + +Your tales of birds, beast, tree and spirit can not but hold captive the +hearts of all children. They will kindle in their young minds that +eternal wonder which creates poetry and keeps life fresh and eager. I +wish you and your little book of Indian tales all success. + +I am always + +Sincerely your friend, + +(Signed) HELEN KELLER. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of American Indian stories, by Zitkala-Sa + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AMERICAN INDIAN STORIES *** + +***** This file should be named 10376.txt or 10376.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/3/7/10376/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Brett Koonce and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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