Wigwam and War-path Or the Royal Chief in Chains Part 22

I would that I could portray these scenes: these dark-eyed men with long hair, women naturally good-looking, but so sadly debauched that virtue makes no pretensions among them; children of every _shade_,--all gathered around a huge fire of pine logs, in a forest of tall trees, in mid-winter, with the little camp fires here and there; and notwithstanding the ground was covered with snow and thermometer sometimes below zero, these people would sit, or stand, for hours, with eyes, ears, and hearts all open to hear; catching with great eagerness the story of my superior in office, to whom I made all my reports and from whom I received instructions, who, by his own energy, had elevated himself to a level with the great men of the age; and that he, Parker, was of "_their own race_."

The Klamath chief, Allen David, arose to reply amid surroundings characteristic of Indian life,--a perfect solemn silence broken only by his voice.

I then heard the notes of natural oratory, coming in wild, but well-measured words, and recognized for the first time fully that nature does sometimes produce n.o.ble men _without_ the line of civilized life. I send you a verbatim report of his speech as taken by Dr. McKay; because I understand we are all trying to solve the problem of civilization for Indians. _I am not, myself, longer sceptical_ on that subject; but I know that a large proportion of our public men _are_; and you would not wonder, either, could you visit some reservations and see for yourself the inside workings of moral law.

But I a.s.sert that the Indians are not to blame; let censure fall where it belongs; viz., on the men who are entrusted with the care and responsibility of leading and protecting these people, yet wink at and tolerate, in subordinates, the most demoralizing habits, and may be, in some cases, partic.i.p.ants themselves. I do not speak of this agency in particular.

Said Allen David,--"I see you. All my people see you.--I saw you at Sprague river.--I watched your mouth.--I have seen but one tongue.--I have looked into your eyes.--I have seen your heart.-- You have given me another heart.--All my people will have white hearts.--When I was a little boy I lived here.--I have always lived here.--A long time ago a white man told me I could be like him. I said my skin is red, it cannot change; it must be my heart, my brain, that is to be like a white man.--You think we are low people.--May be we are in your eyes.--Who made us so?-- We do not know much; we can learn.--Some of the officers at the fort (referring to Fort Klamath, six miles from the agency) have been good men--some of them have been bad men.--Do you think a good white man will take an Indian wife?--A white man that will take an Indian wife is worse blood than Indian.--These things make our hearts sad.--We want you to stop it.... Your ears are large.--Your heart is large.--You see us.--Do not let your heart get sick.

"Take a white man into the woods, away from a store; set him down, with nothing in his hands, in the woods, and without a store to get tools from; and what could he do?

"When you lay down before us the axes, the saws, the iron wedges and mauls you have promised us, and we do not take them up, then you can say we are 'cul-tus'--lazy people.--You say your chief is like me--that he is an Indian--I am glad. What can I say that is worth writing down?--Mr. Parker does not know me.-- When you do all Mr. Huntington promised in the treaty, 1864, we can go to work like white men.--Our hearts are tired waiting for the saw-mill.--When it is built, then we can have houses like white men.--We want the flour-mill; then we will not live on fish and roots. We will help to make the mills.--We made the fences on the big farms.--We did not get tired....

"Give us strong law; we will do what your law says. We want strong law--we want to be like white men. You say that Mr.

Parker does not want bad men among our people.--Is B. a good man?--he took Frank's wife--is that good? We do not want such men. Is ---- a good man?--he took Celia from her husband--is that right?--Applegate gave us good laws--he is a good man.-- Applegate told us not to gamble. Capt. ---- won thirty-seven horses from us. He says there is no law about gambling.-- Applegate said there was.--Which is right?"...

Mr. Meacham said, "You need not be afraid to talk--Keep nothing back. Your people are under a cloud. I see by their eyes that their hearts are sick; they look sorrowful. Open your hearts and I will hear you; tell me all, that I may know what to do to make them glad."

Allen David said, "I will keep nothing back.--I have eyes--I can see that white men have white hands.--Some white men take our women--they have children--they are not Indian--they are not white--they are shame children.--Some white men take care of their children.--It makes my heart sick.--I do not want these things.--Indian is an Indian--we do not want any more shame children. A white man that would take an Indian squaw is no better than we are.

"Our women go to the fort--they make us feel sick--they get goods--sometimes greenbacks.--We do not want them to go there-- we want the store here at the agency; then our women will not go to the fort.... Last Sunday some soldiers went to Pompey's--they talked bad to the women.--We do not want soldiers among our women.--Can you stop this? Our women make us ashamed.--We may have done wrong--give us strong law."...

Joe Hood (Indian), at a talk seven days after, said: "Meacham came here. Parker told him to come. He brought a strong law. It is a 'new soap,' it washed my heart all clean but a little place about as big as my thumb-nail. Caroline's (his wife) heart may not all be white yet. If it was, my own would be white like snow. Parker's law has made us just like we were new married. I told these Indians that the law is like strong soap; it makes all clean. I do not want but one wife any more."...

Allen David said: "You say we are looking into a camp-fire; that we can find moonlight. You say there is a road that goes toward sunrise. Show me that stone road. I am now on the stone road. I will follow you to the top of the mountain. You tell me come on.

I can see you now. My feet are on the road. I will not leave it.

I tell my people follow me, and I will stay in the stone road."...

I have given you a few extracts, that you may judge from their own mouths whether they can become civilized. If Lindsay Applegate, and his sons, J. D. and Oliver, could take wild savage Indians, and, against so much opposition, in the short s.p.a.ce of four years bring them to this state, I know they can be civilized. If good men are appointed to lead and teach them,-- _not books alone_, but civilization, with all that civilization means,--men whose hearts are in the work, and who realize that, as soon as duties devolve on them, great responsibility attaches; men who have courage to _stand squarely_ between these people and the villains that hang around reservations from the lowest motives imaginable; men paid fair salaries for doing duty; that will not civilize the people by "mixing blood;"

married men of character who will practise what they preach, and who can live without smuggling whiskey on to the Reservation; ten years from to-day may find this superintendency self-supporting, and offering to the world seven thousand citizens.

I am conscious that this is strong talk, but it is surely true.

I have not overdrawn this side of the case; nor will I attempt to show what _has been done_, or will be done, with superintendents, agents, and employes in charge placed there as a reward for political service.

The past tells the story too plainly to be misapprehended. While I am responsible for the advancement of these people, I beg to state my views and make known the result of observation and experience. As a subordinate officer of the Government, I expect to have my official acts scrutinized closely. I respectfully ask that I may be furnished the funds to keep faith with a people so little understood,--people so much like children that when they are promised a saw-mill they go to work cutting logs, only to see them decayed before the mill is begun, but with logic enough to say, "When you have got us the things you promised, then you may blame us if we don't do right."

I have now no longer any doubts about President Grant's "Quaker Policy," if it is applied to Indians once subjugated. These people have mind, soul, heart, affection, pa.s.sion, and impulses, and great ambition to become like white men. There are more or less men in each reservation who are already superior to many of the white men around them. At Klamath they are now working under civil law of trial by jury,--with judge, sheriff, civil marriage, divorce; in fact, are fast a.s.suming the habiliments of citizens.h.i.+p.

I spent seven days, talking, and listening, and making laws, marrying and divorcing, naming babies, settling difficulties, etc., and finally started, accompanied on my journey by a large delegation of Klamaths, who insisted that I should come again and remain longer, and make _laws_, and that I would build the mills, and tell them more about our religion; all of which I promised, if possible; but realizing fully and feeling deeply how much depended on the man who is in _immediate charge_ of these poor, struggling people.

I am, very respectfully, Your obt. servt., A. B. MEACHAM, _Supt. Indian Affairs_.

HON. E. S. PARKER, _Commissioner_, WAs.h.i.+NGTON, D. C.

In Allen David's speech, he refers to the "Fort," meaning Fort Klamath, six miles distant from the agency. It was established for the protection of the settlers on the Klamath frontier. Two and sometimes three companies have been stationed at this fort for several years.

The remarks of this chief need no comment; _they tell the tale_. If confirmation was wanting of the crimes intimated in his speech, a visit to Klamath Indian Agency, and even a casual glance at the different complexions of the young and rising generation, would proclaim the correctness of Allen David's charges.

CHAPTER XVII.

KLAMATH COURT--ELOPEMENT EXTRAORDINARY.

The Reservation furnishes abundance of real romance, mixed with tragedy, sufficient to make up a volume. The Indians tell, and white men confirm, the story of an officer of the fort, who loved an Indian's wife, and how he sought to win her from home by presents; and, failing in this, came with armed soldiers, and, with threats of death to the husband, compelled him to give her up. This officer took this woman to the fort, dressed her in styles common among white women, and refused to return her to her husband. When the officer was "ordered away" to some other duty the squaw went home, bearing in her arms an infant not more than half Indian. Her husband refused to receive her. She was turned away from his lodge, and became a vagabond of the worst cla.s.s. Fortunately for father, mother, and infant, too, the latter died a few months thereafter.

Another young officer of the United States army, who was stationed at Fort Klamath, was a party to an elopement in high life,--as all life is _high_ at an alt.i.tude of forty-five hundred feet above the sea level; the other party being the wife of a handsome young Indian living on Klamath Reservation. However, they had but a few miles to travel, in order to reach a "_Chicago_" for divorces. All people without law are a law unto themselves.

The Indian husband appealed for redress, but found no one to listen to his appeals. His wife returned to him when the regiment to which the officer belonged was ordered away, bringing with her many fine clothes; her feet clad in good American gaiters, and with an armful of childhood, in which the Indian husband claimed no interest. The mother was turned away from what was once a happy home; and to-day, with her little girl, wanders from lodge to lodge, seeking shelter where she may. This woman was really good-looking, and had proved herself an apt scholar in learning the civilized arts of house-keeping and dress-making; she also learned something of our language, in which she tells the story of her own shame and the fatherhood of her child.

I am giving these statements as made to me by white men, who are responsible, and will answer, when called upon, for their authenticity. In respect to the families of these United States officers, not through fear of the men themselves, I withhold their names. In this connection I remember a conversation with a sub-chief of the Klamaths, who could speak "Boston" quite well. His name was "Blo." He said, "Meacham, I talk to you.

S'pose an Injun man, he see a white man's wife. He like her. He give presents; he win her heart; he talk to her sometime. He tell her, "Come go with me." She come. He take her away. White man come home. He no see his wife. He see him children cry. He get mad. He take a gun. He hunt 'em. He find em. He 'shoot 'em, one Injun man. What you think? You think white man law hang him?" We were travelling horseback, and "Blo" came up close to me, leaning from his saddle, and, peering into my eyes, continued, "What you think?" I looked into his face, and read murder very plainly.

Had he been a white man I might have given him a negative answer. Half savage as he was, he was seeking for encouragement to commit a b.l.o.o.d.y deed in vindication of his honor. I replied that "the law would punish the Indians for stealing the white man's wife. But if the white man was wise he would not kill the Indian, because the laws would take hold of him." I felt that I was concealing a part of the truth, but I dared not do otherwise.

"Blo" was not so easily put off. He replied with a question that intensified my perplexity, "S'pose white man steal Injun's wife, s'pose law catch _him_?" Harder to answer than the first one. If I said "Yes," he would have demanded that the law be enforced in his case, that had come under my own observation; and that, I knew, was impossible, with public sentiment so strongly against the Indians that white men would have laughed at the absurdity of calling one of their race to account for so trifling a thing as breaking up an Indian's family, and leaving his children worse than orphans; yet knowing full well that the whole power of the United States would have been evoked to punish an Indian for a like offence. If I said "No," I stultified myself and my Government. I could only reply, "Suppose a woman run away,--let her go. Get a divorce, and then another wife."

"Now-wit-ka, Ni-kanan-itch." "Yes, I see. Law not all the time same. Made crooked. Made for white man. Aha, me see 'em now."

During the seven days' council, "Little Sallie" came into the office, and in plain "Boston" said, "I want divorce; my man, Cho-kus, he buy another woman. I no like him have two wife. I want divorce."

We had just completed the organization of a court, composed of the head chief and his eight subordinates. This was the first case on the docket, and the beginning of a new history with this people,--a new way of settling difficulties. The agent provided a book for making record of all proceedings. A sheriff was appointed from among the Indians. Each sub-chief was ent.i.tled to a constable, but, in all matters pertaining to their respective bands, as between themselves and others, neither sub-chief nor constable was permitted to take any part in the proceedings of the court.

Novel scenes indeed!--Indians holding court after the fas.h.i.+on of white men. The chief made a short speech on taking the middle seat on "The Bench." He removed his hat, saying "that he knew but little about the new law, but he would endeavor to make it run straight, and not run around his own people," referring to those of his band. The sub-chiefs took their places on either side, and we gave instructions to the sheriff to open court, ordering a white man to show him through, saying, "Oh-yes! Oh-yes!

The Klamath Court is now open."--"Now-witka, Now-witka, Muck-u-lux, Klamath, Mam-ook, Bos-ti-na Law, O-ko-ke, Sun," rang out the Indian sheriff.

"Little Sallie" was the first to appear before the bar of justice, and, without an attorney, she filed a complaint against her husband, the substance of which was to the effect, that "Cho-kus"--her master--had made arrangements to buy another wife, paying two horses; and that these horses belonged to her individually, and she was not willing to furnish horses to buy another woman, because it would leave but one horse in the family, and that Cho-kus and the new wife would claim that one, and she would be compelled to go on foot. If Cho-kus had plenty of horses she might not object; but she thought that she could dig roots, and gather "wokus"--wild rice--enough for the family, and Cho-kus did not need another "nohow."

But, if he persisted, then she wanted a Boston divorce, otherwise she did not.

Cho-kus was required to show cause why "Sallie" should not be made free.

He appeared in person, and expressed willingness for the separation, but asked to know who would be awarded the baby,--a little fellow twelve months old. The court decided that "Sallie" should have possession of the child. Cho-kus took it from its mother's arms, and, holding it in his own, looked very earnestly and silently into its face for a moment. His speech ran in something like the following words: "Now half this baby's heart is mine, half its heart belongs to 'Sallie.'" Then slowly drawing the little finger of one hand from its forehead down its face and body, he went on to say, "I want this child's heart, and 'Sallie' wants it; if we cut into it it will die; I can't give up my part of it." Sallie attempted to s.n.a.t.c.h it away, saying, "I won't give up my part of the baby." This brought the husband to terms. He said he would give up taking another wife. Sallie agreed, and the court proposed that, instead of being divorced, they should be married over by "Boston law." They consented. The ceremony was deferred in order to make preparation for the approaching nuptials, under the auspices of the new law.

The white ladies of the agency, some of whom were unmarried, proposed to adorn the bride, while the employes furnished enough Sunday clothes to dress the husband in good style. Employes and Indians were notified of the important affair, and the court adjourned to the big camp-fire, in order to perform the marriage ceremony in the presence of all the people. The presiding judge _pro tem._ ordered the parties to appear.

The groom, dressed in a borrowed suit, was the first to stand up. Sallie hesitated; the husband insisted. The bride was reluctant, saying she wanted to know how long the new law would hold "Cho-kus."--"Is it a strong law? Won't he buy another wife some time?" When all the questions were answered to her satisfaction, she pa.s.sed her child over to another woman, and stood beside her _lover_. Yes, her lover; for he then discovered that he really loved her, just as many a white-faced man has in similar cases, when he realized the danger of losing her.

The official reporter, on this occasion, did not furnish an account of the bride's dress, but for the satisfaction, it may be, to my young lady readers, I will say that the toilet was elaborately gotten up a-la-mode, consisting of immense tilting hoops, bright-hued goods for dress, paint in profusion on her cheeks, necklace of beads, and sh.e.l.ls, and tresses of dark hair, "_all her own_," ornamented with cheap jewelry. This being the first marriage under the new law, the chief remarked that be wished them "tied very strong, so they could not get away from each other."

We extemporized the ceremony as follows: "Cho-kus, do you agree to live forever with Sallie, and not buy another squaw? To do the hunting and fis.h.i.+ng, cut wood and haul it up, like white man? Never to get drunk, or talk bad to other women, and to be a good, faithful husband?" When the ceremony was interpreted, he answered, "Now-wit-ka ni-hi;" yes, I do.

Sallie said, "Hold on,--I want him married to me so he won't whip me any more." We adopted the supplement suggested, and Cho-kus again said, "Now-wit-ka." The bride said, "All right," and promised to be a good wife, to take care of the lodge and the baby, to dress the deer-skins, and dry the roots.

Cho-kus also suggested a supplement, which was, that Sallie must not "_go to the fort_" any more without _him_. She a.s.sented, with a proviso that he would not go to see "old Mose-en-kos-ket's" daughter any more.

The covenant was now completed, to the satisfaction of bride and bridegroom, and the Great Spirit was invoked to witness the pledges made; their hands were joined, and they were p.r.o.nounced husband and wife. A waggish white man whispered to Allen David, the chief, that the bride must be saluted. The chief inquired whether that was the way of the new law, saying he wanted "a real Boston wedding." We said to Cho-kus, "Salute your bride." He replied he thought the ceremony was over; but, when made to understand what the salute meant, replied that it was not modest; that no Indian man ever kissed a woman in public. We urged that it was right under the new law. He remarked that somebody else must kiss her; he didn't intend to. Our waggish friend again whispered in the ear of the chief, telling him that the officiating clergyman must perform the duty to make the marriage legal. With solemn face, the chief insisted that the whole law must be met.

The parties remained standing while this controversy was going on. The bride was willing to be saluted, but the question was, _who_ was to perform that part of the closing ceremony. The record don't mention the name of the individual, and it is perhaps as well. The bride, however, was saluted.