University of California Berkeley 
 
BY-PATHS TO FORGOTTEN FOLKS 
 
Waif of the Sierras the Mono. 
 
BY-PATHS 
 TO FORGOTTEN FOLKS 
 
 STORIES OF REAL LIFE IN BAPTIST 
 HOME MISSION FIELDS 
 
 By COE HAYNE 
 
 Author of Old Trili and New " 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 THE DEPARTMENT OF MISSIONARY EDUCATION 
 BOARD OF EDUCATION 
 
 OF THE 
 
 NORTHERN BAPTIST CONVENTION 
 
 276 Fifth Avenue, New York City 
 
 PUBLISHED BY 
 
 THE JUDSON PRESS 
 
 PHILADELPHIA 
 
 BOSTON CHICAGO ST. LOUIS LOS ANGELES 
 
 KANSAS CITY SEATTLE TORONTO 
 
Copyright, 1981, by 
 GILBERT N. BRINK, SECRETARY 
 
 Published September, 1921 
 
 PRINTED IN U. S. A. 
 
H3 
 
 9o 
 
 4H. it. 
 
FOREWORD 
 
 Our Christian civilization has moved westward 
 over the paths worn by the pioneers of the Cross. 
 These pioneers followed the old Indian trails which 
 led through deserts and over mountain fastnesses. 
 They threaded their way through tangled woods 
 and mountain snows. They made the forests their 
 cathedrals, and their burning messages were set to 
 the music of rushing waterfalls. They believed that 
 in time " the desert shall rejoice and blossom as the 
 rose." The trails they followed have since become 
 royal highways dotted with meeting-houses and 
 schools and Christian homes. 
 
 In " By-Paths to Forgotten Folks " is a series of 
 journeys to these ancient peoples, journeys full of 
 thrilling interest. The earlier services and sacri 
 fices of John M. Peck and his followers are fully 
 rewarded ; we see the Christian villages and homes 
 of the Mono, the Hopi, and the Navajo. 
 
 It is given us to see clearly the work of the fron 
 tier missionary pastor with all his problems, his 
 perils, and his consecrations. These records of his 
 labors in remote communities make you wish to help 
 him in his great task. 
 
Foreword 
 
 There are no words to describe accurately the 
 heroisms of faith which were the intangible weapons 
 by which our earlier missionaries waged their suc 
 cessful conquests of the Cross. Nor are there words 
 that can tell completely the story of these later mis 
 sionaries who daily tread the " By-Paths to Forgot 
 ten Folks." These modern acts of the apostles form 
 another chapter in the book of faith. 
 
 We are invited to journey into the Latin-American 
 country, where great opportunities now are open to 
 write the principles of religious liberty into the life 
 of people long denied the gospel. 
 
 Here also are stories of the new Americans, some 
 times nearly lost in the city deserts. Christian 
 Americanization is a worthy theme which the author 
 does not neglect, and he leads us through these by 
 ways to the great hosts of forgotten folks who 
 need the ministering agencies of the Christian 
 church. 
 
 The author has a tender and an exquisite appre 
 ciation of the peoples about whom he writes, and in 
 this series of stories has enriched our knowledge, 
 and quickened our faith in the power of the Gospel. 
 He succeeds first in focusing our attention, then in 
 illuminating the thing he asks us to see. 
 
 The fields represented are those of the American 
 Baptist Home Mission Society, the Woman's Ameri 
 can Baptist Home Mission Society, the American 
 
Foreword 
 
 Baptist Publication Society, the State Conventions, 
 and the City Mission Societies. 
 
 The Department of Missionary Education recom 
 mends " By-Paths to Forgotten Folks " for supple 
 mentary reading and study in connection with the 
 new book, " From Survey to Service," which is the 
 adult Home Mission study-book for 1921-22. " By- 
 Paths to Forgotten Folks " is also listed in the 
 National Missionary Reading Contests. It furnishes 
 a wealth of Baptist Home Mission material for use 
 in study classes, program meetings, and fireside 
 reading. We commend these stories to all our Bap 
 tist people, for the light they throw on our great 
 Home Mission enterprise. 
 
 WILLIAM A. HILL, 
 Secretary of Missionary Education. 
 
 JULY 15, 1921. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 I 
 SUNSET INDIAN MISSIONS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGB 
 
 I. LAST OF THE YOSEMITES 3 
 
 II. WAIFS OF THE SIERRAS 15 
 
 III. THE LITTLE MOTHER 22 
 
 IV. HAND-IN-HAND IN MONOLAND 28 
 
 V. BREAKING NEW TRAILS 52 
 
 VI. A BROTHER TO THE MONO 59 
 
 VII. DAWN 74 
 
 II 
 ARIZONA DAYS 
 
 I. SAALAKO 83 
 
 II. GOOD LITTLE BROTHERS OF TUSAYAN 95 
 
 III. THE NAVAJO'S GODS ARE SILENT 106 
 
 IV. BAPTIST WORK AMONG AMERICAN IN 
 
 DIANS. Current Data, 1921. Compiled 
 by L. C. Barnes, D. D 112 
 
Contents 
 
 III 
 THE CALL OF MOUNTAIN AND PRAIRIE 
 
 CHAPTER PAGK 
 
 I. RELIGIOUS DESTITUTION IN REMOTE AREAS 117 
 II. VICTORY ON LITTLE LOST 126 
 
 III. BLOCKING A FUNERAL 131 
 
 IV. So THAT THEIR LIVES MAY NOT BE 
 
 BARREN 135 
 
 V. JOE BARANOFF'S GOOD FORTUNE 143 
 
 IV 
 
 UNDER MARCHING ORDERS 
 IN NICARAGUA 
 
 I. A PIONEER IN PERIL 151 
 
 II. REENFORCEMENTS 158 
 
 III. ONE AND INSEPARABLE 164 
 
 V 
 
 THE SOUL OF THE NEW AMERICAN 
 
 I. FlELDBRAVE OF THE IMPERIAL VALLEY 171 
 
 II. LOAVES FOR THE HUNGRY 177 
 
 III. CASTLES ON THE ROYAL HIGHWAY. ...... 181 
 
 IV. A BOWERY PRAYER CIRCLE 188 
 
 V. AN ANGEL OF HOMESTEAD. . 199 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Waif of the Sierras the Mono. . .Frontispiece 
 
 The " Little Mother " brings the Glad News to 
 the Mono ; 24 
 
 A Mono Madonna SO 
 
 Getting ready for Christmas at Auberry 34 
 
 Mono Bill Charley and Missionary Brendel in 
 the grapelands of the San Joaquin 62 
 
 Mono Christian girl grinding acorn meal 70 
 
 t 
 
 Saalako, the old snake priestess of Walpi, Hopi 
 Pueblo, Ariz 84 
 
 Heathen Hopi home 92 
 
 Christian Hopi Indians on the trail to a heathen 
 pueblo to hold a gospel street-meeting 100 
 
 The Navaho hogan. The home of a nomadic 
 people 108 
 
 Oregon lumberman. Among the neglected folks 120 
 
 A Rocky Mountain railroad section gang often 
 visited by one of our colporter-missionaries . 120 
 
 Kindergarten, Bessemer Mission, Pueblo, Colo . 132 
 
List of Illustrations 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A frontier Baptist deacon, whose Christian 
 loyalty blessed a community 140 
 
 Wayside pastoral call, Las Animas Valley, Colo. 140 
 A group of believers at Managua, Nicaragua. . . 152 
 
 Nicaraguan pilgrims at the feast of the " Black 
 Christ " 166 
 
 Teacher - training class composed of young 
 Italians of Dietz Memorial, Brooklyn 194 
 
SUNSET INDIAN MISSIONS 
 
I 
 
 LAST OF THE YOSEMITES 
 
 , chief of the Yosemites, looked upon 
 A his beloved valley that no white man had seen, 
 and resolved to disobey the "Great Father" in 
 Washington. 
 
 The year was 1851. Upon a remote frontier one 
 of the most disgraceful of all human hunts had 
 begun. The Indian tribes east of the San Joaquin 
 and Tulare valleys, from the Tuolumne River to the 
 Tejon Pass, had been ordered to come down from 
 their mountain retreats and make treaties with the 
 three commissioners who had been sent to Cali 
 fornia from Washington and were then in camp 
 on the Fresno River. Most of the chiefs or " cap 
 tains" of the bands in the immediate vicinity of 
 the commissioners' headquarters had complied with 
 the general message, but others, whose rancherias 
 were located farther up in the Sierras, refused to 
 come in. Among them was Tenaya, who was reared 
 a Mono but in early manhood became a chief of 
 the Yosemites, a band made up of refugees from 
 the Mono and Paiute tribes. His home was in Ah- 
 wah-nee, now the Yosemite valley. His life-story, 
 his exploits and adventures are a part of the tradi 
 tional lore of the people with whom our mission 
 aries daily are making helpful contacts. To know 
 B 3 
 
4 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 how his people and the neighboring bands lived 
 and to what extremities they were driven by relent 
 less white aggression, is to gain a better idea of 
 the conditions in which the bearers of the Glad 
 News found the Indians of Fresno and Madera 
 Counties when they went to this neglected people 
 twelve years ago. 1 
 
 1 It is not necessary to read more than one authentic history of 
 California before the discovery is made that the Indians fared no better 
 under the rule of Spain and Mexico than during the persecutions 
 begun in the early fifties. The padres in the voluminous reports of 
 their achievements did not record all that took place during their con- 
 quistas or convert hunts. We have the story of one of these raids upon 
 the mountain Indians in the narrative of Captain F. W. Beechey, 
 R. N., commander of the English ship Blossom, who visited California 
 in 1828. While in California he visited several missions, and after he 
 returned to England recounted his experiences and observations. 
 
 The neophytes of the Mission San Jose, related Captain Beechey, 
 made an unsuccessful raid upon a tribe named Cosumnee, occupying 
 territory in the San Joaquin Valley not a great distance from some 
 of the Indian mission stations now maintained by our Home Mission 
 Boards. Thirty-four of the raiders never returned to the mission. The 
 party was overpowered by numbers and was obliged to seek safety in 
 flight, leaving a cannon in the woods. 
 
 " The padre was greatly displeased at the result of the excursion," 
 stated Captain Beechey. " He joined with his converted Indians in a 
 determination to chastise and strike terror into the victorious tribe 
 and, in concert with the governor, planned an expedition against them. 
 The mission furnished money, arms, Indians, and horses, and the 
 presidio troops, headed by Alferez Sanches, a veteran, who had been 
 frequently engaged with the Indians and was acquainted with that part 
 of the country. The expedition set out November 19, (1828), and 
 we heard nothing of it until the twenty-seventh. But two days after 
 the troops had taken to the field some immense columns of smoke 
 rising above the mountains in the direction of the Cosumnes bespoke 
 the conflagration of the village of the persecuted gentiles ; and on the 
 day above mentioned, the veteran Sanches made a triumphant entry 
 into the Mission of San Jose", escorting forty miserable women and 
 children. The gun which had been lost in the first battle was retaken 
 and other trophies captured. 
 
 " This victory, so glorious according to the ideas of the conquerors, 
 was achieved with the loss of only one man . . . but on the part of the 
 enemy it was considerable, as Sanches the morning after the battle 
 counted forty-one men, women, and children dead. . . 
 
 " The prisoners they had captured were immediately enrolled in the 
 list of the mission, except a nice little boy whose mother was shot 
 while running away with him in her arms, and he was sent to the 
 presidio and, as I heard, given to the Alferez as a reward for his ser 
 vices. The poor little orphan had received a slight wound in his 
 forehead ; he wept bitterly at first and refused to eat, but in time he 
 became reconciled." 
 
 The Mono Indians at the Baptist Mission stations have their tradi 
 tions concerning the kidnappers from missions and pueblos. They 
 relate stories of the visits of the Spanish friars who, along the San 
 Joaquin, conducted convert hunts, baptized great numbers, and then 
 left them in their pagan wretchedness. 
 
Last of the Yosemites 5 
 
 There had been many serious depredations com 
 mitted by Indians as well as white men. As the 
 latter were eager to acquire the choicest sections of 
 land they found the Indians in their way. The In 
 dians, on the other hand, looked upon the whites 
 as uncompromising invaders who sought to dispos 
 sess them of their homes. 
 
 The commissioners appointed by the President of 
 the United States to act for the best in conciliating 
 the Indians of the San Joaquin Valley, did not hesi 
 tate to publish their convictions as to the cause of 
 the many disturbances. During the winter of 1851, 
 while the State troops under Major Savage were 
 held in leash to await the issue, an investigation 
 was made by these agents of the Government who 
 came to the conclusion that the miners and settlers 
 simply had reached out for what they wanted and 
 that the Indians had resisted the encroachments to 
 the best of their ability. While the commissioners 
 denounced the Indians for the murders and robberies 
 committed by them, they explained their hostility 
 on the ground that the Indians looked upon the 
 whites as trespassers upon their territory. It was 
 intimated that traditionally fresh in their minds, 
 also, were the cruelties of the Spanish invaders of 
 Mexico and California in their abortive attempts 
 to civilize and Christianize the Indians. 
 
 The "Mariposa Battalion," consisting of two 
 hundred mounted men, at that time camped on the 
 South Fork of the Merced, and organized by the 
 governor to keep in subjection the Indian tribes, 
 was placed under the direction of the United States 
 
6 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 commissioners as soon as the latter arrived in the 
 disputed territory. The battalion has been de 
 scribed as a body of hardy, resolute pioneers, many 
 of whom had seen Indian service and had fought 
 their way against the savages across the plains; 
 some had served in the war with Mexico, and nearly 
 all had been under military discipline of one kind 
 or another. The commander was Major James D. 
 Savage, one of the most enterprising and daring 
 Indian traders of gold-digging days. 
 
 Assurances sent to all the tribes, that, if the In 
 dians would come in and make terms with the com 
 missioners, they would be given food and clothing 
 and guaranteed protection on the reservations al 
 lotted them, combined with threats that should 
 they refuse to surrender, war would be made upon 
 them, until all were destroyed, seemingly had no effect 
 upon the obdurate Tenaya. Finally a special envoy 
 was sent to him with the result that soon afterward 
 the old chief walked alone to the white man's 
 camp and solemnly inquired of Major Savage why 
 all the Indians must be herded upon the plains of 
 the San Joaquin Valley. 
 
 " My people do not want anything from the 
 ' Great Father,' " he declared. " The Great Spirit 
 is our father, and has always supplied us with all 
 we need. We do not want anything from white 
 men. Our women are able to work. Go, then; let 
 us remain in the mountains where we were born; 
 where the ashes of our fathers have been given to 
 the winds. I have said enough." 
 
 Major Savage firmly insisted that the Yosemites 
 
Last of the Yosemites 1 
 
 should go to the commissioners, and Tenaya finally 
 promised that if allowed to return to his people 
 he would bring them back. Accordingly the old 
 Ah-wah-na-chee-Mono-Yosemite was allowed to de 
 part. 
 
 Returning to the military headquarters the next 
 day Tenaya reported that his band was on its way 
 and soon would be in camp. When a full day passed 
 without the appearance of the hold-outs, the old 
 chief explained, with many gestures, how steep was 
 the trail leading out of the valley and how deep 
 the snow that lay upon the divide. Still another 
 day went by and the Yosemites did not come. Major 
 Savage then announced his intention to go to the 
 village of the Yosemites, and, if he could not find 
 Tenaya's band there, to follow the Indians to their 
 hiding-places. 
 
 Tenaya clearly betrayed his concern. He repre 
 sented the valley as such a dangerous locality in the 
 winter that should the soldiers go down there with 
 their horses, they never would be able to get them 
 out. His description of the " deep valley " which 
 no white man had seen, served only to fire the 
 minds of the hardy pioneers with a great desire to 
 visit it. The more explanations the old chief made 
 as to the impossibility of making the trip, the more 
 determined became Major Savage to attempt it. A 
 call was made for volunteers, and every man in 
 the two companies stepped forward. As it was 
 necessary to leave a large detail of camp guards, 
 one of the captains proposed a foot-race as the best 
 method of determining the personnel of the invad- 
 
8 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 ing force. So anxious were some of the pioneers 
 to explore the mysterious valley that they ran bare 
 footed in the snow. 
 
 After an early breakfast the following morning, 
 the order was given to fall in, and the ascent to 
 the top of the divide between the South Fork and 
 the main branch of the Merced River was begun, 
 Major Savage leading with Tenaya as his unwilling 
 guide. The snow packed readily, and good time 
 was made by the column. 
 
 When half-way to Yosemite Valley (as yet un 
 known and unnamed except by Indians) the volun 
 teers met seventy-two Yosemites. The major 
 counted them as they filed past, and when he ques 
 tioned Tenaya as to where the others of his band 
 could be found, the old chief replied: 
 
 " This is all of my people that are willing to go 
 with me to the plains. Many that have been with 
 me are from other tribes. They have taken wives 
 from my band; all have gone with their wives and 
 children to the Tuolumne River and the Mono 
 rancherias." 
 
 From the band Major Savage chose a young In 
 dian as guide, dismissed Tenaya, and declared that 
 he would go on to the valley to ascertain the loca 
 tion of the village and the hiding-places of those 
 who had remained behind. This decision was met 
 with the unanimous approval of his men. 
 
 " You may return to camp with your people," 
 the major told Tenaya, " and I will take one of 
 your young men with me. There are but few of 
 your people here. Your tribe is large. I am going 
 
Last of the Yosemites 9 
 
 to your village to see your people, who will not 
 come with you. They will come with me if I find 
 them." 
 
 When the young Indian, selected as the new 
 guide, went to the head of the column, it was seen 
 that Tenaya was shaken by an emotion he could 
 not hide. 
 
 " I will go with my people ; my young man shall 
 go with you to my village. You will not find my 
 people there. I do not know where they are. My 
 tribe is small not large as the white chief has said. 
 Those of the Paiute and Mono tribes have gone back 
 to their homes. I have talked with my people and 
 told them that I was going to see the white chiefs 
 sent to make peace. I was told that I was growing 
 old, and it was well that I should go, but that young 
 and strong men can find plenty to eat in the moun 
 tains; therefore why should they go to be corralled 
 like horses and cattle? My heart has been sore 
 since that talk, but I am now willing to go, for it 
 is best for my people that I do so." 
 
 The column passed on and left him. As he stood 
 there by himself, for his band had continued the 
 march westward toward the San Joaquin Valley, 
 he presented a figure of utter dejection and loneli 
 ness, exemplifying in his own person the woes that 
 had come to his race from the beginning of white 
 aggression until this hour of his downfall. He had 
 made a pathetic speech. There lay back of it the 
 despair of one who saw all his cherished hopes 
 completely shattered. His spirit broke when he 
 saw the soldiers ride eastward. White horsemen 
 
10 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 were about to enter his beloved valley, Ah-wah-nee, 
 and his fears told him that the prophecy of an old 
 Ah-wah-ne-chee medicine-man was about to have 
 its fulfilment. This old soothsayer, who had been 
 a great friend of Tenaya's father, had said that 
 should white horsemen invade the hidden valley, 
 Tenaya would be the last chief of the Ah-wah-ne- 
 chees (Yosemites) and that his tribe would be 
 scattered and destroyed, but as long as Tenaya de 
 fended the valley from the encroachments of white 
 men and admitted to his tribe all who chose to come 
 to him, the Valley of Refuge would be a place of 
 peace and happiness. 
 
 That the brisk " Forward march ! " of Major 
 Savage spelled annihilation for the Yosemites 
 events amply proved. Over the partly broken trail 
 the horsemen traveled rapidly and at sundown 
 came into full view of the valley. On this wintry 
 day Yosemite indeed was discovered, but that the 
 event was intimately associated with a determined 
 campaign on the part of white men to dislodge the 
 Indians from their mountain retreats added a 
 somber touch to the achievement. It is recorded 
 that Major Savage and most of his men did not 
 seem to be conscious of the significance of the dis 
 covery and made rather light of one man's serious 
 attempt to give the valley a name. This soldier 
 who, thirty years afterward, wrote an account of the 
 expedition, proposed that the tremendous country 
 be named Yosemite (meaning grizzly bear) after 
 Tenaya's band, the members of which were known 
 to other tribes as the " Grizzlies." 
 
Last of the Yosemites 11 
 
 About the camp-fire at the close of that first day, 
 March 21, 1851, with much laughter and joking, 
 the soldiers adopted the name. The man who sug 
 gested this name and to whom the nation is in 
 debted for his record of the events connected with 
 the discovery of Yosemite Valley, was Dr. L. H. 
 Bunnell, of San Francisco. 
 
 When the column reached a point where a full 
 view of El Capitan was possible, the face of the 
 great cliff was shadowed by the declining sun. 
 
 " None but those who have visited this most won 
 derful valley," wrote Doctor Bunnell, " can ever 
 imagine the feelings with which I looked upon the 
 view that was there presented. The grandeur of 
 the scene was softened by the haze that hung over 
 the valley, light as gossamer, and by the clouds 
 which partially dimmed the higher cliffs and moun 
 tains. This obscurity of vision but increased the 
 awe with which I beheld it, and, as I looked, a 
 peculiar, exalted sensation seemed to fill my whole 
 being, and I found my eyes in tears with emotion." 
 
 A short distance above the Cathedral Rocks, a 
 small rancheria was discovered, but the huts were 
 unoccupied. The invaders found other huts but no 
 Indians. Lack of food and of a knowledge of the 
 trails and passes soon drove Major Savage to the 
 conclusion that it would be impossible on this ex 
 pedition to ferret out the members of Tenaya's 
 band, who undoubtedly were hidden in the cliffs 
 and among the rocky gorges and passes. As a war 
 policy, the order was given to destroy the huts and 
 stores of the Indians and thereby reduce them to 
 
12 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 such straits that they would be compelled to come 
 in and join the other Indians on the reservation. 
 
 The caches discovered were chiefly acorns, the 
 principal source of diet of the Indians of the Sierra 
 Nevadas at that time and used extensively by all 
 the tribes today. It was estimated that, upon this 
 occasion, from four to six hundred bushels of 
 acorns were destroyed. In addition to acorns were 
 found quantities of pinon nuts, chinkapin nuts, 
 grass seeds, wild rye or oats (scorched), dried 
 worms, scorched grasshoppers, and the dried larvse 
 of various insects. The supplies of furniture were 
 very scanty with the exception of baskets, some of 
 which were of extraordinary workmanship and 
 beauty. 
 
 Tenaya and his band escaped from the guard de 
 tailed to bring them to the commissioners' camp. 
 Even with their huts and villages burned and their 
 supplies destroyed, they chose to suffer cold and 
 hunger rather than be deprived of their liberty. 
 Fleeing to the canons of the Tuolumne, they felt 
 secure in their retreat, hoping to live through until 
 the snow melted, when they could go to the Mono 
 tribe and find an abiding-place. 
 
 The second expedition to dislodge the Yosemites 
 was marked by a tragedy forever associated with 
 the three rocky peaks in Yosemite Valley called 
 " Three Brothers," so named because three sons of 
 Chief Tenaya were made prisoners near them. The 
 youngest son, soon after his capture, was wantonly 
 murdered by his guard, who tied this Indian and 
 one of his brothers to a tree in such a way as to 
 
Last of the Yosemites 13 
 
 tempt them to untie each other and try to escape. 
 When Tenaya was brought into camp as a captive 
 and saw the body of his son stretched upon the 
 ground where the boy had been dropped by the 
 white man's bullet, he halted for a moment, a slight 
 quivering of the lips alone betraying his emotion. 
 Then he raised his head and cast his eyes over the 
 camp as if in search of the body of the other son, 
 the fellow captive of the one whose body lay dead 
 before him. Not a sound issued from his tightly 
 closed lips. Passively, silently, he accompanied his 
 captors to their camp on the south side of the river. 
 
 The old chief was treated with extreme kindness 
 with the hope that his sorrow would abate and that 
 he would call in his people. After a time he prom 
 ised to do this. At night, upon some commanding 
 rise of land, he would call as if to some one a great 
 distance away. Night after night he did this, and 
 then one day his grief which, in his pride, he had 
 endeavored to conceal, completely overcame him. 
 Standing before the commanding officer of the bat 
 talion, he cried: 
 
 " Kill me, sir captain ! Yes, kill me, as you killed 
 my son. You have made me sorrowful, my life 
 dark; you killed the child of my heart, why not 
 kill the father? But wait a little; when I am dead 
 I will call to my people to come to you. . . I will 
 not leave my home, but be with the spirits among 
 the rocks, the waterfalls, in the river, and in the 
 winds." 
 
 The aged chief of the Yosemites appeared many 
 years younger during the few minutes his old-time 
 
14 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 spirit was reasserting itself, and the soldiers 
 grouped about him could not help but feel a genuine 
 respect for him. But it was the last flicker of a 
 dying flame. The mighty spirit had been broken. 
 
 When the white soldiers left the valley with their 
 captives who had been compelled by their hunger 
 to surrender, they passed a lovely little lake where 
 they had camped the night before. They had 
 named the lake " Tenaya " because upon its shores 
 the old chief's people had been found. As Tenaya 
 looked upon the calm beauty of the lake that mir 
 rored the cliffs, the pines, and the shores he had 
 loved so well, his countenance saddened, and he 
 bowed his head to his breast. With the last rem 
 nant of his tribe he was taking a farewell view of 
 the matchless valley which had been HOME. On 
 the shores of the lake his people had built their last 
 wigwams. From Ah-wah-nee the Americans were 
 to conduct him to a strip of land somewhere in the 
 San Joaquin Valley which the United States com 
 missioners had set aside for him and his people, 
 and from which it was intended they should never 
 depart. 
 
II 
 
 WAIFS OF THE SIERRAS 
 
 mismanagement characterized the ad- 
 vJT ministration of the reservations set aside for 
 the Indians of California in 1851. The " campaign 
 with flour," while effective in bringing in the tribes, 
 did not produce permanent good results. High prices 
 were demanded of the Indians for commodities in 
 tended for free distribution; choice lots were sold 
 at high rates to the miners ; in one instance, it was 
 shown that only two-thirds of a contract for beef 
 actually was delivered to the Indians for whom the 
 Government had purchased it. As the reservations 
 included several mineral belts and cut into valuable 
 agricultural lands coveted by settlers, vigorous pro 
 tests were sent to Washington, the objectors urg 
 ing that under the acquisition of California from 
 Mexico the natives had no inherent right to the 
 soil. Congress did not ratify the treaties, and the 
 Indians of great sections of California became 
 homeless waifs. Then followed the rapid advance 
 ment of the settlement of the valleys, marked every 
 where by an even more revolting treatment of the 
 natives. The land-grabbers, emboldened by Con 
 gressional repudiation of the treaties, began to 
 drive the Indians into the barren mountain districts 
 from homesteads which they had occupied for gen- 
 
 15 
 
16 By -Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 erations although, in most cases, either because of 
 their ignorance in such matters or because of their 
 position as non-citizens, they held no preemption 
 or title-deeds for the land. 
 
 From the spring of 1856 to the close of 1859 the 
 relentless driving of the Indians from their hunt 
 ing-, fishing-, and fruit-grounds was continued. In 
 most cases the Indians were helpless in the face 
 of the more resourceful opposition. They were not 
 the wards of the United States or of California. 
 They had no one to champion their cause. As the 
 counties could furnish white forces sufficiently 
 powerful to put down any local uprising, no ap 
 peals were sent to Washington for assistance as 
 were sent from the more sparsely settled portions 
 of the frontier. Consequently for the California 
 Indian, as a sequel of bad behavior, there was not 
 the fat ration and the protection of the reservation 
 as so frequently was the case when the savage 
 fighters of the plains broke from restraint and went 
 on the war-path. 
 
 Until within a dozen years ago there have been 
 remnants of the persecuted Indian tribes of the San 
 Joaquin Valley living in the remote canons and 
 pockets of the Sierras, like wild creatures of the 
 wilderness. Their food has consisted of acorns, in 
 sects, roots, and herbs and such game as they could 
 procure. Their homes have been huts or caves as 
 fortune decreed. With hardly any knowledge of 
 agriculture, and for the most part devoid of land, 
 schools, Christian guidance, or employment, they 
 have been shunned almost completely by the whites, 
 
Waifs of the Sierras 17 
 
 when not being exploited by unscrupulous traders 
 and bootleggers. 
 
 After suffering the loss of everything that made 
 for tribal happiness, the Mono, not an exception 
 among California Indians, became a wanderer in 
 the waste places with nothing to show for his con 
 tact with white men except a knowledge of their 
 vices and a craving for their red liquor, handicaps 
 to be added to the evil traits and practises pecu 
 liarly tribal in their viciousness and destroying 
 power. 
 
 Within the tribes the influence of the medicine 
 men was supreme and wholly bad. These avaricious 
 charlatans extracted large benefactions for their 
 " fandangos," their cry dances for the dead, and 
 their sorceries for the living. Possessing methods 
 of destroying those who did not subject themselves 
 to their will, or for whose death others were will 
 ing to pay the price in money or commodities, the 
 medicine-men held the Indians in their power, 
 through fear, for generation after generation. 
 Not until our missionaries came were the eyes of 
 the Indians opened to the fraud and cunning of 
 these tribal pests. Marriage had no religious sig 
 nificance; it was simply the occasion for the bar 
 tering of women for commodities desired by 
 scheming parents. 
 
 The demand for laborers in the grape harvest 
 brought a large number of Indians into Clovis dur 
 ing the summer of 1907. They were looked upon 
 as inferior help to be used only when better could 
 not be obtained. So degraded were those Indians 
 
18 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 that the majority of them yielded to their craving 
 for whisky after working a few days, the bootlegger 
 and the gambler gathering in their earnings. 
 There were four saloons open in town, and the In 
 dians had no trouble in getting whisky as long as 
 their money held out. Their drunken orgies fre 
 quently resulted in bloody frays and the nights were 
 made horrible by the barbarous chants of the par 
 ticipants in the weird gambling-game with sticks 
 known to nearly every Indian tribe in America. 
 
 One day a scene that no words can describe took 
 place on one of the business streets of the town. 
 A crowd of white men and boys surrounded a 
 drunken Indian woman and shamelessly made sport 
 of her unfortunate condition. Doubtless few indi 
 viduals in the crowd thought of the long chain of 
 events that had brought this hapless Indian to the 
 depths of degradation. How much of her misfor 
 tune was due to unfavorable contacts which genera 
 tions of her people had had with the white man's 
 civilization, no one can say. There chanced to pass 
 that way, however, a man who sensed keenly the 
 situation. We rejoice in the privilege of recording 
 here the name of Rev. W. C. Cook, at that time 
 pastor of the First Baptist Church of Clovis, Calif. 
 As he gazed upon that disgraceful spectacle this 
 question stirred his heart, " Can not something be 
 done for these Indians?" As there was no man 
 who could answer the question, there was the sure 
 hope that God could furnish one. The outcome of 
 the minister's prayers was the command from the 
 Father of all races, " Go and do what you can." 
 
Waifs of the Sierras 19 
 
 Mr. Cook found no rest until he made a move 
 in behalf of the Indians. He received a request 
 from J. W. Sharer to preach to the dozen or more 
 Indian grape-pickers on the latter's ranch. The 
 following Sunday afternoon, he accepted the invi 
 tation and although few of his sentences were 
 understood by the Indians, there being no inter 
 preter available, it may be said that the day was 
 epochal. This pastor has related how he looked 
 into the stoical faces of the Indians while he spoke 
 to them and obtained a vision of what should be 
 done for such benighted people. The vision he 
 later translated into these words: "A missionary 
 must come and live among these people and slowly, 
 patiently show them the way to Christ and the true 
 life. There is no short cut. It will take years, 
 perhaps decades, to do this. Only patient toil will 
 get them out of the mire." 
 
 Mrs. Mary H. Temple, a benevolent Presbyterian 
 woman of Clovis, at this critical time, arrived in 
 dependently at the same conclusion. The two con 
 ferred and decided to call a meeting of the people 
 of Clovis to discuss the possibility of doing some 
 thing for the Indians. At this public meeting held 
 in the local Baptist church, October 30, 1907, the 
 Clovis Indian Missionary Society was formed. This 
 later became merged into the Fresno County Indian 
 Association, an organization which was instru 
 mental in getting the Baptist denomination to 
 establish the first station for Mono Indians at 
 Auberry, Fresno County, Calif., with Miss Ida M. 
 Schofield as the first missionary. This was done in 
 c 
 
20 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 the spring of 1909. Six months later Miss Scho- 
 field was joined by Miss Emma C. Christensen. 
 Both were missionaries of the Woman's American 
 Baptist Home Mission Society, working under the 
 direction of the Northern California Baptist State 
 Convention. 
 
 The following summer, the pastor who had wit 
 nessed the pathetic street scene described above, 
 was given an experience which thrilled his soul and 
 gave him a new sense of the power of God to create 
 beauty from man-made wrecks. He said that about 
 dark one day, a Mono Indian came to the parsonage 
 to deliver a message from the missionaries at Au- 
 berry. The Indian could not return home that 
 night, and the hospitality of the parsonage was ex 
 tended. The quiet evening was spent in a one 
 sided conversation, during which the minister's 
 questions were answered by guttural monosyllables, 
 yet with a smiling countenance. Real fellowship 
 prevailed, the bond of union being their love for 
 the same blessed Jesus, for this Indian was one of 
 several recent converts at Auberry. 
 
 It came time to retire; the house became quiet. 
 Then suddenly, out of the stillness, the minister 
 heard a voice, a low, earnest voice, pleading in a 
 strange tongue. 
 
 In the adjoining room a Mono was bowed in 
 prayer. 
 
 The name of Jesus in the Mono tongue . . . then 
 distinctly the names of Miss Schofield, Miss Chris 
 tensen . . . the name of the minister in whose home 
 this Mono Indian had been given a bed for the 
 
Waifs of the Sierras 21 
 
 night ... a Mono asking God's blessing for his 
 white friends. . . 
 
 Up there in the rugged foothills of the Sierras 
 something had taken place during the year that 
 had passed. 
 
 
Ill 
 
 THE LITTLE MOTHER 
 
 THE stage scheduled to climb the mountain road 
 from Friant to Auberry, Calif., one afternoon in 
 the spring of 1909, was late in reaching the rail- 
 end. There were two passengers, both women, at 
 the little terminal station waiting for it. 
 
 Miss Ida M. Schofield, the first Baptist mission 
 ary appointed to work among the Mono Indians, 1 was 
 making her initial trip into the Sierras. Many 
 times had this little woman gone on long journeys 
 alone. As a missionary among the Indians of Ari 
 zona and Oklahoma, her work had taken her to 
 many remote districts on all sorts of mountain and 
 prairie roads and in all kinds of conveyances. She 
 was looking forward with cheerful anticipation to 
 the opening of the work in the new field. 
 
 The other prospective stage passenger was a 
 motherly-looking woman who quickly won Miss 
 Schofield's regard by her friendly attentions. 
 
 "May I ask where you are going?" asked the 
 Californian. 
 
 " I'm going to Auberry," replied the missionary. 
 
 " You don't tell me ! Now that's where I live. 
 What folks are you going to visit there? " 
 
 1 See table on pages 112 and 113 for statistical material with regard 
 to California Indian Missions. 
 
 22 
 
The Little Mother 23 
 
 " I am a missionary sent to work among the 
 Indians." 
 
 " But where are you going to live? " The moun 
 tain woman's questions were not inspired by mere 
 curiosity. She felt a real concern for the stranger, 
 for she knew that the one boarding-house at Au- 
 berry at that time afforded no accommodations for 
 women. " And did you expect to find a hotel at 
 Auberry ? " 
 
 " I heard of one being there." 
 
 " Well, you can't live at it. It will be dark when 
 we get to Auberry, so you'd better come home with 
 me. I don't know where else you can go." 
 
 The hospitality thus shown was extended to cover 
 more than one night; after searching three days 
 for a home among the whites, Miss Schofield was 
 obliged to give up the hunt as a fruitless task and 
 prevailed upon Mrs. H., her first acquaintance in 
 the Sierras, to keep her. 
 
 "You have a hopeless task cut out for you in 
 these mountains," said a white woman who had 
 refused to accept the missionary as a boarder. 
 
 "Why do you say hopeless?" Miss Schofield 
 asked. 
 
 " They have no souls. There is no use of your 
 staying among them." 
 
 Miss Schofield could not be daunted that way. 
 On the third day after her arrival she inquired at 
 the general store the trail to Rancheria Hill, the 
 nearest Indian settlement. Alone and on foot, she 
 started out in search of Indian homes. 
 
 The long, winding trail that led from the end of 
 
24 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 the stage line over the divide to the secluded places 
 where the Indians lived in their squalid huts was 
 steep and rough, but it should be named the Glory 
 Trail. Over this byway traveled one bearing the 
 Glad News to a benighted people who had reason 
 to look upon the whites as of no benefit to the Mono. 
 Yet this little woman won their hearts from the 
 first. She could not speak their language, and they 
 understood but a few words of hers, yet there is a 
 language of the heart understood by all races, in 
 all ages, and it was understood by those Mono men, 
 women, and children. Mr. Brendel, who later 
 came as a general missionary to the California In 
 dians, under appointment by the American Baptist 
 Home Mission Society and the Northern California 
 Baptist State Convention, gave a fair definition of 
 that language when he said, "They can see it in 
 your eyes." 
 
 A quiet, good humor which no hardship or dis 
 appointment could extinguish, a smile that was 
 never patronizing, and an abiding faith in Christ 
 these were the chief elements that made up the per 
 sonal equipment of this woman who did not hesi 
 tate to enter a strange field where there was not a 
 Christian among the Indians and where all were 
 ignorant of Jesus, our Saviour. For material 
 equipment she carried in a hand-bag some photo 
 graphs of Indians in Arizona and Oklahoma among 
 whom she had labored. The showing of them served 
 as an introduction. In the photographs the Mono 
 Indians saw this strange white woman sitting 
 among other Indians, and they were not slow to 
 
The Little Mother 25 
 
 catch the significance of it. They knew then that 
 she was a friend to all Indians. In the hand-bag 
 were colored pictures bearing on the life of Christ 
 and showing places in Bible lands. There was also 
 Miss Schofield's own Bible. 
 
 The first months of the ministry of this mission 
 ary to the Mono Indians were stormy ones. Nearly 
 every day during that spring it rained. Frequently 
 she was obliged to jump across streams of water 
 that rushed down the mountainsides. There were 
 many remote trails to follow, for the " Little 
 Mother" (Utumutse Tabea), as the Indians soon 
 learned to call her, had taken up her lonely task 
 in earnest and considered no home too distant or 
 inaccessible to visit. 
 
 She began by holding all-day meetings in Indian 
 homes and, when it grew warmer, under the trees. 
 The noonday meal was furnished by the family at 
 whose home the meeting was held, with acorn 
 mush as the principal Mono dish, with a generous 
 contribution of bread and coffee by the missionary. 
 From the beginning the attendance at these meet 
 ings was large. Sewing classes were conducted in 
 connection with them. 
 
 A few weeks after her arrival at the H. ranch 
 Miss Schofield transferred her abode to a rough 
 cabin owned by the same people. For sleeping 
 quarters she used a tent until the December rains 
 began. And in October, six months after she began 
 the work, the Little Mother was cheered by the 
 coming of Miss Emma C. Christensen, a brilliant 
 young woman whose consecration in behalf of the 
 
26 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 Mono forms one of the brightest chapters in the 
 history of the religious growth of the Baptist young 
 people of the San Joaquin Valley from whose ranks 
 she came. 
 
 In December the two missionaries became the 
 happy possessors of a 14 by 21 tent. And let us 
 not forget to record that the Hopi Indians in Ari 
 zona, among whom Miss Schofield had spent four 
 useful years, contributed ten dollars toward its pur 
 chase. A few benches and tables comprised its 
 furnishings. The Indians gladly gave consent to its 
 being set up on Rancheria Hill to serve as school- 
 house on week-days and meeting-house on Sundays. 
 Here began the first day-school for the Indians in 
 this remote district. 
 
 In the meantime Rev. W. C. Cook and Mr. Kel- 
 sey, special Indian agent, discovered a half-section 
 of land in Hudson Basin above Auberry that could 
 be purchased at a low figure. The government, 
 having in mind the needs of these destitute In 
 dians, bought the land and surveyed one hundred 
 acres into five-acre tracts to be allotted to the In 
 dians as home sites. A forty-acre ranch was se 
 cured for a mission station, the Baptist young peo 
 ple of the San Joaquin Valley paying for it. Upon 
 this land was an old house and a ramshackle barn. 
 
 When there are two to plan and work together 
 tasks are lighter and life is sweeter. To enrich this 
 record of Baptist home missionary achievement, 
 some happy personal accounts of the days which 
 these two women missionaries spent together in the 
 Sierras, are given in the next chapter. To obtain 
 
The Little Mother 27 
 
 them the mother of Miss Christensen made a trip 
 one day last winter to a ranch home where a bundle 
 of cherished letters lay at the bottom of a family 
 trunk. To select certain passages from these let 
 ters for use here has been a privilege and a joy. 
 
IV 
 HAND-IN-HAND IN MONOLAND 
 
 HER FIRST MONO SERVICE 
 
 October 4, 1909. 
 
 WE put the bread, coffee, and sugar in sacks 
 for the Indians and then studied awhile. At 
 ten o'clock we started up Rancheria Hill and met 
 our interpreter coming down with a pig which he 
 had sold to one of the white men who tries to gain 
 the best of the Indians every chance he gets. So 
 he is very kind to Miss Schofield. He is anxious to 
 keep on the good side of her ; and he is always very 
 pleasant to me. If he thinks he can buy us as 
 cheaply as that he is sorely mistaken. Miss Scho- 
 field will fight for the Indians. 
 
 We met at Mrs. John Wesley's home. She is 
 very nice and is one of the Indians who have pro 
 fessed Christ. She had her house nicely cleaned up. 
 There was an open fireplace where a kettle hung 
 with beans or cow-peas cooking for dinner; also a 
 kettle with water for the coffee we brought. 
 
 There were quite a number of women there, and 
 when we entered the room they began grunting, 
 laughing, and talking. They inspected everything 
 that I wore. When they see anything new, they 
 just laugh and laugh and think it all very funny. 
 28 
 
Hand-in-Hand in Monoland 29 
 
 Miss Schofield and I were given a seat on one 
 side of the room, and the women with their 
 papooses in their cradles, the men, and the children 
 sat on the floor, except Bill Sherman, our inter 
 preter, and a few others, who sat on benches. 
 
 Miss Schofield was very hoarse, so I led the sing 
 ing. We sang "Jesus Loves Me, This I Know," 
 " Oh, How I Love Jesus," and " Come to Jesus." 
 I prayed, and Miss Schofield read the parable of 
 the seed-sowing. She then gave them a little talk. 
 
 Sherman would sit like a statue and listen while 
 Miss Schofield spoke a few sentences. Then she 
 would stop, and he would translate. It's just like 
 talking to a phonograph. He doesn't look at the 
 people at all. He stares straight ahead all the time. 
 We talk it into him, and then he talks it out. 
 
 We then sang some more songs and had dinner. 
 They spread an oilcloth on the floor, put some plates 
 around, and dished up the beans and coffee. The 
 bread was cut and put into a big pan set in the 
 middle. They fixed a place for us at a table Miss 
 Schofield had helped John Wesley to build. You 
 should hear her tell of the process. We ate some 
 of their beans too. (Note: That is the way to win 
 the heart of a Mono.) 
 
 After all had eaten, the dishes were cleared away 
 and the floor swept. Then we had meeting again. 
 I read the story of the Prodigal Son and talked 
 awhile. It isn't what anybody would call easy to 
 talk through a phonograph in little bits at a time. 
 After singing some more, our meeting was brought 
 to a close. 
 
30 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 Miss Schofield is so jolly 
 
 Well, we have been over to Hudson Basin to see 
 the new mission grounds. It is way down deep, 
 with two great hills on either side. There is a 
 spring there. The house has been abandoned so 
 long it looks just awful. Dirty, full of holes, and 
 windowless. The rats and fleas just run the place. 
 
 THE FIRST MONO PRAYER 
 
 October 11, 1909. 
 
 I guess Mrs. H. has decided to let us stay in the 
 cabin on her place. We pay her five dollars a month 
 now. She won't say that it is a permanent arrange 
 ment, but Mr. H. has moved the hen-house up to 
 be our wood-shed and has hauled three cords of 
 wood into it for us, so we think they must be ex 
 pecting us to stay. They are so good to us. 
 
 We had a fine meeting yesterday. I led in the 
 morning and Miss Schofield (Mother) in the after 
 noon. We had a fine dinner. Chicken stew (you 
 didn't have that!), beans, squash, bread, and coffee. 
 
 After dinner Mother told them about some of the 
 work for the other tribes, then gave a talk on the 
 call of Abraham. 
 
 " Now I think the Christians ought to pray or say 
 a word for Jesus," she said at the close. " Some 
 day you will have a church, and then you will have 
 to talk." 
 
 You ought to have seen Sherman's face! It 
 beamed like the sun when Mother said they would 
 have a church. Then what do you think he asked? 
 
A Mono Madonna. 
 
Hand-in-Hand in Monoland 31 
 
 " Must you close your eyes? " Eagerly he sought 
 to do just right. 
 
 He sat awhile and then got up and said some 
 thing. Julia (Mrs. John Wesley) followed; then 
 Sherman's mother, daughter, and wife each said 
 something. We could not understand, but we knew 
 the spirit of God was there. Mother then told Sher 
 man to pray. Some laughed, but he prayed. What 
 wouldn't we have given to have understood it ! You 
 should have seen our dear Julia's face. A person 
 can't help loving her. I always feel we ought to 
 call her our Jewel. 
 
 A SHIRT EACH FOR JULIA'S BOYS 
 
 November 4, 1909. 
 
 Yes, I got back to the mission safely. I had a 
 good long wait in Polasky from eight until half- 
 past twelve but I read three " Christian Heralds " 
 through and watched a man ride a mad broncho 
 the rest of the time. Mother had supper waiting 
 for me. 
 
 Mr. Cook says he can't get us any money for 
 our school, so I guess we will have to buy another 
 tent ourselves in which to hold our meetings, and 
 lumber to make benches and a floor. I will write 
 to Niels (a brother) to come up and help us so we 
 won't have to pay a man for doing the work. 
 
 We went to work and fixed up the cabin a little ; 
 as the signs are, we will make this our winter quar 
 ters. We have curtained off our beds and made 
 some closets for our clothes. 
 
32 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 Yesterday we went visiting and sewed a shirt 
 each for Julia's two little boys. She was not at 
 home, but we got her father to unlock her machine 
 for us so that we could sew. He went away and 
 left us with the house, which shows that he trusts 
 us. He was very pleased with the shirts. 
 
 "When you come again?" he asked. 
 
 " Friday, maybe," said Mother. 
 
 "Alrighty, then me gal come back. He here 
 when you come back." 
 
 Julia's children are beginning to jabber Indian 
 to us. 
 
 AN INDIAN'S EYES ARE OPENED 
 
 November 19, 1909. 
 
 Sherman has come home from the convention in 
 Oakland. And happy! His eyes have been opened. 
 He has discovered that not all whites are bad. He 
 is going to be our back-bone. He Will put up the 
 meeting tent on Rancheria Hill. 
 
 THE FIRST GOSPEL MEETING FOR THE SYCAMORE 
 INDIANS 
 
 December 7, 1909. 
 
 We have held our first meeting at Sycamore, 
 about twenty miles from Auberry. What a time 
 we did have! We left here early Saturday morn 
 ing with every indication of a fine day. Sherman 
 drove his team, and Marvine, another Indian, went 
 along. When we got to Bur rough Valley it was 
 raining hard. The Indian homes were away up on 
 
Hand-in-Hand in Monoland 33 
 
 the hillsides and it was impossible to reach them 
 that night. So we stopped at the home of a white 
 man, married to an Indian squaw. He would take 
 us in all right, but would not let Sherman and Mar- 
 vine inside, even to eat of the food we bought, be 
 cause they were Indians. But they got a place to 
 stay. 
 
 We started out to make some visits at the nearest 
 homes, but could not cross the creek which was 
 running banks full. So we remained until Sunday. 
 
 How it did rain during the night and snow! 
 The ranchman would not let us have a meeting for 
 the Indians in his house, so we had to go into an 
 old empty cabin across the creek that no one had 
 lived in for years. It had no doors or windows. 
 Mother and I could not cross the creek until we had 
 thrown into the stream a lot of big rocks. We had 
 no dry wood with which to build a fire, but man 
 aged somehow to get one started. A few Indians 
 came and sat about us on the floor, and we had a 
 little meeting. 
 
 How good our little shanty seemed when we got 
 home! 
 
 OLD CAPTAIN JACK LOOSENS UP 
 
 December 17, 1909. 
 
 Still our tent does not come. But yesterday we 
 had a meeting in an Indian home close by and had 
 a real good time in spite of the fact that we had 
 told everybody to bring their own dinners. You 
 know so far the noonday meal has been furnished 
 by the family at whose home the meeting was held, 
 
34 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 and we have been afraid many came just for the 
 eats. But, no sir! they all came just the same 
 and brought their dinners. So we are very much 
 encouraged. And old Captain Jack came too, and 
 invited us to come to his house next Sunday. That 
 certainly made us feel good. Everybody had on 
 their Sunday best and looked real nice. God is 
 hearing our prayers for this people. 
 
 If only they would stop drinking! 
 
 (In the meantime the long looked-for tent ar 
 rived.) 
 
 AND THIS FROM THE "LITTLE MOTHER" 
 
 The first Christmas celebration for the Mono In 
 dians in California was held December 29, 1910, in 
 our gospel tent on Rancheria Hill. Early in the 
 morning a half-breed came driving up to our door 
 with a team of four horses hitched to a big lumber- 
 wagon to haul the Christmas boxes to the tent, and 
 the Indians came up to feast their eyes on the 
 FIRST CHRISTMAS-TREE they had ever seen. 
 
 Under the tree we had large sacks of dried fruit, 
 one for each family, with smaller bags filled with 
 candy, enough for every one. 
 
 At eleven in the morning, the women and chil 
 dren came inside and sat upon the floor around the 
 tree and sang gospel hymns, and then listened to a 
 Bible Christmas lesson. At noon they scattered 
 about in family groups, eating the lunch they had 
 brought with them. 
 
 In the afternoon we had the distribution of pres 
 ents. For the babies we had blankets, quilts, hoods, 
 
o 
 

Hand~in-Hand in Monoland 35 
 
 rattles, and dresses. For the little girls we had 
 dolls, ribbons, and dresses. The small boys were 
 made happy with a top or marbles, or some other 
 toy, all tied up in a red handkerchief; also scrap- 
 books. For women there were work-bags, contain 
 ing a sewing outfit and an apron. Men, young and 
 old, received handkerchiefs, neckties, mufflers, and 
 ribbons. 
 
 The Auberry Indians and the Jose Basin Indians 
 were all there. As yet we have not had Christmas 
 for the Indians of Burrough Valley (Sycamore). 
 
 Our gospel tent is 14 by 21 feet. We women 
 bought it ourselves, also lumber for a floor and a 
 two-foot wall. The Second Mesa Hopi Church sent 
 ten dollars toward paying for the tent, and a woman 
 in Mendocino, Calif., gave ten dollars, so it is partly 
 paid for. We are glad to have our own tent to 
 meet in. All summer we met under the trees and 
 arbors, until they could no longer shelter us from 
 the rains. 
 
 Our attendance each Lord's Day is fine. Interest 
 good. Indians bring their own lunch. One Indian 
 gave some wood for our school, and said when we 
 wanted more to let him know. 
 
 We teach school four days each week from nine 
 until two o'clock. The children come looking clean, 
 hair nicely combed, and bringing lunch. They like 
 the school, even if it is held in a tent. They even 
 come on stormy days and are so happy. We be 
 lieve our school will help us to reach the parents 
 of the children. They think we are really trying 
 to do something for them. Some have taken the 
 
 D 
 
36 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 Jesus road. Others are given to strong drink and 
 need our prayers and sympathy. 
 
 KEEPING UP WITH ANTON 
 (The story is continued by Miss Christensen.) 
 
 March 4, 1910. 
 
 Well, Friday is here once more, and it has been 
 a very, very, busy, full day. This morning I cooked 
 and swept before going to school. At noon we 
 heard that a man living quite a distance up the 
 mountain was dying. So we dismissed the children 
 and walked over there, taking the trails, mountain 
 roads, flooded creeks, and rocks as they came. 
 When we got out on one of the trails we came upon 
 a band of Indians going to see the sick man too. 
 
 I wish you could have seen the procession. It 
 was headed by Anton, an old Indian who is one of 
 the hardest characters in our charge. And he was 
 sweating. My, the speed with which he was going! 
 Ahead of Anton ran his little boy, wearing a pair 
 of pants twice his size and strapped up with an 
 old piece of harness. His wife, a fierce old woman, 
 trotted behind at full speed, the rags of her skirt 
 just going back and forth as fast as you please. 
 
 Next came a little boy carrying a bag of bed 
 ding; then two women with youngsters on their 
 backs. 
 
 We were too late to point out to the dying man 
 the way of the Cross, I am afraid. Oh, it was so 
 hard to look at him and think perhaps in a few 
 hours he would be gone! We talked to him in the 
 
Hand-in-Hand in Monoland 37 
 
 hope that he might catch a few words, prayed and 
 sang. It was wonderful to see how pleased the 
 Indians were because we came, and how soft and 
 sweet their faces were in the presence of death. 
 
 When we started home the Indians did too, every 
 one, even the wicked old Indian and his fierce wife. 
 And didn't they go flying! Well, you never have 
 seen any one walk until you have seen an Indian. 
 We kept up with the whole batch. We walked al 
 most steady for four hours after half a day in the 
 school and feel fine. 
 
 It is very hot in the sun or in the tent, but oh! 
 it is beautiful. 
 
 THE OLD THINGS KEPT GOING ROUND AND ROUND 
 
 May 20, 1910. 
 
 You should see my new riding-hat ! It is a Mexi 
 can affair with two large, dark-blue tassels. When 
 I get that on and my riding-skirt and mount my 
 marvelous gray steed, you just ought to see me. 
 
 We had our first ride on our burros today, and 
 didn't we have a circus! But we are not going to 
 give up, because we must use these animals on our 
 mission calls. 
 
 First, they didn't want to go across the bridge 
 right in front of Fennels, so I had to get off and 
 lead them. Then when we got in front of the store, 
 there had to be a lot of men there looking on. The 
 old things (I mean burros) just wouldn't move; we 
 couldn't make them budge a step. So off I came 
 again and tried and tried, but no, sir, Mother had 
 
38 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 to get off too. We both tried and tried; we boxed 
 their ears, we coaxed them and pulled on the 
 bridles, but no, sir! And not one of them (I mean 
 men) lifted a finger to help us. 
 
 Finally we got started, pulled the burros up the 
 hill, and when we got out of sight we mounted and 
 rode over to Gripspy's, but when we were ready to 
 start home, I thought we would never get on the 
 animals. They just kept going round and round. 
 But we got on at last. We didn't dismount at the 
 next place, I tell you! We did our visiting on the 
 burros' backs. 
 
 Well, when we neared home and it came time to 
 get off and put down the bars in front of Mr. H.'s 
 ranch-house, I got off, but the old donkey wouldn't 
 stand until I could put the bars up again. So I 
 had to leave them down. We were thankful when 
 we got home. 
 
 Those little beasts will just have to come to 
 terms, for we are going to ride them. 
 
 OVER THE RIDGE TO COLD SPRINGS 
 
 June 23, 1910. 
 
 Our trip to Cold Springs was the roughest one 
 we have made yet. For seven miles there simply 
 was no road, not even a half-way excuse for an 
 Indian trail, and that is saying a good deal, for 
 Indian trails may be found anywhere. It's twenty- 
 five miles to Cold Springs, and half of the way is 
 climb, climb, and the other half is down, down. The 
 rains have washed the roads away. Where roads 
 
Hand~in-Hand in Monoland 39 
 
 should have been were ditches with sides overgrown 
 with brush. 
 
 Of course we had to walk, and what a time the 
 poor horses had trying to get a footing! We ex 
 pected to see one of them fall any minute or the 
 wagon tip over and break. But nothing happened 
 going over. 
 
 There were about twenty-seven to the meeting. 
 One old man seemed very interested. He just hung 
 about Sherman, our interpreter, all day, his face so 
 happy I wonder if he didn't accept Jesus right then 
 and there. 
 
 Next morning we got up about three-thirty and 
 traveled quite a distance before sunrise. When we 
 came to the worst place, the horses simply couldn't 
 get a foothold and fell into the ditch that was once 
 a road. One animal stepped with his sharp shoe 
 on the leg of the other and cut it some, but not seri 
 ously. Sherman unhitched, and we helped him pull 
 the wagon over. Up to the next bad stretch he and 
 I went ahead and broke brush and threw it into the 
 ditch while Mother stood guard over the team. 
 
 So in time we climbed over the ridge. It is just 
 lovely up there; such a fine, cool breeze and such 
 beautiful trees. 
 
 THERE WERE OTHER TENTS 
 
 October 5, 1910. 
 
 Sherman says S. is drunk all the time. He earns 
 about four bits and then drinks. John Burroughs 
 was at meeting last Sunday, much to my surprise 
 
40 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 and delight. I think John will come out into the 
 light soon. 
 
 I have been alone several nights, Mother having 
 gone to Clovis to attend to some business about the 
 mission. Mrs. H. worried about me, but there was 
 no use of that. I was not afraid at all. Always 
 slept the whole night in one long sleep. Why 
 should I be afraid when "the Lord encampeth 
 round about them that fear him," and " He gives 
 his loved ones sleep "? 
 
 ON THE DUNLAP TRAIL 
 
 October 21, 1910. 
 
 Our Dunlap trip is over, and we are at home in 
 our harness again. Leaving bright and early Mon 
 day morning, we were gone almost four days. The 
 first night we camped about twelve miles from 
 Dunlap, having traveled nearly forty miles that 
 day. We could find no place to camp near water, 
 so where we stopped there was neither house nor 
 spring-water within miles of us. We had bought 
 some corn at a Chinaman's garden, so we roasted 
 the ears in the fire and ate tomatoes which Mrs. H. 
 had given us, to quench our thirst. 
 
 After supper Sherman, our interpreter, told us 
 Indian stories and, after reading and prayer, we 
 went to bed on the ground with the blue sky dotted 
 with stars as our roof. We had quite a time keep 
 ing the horses from walking right over us. 
 
 A little while after we went to bed several loads 
 of young people went by and hollered, " Hello for 
 
Hand-in-Hand in Monoland 41 
 
 the shiveree ! " So we knew that they must be on 
 their way to Centerville. 
 
 " You just see, they'll be funny when they come 
 back," I told Mother. 
 
 Sure enough, some time in the night I awoke, 
 and they were just shooting one shot after another 
 into the air and yelling like madmen. If they had 
 expected us to get up and run, they were disap 
 pointed. We did not stir. I did want to see where 
 they were sending those shots, but we decided to 
 lie still and let them have their fun. 
 
 Somehow, one feels so secure and serene out there 
 under the blue sky; it seems as if God were more 
 real when you can see the stars over you. 
 
 We got up and started off without breakfast as 
 we could not make coffee without water. After 
 driving about six miles we stopped beside a spring 
 for breakfast. Got to the Indians somewhere 
 around ten that day. Visited during the day and 
 had a meeting in the evening. There were about 
 twenty-five out. Had a real good meeting. The 
 people listened so well I just loved to talk to them. 
 They grunted like they do in Indian stories. I 
 wish our Indians would do that we would know 
 then that they were listening. 
 
 That was the wettest dry night I ever slept out 
 in. The dew was so heavy that our quilts were 
 just wet, and the only place that was dry on my 
 pillow was where my head lay. We hung our beds 
 out to dry while eating breakfast. After that we 
 packed up, but instead of starting for home at six, 
 we stayed at the request of these Dunlap Indians 
 
42 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 who wanted another meeting, bless their hearts! 
 So we had a meeting at half -past eight and were 
 on our way homeward at ten. 
 
 The Indians out there do not drink much, send 
 some of their children to the district school, and 
 have quite a good deal of land fenced in. I think 
 they are real nice. The women seemed willing to 
 talk to you. There are about eighty within five 
 miles. Then there are several living farther back 
 and also another tribe over the ridge. 
 
 We were tired when we got home yesterday, but 
 we washed and scrubbed our tent floor after dinner. 
 Today we have been doing our first cleaning on 
 the Hudson place. Oh, you can't think how it looks ! 
 I wish we could have some one like John Hoen to 
 come here and spend a week just clearing up brush 
 and stuff. 
 
 We hope by next week to go over there in the 
 basin and put up our tent near the house and live 
 in that until the house is fixed. 
 
 ALONE IN HUDSON BASIN 
 
 October 31, 1910. 
 
 Well, here we are all moved and partly settled. 
 We were here all alone four nights and not a per 
 son in sight for many long miles, and a big moun 
 tain between us and civilization; but we were all 
 safe. It seems so good to lie down and know that 
 the Lord encampeth round about them that fear 
 him. We thought we would be awful lonely, but 
 we were not so at all. It really seemed a relief 
 
Hand-in-Hand in Monoland 43 
 
 to be out of the vision of everybody for awhile. 
 Not an Indian came to see us. But when it came 
 Saturday we really wanted to see some one. We 
 have decided to get Sherman to come over here and 
 live at the Hudson place and put up a kitchen for 
 ourselves to cook in and put a roof over our tent 
 and live that way this winter. It would be camp 
 ing sure enough, but we would be at home. 
 
 You ought to have been here one night. We had 
 a jolly time, I tell you. I do not know how long 
 I had been asleep when Mother came to my bed 
 and shook me and told me to be still. It scared me 
 and my arms got so that I just couldn't feel them. 
 My body was so soundly asleep I couldn't wake it up. 
 
 Pretty soon I woke up enough to ask Mother 
 what was the matter. 
 
 " I think there's some one trying to untie the 
 tent-ropes." 
 
 We both listened and decided that it must be 
 field rats. 
 
 I was getting ready to go to sleep again when 
 the tent floor began to heave and shake. Right 
 under my bed was a hog scraping his back against 
 the two-by-four scantling that held up the floor. 
 Bump, bump, and thud ! The Indians let their hogs 
 run wild in the mountains. Then a coyote began 
 to howl right back of the house. Mother put her 
 head out of the door and tried to yell louder than 
 the coyote and finally scared it off. So between 
 the antics of all the different wild animals we had 
 a pretty restless night. Sunday was the next day, 
 too the day we need to feel so good ; but it could 
 
44 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 not be helped, as rats, hogs, and coyotes do not 
 keep Sunday. 
 
 Mrs. H. has given me a gun, and I keep it at the 
 head of my bed, but don't you tell any one that I 
 do not know how to use it. I mean to learn. Some 
 time we may be left here, and I mean to have some 
 kind of a weapon. Not that I think anything would 
 hurt us, but maybe I would get a bear some time. 
 
 Sunday all our Indians came to the meeting, and 
 the tent was packed. You just cannot think how 
 much some of the Indians have grown since the 
 mission was started. When they come back from 
 the grape vineyards they bring new buggies, horses, 
 flour, and something to make their homes more 
 comfortable. We are so glad. It seems so good to 
 know they are beginning to have an interest in 
 something aside from whisky and card-playing. 
 
 Today (Monday) Sherman and his family moved 
 over and are here near us in the Hudson placa He 
 brought some deer meat, so we had fresh deer for 
 supper. Was good. It is very, very dark when 
 raw and almost black when cooked. The day after 
 tomorrow we are going over to our old home and 
 make some bread. Mrs. H. has promised to make 
 some yeast for us. You cannot imagine how good 
 she is to us. 
 
 " MAYBE, So BEAR UP THERE " 
 DEAR OSWALD: October 26, 1910. 
 
 How is the boy who was going to build a house 
 for me, and give me a silk stove when he grows 
 
Hand-in-Hand in Monoland 45 
 
 up? Well, now is just the time I need a stove very 
 much. Not a silk one though. 'Fraid it would 
 make too awful hot a fire for the big pine right 
 over our kitchen, but we certainly do need one very 
 much. You know we have been using Mrs. H.'s 
 stove, but now that we have moved we do not have 
 anything but a little camp-stove. 
 
 When you get to be a farmer, doctor, preacher, 
 or missionary, I may need that house, and you may 
 need a housekeeper, and you can fulfil some of your 
 promises. I know that you will fulfil them well, 
 even though you do not do it in just the way you 
 used to describe to me. A boy with a strong body, 
 a good home, and Jesus in his heart to keep it clean, 
 is always bound to make good his promises. 
 
 How I wish you could come up here and help us 
 clean up our fireplace. We are having a roof put 
 over our tent and the kitchen part of the house 
 fixed up. The house is several times worse than 
 the old cabin we lived in. The underpinning is 
 nearly all gone. The roof is very poor. The 
 porches are ready to tumble down. The floors in 
 some places were not safe to walk on until Mr. H. 
 put in several new boards. Some of the windows 
 are broken, but they are fixing the kitchen up pretty 
 well, and our little tent is just fine almost as nice 
 as the silver house you were going to build for me. 
 Oh, my dear boy, when we get into that we will 
 keep comfortable and warm, and just think, there 
 will not be any windows where Indians can look 
 through, yet we will have plenty of light. 
 
 But don't think we are going to suffer. If we 
 
46 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 only had a well. The Indians are always dipping 
 their dirty pails into the spring, and pretty soon 
 the creek will begin to run and it will come from 
 a man's pigpen above us and run right into our 
 spring. 
 
 We have made a general attack with rakes, hoes, 
 brooms, and a mop, the Indians helping us. Now 
 the trouble is to get our household goods over the 
 hill. Sherman has gone back into the mountains 
 to hunt horses, and no one knows when he will be 
 back. Now if we were like some of the Indians 
 all we would have to do is just throw our frying- 
 pan in the back of the wagon, climb in ourselves, 
 and there we are all moved ! 
 
 Yesterday Indian Joe came over. He sat and 
 looked at the rocky hill back of the house. 
 
 " What do you see, Joe? " I asked. 
 
 " Maybe so bear up there ; too much rock." 
 
 " All right," I said. " I will get a gun and learn 
 to shoot." 
 
 Joe laughed. 
 
 Never mind, Oasy, if I ever kill a bear, you will 
 be invited to the feast. Now good night, and may 
 God keep you and bless you and make you a strong, 
 good man. 
 
 (The following summer Mr. Roach, pastor of the 
 First Baptist Church, Selma, Calif., and several 
 brethren from that church began rebuilding the old 
 ranch-house. They gave their time without charge, 
 as did Mr. Jolley, of Del Key, the representative 
 of the young people of the San Joaquin Valley, who 
 looked after the cementing of the spring.) 
 
Hand-in-Hand in Monoland 47 
 
 No SURRENDER 
 
 November 19, 1910. 
 
 Some of the mountain whites are working against 
 us, but not us after all. It is Jesus they are oppos 
 ing, and he will make things come out all right 
 somehow. He always does. 
 
 Twenty-one of our Indians have been baptized 
 by Doctor Brinstad just one and a half years after 
 the work opened. The Lord certainly has done far 
 above all we could ask or think. 
 
 There is going to be another "fandango." It 
 will be hard for the Christians to keep straight 
 when members of their families go. But Jesus can 
 help them, and we know he will. 
 
 (The fandango is a general gathering of the 
 pagan Indians to engage in old ceremonies under 
 the leadership of the medicine-men. Wild dancing, 
 feasting, drinking, and gambling, and indescribable 
 immoralities are indulged in. Powerful medicine 
 men from other tribes have been sent occasionally 
 to try to draw the Mono Indians from the Jesus 
 road.) 
 
 MORE SUNSHINE THAN SHADOW 
 
 December 20, 1910. 
 
 Dick B., our junior deacon, has started to school. 
 He learned his letters and read three pages today; 
 also did some long problems in addition and sub 
 traction. How is that for a beginner? Henry is 
 terribly disconcerted over the multiplication tables. 
 
48 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 He is doing fine work, though. George H. is tus 
 sling hard with subtraction. He is the tall, lanky 
 fellow, towering way above me. 
 
 "It's too much for me!" he said when I asked 
 him if it was hard. (Special emphasis upon much 
 and me y uttered in a long-drawn sigh.) 
 
 Poor George! So many things are too much for 
 him, but I hope I may be able to help him to be 
 too much for a few things that are now getting the 
 better of him. 
 
 A hundred long addition problems to correct 
 every night and then make enough work for four 
 teen pupils next day; some one at recess to drill 
 nearly every day. So many helpless ones. But, 
 how I do love my " chilluns " ! After all, there are 
 more bright things than dark. 
 
 Mother calls me Pata now; that is our Indians' 
 word for daughter. 
 
 STILL THERE 
 
 December 28, 1910. 
 
 Captain Jack, the leading Indian here, rarely 
 comes to the meetings now. Sherman said that he 
 climbs to the top of the hill and looks down on us 
 while we are in the meeting and says : " Oh, I see 
 they are still there. They haven't gone up yet. 
 They are always talking about going to heaven, 
 but I see they haven't gone yet." 
 
 Poor old Captain Jack ! I am afraid that he won't 
 be ready to go up with us unless he changes his 
 life some. 
 
Hand-in-Hand in Monoland 49 
 
 To A CLASS OF GIRLS 
 
 March 2, 1911. 
 
 How much I should love to see you tonight and 
 have a little talk with you all. It would be quite a 
 treat, but since I cannot see you face to face we 
 will have a visit on paper. I want to thank you so 
 much for the nice quilts you sent us for our babies. 
 You may be sure they felt good to the little ones 
 who must sleep on the floors these cold winter 
 nights. We have had a good deal of snow, and of 
 course it makes it very cold in poor Indians' houses 
 where there are cracks all over and no ceilings to 
 prevent heat from the fireplace going right out 
 through the poor roofs. I pray the Lord will bless 
 you all and make each one of you earnest mission 
 ary girls in your own church. Our church is our 
 mission field until the Master calls us to fill some 
 other place for him. Believe me, girls, missionary 
 life is made up of doing a great many little things. 
 Very interesting things do happen sometimes, but 
 mostly it is a quiet life of doing little things. The 
 place to begin to learn how to do work for Jesus 
 is right in our own church and home. 
 
 ACCORDING TO THE TEACHINGS OF THE BOOK 
 
 June 4, 1911. 
 
 He has surrendered at last! Who? Why, Henry 
 of course. Oh, it seems too good to be true! The 
 fight is lost for Satan again, and there has once 
 
50 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 more been joy among the angels of God over one 
 sinner who has repented. Yes, and not only one. 
 
 Last Sunday I felt impelled to give the invitation 
 for any to rise who wished to become Christians, 
 but there were so many white people there and so 
 many things have happened when we have given 
 the invitation that we decided not to, but I did not 
 feel just right about it. Well, today I felt the same 
 way, so I gave the invitation, and who do you sup 
 pose was first? Why, old Madam, who is almost 
 blind. She is about one hundred years old. Then 
 the wife of Lee, the Chinaman, rose, and next a 
 fine young woman from Jose Basin, and next Hiram 
 Wesley, who once before said he "would no more 
 drink whisky, but all time pray now." Well, he has 
 just been married, and I guess he has a desire to 
 begin over again. I wish you would ask the church 
 to pray for him that he may not fall again. 
 
 Well, then wonders began! Jesse, the awful, 
 obstreperous boy who broke his leg, rose next. He 
 is Hiram's brother. Then Copeland, another of my 
 dear boys, and next our hard case Henry. Oh, 
 God does hear and answer prayer! That was not 
 all. Alpheus, a hard old sinner, and Charlie Blasen- 
 game rose too. But they rose as though it were 
 fun. I do not know just what to think of them. 
 But God knows. Oh, do pray that Hiram, Jesse, 
 and Copeland will be strong, because they will have 
 a hard time. In all there were fifteen who rose. 
 
 Henry was so happy his face was wholly trans 
 formed. Satan has had a hard time giving him up. 
 Surely God must have a work for him to do. And 
 
Hand-in-Hand in Monoland 51 
 
 now you must pray for Stronbeck, Anton, the two 
 half-breeds at Burrough Valley, George Besen and 
 Bill Hancock, and also Bill's two sisters. 
 
 They have been accusing us of having the good 
 people saved and throwing the bad ones to the devil. 
 Well, Sherman gave them one of his famous talks 
 yesterday. He just told them that we did not throw 
 any one to the devil, we taught them according to 
 the teachings of the Book, that they would have to 
 decide for themselves whether they wanted to go 
 to the devil or not. 
 
 E 
 
V 
 
 BREAKING NEW TRAILS 
 
 JOSEPH G. BRENDEL, general missionary to 
 *J California Indians, was making his first trip to 
 the Cold Springs Indians. Deep into the wilder 
 ness he journeyed, finding trails almost too steep 
 and rough for travel in a two-horse wagon, as they 
 were narrow and sidling and frequently so guttered 
 by successive spring freshets as to resemble ditches 
 rather than roads. Sometimes the wagon nearly 
 tipped over ; sometimes the drop was so sudden that 
 Brendel and his interpreter were nearly thrown 
 headlong upon the horses. The dip down the east 
 ern slope of the divide that separates Sycamore 
 Basin from the beautiful Burrough Valley defied 
 description. It was a road to forgotten men a 
 Mono Indian trail. It led beyond the edge of civili 
 zation. When it reached the bottom of the slope it 
 meandered across a grassy meadow to Sycamore 
 Creek, where it ended abruptly. Across the creek 
 there was no wagon-road, nothing but bridle-paths. 
 On all sides rose the steep mountain walls that sent 
 shadows across the basin in midafternoon. A 
 silence, intensified by the soft murmur of the creek, 
 fell about the gospel adventurers. Quietly and with 
 a deftness born of many years spent in open places, 
 the two began to make camp. 
 52 
 
Breaking New Trails 53 
 
 Word had been carried to the Indians living far 
 back in the mountains that the missionary would 
 meet them beneath the big sycamore near the creek, 
 and before dark several families of them came down 
 the trails. 
 
 In God's first temple! With the stars shining 
 through the branches of the towering sycamore, a 
 service was held that night. By the time the moon 
 had risen above the protecting hills, the women and 
 children had retired to their beds. About the mis 
 sionary's camp-fire the men gathered and late into 
 the night listened to the man for whose coming 
 they had been waiting. In low voices they spoke 
 in answer to Brendel's many questions. They told 
 of their poor homes in the remote places, of sum 
 mer wanderings to the sheep-shearing camps and 
 to the harvest-fields, of the fall harvest of acorns, 
 of fishing and hunting trips, of hunger and cold 
 during many winters, of the ravages of disease, of 
 drunken brawls, and of the schemes of the boot 
 leggers. 
 
 The fire had burned low when the missionary 
 finally was left to himself. He walked out from 
 beneath the trees to a point where he could see the 
 camp-fires gleaming in the semidarkness along the 
 creek bank. A wonderful peace descended upon 
 him after his long day's work. To this neglected 
 people he had come as a stranger, but he felt at home 
 among them, knowing that the Father of all races 
 looked down in his protecting love. The eagerness 
 with which his words had been received was a fore 
 taste of many precious experiences he was to have 
 
54 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 as a bearer of the Glad News. And, out there be 
 neath the stars, he began evolving the plan for the 
 moral and social redemption of this destitute band. 
 
 The following day was Sunday and, shortly after 
 sunrise, the mountainsides awoke to life as the In 
 dians in greater numbers came down the trails to 
 meet the man who had called them from their re 
 treats in the canons east of the high mesa above 
 the creek. They came singly, they came in twos 
 and threes, they came in larger groups some on 
 foot and some on horseback. Many brought their 
 camping outfits, others rolls of bedding. Men and 
 children, women carrying their papooses they 
 came from all directions to gather under the great 
 sycamore and hear the gospel story. 
 
 Representing different societies, yet in heartiest 
 accord, Brendel and the women missionaries had 
 planned the work in behalf of all neglected tribes 
 within their vast territory, Early they had agreed 
 upon a definite goal and sought the cooperation of 
 the Commissioner of Indian Affairs and the local 
 authorities in matters of law enforcement and edu 
 cation. This goal, briefly stated, included an allot 
 ment of land for every Mono family on which to 
 build a home ; a common school education for every 
 Mono child; employment for every able-bodied 
 Mono, man or woman, in the vineyards and orchards 
 of the San Juan Valley; a chapel in every Mono 
 settlement. 
 
 Brendel climbed the mountain trails east of Syca 
 more Creek and made his way to the remote canons 
 and gulches in search of every inhabited Indian hut 
 
Breaking New Trails 55 
 
 and shanty. He found poverty and wretchedness 
 indescribable. He made a census of all Indian chil 
 dren of school age in addition to his other surveys. 
 The thoroughness of his work and the spirit under 
 lying his methods are clearly revealed in one of his 
 first letters to Washington, D. C., setting forth his 
 discoveries and recommendations. We cannot do 
 better than quote this letter in full : 
 
 TOLL HOUSE, CALIF., FEB. 3, 1914. 
 
 Honorable Commissioner of Indian Affairs, 
 Washington, D. C. 
 
 DEAR SIR: 
 
 I wish to lay before you the conditions and needs of the 
 Cold Springs Indians. This band lives near Burrough Valley, 
 in Fresno County, Calif. The band numbers one hundred 
 and nineteen, there being eighty-one adults and thirty-eight 
 children. Twenty-seven children are of school age, and four 
 more will be of school age by the opening of another school 
 year. Most of these Indians live back in the mountains and 
 it is impossible to get to their places with a wagon. They 
 are scattered over a large territory. Most of them have 
 little allotments, but not more than half a dozen families 
 raise anything on their land. Where they have ground that 
 would produce anything, they have no water with which to 
 irrigate their crops. Their living depends entirely upon the 
 men finding work in the settlements. 
 
 Last May I opened up a mission among them. They are 
 making rapid strides in civilization and good citizenship. 
 They are constantly begging for a school for their children. 
 Therefore, I make this appeal to you in their behalf for a 
 government school. 
 
 Near the place where we hope to build our mission chapel 
 is what is known as the Sycamore Ranger Station. This 
 station is to be eliminated from the Forest Reserve. So in 
 
56 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 case the section should be abandoned, there is some Govern 
 ment land, not adjoining the station but in close proximity, 
 that is level enough on which to make homes. Could not this 
 Ranger Station and the other land be segregated and a small 
 Indian reservation be established, giving each family say a 
 five-acre allotment. Then the Indians could build their houses 
 on their lots, the men would be closer to their work, and the 
 families would be living where their children could go to 
 school, and all have the privilege of the mission. 
 
 The Government has on this Ranger Station a good four- 
 roomed house, a barn, and wire fences. The house could be 
 used as a home for the teacher, and the only extra cost 
 would be for the erection of a small schoolhouse. 
 
 I pray you, give this your earliest attention as these people 
 certainly deserve some help. 
 
 Sincerely, 
 
 J. G. BRENDEL, 
 General Indian Missionary. 
 
 The Commissioner of Indian Affairs sent a spe 
 cial field-officer to make a report on the condition 
 of landless Indians in Brendel's territory, and even 
 tually the latter's dreams concerning his neglected 
 brethren were fulfilled. 
 
 Months passed that were glorious in the fruition 
 of prayerful and conscientious sowing of the word. 
 
 On a typical California day late in February, 
 1914, a happy crowd of eighteen of the adult Chris 
 tian Indians of Cold Springs, together with Mis 
 sionary and Mrs. Brendel, started on a memorable 
 journey from the Sycamore Mission to Dun- 
 lap. They were taking this fifty-five-mile trip 
 back into the mountains in order to tell their 
 brothers of the Toi-Ki-Chi tribe what great things 
 
Breaking New Trails 57 
 
 God had done and perhaps help some of them find 
 the Jesus Road. Fourteen of the Indians at the 
 Dunlap Mission, where Miss Pauline Whiting, serv 
 ing under the Woman's Board, and Missionary 
 Brendel had labored together, had expressed the 
 desire for baptism, and to examine them as to their 
 fitness to receive the ordinance the Christian In 
 dians from Cold Springs had made the long jour 
 ney. As the procession, composed of seven wagons 
 carrying Indians and camp outfits and four people 
 riding horseback, made its way over the rough 
 trails, one might have heard gospel songs echoing 
 among the mountain glades. Night came on and a 
 stop was made in a grove near Bobtown. After 
 supper and before the beds were unrolled for the 
 night, the Indians gathered about Brendel for their 
 Bible study and praise service also to pray for 
 God's guidance on this their first missionary un 
 dertaking. 
 
 Next day, as the party approached the Indian 
 settlement, two miles above Dunlap, they beheld the 
 camp which had been prepared for them on the 
 hill near a creek. On a post in the center hung a 
 big hog. Nearby a long table had been built. 
 
 When the Toi-Ki-Chi Indians 1 saw their guests 
 approaching, they rushed forward to receive them. 
 In spite of a cold, disagreeable wind, about one hun 
 dred Indians came together for the evening service 
 at the call of "Ti-wa-ga " (the Christian captain). 
 
 The following Sunday about two hundred Indians 
 and a hundred white people gathered for the bap 
 tism, a service which the Indians of that locality 
 
58 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 never before had witnessed. The procession was 
 led by the Convention pastor and the missionary, 
 followed by the Indian deacons from the Sycamore 
 mission. Then came the candidates for baptism, 
 and after them the Christian Indians and the 
 heathen Indians. The white people followed in the 
 rear. The line moved slowly down to the banks of 
 Mill Creek. After the meaning of the ordinance 
 had been explained, the fourteen Indians were 
 buried in baptism with the Christ whom they 
 wished to follow. 
 
 In the evening of the same day the hand of fel 
 lowship was extended to the Indians who had been 
 baptized, and they became the first members of the 
 Indian Baptist church of Dunlap. 
 
VI 
 A BROTHER TO THE MONO 
 
 PHONE Mr. Brendel, of Clovis, that we have some 
 of his Indians in jail down here and that we 
 would like to know what to do with them." 
 
 In this brief way the police magistrate of a San 
 Joaquin Valley town dismissed from his mind one 
 item on the day's calendar. Brendel had answered 
 that he would be right down. And he kept his word. 
 Old Lizzie was in good running order. Within less 
 than an hour the Baptist general missionary to the 
 Indians of the San Joaquin Valley was before the 
 judge. The Indians, who had been jailed as drunks 
 the night before, were brought in. Brendel said 
 that the Indians should be allowed to go back to 
 the vineyards to work; if he had recommended 
 thirty days in the workhouse, the judge would have 
 pronounced this sentence. And thereby the judge 
 would have done no violence to his sense of justice. 
 Each year since the coming of the missionary the 
 city and county officials had had less trouble with 
 " those worthless Digger Indians," and they knew 
 that every year Brendel remained at work among 
 them the trouble would keep on growing less. 
 
 " I ought to send the whole pack of you over the 
 road for ninety days," said the judge as he glared 
 sternly at the men under arrest. " If it wasn't for 
 
 59 
 
60 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 the good word Mr. Brendel has spoken for you, I 
 wouldn't hesitate a moment. See that you come up 
 to his good opinion of you." 
 
 " Now, yqur honor, please don't be too hard on 
 these men," said Brendel as a look of perfect under 
 standing passed between the preacher and magis 
 trate. " Bill here is a good boy. And Pete why, 
 there isn't a better grape-picker in Fresno County. 
 They'll need him out at the Hillside Ranch all this 
 week. And Joe there " 
 
 " Take 'em away! " thundered the judge. " You 
 may know what you can do with them." 
 
 These verbal exchanges varied as occasion de 
 manded ; a harsher treatment of a particularly hard 
 case was sometimes recommended by the mission 
 ary. Fines were paid as a matter of course. Some 
 times an Indian was remanded to jail for further 
 hearing. Yet Brendel was always to be counted on 
 to intercede for the Indians. Long ago he estab 
 lished a reputation among them as a man who would 
 befriend and not exploit them. They have read his 
 character and what they have seen spells brother. 
 There is no other way to account for the fact that 
 all the tribes or sections of tribes inhabiting the 
 region covered by this missionary, have voluntarily 
 come under his guidance. 
 
 Patiently, fearlessly, the missionary had waged 
 warfare against the bootleggers and their atrocious 
 liquor which he early discovered were the Indians' 
 worst enemies. With the whole-hearted coopera 
 tion of the government agents and local authorities 
 the fight was practically won before State and na- 
 
A Brother to the Mono 61 
 
 tional legislative measures relegated whisky-selling 
 to the list of outgrown customs of an archaic civili 
 zation. 
 
 In addition to the heartlessness of the white 
 wolves who preyed upon the Indians of the Sierras 
 for years, Brendel was obliged to contend with the 
 wiles and cunning of the medicine-men. To one less 
 persistent and of weaker faith in God's power to 
 rescue the children of men from the powers of dark 
 ness, the fight against these tribal pests would have 
 seemed hopeless. Little by little, through the gos 
 pel message and brotherly kindness in many forms, 
 the eyes; of the Indians had been opened to the 
 methods practised by these impostors. Then one 
 summer there occurred what might be termed a 
 systematic drive of the medicine-men. From dis 
 tant tribes they came into the Mono territory to 
 try to undo the work of the missionaries. With 
 them came Indian men and women adept in savage 
 arts peculiarly alluring to an Indian. All methods 
 known to the Indian priest-craft, from the " fan 
 dango " to the feast, were employed to draw the 
 Christians back into paganism and hold the uncon 
 verted under the ban of superstition. Indian hand- 
 games were vigorously promoted, and the gambling 
 spirit took possession of the Indians as they con 
 gregated in the valley during the fruit harvest. 
 
 While the Christian Indians did not waver in 
 their loyalty to the cause, there was a tension and 
 unrest in the tribal life that was disconcerting and 
 threatened the peace of all. 
 
 The Indians of the Sierras long have had the 
 
62 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 belief that their medicine-men employ a deadly 
 poison with which to destroy those who gain their 
 enmity. Where the medicine-men get this poison 
 no white man has learned, to the knowledge of our 
 missionaries. If there is such a source the medi 
 cine-men have guarded the secret. Within recent 
 years there have occurred several mysterious deaths 
 which have been ascribed to the medicine-men. 
 Brendel followed up one of these cases with a 
 county sheriff, interviewed several Indians, and 
 convinced some of the leading men of the tribe in 
 that remote section of the mountains, that the medi 
 cine-man who had been carrying on his operations 
 in that tribe, should take his departure out of the 
 country. That medicine-man has not been heard 
 of since. 
 
 One of these Indian charlatans was haled into 
 court for manslaughter following the death of a 
 tribesman caused by the blood-sucking treatment 
 for a minor ailment. In the end the case was dis 
 missed, and the medicine-man disappeared. 
 
 The gambling craze among the Indians was effec 
 tually checked after Brendel had drawn up, under 
 expert advice, a county ordinance making gambling 
 outside of incorporated cities with any kind of a 
 device, or even the witnessing of a game of chance, 
 a misdemeanor punishable by fine or imprisonment. 
 The supervisors of Fresno County have looked to 
 our missionary more than once for assistance, and 
 in this instance were more than glad to cooperate 
 in a movement to abolish the Indian hand-games. 
 Only those who have seen this game can conceive 
 
w 
 
 i-i 
 
 ex 
 
 5' 
 
 r-h 
 rt 
 
A Brother to the Mono 63 
 
 of its harmful effects upon the participants. The 
 game itself is simple. The company is divided into 
 two groups, and the game is presided over by an 
 umpire, who designates the person to hold a small 
 stick and the person on the opposing side to guess 
 in which hand the stick is held. Tally is kept by 
 means of twelve sticks. When one side has won 
 all twelve sticks by reason of its successful guess 
 ing, the money that has been pooled is divided 
 among the members of the winning side. Excite 
 ment is wrought to a high pitch by the beating of 
 the tom-tom and the wild chanting of the official 
 criers. 
 
 In 1914 Miss Christensen helped to give a Christ 
 mas festival at Table Mountain and described the 
 impression this Indian gambling game made upon 
 her. 
 
 After all was over we wondered that so many of the men 
 did not return to their homes, but soon we were to learn the 
 cause. The only bed in the house, a homemade one, was 
 offered to us as our resting-place for the night, which we 
 gratefully accepted, using our own bedding. As the hours 
 of the night passed, the wind and rain shook the little Indian 
 hut so that it seemed that it surely would blow over. Above 
 the storm was heard Indian chanting from a teepee near-by 
 where the men were gambling. This kept up till daybreak 
 with not a moment's pause. Could we have been at the 
 mission (Auberry) at an early hour that same evening and 
 stood at an Indian cottage to listen, we would have heard, 
 instead of the gambler's chant, earnest voices of Christian 
 Indians ascending to God in prayer, and soon all would have 
 been still for the night. The next morning the men who had 
 spent the night in gambling came to tell us good-bye, but 
 on their faces were signs of a long sleepless night. The 
 
64 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 previous week these same Indians had met for one of their 
 fandangos, a dance for the dead that lasts a week. Much of 
 the time had been spent in gambling. 
 
 Could Miss Christensen have looked ahead a few 
 years she could have rejoiced at the change that 
 was destined to take place at Table Mountain. Cap 
 tain Wilson, the leader of the " fandango " referred 
 to, is now a Baptist deacon. He and his sons and 
 his neighbors and their children live sober, indus 
 trious lives. 
 
 " We go to bed when night come," said the cap 
 tain in a council meeting which the writer attended 
 last fall. " In the morning we feel good. Our heads 
 not down this way (illustrating), and we get up 
 happy and ready for work." 
 
 After Mr. Brendel had made a survey of the needs 
 of the Table Mountain Indians, he persuaded the 
 Bureau of Indian Affairs to purchase one hundred 
 and sixty acres of land, which was allotted to the 
 homeless families of that section. The members 
 of the Baptist Young People's Union of the San 
 Joaquin Valley and the Northern California Baptist 
 State Convention supplied funds for the erection 
 of a mission chapel. A school that had been closed 
 because there had not been seven white children in 
 the district to attend, opened when the Indians came 
 out of the gulches and settled in their nice new com 
 munity. The four white children of the neighbor 
 hood who had been deprived of public-school privi 
 leges, were just as happy as the Indian boys and 
 girls whose coming now necessitated the opening 
 of the school. 
 
A Brother to the Mono 65 
 
 Stranger than romance is the story of the trans 
 formation of the Table Mountain Indians a nar 
 rative that cannot be told in detail here. It must 
 begin in the dim past when the Spaniards discov 
 ered this continent, and it must be carried forward 
 through the Spanish and Mexican persecutions to 
 the time when the gold-camp was established at a 
 point on the San Joaquin River almost within sight 
 of the Baptist Indian chapel. From the days when 
 the gold-camp became silent and deserted, down to 
 the coming of the women missionaries and of Bren- 
 del, we should trace the story, following the Indians 
 to the high foothills where, living like the squirrels 
 and rabbits on acorns, roots, and berries, they were 
 found and brought into a world of light and beauty 
 by the faithful followers of the Great Pathfinder. 
 
 Perhaps the Mono work has furnished no more 
 striking example of the power of the gospel to over 
 come the powers of darkness than was witnessed 
 in the conversion of Captain Pete Westfall, the 
 priest and master of ceremonies in the old Indian 
 rites at Nippinnawasee on one of the trails leading 
 to the Yosemite Valley. How the Indian preacher 
 Neas-je-gar-gath (Alfred Lord) first came in con 
 tact with Captain Pete is told elsewhere. 1 Captain 
 Pete had built an old-time Indian ceremony house 
 called the " Round House," and for many years had 
 conducted the heathen ceremonies in the building. A 
 few months after the old priest had declared his ac 
 ceptance of Christ, Brendel went to Nippinnawasee 
 
 Chapter VI, "Old Trails and New," by Coe Hayne ; The Judson 
 Press, Philadelphia. 
 
66 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 to hold services, presenting the Bible stories in a 
 graphic way by means of pictures and charts. At 
 the close of one of the meetings Captain Pete, who 
 had been visibly affected by all that the white mis 
 sionary had said, rose and made the following 
 speech : 
 
 " Last spring when this Indian preacher came to 
 teach us God's Word I believe it, I thought surely 
 so it pretty good; I believe it was ever since and 
 tried to walk in it. Now, when this man comes 
 today and teach us, I see it plain and today I cut 
 loose all ropes and let everything fall back behind 
 me. I right now throw away all old Indian cere 
 monies and beliefs, and I walk out on the new road 
 with Jesus, a new man. I am a free man with a 
 happy heart. Way down at my place I have old 
 ' Indian Round House ' that is, center place where 
 all trails come in from different bands ; if you want 
 to build ' Jesus House/ I will give you land down 
 there and when you build house all people can 
 come." 
 
 The next morning Brendel took Captain Pete in 
 his machine and drove down the mountainside to 
 see the " Round House." Much to his surprise, he 
 found about half the band of Nippinnawasee In 
 dians already there ; they had come to see what the 
 white missionary was going to do. The old priest 
 took Brendel inside and showed him the building 
 and all the paraphernalia that had been used. 
 
 " Long time ago," said Captain Pete, " Indians 
 gave me money and I bought all these things you 
 see, dishes and cooking utensils; now, if you build 
 
A Brother to the Mono 67 
 
 the ' Jesus House ' here, I will have all these things 
 cleaned up and will turn them over to the new 
 house. They were used in the old bad way long 
 enough; now we will use them for God." (The 
 dishes were of good material, and with the cooking 
 vessels were worth about $150.) " This old ' Round 
 House/ " he continued, " we will use for Jesus too. 
 We will use the house to cook and eat in when the 
 Indians come for a big time, maybe so when it 
 rains or snows we can hold services in here until 
 we get better ' Jesus House.' " 
 
 Right there and then Brendel read some of the 
 promises of God concerning the kingdom of this 
 world becoming the kingdom of God, and they knelt 
 in prayer with the band of Indians all about in the 
 old heathen temple now set apart for divine service. 
 
 Arrangements were made at once to have a 
 Christmas service in the old " Round House," and 
 when Brendel returned about a month later he 
 found Neas-je-gar-gath, Captain Pete, and the band 
 there awaiting him. They had been in camp two 
 days during which Neas-je-gar-gath had held three 
 services daily. As he drew near the camping- 
 ground the Indian boys and girls, who had been 
 sitting on the high rocks listening for the sound 
 of the missionary Ford, quickly carried the news to 
 the crowd in the "Round House." The Mono's 
 Santa Claus had arrived, and there was joy un 
 bounded. All rushed outside and surrounded the 
 automobile loaded with good things. 
 
 Within the "Round House" a tree was set up, 
 and around this a canvas was stretched to hide the 
 F 
 
68 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 presents until the time for Christmas service sched 
 uled for New Year's Day. This first Christmas for 
 the Nippinnawasee Indians held in the old pagan 
 ceremonial house was an occasion of great happi 
 ness and religious enthusiasm. The Indians lis 
 tened with silent rapture to the Christmas story 
 told in such a way that all could understand that a 
 new world of joy and light had opened to these 
 poor souls, whose forebears had been driven from 
 their rightful domain to this inhospitable mountain 
 wilderness. There were presents for both men and 
 women as well as for all the children presents 
 from the white people of the valley and from all 
 parts of the State. Surely the Jesus Road was good 
 to walk in ! And better than the possession of these 
 beautiful and useful things was the knowledge that 
 after many years of neglect, there were people in 
 the white man's world who had remembered the 
 mountain Indian in his destitution. 
 
 Health conditions among the Mono bands early 
 received the attention of our missionaries. Until 
 within a few years ago nothing had been done by 
 Federal, State, or local health officers to lessen the 
 ravages of diseases to which these Indians were 
 particularly susceptible. Measles, pulmonary and 
 bronchial troubles were the principal ailments, espe 
 cially among children. In 1917 Missionary Brendel 
 went before the board of supervisors of Fresno 
 County and made a stirring appeal in behalf of the 
 Indians in his territory. 
 
 " I have watched men, women, and children die 
 because of no medical service," he said. " It is a 
 
A Brother to the Mono 69 
 
 long way back into the hills, and an Indian ordi 
 narily will not earn more than enough to provide 
 the necessary food to keep up life. During win 
 ter they almost starve, and when sickness comes 
 they generally die. Once there were many Indians 
 back in the hills, but the diseases they are subject 
 to have eaten up the population fast. I often won 
 der how it is that we have any left, for the govern 
 ment has neglected to give them the aid that the 
 reservation Indians are entitled to. [The Mono are 
 not reservation Indians.] We missionaries have 
 done all that we can in the medical line, but the 
 demands upon us have become too great unless 
 we have money for medicine and mileage for the 
 physician." 
 
 To the credit of the supervisors let it be recorded 
 that Brendel was authorized to secure medical ser 
 vice for the Indians and present bills to the county 
 for payment. This was the first step Fresno 
 County took to render systematic medical aid to 
 the Indians. 
 
 Upon the Auberry mission property was erected 
 a small building which became known as the " Hos 
 pital," and which has been used to good advantage 
 many times during epidemics. At first the adult 
 Indians, in case of sickness among them, would not 
 consent to leave their homes, or allow their children 
 to do so. But in time they overcame their super 
 stitious fears in this respect. The resident women 
 missionaries have proved to be excellent practical 
 turses and, in several very serious cases, have 
 shown how useful a hospital, in the heart of the 
 
70 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 Indian country, may become. These demonstra 
 tions of what the white man can accomplish with 
 his medicine and sanitary methods also have had 
 the very desirable effect of turning the Indians more 
 willingly away from the medicine-men who have 
 held things firmly in their hands so long. 
 
 During the epidemic of Spanish influenza, and 
 later during a smallpox scare, Missionary Brendel 
 was deputized as a special health officer by the 
 Fresno County health officer. It is of interest to 
 observe that the United States Government, through 
 its Indian agent for this district, officially recog 
 nized the health service of our missionaries as of 
 high order. It is permissible to quote a passage 
 from a report of Col. L. A. Dorrington, special 
 agent in charge of the Indian Agency, Reno, Ne 
 vada, to the Indian Office, Department of the Inte 
 rior, Washington, D. C.: 
 
 In Fresno County, the missionary, Rev. J. G. Brendel, took 
 charge of the situation promptly at the outbreak of the 
 epidemic. Through his efforts, the Board of County Super 
 visors appointed a special physician for the Indians, and as 
 the epidemic broke out in a community, it was immediately 
 quarantined and special treatment given the afflicted. Four 
 teen of the most serious cases were sent to the County Hos 
 pital, where three deaths occurred. In all there were three 
 hundred cases and nine deaths. The low percentage of 
 mortality is due entirely to the activity of Rev. Brendel and 
 his associates. The little hospital maintained by the Baptist 
 Board at Auberry was crowded to overflowing and the 
 women assistants gave up their own quarters as well. 
 
 At Coarse Gold, Maderia County, where one of our missions 
 is located, there were thirty cases of the influenza reported 
 by Mrs. Harriet M. Gilchrist, " half -matron," stationed there. 
 
A Brother to the Mono 71 
 
 The conscientious work of Mrs. Gilchrist, assisted by a doctor, 
 no doubt saved the situation and there were no deaths. 
 
 Long and patiently the missionaries labored be 
 fore they induced the Indians to adopt the Christian 
 marriage ceremony. In their pagan life marriage 
 for the Mono Indians had been a means of money- 
 making. The father sold his daughter for five or 
 ten dollars, perhaps more. Often a girl became 
 the wife of the man who would pay the most for 
 her. The teaching that the man and woman shall 
 follow the dictates of their own hearts in choosing 
 a mate for life was hard for the Mono to accept. 
 With admirable courage the younger converts were 
 the first to adopt the Christian marriage custom. 
 Then a number of the leading men of the tribe, 
 who had found the Jesus Road, became convinced 
 that it was their duty to renew the marital vows 
 in accordance with the teachings of the gospel which 
 had brought them happiness. By this step they 
 would openly renounce all connection with or belief 
 in the pagan custom of barter and exchange. 
 
 Accordingly the licenses were secured and the day 
 set for six wedding ceremonies. In response to 
 invitations sent out by Indian messengers nearly 
 two hundred Indians gathered to witness this un 
 usual event. Six Indian couples, accompanied by 
 their children, many of the latter grown and some 
 married, stood before Missionary Brendel while he 
 spoke the words which united them according to 
 the will of God and the laws of the State. 
 
 After the ceremony a reception, arranged by the 
 
72 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 children, was held for the six remarried couples. 
 The brides and grooms stood in line while all the 
 Indians marched by, shaking hands and gravely 
 offering congratulations. A wedding-dinner, served 
 out-of-doors, followed the reception. 
 
 Missionary Brendel has obtained work for the 
 Mono Indian. He has done this in a systematic 
 way by organizing the various bands in his terri 
 tory into camps over which leaders are appointed. 
 At first the fruit men were reluctant about hiring 
 the Indians. One grape-grower, who had eight 
 hundred acres of vines, the first year refused to 
 have anything to do with " those lazy, drunken, 
 good-for-nothing Digger Indians." He tried one or 
 two, nevertheless, and the next year a few more. 
 The third year he came to our missionary and said : 
 " Can you get me enough Indians of your kind to 
 harvest my whole crop? I have tried laborers of 
 every nationality on the globe, but these Christian 
 Indians are the best workers I ever had." 
 
 For several years past no trouble has been ex 
 perienced by Brendel in securing employment for 
 all the Indians he can bring down from the moun 
 tains. We conclude this chapter with a statement 
 from a report forwarded to Washington, D. C., by 
 Col. L. A. Dorrington, Special Indian Agent at 
 Reno, Nevada: 
 
 At Clovis, Fresno County, Calif., is located the head 
 quarters of Rev. J. G. Brendel, who has charge of the Baptist 
 activities among the Indian people of Fresno and Madera 
 Counties. Mr. Brendel is a practical religious worker. He 
 not only looks after the spiritual welfare of the Indian, but 
 
A Brother to the Mono 
 
 73 
 
 enters fully into their very life. He assists them in procuring 
 work, advises them in business matters, secures medical 
 attention for the sick, and relief for the destitute, he instils 
 in them an ambition and a desire for progress. Since his 
 advent in this field, there has been a wonderful change in 
 these Indians. From a shiftless, drunken, immoral band, they 
 have become industrious and ambitious. 
 
VII 
 DAWN 
 
 /CAPTAIN JACK KUMOA, the old heathen chief 
 VJ of the Auberry band of Mono Indians, for many 
 years had withstood the teachings of the Christian 
 missionaries, scoffing at their doctrines and ridi 
 culing his tribal brethren who professed Jesus as 
 their Saviour. In December, 1920, the first annual 
 Mono Bible conference was held at Auberry. Captain 
 Jack loves company; the hospitable old Indian re 
 joiced to see many Indians come to Hudson Basin 
 from distant rancherias and settlements. Every 
 day he came down the hill to join the crowds, at 
 tend the sessions, listen to addresses by white men 
 and testimonies of converted Indians. 
 
 "This Bible conference pretty good," he said. 
 
 Nothing like it had been held in the Sierras 
 before. 
 
 Decades ago there had been a great round-up of 
 Indians in the foot-hills of the mountains bordering 
 the San Joaquin Valley on the east, but on that 
 occasion the Indians had been herded together at 
 the point of the bayonet; and they were told to 
 dwell on reservations. We have read how the trea 
 ties made with the various tribes and bands were 
 broken. Old Captain Jack's boyhood reached back 
 into those days of unspeakable woe; hunger and 
 74 
 
Dawn 75 
 
 cold and strife in the face of white aggression stood 
 out in high relief against the somber haze of his 
 childhood memories. He could recall few bright 
 days, although he had spent his days in a land of 
 eternal sunshine. For him and his people life had 
 been an interminable struggle for existence. That 
 many of them had survived the terrible period of 
 conflict and afterward the period of conquest when 
 they were driven from the valleys to mountain fast 
 nesses, was proof of their virile character. 
 
 Is there cause to wonder why Captain Jack be 
 gan the descent of the western slope of his life em 
 bittered, cynical and suspicious of all efforts on the 
 part of white men to help him or his people? Miss 
 Christensen could not forget the picture of him 
 standing on Rancheria Hill and looking down upon 
 the mission tent from which the songs of the con 
 verted were carried to his ears on the gentle breeze 
 of a California afternoon. 
 
 "I see they haven't gone up yet," he had mut 
 tered derisively. 
 
 He had presented a pathetic picture that day as 
 he stood apart from his people, perhaps secretly 
 hoping that some members of his beloved band 
 within the tent might be carried to the happy land 
 about which the Christians continually were sing 
 ing. As for himself, he had known misery so long 
 that no appeal seemingly could stir him into seeking 
 another state of existence. His people had been 
 fooled so many times. 
 
 But this Bible conference seemed " pretty good " 
 to Captain Jack. For six days he had listened to 
 
76 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 his people singing about a land in which they were 
 dwelling and the chorus kept ringing in his heart: 
 
 I'm living on the mountain, 
 Underneath the cloudless sky; 
 
 I'm drinking at the fountain 
 That never shall run dry; 
 
 O, yes! I'm feasting on the manna 
 From a bountiful supply, 
 
 For I am dwelling in Beu-lah Land. 
 
 He could not keep away from the Bible confer 
 ence, and he could not keep that song out of his 
 heart. What did these Christians mean, anyhow? 
 Was it possible, after all, for a Mono to live in a 
 happy land? 
 
 While Captain Jack sat through the long sessions 
 of the Bible conference three of them every day 
 morning, afternoon, and night he had time to re 
 call many incidents in the tribal life of the Mono 
 since the coming of the missionaries. Nothing dur 
 ing those years had escaped his notice. 
 
 What about that old woman whom everybody 
 had called "The Jug"? How strange that people 
 should have believed that the religion the white 
 missionaries professed and taught was capable of 
 changing her habits of life ! " There is one person 
 you cannot change," doubting white settlers had 
 affirmed. But one morning Ann's husband had 
 risen in meeting to give his first testimony. "A 
 long time now I come here," he had said ; " I hear 
 about this way. It is a good way, and right now 
 I begin to trust Jesus." His coming out seemed 
 to have given the missionaries great joy. But great 
 
Dawn 77 
 
 had been their astonishment when " Old Ann " 
 stood up and said, " Right now I trust in Jesus and 
 mean to walk in his way." And from that day a 
 great change did come in her manner of living. 
 The very next Sunday she came to service in a new, 
 clean calico dress. 
 
 Fresh in memory was the testimony of the China 
 man who was married to an Indian woman : " Oh ! 
 you folks, you no savvy how bad Injun he be 'fore 
 you come. Drink! Drink! All time he likee drink ! 
 Woman too! Some time they go up to saloon Sat 
 urday, maybe never come back till maybe Tuesday 
 some time. All time crying, all time holler! Some 
 time no can tell maybe so coyote cry, maybe so 
 Injun. Pretty bad. Awful ! Now no more do that 
 way." 
 
 Another Indian who had found the Jesus Road 
 good to walk in, had said : " Before Indians become 
 Christians he have nothing. We working maybe 
 three week. Go to saloon, drink up quick! No 
 money, no nothing. Just all same as throwing work 
 and money away. Now we go work for a little 
 while and maybe three month we have plenty money. 
 We stay home, look after our place. Plenty money, 
 plenty clothes, plenty grub." 
 
 Perhaps the Christians were right after all when 
 they sang of Beulah Land. The storekeeper down 
 near the railroad station had said that the Indians 
 had bought more wagons, harnesses, horses, furni 
 ture, and dishes during the years the missionaries 
 had been among them than they had bought in all 
 the past years. There were stoves, ranges, and 
 
78 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 sewing-machines in homes where before there had 
 been nothing. 
 
 One night during the Bible conference to which 
 Captain Jack had been drawn Missionary Brendel 
 suddenly turned the meeting over to the Indians. 
 And such testimonies as were given! Mrs. Bill 
 Sherman told how she had turned away from the 
 medicine-man and his " fandangos." Jose Dick, 
 Jim Waley, and Sycamore Charley made good talks 
 for Indians to hear. Then Captain Wilson, of Table 
 Mountain, and Captain Wa-ha-sett, of Sycamore, 
 spoke, each recalling the days when the Indians 
 were looked upon as a lazy, drunken, lying, shift 
 less lot. After the testimonies the invitation was 
 given to all men and women and boys and girls 
 who wished to walk in the Jesus Road to come for 
 ward and receive the friendly handclasp of their 
 Christian brothers and sisters who were ready to 
 help them. Nearly twenty responded; and on a 
 subsequent night others came forward, and before 
 the meetings closed thirty-seven declared their alle 
 giance to Christ. One of them was a stalwart 
 grandson of the Major Savage who had led the expe 
 dition against old Chief Tenaya of the Yosemites. 
 This boy was one-quarter white. Major Savage, 
 during his varied career as an Indian trader, had 
 married five squaws, daughters of chiefs with whom 
 he had established trade relations. 
 
 " This Bible conference pretty good," said Cap 
 tain Jack, the old heathen chief from Rancheria 
 Hill. The speakers were Miss Ina M. Shaw and 
 Dr. L. C. Barnes, of the Home Mission Societies; 
 
Dawn 79 
 
 Revs. George L. White and E. E. Ford, of Los An 
 geles; Charles A. Edsall, a layman from Pasadena; 
 Misses Nora Swenson and Mary Strange, the mis 
 sionaries at Auberry; Mrs. C. 0. Livesay, the mis 
 sionary at Dunlap; Missionary Brendel, and Neas- 
 je-gar-gath. We grant that the conference was 
 " pretty good." But its closing hour found old Cap 
 tain Jack hesitating to cross the boundaries of 
 Beulah Land. He had heard the invitation to enter 
 the Jesus Road so many times before and had as 
 often refused to turn aside from the old heathen 
 trail, that it did not now occur to him that the time 
 to surrender had come. The last hymn was sung, 
 the last invitation given, the last prayer uttered. 
 At the close of the final session of the conference 
 the old man sat with bowed head in his chair at the 
 rear of the chapel. He walked back to his home 
 with the conquering Christ very close to him, but 
 still an uninvited guest in his heart. 
 
 There had been sent a request from Baptist head 
 quarters in New York City that the Mono bands 
 remain in camp three days longer to give two oper 
 ators of motion-picture cameras an opportunity to 
 secure a number of scenes of missionary activity in 
 the Sierras. Captain Jack welcomed this news. 
 Would there be more meetings? All the Indians 
 were asking for them. 
 
 While Mono Bill Charley, a Christian Indian 
 from Dunlap, was busy in forest glades and on 
 mountain trails gladly cooperating in the visualiza 
 tion, for audiences everywhere, of the remarkable 
 story of his redemption and subsequent happiness 
 
80 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 as a follower of the great Pathfinder, other testi 
 monies were being given by other Indians in an 
 all-day gospel meeting within the chapel and with 
 out thought of what was going on outside in con 
 nection with the filming of historical scenes. 
 
 And during that memorable day Mr. Edsall and 
 Doctor Barnes responded to the Indians' requests 
 for more " Jesus talks." Late in the afternoon the 
 heart of old Captain Jack melted after a stirring 
 evangelistic appeal by Doctor Barnes, whose early 
 ambition to be sent to heathen lands as a mission 
 ary had been blighted by circumstances over which 
 he had had no control, but which has had a partial 
 fulfilment in that he has spoken to many heathen 
 Indian tribes throughout North America. Captain 
 Jack's surrender to Jesus, his Saviour, caused great 
 rejoicing throughout the camp. The Mono jubilee 
 song never seemed more precious. The oldest and 
 one of the most influential Mono chiefs had entered 
 Beulah Land to walk in the Jesus Road forever and 
 ever. 
 
n 
 
 ARIZONA DAYS 
 
I 
 
 SAALAKO 
 
 TUSAYAN boasts of no prouder village than 
 Walpi. Its terraced roofs surmount the high 
 est pinnacle of First Mesa, lofty and severe in out 
 line, a landmark well worth a long journey to see. 
 
 In this ancient stronghold of the Hopi Indians 1 
 the Snake clan is the oldest and most influential. 
 Priestess of this order, by birthright, is Saalako. 
 Around her cluster the most ancient traditions of 
 Hopiland. The present Snake chief of Walpi is her 
 son, Qoyahwiyma; before him, Kopeli, her older 
 son, was chief until his death; and preceding him, 
 Saalako's husband, Supela, was Snake chief four 
 years. Her connection with the leading Snake 
 family gave her an intimate knowledge of the 
 secrets of the order. It was her duty to brew the 
 "medicine" which the Snake priests drank after 
 their hideous ceremonies. She led the women in 
 their infamous mamzrauti dances. The honor and 
 respect paid her by the Walpi people, because of 
 her wisdom and her rank, cannot be measured with 
 words. In the aristocracy of Hopiland she occupied 
 first place. 
 
 A few years ago Saalako forfeited her exalted 
 
 1 See table on page 112 for statistical material with regard to Hopi 
 Indian missions. 
 
 G 83 
 
84 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 position in Walpi, for she has become a Christian. 
 Consequently there are heathen mothers in Tusayan 
 who tell their children that old Saalako is a witch. 
 
 The story of the redemption of this remarkable 
 Hopi woman, whose fame is equal to that of Nam- 
 peyo, the pottery-maker of Tewa, as she told it to 
 the writer one autumn afternoon, forms one of 
 those golden chapters in the history of missions 
 which reveal the power of Christianity to liberate 
 humankind from the most enslaving traditions and 
 the darkest superstitions. 
 
 Poshumi, the devil chief of Walpi, and noted as 
 a grower of corn, was Saalako's father. His cere 
 monial duties had to do with making known the 
 wishes of the underworld-god. Her mother was 
 Nakwyumsi, a maker of pottery. But more power 
 ful among the Walpians than either Poshumi or 
 Nakwyumsi was Kwuiyahwisni, the old Snake 
 priestess, Saalako's aunt. 
 
 No one today knows the age of Saalako. Even 
 she has no conception of it. The Hopi have no 
 calendars. But as a child she lived through many 
 Navajo, Apache, and Ute raids. She can relate 
 many stories of the attacks of hostile tribes upon 
 the mesa villages. Here is one : 
 
 One day the Walpians were gathered at a feast 
 called Ko-chets-ka-vi when suddenly the watchers 
 cried out that a band of horsemen were drawing 
 near. The Hopi warriors descended to the plains 
 and in a prolonged battle with their Apache foes 
 won a decisive victory, for only three Apaches went 
 back to their own territory. Nearly every Hopi 
 
Saalako, the old snake priestess of Walpi, Hopi, 
 Pueblo, Ariz. 
 
Saalako 85 
 
 went home with a scalp, and as they neared their 
 village the women came out to meet the warriors 
 at the foot of the mesa and escorted them to the 
 plaza near the Dance Rock. A pow-wow was held 
 and after the warriors had circled the Dance Rock 
 for a time they went into the kiva or underground 
 ceremonial chamber. For twenty days and nights 
 the men who had been successful in taking the 
 scalps of their enemies were given the freedom of 
 the pueblo a freedom that meant such license that 
 the happy relations of many husbands and wives 
 were rudely broken up. The law of the village for 
 bade remonstrance by the injured husbands as their 
 wives were taken from them. The warriors be 
 came the great men of the village and were ap 
 pointed to the coveted positions of watchers of the 
 trails during the night. 
 
 A girlhood romance which ended tragically has 
 never been forgotten by Saalako. A boy whom she 
 loved was suddenly taken from her sight forever 
 by the dreaded disease of the desert, smallpox. 
 Then a friend came to her with the love message 
 of Supela (Spider-Running-Up-Web). She looked 
 kindly upon his suit and as an evidence of her re 
 gard carried meal and piki (corn-wafers) to his 
 home, and thereby expressed her willingness to 
 work a month for Supela and all of his relatives 
 according to Hopi custom. The grass tray of meal 
 which she brought was made of white corn and 
 was received by Supela's mother. All that day she 
 labored at the mealing-stones grinding white corn. 
 She was not a robust girl, and the prolonged exer- 
 
86 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 tion drew so heavily upon her physical reserves that 
 she was barely able to crawl to her bed upon the 
 floor. No one spoke to her during that first day, 
 nor was she noticed the next day while she con 
 tinued her task at the grinding-stones. As dawn 
 approached, on the morning of the third day, she 
 attempted to rise as usual, but her aching muscles 
 refused to obey her will at first. The supreme test 
 of her loyalty to the man of her choice was at hand. 
 She must get up and work until sundown grinding 
 at the mealing-stones, using on this day the dark 
 blue corn. She crawled to her place in the corner 
 with the grave misgivings that she could not keep 
 going until night. 
 
 Timidly she asked a member of the family for 
 permission to go home for a little while. 
 
 " Not until we finish the wedding-garments will 
 you go home." 
 
 There could be no other answer. Had Saalako 
 given up she would have been turned loose upon the 
 streets, an outcast. In the eyes of all Hopi she 
 would have been no better than a coyote. Her 
 parents would not have received her kindly. Shift 
 ing from house to house she would have been obliged 
 to beg for her food. 
 
 Therefore she continued to grind all day, looking 
 forward to sundown, when her friends would come 
 with presents of trays of meal which, according 
 to custom, would be returned on the following day 
 heaped high with ears of corn. 
 
 The girl's probation at an end, the wedding cere 
 monies began at dawn of the fourth day, when rela- 
 
Saalako 87 
 
 tives of both families assembled at Supela's home 
 to take part in the traditional head-washing of the 
 bride and groom, each guest bringing a small quan 
 tity of water for the rinsing. 
 
 Supela knelt before a bowl prepared by his future 
 mother-in-law, and Saalako knelt before a bowl pre 
 pared by her future mother-in-law. Their heads 
 were washed while their young friends merrily 
 tried to interrupt the ceremony from time to time 
 by holding their own heads over the bowls. After 
 the rinsing, the young bridal couple went out alone 
 to the east side of the mesa and cast meal toward 
 the rising sun. Then they returned to Supela's 
 home as husband and wife. 
 
 Saalako's period of testing now barely had be 
 gun. While Supela's male relatives, in the kivas, 
 spun the blanket and the sash from the cotton which 
 Supela had provided for the adornment of his bride, 
 Saalako was obliged to remain an occupant of his 
 home, doing all the menial tasks for the large com 
 pany. Supela's mother, his aunts, and his sisters, 
 upon occasion, brought water in jars from the 
 spring at the foot of the mesa, but their duties 
 ended when that was done. Many times homesick 
 ness and fatigue drove Saalako almost to despera 
 tion when she was tempted to flee to her home. 
 But the admonitions of her parents and of her aunt, 
 the priestess, were not forgotten. 
 
 " Until your wedding-garments are made you 
 must not leave your husband's house alone," they 
 had cautioned her. "If you leave his house un 
 attended, you will bear an evil name forever and 
 
88 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 not only disgrace yourself, but put to shame your 
 family as well." 
 
 Uncomplainingly Saalako accepted her daily 
 tasks, creeping to her bed at night with little hope 
 of sleeping on account of the violent cramps that 
 seized her as soon as her lame muscles began to 
 relax. Steadily she grew weaker because she 
 heeded the warnings of her people to eat sparingly 
 of the food lest the spinning be cursed. Once her 
 mother brought her meal. Then the grinding, 
 grinding continued during days that never seemed 
 to end. 
 
 When at last Saalako received her bridal trous 
 seau, lacking only the white moccasins because of 
 the scarcity of buckskin, she went to her own home 
 with Supela her husband. Henceforth the house 
 they were to live in would be hers, and their chil 
 dren would take their descent from her. And in 
 this territory, where woman's rights centuries ago 
 became ancient history, she alone would have the 
 right of separation, turning the man from her door 
 in the event of domestic troubles. 
 
 The years passed. 
 
 One dark night Nuwawistiwa, the old chief of 
 the Snake clan, feeble of sight and easily bewil 
 dered, fell over the edge of the high wall of the 
 mesa and broke his neck. Because of this sudden 
 termination of the old chief's career it was believed 
 that a curse was upon that office. No man among 
 the deceased's relatives could be found who would 
 accept the tiponi, the badge of highest authority in 
 the Snake clan. 
 
Saalako 89 
 
 During the years the power of Saalako , had 
 grown. She now shrewdly contrived to gain greater 
 prestige and power for her family by annexing the 
 tiponi of the Snake clan. Had she been a male it 
 would have come to her by birthright. As neither 
 of her two sons was old enough to assume the dig 
 nified role of Snake chief, she resorted to the ir 
 regular procedure of prevailing upon her husband, 
 Supela, not of the Snake priesthood, to accept the 
 Snake tiponi as chief of the order. At first he de 
 murred. He did not care to accept an honor which 
 Saalako's own brothers and uncles had spurned. 
 But Saalako was persistent. 
 
 " If you will take the tiponi for four years, then 
 Kopeli will be old enough," she urged. "And if 
 you take it I will go down into the kiva with you 
 and stay there four years, helping you in all the 
 
 ceremonies." 
 
 Supela, yielding to Saalako's importunities, di 
 rected the Snake rituals four years. Saalako kept 
 her promise and assisted him during every cere 
 mony. Kopeli, her older son, succeeded Supela at 
 the end of the four-year term of office. 
 
 Kopeli was a young man of handsome features 
 and noble bearing. Dr. Walter Hough presents an 
 intimate description of him in " Mesa Folk of Hopi- 
 land " : " There was in Kopeli a dignity which 
 commands respect. . . He was a notable figure." 
 Dr. J. Walter Fewkes referred to him "as an ex 
 cellent man, whose heart was good and whose speech 
 was straight. . . It was through Kopeli's influence 
 that the Snake dance at Walpi was the largest and 
 
90 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 most striking of these weird ceremonies in the Hopi 
 pueblos." 
 
 Kopeli likewise met a sudden and tragic end. He 
 died of smallpox one day after the acute stages of 
 the disease set in. Then it fell to the lot of Q6- 
 yahwiyma, Saalako's second son, to direct the 
 Snake ceremonies. He is the chief at the present 
 time, and is known among the whites as " Harry." 
 
 Always with her husband when engaged in the 
 Snake ceremonies, except on occasions when the 
 presence of women was not permitted, Saalako be 
 came familiar with the Snake ritual and assisted 
 her husband in teaching it to her sons. " The mys 
 tery which hangs around her," said Doctor Hough, 
 author of " Mesa Folk in Hopiland," " is born of 
 her connection with the fearful rites of the Snake 
 cult and her store of knowledge which has been 
 passed down from time immemorial by ' living 
 words from lips long dust/ This connection car 
 ries her to the distant pueblos to mix the 'medi 
 cine* (used as an emetic after the Snake dance), 
 no one in the whole province being better versed 
 in herbs and spells than she. . . A remarkable Hopi 
 woman whose history is worthy of fuller presenta 
 tion." 
 
 When the general massacre of the Awatobians 
 by the Walpians was in progress the life of one of 
 Saalako's maternal ancestors, a woman chief, was 
 spared on condition that she teach the women of 
 Walpi the mamzrauti or woman's dances. From 
 her famous aunt, Kwuiyahwisni, Saalako learned 
 the weird songs and rituals couched in the "an- 
 
Saalako 91 
 
 cient " language. When Supela became Snake chief 
 Saalako attained to the position of chieftess of the 
 woman's dance. 
 
 The mamzrauti was a particularly obscene dance 
 even for a Hopi ceremony. For many days prior 
 to the dance proper, which was given in the plaza 
 where all of the Walpian public religious ceremo 
 nies occur, the novices repaired to the kiva to be 
 drilled by Saalako. Late each night they remained 
 there engaging in the " dark ways " which Saalako 
 never has ceased to deplore. 
 
 In time Saalako came under an influence stronger 
 than her passion for power and the adulation of 
 her people. When the white women, with the 
 happy faces and kind voices, who spoke of the Jesus 
 Road, first came to her village, she looked upon them 
 with disdain. Then a resentment, fanned by her 
 jealousy, burned within her when she learned that 
 men and women of her own village and of the 
 other pueblos were turning away from "the old 
 Hopi way " and were heeding the words of the mis 
 sionaries. When these same white women spoke 
 to her she turned a deaf ear to their pleading. But 
 gradually a wonderful change took place in her 
 heart. The kindness of the missionaries, as in daily 
 living they endeavored to interpret the Master's 
 love, drove all the bitterness out of her heart. She 
 began to visit the missionaries and the Hopi Chris 
 tians who had formed a new community at the foot 
 of the mesa. 
 
 The Hopi Christians, who had started on the 
 " Jesus Road," found that they could not continue 
 
92 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 to 'live in the old pueblos, or Indian villages on the 
 mesas. Persecutions made life unbearable and the 
 immoral conditions that surrounded them became 
 intolerable for Christians, and especially for their 
 children. Gradually, therefore, as they left the 
 " old way " for the new and better mode of living 
 the Indians formed a new village at the base of the 
 mesas, and there built better homes under more 
 wholesome surroundings. The improved conditions 
 from a purely physical point of view were clearly 
 revealed during the prevalence of Spanish influenza 
 a few years ago. In some of the mesa villages the 
 deaths were so numerous that the medicine-men 
 refused to enter a home for fear of their own lives. 
 The Indian agent was untiring in his determination 
 to stem the ravages of the epidemic, and for a time 
 increased his hospital corps by enlisting the help of 
 the missionaries as field nurses. But in the airy, 
 clean homes of the Christians not one death oc 
 curred. And during the long period of the " flu " 
 the Christian Indians did a very remarkable thing. 
 They could not meet in their chapels, but each family 
 conducted church services at home. They dressed 
 as if for public worship, taught the children what 
 Bible lessons they could remember, and made their 
 weekly offerings, which later they brought to the 
 church when the quarantine was lifted. 
 
 Saalako's decision to break away from heathen 
 dom was made with a suddenness that produced a 
 profound sensation in Walpi. This happened one 
 afternoon when she was passing through the little 
 settlement of enlightened Hopi at the foot of First 
 
ffi 
 
 I 
 
 ft 
 p 
 
 ffi 
 
 I. 
 
 if 
 
 ft 
 
Saalako 93 
 
 Mesa and observed the bright, happy faces of the 
 members of the new order. She noted the content 
 ment in the homes where husbands were loyal to 
 wives and wives to husbands, and where the chil 
 dren were not compelled to witness the immorali 
 ties that attend many of the pagan festivities, espe 
 cially the mamzrauti, of whose secret rites she was 
 the chief custodian. It happened that some of the 
 preparatory ceremonies of the mamzrauti or 
 woman's dance were scheduled for that night. 
 Climbing the tortuous trail to Walpi, the " Place 
 of the Gap," she descended the ladder that led to 
 the bottom of the kiva where the women of the 
 mamzrauti and the novices were assembled. The 
 women were in scanty attire ready for the public 
 dance, their bare limbs striped with the black smut 
 from the growing corn. 
 
 " This is the last of the mamzrauti" declared the 
 aged priestess. " I am through with the dark 
 things that destroy the happiness of our wives and 
 husbands and break up our homes. Today I go 
 from the kiva free." 
 
 The mamzrauti is now a dead order in Walpi. 
 Even Qoyahwiyma, the chief of the Snake clan, 
 though he may use all the appeals he may have art 
 to contrive, cannot persuade his mother to give up 
 its secrets so that others may sing the songs and 
 conduct the dances. 
 
 Saalako is " free." White friends have given her 
 a little stone house at the foot of the mesa. She is 
 an active member of the mission church, is helpful 
 in the homes where Christian guidance is lacking, 
 
94 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 and is doing what she can to bring about better 
 moral conditions among the mesa people. 
 
 One day a young woman worker, not long a resi 
 dent at the Baptist mission house at First Mesa, 
 was engaged in certain domestic duties out-of-doors 
 when she heard a sound which she could not define 
 or locate. At first she gauged its direction as com 
 ing from a deep wash paralleling the road that ran 
 past the church and mission house. She pictured 
 to herself some one groaning in pain at the bottom 
 of the arroyo. Then she noticed that one of the 
 chapel doors was open. Stepping inside she beheld 
 Saalako's bowed form near the front of the church. 
 The aged woman was alone and praying. Later the 
 young missionary learned that Saalako does not fail 
 to spend some portion of each day in the little Hopi 
 chapel in earnest prayer in behalf of her people 
 who are still waiting for the light. 
 
II 
 
 GOOD LITTLE BROTHERS OF TUSAYAN 
 
 ACROSS the grim, desolate wastes of the Navajo 
 desert, under the crumpling heat of an August 
 sun, from railway-stations, ranches, mining-camps, 
 and government agencies, hundreds of white people 
 journey each year to witness that strangest of all 
 Hopi religious ceremonies, the Snake dance. 
 
 The mysterious, occult power which the Hopi 
 Snake priests are supposed to exercise over venom 
 ous reptiles is the magnet that is drawing an in 
 creasingly larger number of tourists to the remote 
 villages of the Hopi Indians each year. The out 
 standing feature of the Snake dance is the surpris 
 ing fearlessness with which the priests, with naked 
 bodies hideously smeared with red, white, and black 
 paints, carry deadly serpents in their mouths as 
 well as in their hands, finally releasing them to go 
 as willing bearers of Hopi prayers to the under 
 world where, according to pagan belief, the great 
 plumed serpent that causes the rain to fall has his 
 dwelling. 
 
 " The white visitors are dazed at the incredible 
 scene," wrote a newspaper correspondent last sum 
 mer after viewing the spectacle at Hotevilla. " No 
 one who has not seen it would believe that these 
 men can be so thoroughly indifferent to the serpent's 
 
 95 
 
96 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 venom. Several of the dancers reel and stagger, but 
 catch themselves as they gyrate with the tangled 
 snarl of serpents in their hands." 
 
 "How is it that these priests, some of whom 
 are mere infants, are not bitten and do not die from 
 the wounds of the rattlesnake?" one of our most 
 widely known scientists has inquired. 
 
 Fairly representative of the local opinion as to the 
 immunity of the Snake priests is the following 
 statement made by a druggist who has resided in 
 Holbrook, Arizona, for eighteen years: 
 
 " The Hopi Snake priests do nothing to destroy 
 the poison-sacs of the serpents. They think too 
 much of them to do that. They look upon them 
 with reverence and let them go unharmed back to 
 their homes. Sometimes they are bitten, but as 
 they fast before the Snake dance and take a power 
 ful emetic after the dance, they suffer no harm." 
 
 " I do not think any adequate explanation of the 
 immunity of the dancers has been advanced," said 
 an ex-President of the United States after he had 
 witnessed the Snake dance and its attending cere 
 monies. 
 
 There is, however, one source of information 
 which hardly can be ignored by one seeking knowl 
 edge concerning the ancient religious rites of the 
 Hopi. We refer to those groups of progressive In 
 dians who have been led by our missionaries to for 
 sake the " old Hopi way " and walk in the " Jesus 
 Road." With respect to these Hopi Christians the 
 late Theodore Roosevelt said, " I came across a con 
 gregation of some thirty members, and from in- 
 
Good Little Brothers of Tusayan 97 
 
 formation given me I am convinced that these con 
 verts stood in all ways ahead of their heathen 
 brethren." 
 
 Judge Hooker Hongeva is one of the leading Hopi 
 Christians at the mission beneath old Walpi, the 
 " Place of the Gap." The United States Govern 
 ment has honored him with the office of " Indian 
 judge " for the three Hopi villages at First Mesa, 
 namely, Tewa, Sichumovi, and Walpi. In 1902, 
 prior to his acceptance of Christ, he was appointed 
 chief of Siehumovi by the Indian agent by reason 
 of his great influence among the Hopi. His com 
 mission, elevating him to the position of highest 
 honor in the village, is one of the judge's most val 
 ued possessions. 
 
 During many years before his conversion, Hon- 
 geva's versatile genius had been a factor in the en 
 richment of many of the ceremonial Hopi dances 
 and festivities. Recognizing him as one deeply 
 versed in Hopi traditions, Dr. J. Walter Fewkes 
 secured his consent to paint numerous Hopi deities 
 (kachinas) to form a part of a permanent record 
 for the Bureau of American Ethnology. 
 
 " God chose me from among the members of the 
 Snake clan for something," Judge Hongeva declared 
 to the writer with conviction. " In the old Hopi 
 way everything is done in darkness; in the Jesus 
 Road nothing is hidden." 
 
 The judge did not hesitate to lay bare the decep 
 tion which he claims the priests of the Snake clan 
 have practised for years. To maintain a position 
 of influence among the Hopi a priest strives to be 
 
 
98 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 thought a man possessing supernatural powers. To 
 this end, declared Judge Hongeva, the Snake priests 
 first secretly render the rattlesnakes harmless and 
 then proclaim them as their good little brothers and 
 handle them with impunity. 
 
 Judge Hongeva told of the way three white men 
 were permitted by the Snake priests of First Mesa 
 to witness the capture of a rattlesnake during a 
 ceremonial hunt, and his story was translated by 
 Steve Quonestiwa, of Second Mesa, a Hopi who has 
 been employed as an interpreter for many years 
 by government officials, scientists, and missionaries. 
 The judge said: 
 
 "After our ancient custom we spend one day in 
 kiva (Hopi ceremonial chamber), then we hunt 
 snakes to the north. We get some and take them 
 to kiva. Next day we hunt to the west and take 
 several snakes to kiva when sun goes down. Next 
 day we go out to the south. Before we get to Five 
 Houses we see three white men riding on horseback. 
 They say they come out to see the snake-hunt. They 
 say they been sent by government agent. 
 
 " All the Hopi say * No ' to white men. 
 
 " They say, ' We must ! we are sent by agent. We 
 must tell Washington if it is true that you catch 
 rattlesnakes with your hands/ 
 
 " The old men cry. They very sorry because 
 everybody might know about it. We hold pow-wow 
 with white men, and they say they must go with 
 us as they have orders. One man was a doctor, one 
 man a carpenter, and one is Indian trader. We all 
 feel very bad. 
 
Good Little Brothers of Tusayan 99 
 
 "Then I say to rest of Snake men, 'Let some 
 of us go with white men, and some go to another 
 part of the valley where we will fix snake and put 
 him under a sage-bush and call white men to see 
 us catch him/ 
 
 " Then old man named Mahkiwa, he died last 
 year, he say : ' I have a big snake in my bag. I go/ 
 
 " The rattlesnake in Mahkiwa's bag has poison-sac 
 cut out and teeth all broken down, and he can fight 
 no more. He very harmless snake. Mahkiwa say 
 he will put him under bush for white men, and then 
 we all come with white men and find him. 
 
 " In this way we fool white men ; we make a 
 circle around them and want to hold big pow-wow. 
 They say we must not make agent angry. We make 
 close circle about them. Then Mahkiwa slide away 
 when white men are looking in our faces talking 
 loud all the time and very angry. We hold big pow 
 wow and make big noise too. Old men cry, and 
 nobody hear Mahkiwa when he slide away into lit 
 tle valley with big snake in his bag. 
 
 " Mahkiwa puts snake under sage-brush and 
 walks away and hides behind another bush. After 
 long pow-wow we tell white men all right, we let 
 them go on snake-hunt with us. Then all the Snake 
 men and the white men scatter out in valley near 
 Five Houses. One bunch of Indians go down into 
 the valley where Mahkiwa is hiding, and when they 
 pass near him old man get up and join in snake- 
 hunt when white men are not looking. Then In 
 dians scatter out to find snake. Pretty soon Mah 
 kiwa call out, ' I found one! ' 
 
 H 
 
100 By -Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 " Snake did not want to crawl away from the 
 place where Mahkiwa put him. He too weak from 
 having his fangs broke down and his poison-sacs 
 cut out. He like it in shade. 
 
 " So everybody walked back to where Mahkiwa 
 stood. The white men come and join Indians who 
 make big circle around snake. 
 
 " The Snake men take corn-meal and throw some 
 to snake. They throw corn-meal to the north, to 
 the west, to the south, to the east, and to the sun, 
 and to the underworld. They sing songs to the 
 snake, and the three white men take meal and do 
 the same thing. 
 
 " Old Mahkiwa come to snake with his tsu-wu- 
 wah-pi (snake whip) to chase him out. But snake 
 does not want to move. He act just like all snakes 
 in snake dance. White men think snake is charmed. 
 Pretty soon snake crawls out from under bush. 
 
 " ' Look close! ' Mahkiwa called out to white men. 
 
 " Old man grab snake close to his head and hold 
 him up for white men to see. Then with eagle 
 feathers he rub the snake the whole length of him. 
 Then he put him in his bag. 
 
 " The white men say : ' Now we see with our own 
 eyes. We believe Hopi Indian Snake men have a 
 strong power over the snake, and we tell Washing 
 ton the truth.' 
 
 " So white men see us catch rattlesnake." 
 
 Steve Quonestiwa is one of the picturesque Indian 
 characters of sunny Mokiland. His uncle, Lo- 
 mamba, a former snake chief of Shipaulovi, chose 
 him as his successor and gave him a two-years' 
 

 c,,. 
 
 Christian Hopi Indians on the trail to a heathen 
 pueblo to hold a gospel street meeting. 
 
Good Little Brothers of Tusayan 101 
 
 training before the old man died and was buried 
 among the rocks at the foot of Second Mesa. Steve's 
 maternal aunt, who had the care of the boy, refused 
 to take into her house the tiponi, the cherished 
 bunch of feathers in which the god of the Snake 
 clan is supposed to reside. Consequently it became 
 an object of contention between the more ambitious 
 Snake men of the village and finally became the 
 property of the present Snake priest of this par 
 ticular Hopi village. 
 
 Quonestiwa described for the writer the method 
 of capturing the rattlesnakes employed by the 
 Snake priests of Shipaulovi. At about ten o'clock 
 in the morning of the first day of the ceremonial 
 snake-hunt they filed down the trail leading north 
 ward, their naked bodies painted with a red earth 
 brought from the Grand Canon. The night had 
 been spent in the kiva where the priests had en 
 gaged in preparatory ceremonies, sleeping heavily 
 after smoking a weed used in honor of the god re 
 siding in the tiponi. Some carried sticks tipped 
 with flat pieces of iron, while others carried hoes. 
 The chief priest carried a bag of sacred meal and 
 a special kit of bone instruments wrapped in a 
 cloth. 
 
 Soon a hunter called out that he had discovered 
 a rattlesnake. The priests surrounded the bush 
 sheltering the serpent, and all Hopi present who 
 were uninitiated into the Snake clan were ordered 
 away. Then Chief Lomamba gave meal to his 
 nephew and told him to throw some to the snake, 
 after which he gave meal to the other Snake men. 
 
102 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 Meal was thrown to the snake and to the sun. The 
 priests chanted their prayers to the rain god and 
 called upon the rattlesnake that had come from the 
 underworld to be a good brother and not harm them. 
 Had there been two snakes together, the Hopi would 
 have ignored them, knowing that it is favorable to 
 the gods to capture only the snakes that are found 
 singly. 
 
 With a stick tipped with eagle feathers a priest 
 succeeded in making the snake uncoil and crawl 
 from under the bush, whereupon Lomamba com 
 manded two men who were armed with sticks to 
 make the capture. When the snake had been effec 
 tually pinned down a hoe was placed under its 
 lower jaw. Then one of the hunters thrust into 
 the snake's mouth one of the thin iron tools and 
 by revolving the handle ever so slightly pried the 
 creature's mouth wide open. 
 
 Kneeling in the sand, Lomamba commanded his 
 apprentice to come near and watch his movements 
 closely. Bending low the priest revealed to the boy 
 the venom glands along both cheek bones of the 
 serpent. 
 
 "What do you see?" asked Lomamba. 
 
 " I do not know," said Quonestiwa, the novice. 
 
 " You see bags holding poison. Now watch 
 everything that I do." 
 
 From his roll of cloth Lomamba took a bone hav 
 ing a sharp hook at one end. With this instrument 
 he slashed the rattler's venom glands. 
 
 After this ordeal the snake was released. It lay 
 very still, as a " good little brother " should. 
 
Good Little Brothers of Tusayan 103 
 
 The chief called a young Hopi from a distance 
 and commanded him to pick up the rattlesnake. 
 
 " The boy did not want him," said Steve Quo- 
 nestiwa when relating the incident. " He cried and 
 tried to beg off. But the priests circled around 
 and sang to the snake and threw meal to him. Then 
 they asked the snake not to hurt the boy, and by 
 and by the boy picked him up." 
 
 The sensations of one compelled to pick up a live 
 rattlesnake with his bare hands were described by 
 Johnson, a prominent Christian Hopi of Oraibi. 
 
 " When I was a young man they took me into 
 the Snake clan," related Johnson. " After I spent 
 one night in the kiva I went out with the snake- 
 hunters. We scattered out over a wide country. 
 Pretty soon somebody called out that he had found 
 a rattlesnake. They call me. I saw it under a bush. 
 They tell me to pick up snake. The priest gave 
 me a whip with feathers on the end and told me to 
 drive the snake out from under the bush. He would 
 not move. So men with hoes cut the bush down. 
 Now I must pick up the snake. I am afraid to. I 
 am surrounded by the old men, who weep and beg 
 me to be brave. They say if I am a good Hopi the 
 snake will not bite me. Then they throw meal to 
 snake and pray to the snake not to hurt me. I 
 work with my whip a long time to get the snake 
 to run from me. Then I make a quick grab and 
 hold snake up with my arm straight out. My arm 
 trembled just like that (demonstrating) and the 
 sweat rolled down my body. Then the priest took 
 the snake and thanked him for not biting me. Then 
 
104 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 he gave me a bag and told me to carry the snake 
 the rest of the day. At sundown I carry him to 
 kiva and put him in a jar with other snakes. When 
 I got to be a Snake man I learned how to take away 
 from rattlesnake his power to hurt anybody." 
 
 One morning the announcement was made from 
 the roof of a dwelling on Second Mesa that the 
 snake-hunt would begin that day, and all were ad 
 monished to call the priests whenever a rattlesnake 
 should be found. Uwiykaka, a youth who had spent 
 five years in the government school at Phoenix, 
 heard the crier, but understood only a few of the 
 Hopi words. He had left home so young and had 
 been gone so long that he had forgotten how to con 
 verse in his native tongue. 
 
 Uwiykaka was accommodating. He wanted to 
 see a good snake-dance with plenty of snakes. All 
 day he hunted alone on the desert and returned to 
 the village after sundown with one rattlesnake in 
 the flour-sack in which he had carried his lunch. 
 The Snake men already were assembled in the kiva 
 or underground den, to continue their nightly cere 
 monies. Uwiykaka knew that he would not be per 
 mitted to enter the kiva, but at least he could throw 
 down his sack as a love token to the rain gods. 
 
 "There's a snake for you," he called down 
 through the hatchway. He was wholly sincere in 
 his Hopi belief that the contribution would receive 
 a loving welcome below. 
 
 As if a bomb with fuse burning had been hurled 
 into their sacred chamber, the Snake men lost no 
 time in climbing up the ladder to safety. The high 
 
Good Little Brothers of Tusayan 105 
 
 priest, first to venture within range of sudden 
 death, gingerly seized the mouth of the sack and 
 securely fastened it together with a cord. Then 
 he sent a Snake man to Uwiykaka's home with the 
 message that if Uwiykaka planned to continue the 
 hunt he should call the priests to every snake he 
 found so that they could show due reverence with 
 the sacred meal and prayers. Uwiykaka's sister, 
 who had been at school but had not forgotten the 
 language of her tribe, dutifully interpreted this ad 
 monition to her brother, and probably this was the 
 last time so great a number of Snake men at one 
 time were stampeded by one rattlesnake in that 
 pueblo. 
 
Ill 
 
 THE NAVAJO'S GODS ARE SILENT 
 
 "PHILIP, returning with the sheep after an 
 A absence of three days, found his brother's life 
 less body lying on the ground inside the hogan. 
 Without warning had come the Great Calamity. 
 Ted, his brother and companion, had become a thing 
 to be shunned. The Navajo youth threw a blanket 
 over the object of his dread and fled from the log 
 shelter. 
 
 To touch a body that had been dead three days, 
 according to Navajo traditions, would bring a curse 
 upon Philip. Furthermore, for him to bury a human 
 body, however long dead, would compel him to de 
 sist from all work during a period of four days. 
 The sheep, unshepherded, would scatter upon the 
 desert to become the prey of wildcats, wolves, and 
 coyotes. But he could leave the sheep one day with 
 the dogs. At nightfall he must be with them again. 
 To secure assistance in the burial of his brother's 
 body was the immediate task, and he was many miles 
 from help. 
 
 At daybreak next morning Philip took the short 
 est trail to the home of Hosteen Nez, a Navajo chief, 
 to ask that dignitary to intercede with the Indian 
 agent to the end that white men would be sent to 
 106 
 
 
The Navajo's Gods Are Silent 107 
 
 bury the body that had lain dead three days. He 
 also interviewed Belasighi, another chief. But 
 neither head man could get the government aid for 
 Philip in his plan to escape The Curse. As the 
 Navajo were an independent, self-supporting peo 
 ple, the burying of their dead was not on the list 
 of activities undertaken by Uncle Sam in their be 
 half. 
 
 There was one way left for Philip. He could go 
 to the Baptist missionary, Lee Thayer, 1 who never 
 refused to bury the dead. During two severe epi 
 demics all Navajo living within fifty miles and 
 more of the missionary's headquarters at Ream's 
 Canon had been convinced of that. For many weeks 
 the missionary had been driving his automobile 
 night and day to reach the most distressing cases 
 of need. 
 
 Philip hurried to the missionary's home and 
 stated his errand. Thayer learned that it would 
 be impossible to reach the distant sheep-camp by 
 automobile, but set out at once on horseback with 
 the Navajo boy. They rode fifteen miles over a 
 rough trail to the top of some bluffs. Here the 
 boy halted and pointed down at a hogan at the foot 
 of the slope. He refused to go farther, and Thayer 
 understood the Indian nature too well to press him 
 unduly. 
 
 The missionary made camp, cooked a meal, and 
 then with pick and shovel went down to begin his 
 task alone. 
 
 1 See table on page 112 for statistical material with regard to Navajo 
 Indian Mission. 
 
108 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 Has there taken place elsewhere such a burial as 
 this? Acting as grave-digger, pall-bearer, under 
 taker, minister, chief mourner, and sympathizing 
 friend, this missionary to a superstitious people has 
 performed many of these lonely tasks in the Big 
 Country where no record is made of broken hearts 
 by a sympathetic hand. 
 
 The grave was dug; then the body, wrapped in 
 its blanket, was lowered to its final resting-place 
 within the hogan. When the prayer was spoken 
 and the shallow grave filled, the missionary closed 
 the entrance of the abandoned habitation with poles 
 to prevent marauding coyotes from digging up the 
 body. When he walked to the top of the bluffs he 
 found Philip reclining at his ease indifferently 
 smoking a cigaret. The affair that had taken place 
 at the bottom of the slope, apparently, was of no 
 moment to the Navajo. That is the way with an 
 Indian. Yet somewhere, deep in the heart of the 
 youth, an impression must have been made. Count 
 less acts of kindness of this character have served 
 to give Lee Thayer a very high place in the estima 
 tion of red men and whites on the Navajo Reser 
 vation. 
 
 A party of three that visited Lee Thayer's field 
 recently remained long enough to obtain a fairly 
 accurate idea of the extent and nature of the Na 
 vajo work. On one of the long trips by automobile 
 it was demonstrated to the satisfaction of the 
 visitors that a pick and shovel are a necessary part 
 of this pastor's permanent equipment for the service 
 his unusual field demands. 
 
The Navajo 9 s Gods Are Silent 
 
 109 
 
 Over the divide from Pinon to the Oraibi Valley 
 is a ride not quickly forgotten. Trails over which 
 the camp-wagons of the nomadic Navajo sheep- 
 owners may go with impunity may be well-nigh 
 impossible for the automobilist. Before the level 
 floor of the valley was reached both Kinney and 
 Morton were ready to confer upon Thayer the title 
 of " master driver of the world." After negotiating 
 every rocky barrier over the divide, the car was 
 nearly stalled by tumble-weeds, well cured by the 
 sun, that piled many feet high in front of the en 
 gine's hood. After escaping from these circus per 
 formers of the vegetable world, a good road was 
 encountered. The mesa upon which Oraibi, one of 
 the ancient and most interesting villages of the 
 Hopi, is built, thrust its rugged summit out of the 
 desert ten miles ahead. 
 
 Just before crossing the line separating the Na 
 vajo territory from Hopiland the missionary 
 stopped his car. He pointed to a saddle lying upon 
 the ground a short distance to the left. Without 
 comment he removed pick and shovel from the ton- 
 neau. The others followed him. 
 
 The saddle was an old one and badly wrinkled 
 from exposure to rain and sun ; near it was the skull 
 of a horse, a primitive irrigating-hoe such as the 
 Navajo and Hopi use, and near the hoe was an old 
 coat, from one sleeve of which protruded the skel 
 eton fingers of a hand. Further search revealed a 
 human skull half-hidden in a small hole in the 
 ground twenty feet from the coat. Scattered every 
 where were other bones of beast and man, gruesome 
 
110 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 evidences of a tragedy that had occurred over 
 twelve months before. 
 
 A Navajo riding homeward from his corn-field 
 during a thunder-storm had been struck down by 
 lightning, his horse being killed by the same stroke. 
 The dead bodies of horse and rider remained in the 
 same relative positions until the coyotes began their 
 work. No member of the victim's family, no friend, 
 dared touch the remains. A curse rested upon the 
 ground where he fell, and a new trail was broken 
 out around the dreadful spot to give the super 
 stitious folk a path safe from their fears. 
 
 It remained for the missionary on one of his more 
 extended trips to dig a grave and perform a service 
 unrequested and unrecorded. On this occasion his 
 labors were lightened, for he had the assistance of 
 his visitors. 
 
 The Navajo have many well-defined deities, na 
 ture gods and animal gods, local gods and gods that 
 are distant; they have a vast mythical and legend 
 ary lore and hundreds of formulas for the preser 
 vation of life and happiness on earth ; their religious 
 ceremonies are replete with songs and prayers 
 which must be learned and repeated in the most 
 exact manner; but in the presence of death they 
 are helpless. 
 
 To lead this people out from enslaving supersti 
 tions into the freedom which the gospel alone makes 
 possible is a task to which the churches have ad 
 dressed themselves. With patience, devotion, and 
 God-given heroism missionaries representing the 
 Baptist and other denominations are at work among 
 
The Navajo's Gods Are Silent 
 
 111 
 
 them. These men and women are far from the 
 centers of population ; the problems they must solve 
 are unknown to the great majority of Christian 
 workers; they are alone. Let us not forget them, 
 but by our conscious remembrance of them, make 
 them more truly what they are our own hearts and 
 heads and hands about His business. 
 
BAPTIST WORK AMONG 
 CURRENT DATA, 1921 
 
 TRIBE OB 
 BAND 
 
 CHURCH 
 
 Year 
 Organized 
 
 Total 
 Baptisms 
 
 Present 
 Membership 
 
 Children in 
 School 
 
 OKLAHOMA 
 1 Kiowa 
 
 Rainy Mountain 
 
 1894 
 
 381 
 
 202 
 
 129 
 
 2 Kiowa 
 
 Elk Creek 
 
 1894 
 
 58 
 
 50 
 
 25 
 
 3 Comanche 
 
 First ... 
 
 1&95 
 
 
 240 
 
 
 
 First 
 
 1896 
 
 192 
 
 86 
 
 65 
 
 5 Cheyenne . . . . 
 
 Second 
 
 1898 
 
 
 79 
 
 
 6 Arapaho 
 
 First 
 
 1898 
 
 
 165 
 
 } 1801 
 
 7 Kiowa 
 
 Saddle Mountain . 
 
 1903 
 
 150 
 
 195 
 
 
 8 Kiowa 
 
 Red Stone 
 
 1905 
 
 158 
 
 127 
 
 58 
 
 9 Apache 
 
 First Apache 
 
 1908 
 
 53 
 
 65 
 
 22 
 
 10 Caddo etc 
 
 Sugar Creek 
 
 1908 
 
 202 
 
 148 
 
 200 
 
 11 Various tribes 
 
 Bacone College 
 
 1912 
 
 316 
 
 210 
 
 200 
 
 12 Cheyenne and Arap- 
 
 Calumet 
 
 1913 
 
 113 
 
 153 
 
 40 
 
 13 Concho Indian 
 School 
 
 Concho 
 
 
 
 
 
 MONTANA 
 14 Crow 
 
 Lodge Grass 
 
 1906 
 
 140 
 
 110 
 
 45 
 
 15 Crow 
 
 Wyola 
 
 W3 
 
 16 
 
 16 
 
 32 
 
 16 Crow 
 
 Pryor 
 
 1917 
 
 57 
 
 57 
 
 48 
 
 17 Crow 
 
 Absaroka 
 
 1<W> 
 
 57 
 
 57 
 
 42 
 
 18 Crow . 
 
 Black Lodge 
 
 
 
 
 44 
 
 
 Reno 
 
 
 
 
 65 
 
 ABIZONA 
 30 Hopi 
 
 Second Mesa 
 
 1904 
 
 38 
 
 28 
 
 18 
 
 21 Hopi 
 
 First Mesa 
 
 1907 
 
 49 
 
 38 
 
 20 
 
 
 FCearos Canon .... 
 
 1912 
 
 4 
 
 4 
 
 1 
 
 CALIFORNIA 
 Mono Tribe Band 
 23 Big Sandy 
 
 Auberrv ... 
 
 1910 
 
 100 
 
 89 
 
 34 
 
 24 Cold Spring 
 
 Sycamore 
 
 1913 
 
 75 
 
 65 
 
 
 25 Table Mountain 
 
 Table Moun tain 
 Dunlap 
 
 1914 
 1914 
 
 39 
 152 
 
 26 
 39 
 
 
 27 Nipinnawasee 
 
 Nipinnawasee 
 
 1918 
 
 23 
 
 21 
 
 
 28 Chuckchansi 
 
 Coarse Gold 
 
 1918 
 
 55 
 
 31 
 
 
 NEVADA 
 29 Paiute . .. 
 
 Fallon 
 
 1920 
 
 41 
 
 44 
 
 57 
 
 30 Paiute 
 
 Wadsworth 
 
 ivn 
 
 
 
 29 
 
 31 Washoe 
 
 Carson City . 
 
 1921 
 
 
 
 20 
 
 32 Washoe .. . .. 
 
 Gardnersville 
 
 1921 
 
 
 
 30 
 
 ALASKA 
 33 Kodiak Orphanage, 
 Wood Island 
 
 
 1892 
 
 
 
 40 
 
 Total 
 
 
 
 2,349 
 
 *2345 
 
 1,404 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 1 To get the total of Indian Baptist church-members in the United 
 States, add to this the following: Massachusetts, 76: New York, 506; 
 Oklahoma, " Civilized Tribes," total, 4,500. Total, in United States, 
 7,427. 
 
AMERICAN INDIANS 
 Compiled by L. C. BARNES, D. D. 
 
 Raised for 
 Local Ex 
 penses 
 
 Gifts to 
 Missions 
 
 Acres 
 Cultivated 
 
 MISSIONARY 
 
 POST-OFFICE 
 
 Year of 
 Appointment 
 
 $1,197.68 
 250.00 
 
 $64.00 
 26.00 
 
 2,780 
 760 
 
 F L. King 
 
 OKLAHOMA 
 Mountain View 
 
 1898 
 1898 
 1893 
 1920 
 1917 
 1917 
 1919 
 1S07 
 1907 
 1904 
 1917 
 
 1913 
 1920 
 
 1903 
 1903 
 1920 
 1903 
 1903 
 1903 
 
 1907 
 1907 
 1907 
 
 1915 
 
 1915 
 1915 
 1915 
 1917 
 1917 
 
 1921 
 1921 
 1921 
 1B21 
 
 1S08 
 
 F. L. King 
 
 Mountain View 
 
 E. C. Deyo 
 G. W. Hicks 
 fT. J. Davis .... 
 IT. J. Davis .... 
 William I. Parks. 
 Harry H. Treat .. 
 Harry H. Treat . . 
 W. A. Wilkin .... 
 B. D. Weeks .... 
 
 G. W. Hicks 
 G. W. Hicks 
 
 W. A. Petzoldt .. 
 W. A. Petzoldt .. 
 George E. Black . 
 W. A. Petzojdt .. 
 W. A. Petzoldt .. 
 W. A. Petzoldt .. 
 
 Lee I. Thayer ... 
 Lee I. Thayer ... 
 Lee I. Thayer ... 
 
 J. G. Brendel ... 
 J. G. Brendel ... 
 J. G. Brendel ... 
 J. G. Brendel ... 
 Neas-je-gar-gath . 
 Neas-je-gar-gath . 
 
 J. Winfield Scott . 
 J. Winfleld Scott . 
 J. Winfield Scott . 
 J. Winfleld Scott . 
 
 George A. Learn . 
 
 
 350.00 
 660.00 
 
 223.80 
 477.73 
 12.00 
 100.00 
 
 25.00 
 
 3,500 
 300 
 
 '1,270 
 800 
 
 Calumet 
 
 Watonga 
 
 62.08 
 74.73 
 5.00 
 90.00 
 5,000.00 
 
 45.00 
 
 Watonga 
 Saddle Mountain 
 
 Anardarko ... 
 
 Anardarko 
 
 Wichita Mission 
 Bacon e College 
 
 160 
 4,300 
 200 
 
 350 
 300 
 
 275.00 
 
 Calumet 
 
 Calumet 
 
 425.00 
 700.00 
 250.00 
 300.00 
 850.00 
 750.00 
 
 95.06 
 16.47 
 
 280.00 
 125.00 
 225.00 
 180.00 
 100.00 
 100.00 
 
 422.20 
 243.07 
 96.90 
 
 46.75 
 
 MONTANA 
 Lodge Grass 
 
 Lodge Grass 
 
 Pryor 
 
 Lodge Grass 
 
 Lodge Grass 
 
 Lodge Grass 
 
 ARIZONA 
 Keams Canon 
 
 Keams Cafton 
 
 Keams Cafton 
 
 167.25 
 63.40 
 46.75 
 85.20 
 91.20 
 84.00 
 
 12.87 
 
 
 CALIFORNIA 
 Clovis 
 
 
 Clovis 
 
 
 
 Clovis 
 
 36160 
 
 
 
 Clovis 
 
 
 
 
 Coarse Gold 
 
 89.00 
 
 1,500 
 
 NEVADA 
 Reno . 
 
 Reno 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Reno 
 
 
 
 
 ALASKA 
 Kodiak, Wood Island .. 
 
 $7,133.61 
 
 $7,662.33 
 
 16,220 
 
 The great majority of the 5,000 Baptist members in Mexico are largely 
 of Indian blood. The same is true of the 780 in Central America, so 
 that in North America we have about 13,500 original American members 
 and at least three times as many adherents. 
 
m 
 
 THE CALL OF MOUNTAIN AND 
 PRAIRIE 
 
RELIGIOUS DESTITUTION IN REMOTE 
 AREAS 
 
 TODAY there are many sections in the mountain 
 ous regions of the West and Northwest where 
 hundreds of people cannot attend a religious service, 
 not even a Sunday school, without traveling from 
 twenty to fifty miles over mountain ranges, because 
 no service is held nearer. Most of this territory 
 is back from the railroads, or on branch lines only. 
 But there are in these remote sections many rich 
 and productive valleys and numerous mining-camps. 
 The valleys, while thoroughly isolated, generally 
 are thickly settled by miners, farmers, and stock- 
 growers. Because of their isolation, and sometimes 
 because of severe climate, these valleys have been 
 overlooked and neglected by pastor and missionary, 
 and so the religious destitution exists. 
 
 One of these counties has an area of more than 
 5,000 square miles, and yet religious work is car 
 ried on in only four or five places in the entire 
 county. Out of the twenty-four school districts in 
 the county, twenty-one are without religious work 
 of any kind. Another county has an area of 4,600 
 square miles, and out of the eighteen school dis 
 tricts only three have any religious work carried 
 on in a regular way. These concrete examples of 
 
 117 
 
118 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 religious destitution emphasize the need of home- 
 mission work yet to be done in the West. 
 
 " My field is a large one, demanding a man's full 
 time," declared a Baptist missionary pastor in Ne 
 braska a few weeks ago. " I wish to assure any 
 inquirer who likes to do a pioneer work that he 
 need not fear lonesomeness in these sand-hills, as 
 there are calls for one's service every minute of the 
 day, and often at night. He must construct his 
 sermons on the road and on the move. He has 
 little time to sit at the desk. Sometimes when he 
 feels like reaching for the brakes, so many needs 
 arise to plead in Macedonian fashion that before he 
 knows it like Paul the love of Christ constrains 
 him, and he is on the go again. The writer of a 
 recent article in one of our papers asks if any more 
 of our old pioneer Christian work is being done. I 
 wish he would come over and help us he would 
 not question as to the existence of pioneer work. 
 
 " Baptist pastors are scarce around here, and one 
 longs at times to meet one. I am the only Baptist 
 preacher for two hundred miles east and west. We 
 desire the prayers of God's people that every nook 
 and corner of this great field be reached." 
 
 These fields call for a special type of manhood. 
 If a man has devotion, grit, aggressiveness, love for 
 hard work, and a missionary spirit, he will find 
 opportunities out in these fields that will make his 
 heart rejoice. If he is the right sort of man, pos 
 sessed of consecration and tact, he will find a hearty 
 welcome awaiting him and a ready response upon 
 the part of those to whom he brings the glad news. 
 
Religious Destitution in Remote Areas 119 
 
 Here is a sample two-weeks' schedule of one of 
 our own missionary pastors in Idaho undertaken 
 before the automobile was introduced in a general 
 way on remote mission fields: 
 
 On Tuesday morning the missionary left Belle- 
 vue for Soldier, thirty-five miles to the west, and 
 preached at that church Tuesday night. Wednes 
 day he drove the thirty-five miles back to Bellevue 
 and conducted the church prayer-meeting. On 
 Thursday he drove from Bellevue to Carey, twenty- 
 two miles to the southeast, and conducted the 
 prayer-meeting at that church. Friday he started 
 for the Lost River Valley to the east, driving the 
 first day to Dead Man's Flat, twenty-five miles. On 
 Saturday he drove from Dead Man's Flat to Lost 
 River, forty-five miles, and preached Sunday morn 
 ing and evening at Lost River and at an outstation 
 in the afternoon. Monday was given to doing pas 
 toral work on Lost River. Tuesday he drove back 
 as far as Dead Man's Flat, forty-five miles. Wed 
 nesday he drove from Dead Man's Flat to Picabo, 
 thirty-two miles, and conducted prayer-meeting 
 with that church. Thursday he traveled from 
 Picabo to Carey for the purpose of conducting a 
 prayer-meeting there. Friday and Saturday were 
 given to pastoral work at Picabo and Carey. On 
 Sunday morning he preached at Carey, drove seven 
 miles to Picabo for an afternoon service, and then 
 drove fifteen miles to Bellevue for the evening ser 
 vice. Monday was given to pastoral work in Belle 
 vue, and on Tuesday morning he again started for 
 Soldier on his regular two-weeks' schedule. 
 
120 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 This required him to drive 268 miles between 
 regular points, and necessitated having at his dis 
 posal three or four teams. The extra pastoral work 
 and side-trips required from fifty to seventy-five 
 miles additional travel, so during the two weeks he 
 traveled regularly by team from 300 to 350 miles, 
 cared for five organized churches, and two or three 
 outstations, preached seven or eight sermons, and 
 conducted eight prayer-meetings. This might be 
 considered a fairly busy period. During one cal 
 endar year, by actual record, he had his team 
 hitched up every day in the year, including holi 
 days, to drive somewhere in the interest of his work 
 as a missionary. Yet there was not an overlapping 
 of denominational lines in this territory, which at 
 that time was almost destitute of workers. 
 
 When so much of the missionary's time was taken 
 up on the road, in making calls and conducting ser 
 vices, what time was there left for study? The 
 question can be answered briefly the missionary 
 spent little time in his study during those early 
 days. And was his efficiency as a preacher lessened 
 accordingly? The testimony of those most familiar 
 with the missionary's preaching accords with one 
 pioneer's declaration, "He was a good preacher just 
 the same." 
 
 How did the missionary overcome the tremen 
 dous obstacle of no time for sermonizing? In the 
 first place, he had a remarkable amount of the 
 Scriptures stored in memory as a result of the thor 
 oughgoing religious training which he had received 
 at home. Then he memorized chapter after chapter 
 
Oregon lumberman. Among the neglected folks. 
 
 A Rocky Mountain railroad section gang often visited 
 by one of our colporter-missionaries. 
 
Religious Destitution in Remote Areas 121 
 
 of the Bible while going on his rounds. He did 
 this systematically. He would analyze each chap 
 ter, memorize the outline, and then the contents of 
 the chapter. He memorized the contents of a book 
 by chapters. Sometimes he spoke in a schoolhouse 
 where there were no lights, which necessitated his 
 repeating from memory a passage of Scripture. 
 But this was only one of the advantages of his sys 
 tem of Bible study. When endeavoring to present 
 the gospel in conversation with unsaved men and 
 women he had ready-to-hand material from the 
 Bible to apply when needed. 
 
 For homiletical material he used the best things 
 which came under his notice every day. His the 
 ological school was the school of observation and 
 experience conducted in the big out-of-doors where 
 he came in contact with a people whose efforts were 
 constantly pitted against the passive resistance of 
 one of America's most fiercely rugged frontiers. 
 His message was always one fitted to the audience 
 which he found waiting for him. An afternoon or 
 evening service in some remote schoolhouse fur 
 nished him only another opportunity to make appli 
 cation of one of several texts which he might have 
 been using during his conversations that day with 
 men and women whom he had met in their homes, 
 in the hay-fields, in lonely mining-camps, or on the 
 desert trail. 
 
 He tried earnestly to let no opportunity pass by 
 to speak a word for his Master. His habit of going 
 to the Scriptures for light in the solution of every 
 personal problem has been characteristic of his 
 
122 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 work all the way along. The habit led to many 
 striking victories. 
 
 This missionary was being entertained at supper 
 in a certain home in an isolated community one 
 day late in November. That night he was to preach 
 in the schoolhouse. In that home there was a girl 
 about twelve years of age who was in high feather 
 because she was going to be " dressed up " for the 
 first time in five months. The mother got out her 
 daughter's best dress, which had not been worn 
 since the Fourth of July. The little United States 
 flag still clung to it. There had been no occasion 
 to dress the child in her finery since the Fourth of 
 July celebration, and it was late in November. It 
 was an epitome of the whole situation no Sunday. 
 Now in that community today after the coming 
 of the home missionary the boys and girls are 
 dressed up and go to church every Sunday. 
 
 Eighty-five miles from Bellevue is the Hagerman 
 Valley. The missionary, learning of the need of the 
 gospel in that section, thought it not too far to drive 
 over and do a bit of prospecting. He held meetings 
 in the schoolhouses of the valley. He was instru 
 mental in organizing a church which still is pros 
 pering. One night he was in a schoolhouse holding 
 a meeting. It was a very small building. At the 
 close of the service he went back to the door to 
 shake hands with the people. A young woman with 
 a baby in her arms was passing out when another 
 woman spoke to her. 
 
 " That was a good sermon." 
 
 " Was it ? " replied the woman carrying the baby. 
 
Religious Destitution in Remote Areas 123 
 
 " To tell you the truth I don't know how to judge 
 sermons. That was the first sermon I ever heard." 
 
 The nearest regular church service was thirty 
 miles away. The missionary felt repaid. He was 
 glad that he had driven eighty-five miles to give 
 the gospel story to a young mother who had never 
 heard a sermon. 
 
 Whatever these frontier people have they give 
 freely for the religious development of their com 
 munities. Among the many remarkable characters 
 discovered by the Idaho missionary pastor just re 
 ferred to were Adam Ifland and his wife Mary, of 
 Silver Creek Valley. They came from Kansas in an 
 early day and located on a homestead near the 
 present town of Picabo. They were industrious and 
 thrifty, and it was not long before they owned one 
 of the best ranches in the valley. Inasmuch as they 
 found themselves in a godless community their 
 hearts were profoundly stirred, and until they did 
 something to relieve the situation they enjoyed no 
 peace of mind or contentment. Accordingly they 
 started a Sunday school in a little log house that 
 stood near the old emigrant trail. The shanty was 
 devoid of all furniture and the chinking had fallen 
 out from between the logs. The neighbors who 
 gathered in the building on a Sunday afternoon 
 could look through the cracks and tell who was 
 coming. 
 
 Adam Ifland heard that the Baptist preacher at 
 Bellevue was willing to do missionary work else 
 where. 
 
 " I will go up and see this preacher and persuade 
 
124 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 him to hold some meetings here," he said to Mary, 
 his good wife. 
 
 He drove eighteen miles with his mule-team and 
 met the missionary. Ifland told him about the situ 
 ation in Silver Creek Valley and asked him to come 
 to their help. 
 
 At the earliest opportunity the missionary went 
 down and began a series of meetings in a rude struc 
 ture called the Le Due schoolhouse. He was enter 
 tained by Adam and Mary Ifland in their humble 
 frontier home, built on a hillside. 
 
 Although it was a cold winter, people rode in to 
 church from great distances. The people of the 
 immediate community greatly rejoiced in the meet 
 ings, which went on with power, resulting in not 
 a few conversions. In time arrangements were 
 made to hold Sunday school in the Le Due school- 
 house and steps were taken to organize a church. 
 
 In the meantime a friendship sprang up between 
 the missionary and Adam and Mary Ifland which 
 has ripened with the years. And this was no ordi 
 nary friendship. It was beautiful. The Ifland 
 home came to mean for the missionary something 
 more than a stopping-place. It became his home. 
 He turned to it for perfect rest and friendly peace. 
 Here he found unreserved sympathy and confidence. 
 In the house of Adam and Mary and their son Wal 
 ter he threw aside restraint and became a boy 
 again. Mrs. Ifland mothered him as she would have 
 done were he an actual son. She mended his clothes, 
 sewed on his buttons, cared for his laundry, cooked 
 the fish he caught and the sage-hens he shot, pro- 
 
Religious Destitution in Remote Areas 125 
 
 vided him with good meals to take on his long 
 drives, and nursed him when he was sick. The 
 quiet, restful constancy of these devoted friends 
 was a sustaining force in the young man's life dur 
 ing the strenuous years of his early ministry. It 
 was spiritually recreating to sit at their fireside 
 and review all of the experiences, both inspiring 
 and depressing, which had been his since his pre 
 vious visit to Silver Creek Valley. 
 
 If the missionary required a fresh team to take 
 him to Camas Prairie or Big Lost River he knew 
 he could get it at Iflands'. If his buggy broke down 
 he knew he could get another at Iflands'. Adam 
 made him a remarkable cutter at his own forge, 
 which is almost in as good condition today as it 
 was twenty-three years ago. This cutter was at 
 the old Ifland ranch when the writer saw it, and 
 it looked capable of carrying a missionary on his 
 rounds for many years to come. 
 
 Adam Ifland would have given away his farm 
 sooner than deny the missionary a horse if the lat 
 ter needed one. Yet he had a quaint habit of grum 
 bling about his absent horses. 
 
 " Now, Adam," admonished Mary, " you know 
 the preacher must have that horse." 
 
 " He'll have to pay for it," declared Adam, who 
 didn't care a fig about the horse, but to hear his 
 wife talk about "the preacher" was music to his 
 ears. " If he don't, I won't let him have another." 
 
 "Now, Adam, ain't you ashamed?" 
 
 Then Adam would chuckle softly to himself and 
 subside. 
 
II 
 
 VICTORY ON LITTLE LOST 
 
 ONE day word came from the Little Lost River 
 Valley that some gospel meetings in that re 
 mote section of Idaho would be appreciated. The 
 Little Lost River schoolhouse was one hundred and 
 twenty-five miles from the home of the missionary. 
 Would he come? To reach the place he must drive 
 across a desert country and over a range of moun 
 tains. He wrote that he would come. 
 
 After the long difficult drive he arrived at the 
 Hawley Ranch, which at that time was rented by 
 a man named George Walker. This was at four 
 o'clock in the afternoon of the third day of travel. 
 He was heartily welcomed by Mrs. Walker, and 
 shortly afterward met the four Walker children and 
 their school-teacher, Miss Hattie Moe, an estimable 
 young woman who had received her education in 
 the Presbyterian school at Mt. Pleasant, Utah. 
 
 Round-eyed with curiosity, the two younger 
 Walker children sized up the preacher and then 
 began to beg their mother to allow them to get 
 ready for church at once. No supper for them! 
 Excitement had very effectually banished their 
 appetites. 
 
 The four-mile trip was made to the schoolhouse 
 in a lumber-wagon, and the party consisted of the 
 126 
 
Victory on Little Lost 127 
 
 excited children, the father and mother, the school- 
 ma'am, and the missionary. 
 
 When the party got back to the ranchhouse a fire 
 was built, and all sat about the stove to get warm 
 before going to bed. For some time an unbroken 
 quietness prevailed. At length the mother spoke : 
 
 " It is impossible for any one to know what this 
 night means to me," she said. " It has been four 
 teen years since I have been to church. And dur 
 ing all this time I have longed for an occasion like 
 this. There has not been a church service closer 
 than twenty miles from us during the fourteen 
 years I have been here." 
 
 The very hunger in the woman's soul was re 
 vealed by her voice. The silence broken, the chil 
 dren were encouraged to speak. 
 
 The older girl, sixteen years of age, said that she 
 never had been to a preaching service before. Once 
 she had attended Sunday school thirty miles away 
 when she was a guest at the home of her school 
 teacher. The child, next in age, a winsome girl of 
 fourteen, said she did not know what a Sunday 
 school was like. The father remained silent during 
 it all. He was not a Christian. His thoughts were 
 too deep for words that night. 
 
 It was close to the midnight hour before the 
 good-nights were said. Wearied by the strenuous 
 activities of a long day, the missionary went to 
 sleep at once. How long he slept he did not know, 
 but suddenly he found himself awake, listening to 
 sounds in the kitchen. He could not believe it was 
 time to dress. Striking a match, he looked at his 
 
128 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 watch. It was two o'clock. And then he remem 
 bered hearing Mrs. Walker tell her older daughter 
 that they would " do the supper dishes " after 
 church. And there had been a stack of them. Mrs. 
 Walker had provided supper not only for the mem 
 bers of her family, but for the preacher, the school 
 teacher, three or four hired men, two freighters, a 
 traveler, and a gang of threshers. Hers was the 
 first human habitation at the end of a long desert 
 journey, and she turned no one away from her 
 table. 
 
 Two o'clock in the morning and Mrs. Walker still 
 washing dishes. The realization of her isolation 
 and her longing during fourteen years for a chance 
 to attend a gospel service stirred the missionary 
 deeply as he waited for daylight. There could be 
 no more sleep for him that night. He thought of 
 the many settled communities elsewhere and of 
 countless households enjoying their rest. Where 
 the church-bells had rung that night, how many 
 people had responded? We could well wish for 
 some power to enable every one to feel as this young 
 missionary felt that night. 
 
 Again and again the missionary's thoughts came 
 back to this frontier woman who had been washing 
 dishes from midnight until two o'clock in the morn 
 ing because she wanted to travel four miles in a 
 lumber-wagon to attend church, and this after cook 
 ing supper for a score of people. 
 
 Presently the house grew still. Two hours passed. 
 Again there were noises in the kitchen. A woman's 
 voice softly hummed a gospel hymn. It was four 
 
Victory on Little Lost 
 
 129 
 
 o'clock and pitch dark, yet Mrs. Walker already 
 had begun the tasks of another day. 
 
 The missionary remained in the Little Lost River 
 Valley country two weeks, spending all of his nights 
 at the Walker home. During this time Mrs. Wal 
 ker missed but one service. 
 
 Among the first Little Lost River Valley con 
 verts were the Walker children. Then one night, 
 soon afterward, the father yielded his heart to 
 Christ, and joy without measure came to the 
 Walker home. 
 
 Mr. Walker had been a hard drinker. As far 
 back as the Walker girls could remember, their 
 father's drunken return from Idaho Falls, when 
 ever he went there for supplies, was an event to 
 be dreaded. During the last week of the meetings 
 Mr. Walker had occasion to drive to Idaho Falls. 
 The trip necessitated an absence of two days. The 
 prayers of the wife and missionary followed him. 
 Would he be able to resist the awful temptation? 
 
 The missionary was at the ranch when Mrs. 
 Walker caught sight of her husband coming back 
 over the divide. He was in the room when the 
 ranchman walked in with a swift, steady stride. 
 
 " I didn't touch a drop, mother ! " he cried. " I've 
 won my fight ! " 
 
 He placed in the hand of his wife a Bible and a 
 copy of Bunyan's " Pilgrim's Progress." When she 
 saw these books and realized what the bringing of 
 them meant to him, to her, and to the children, her 
 heart welled up with a happiness too great to ex 
 press. The missionary left the room, bearing with 
 
130 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 him a vision of holy domestic joy which never will 
 be effaced from his memory. 
 
 God permits some men to amass their millions, 
 but he permits others to gather other riches riches 
 infinite and incalculable, and which neither moth 
 nor rust can corrupt. 
 
Ill 
 
 BLOCKING A FUNERAL 
 
 A MISSIONARY pastor-at-large, representing 
 the American Baptist Home Mission Society, 
 arrived unannounced in Ordway, Colorado, April 
 30, 1919, the day set by the few local Baptists to 
 disband and close up the church. He appeared at 
 the conference and suggested a series of revival 
 meetings instead of a funeral. A few welcomed the 
 suggestion, others demurred. Why a revival in the 
 Baptist church? Hardly a person in town would 
 come. Had not the Methodist church just closed 
 its revival meetings which had resulted in several 
 Baptists uniting with that church, giving as their 
 excuse that the Baptists amounted to nothing? The 
 best workers had moved away, there were not a 
 dozen members left and not a business man among 
 them and no families of influence at all so they 
 said. And in addition to all this the school board 
 had taken over the church building and had filled 
 it with school desks and held school in it every day. 
 There was no end of obstacles in the way of a 
 revival of Baptist interest in that town. 
 
 It was a fortunate occurrence for Ordway that 
 the few gathered in the little Baptist church that 
 night decided to act upon the missionary's sugges 
 tion. He informed the group that evangelistic 
 K 131 
 
132 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 meetings would begin the following night. The 
 next day a handbill announcing the services was put 
 into every home in town, and the missionary vis 
 ited every member of the Baptist church living in 
 town and called upon all the business firms in town 
 and made an announcement to every grade in the 
 grammar and high school. Before night everybody 
 in the community knew that a Baptist preacher 
 was in town ready to begin work that night. 
 
 The house was packed. Some doubtful Baptists, 
 coming late, found no seats vacant. A service was 
 held in the church every night for nearly a month. 
 No hall or other church could be rented, so each 
 day after school the school desks were taken out 
 and the pews put in, and at night after service the 
 pews were taken out and the school desks put in. 
 
 The evangelistic meetings were well attended and 
 resulted in a gratifying number of additions by 
 letter and baptism. When the meetings closed the 
 annual meeting of the church was put before the 
 people as an event to plan for in a large way. The 
 business meeting was preceded by a banquet held 
 at a hotel. Places were set for one hundred mem 
 bers and guests. Visiting brethren from Denver, 
 Pueblo, Rocky Ford, and Lamar spoke in an encour 
 aging way with regard to the work in Ordway. The 
 meeting did not break up until near midnight nor 
 before the church-members had indicated in the 
 form of cash and pledges how earnestly they desired 
 to repair the church, secure a parsonage, and call 
 a pastor. 
 
 Now followed many days of toil for the mission- 
 

 
 sr 
 
 s 
 
 w 
 
 g 
 
Blocking a Funeral 133 
 
 ary who went out during the day raising money or 
 worked as a carpenter or painter or gardener on 
 the church property. When he had finished his 
 various tasks a pastor was called, and a salary of 
 $1,500 a year and the free use of a parsonage voted 
 him. After all incumbrances had been paid on the 
 church property, the community staged a surprise 
 for the missionary pastor-at-large in one of the city 
 parks, on which occasion a gold watch was pre 
 sented to him. 
 
 Here is the summary of work done to transform 
 a down-and-out church to one that is doing an 
 aggressive and acceptable work in the growing com 
 munity of Ordway : 
 
 Months of service 5 
 
 Visits made in homes 1,460 
 
 Visits to other churches in Colorado 28 
 
 Sermons delivered 108 
 
 Bibles given out 20 
 
 Number of pages of tracts distributed .... 4,000 
 
 Number of persons baptized 10 
 
 Sunday schools 2 
 
 Miles traveled 4,244 
 
 Letters written 1,560 
 
 Raised in cash and pledges $5,158.59 
 
 Not long ago a letter was received at the New 
 York headquarters of the Home Mission Society 
 from Ordway, Colorado, giving this particular nar 
 rative a very happy ending. In it we learn that 
 the Ordway Baptists, since the missionary left 
 
134 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 them, have kept on making progress. They are 
 paying their pastor the salary agreed upon, and 
 paying it regularly; they have purchased a $400 
 piano; they have organized a choir; they have a 
 Sunday school of a hundred; they are receiving 
 substantial increases in church-membership; a re 
 vival conducted by the pastor is in progress, and 
 they are about to build the auditorium of the 
 church, the part in which they worship at present 
 being the Sunday school and social room in a larger 
 architectural plan. 
 
IV 
 
 SO THAT THEIR LIVES MAY NOT BE 
 BARREN 
 
 (A Colporter-Missionary Finds Time to Write.) 
 
 I DON'T feel very well just now. I have been up 
 to the dentist and had nineteen teeth pulled in 
 one sitting. So I can't do anything for awhile but 
 write reports and letters. 
 
 Now as to that car : I have filled out the answers 
 to your questions and enclose the slip. It is No. 
 18 ; has been used four years next month ; on Janu 
 ary 1, 1921, it will have run 31,985 miles. It cost 
 about $400 when new. I think it is worth about 
 $200 yet, which is a wonder. It must be, in view 
 of that wonderful dedicatory prayer of Doctor Mills 
 at the conference at Oakland, when he prayed for 
 " every spoke " and " every bolt " and " every other 
 part of that car." 
 
 Yes, I should be willing to pay $200 for it yet, 
 if I could buy it. It runs easy, but needs some 
 more repairs. The right sill in the main frame is 
 bent and cracked ; the top is somewhat rickety, one 
 tire quite worn, and the whole car needs a coat of 
 paint in the spring. But I think I can do the most 
 of this work myself when it gets a little warmer. 
 I could do it now, while I am laid up, if I only could 
 
 135 
 
136 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 find a warm place to work in. But it can be used 
 the way it is for a while yet. I always used to give 
 it a coat of paint in the spring-time and the wheels 
 two or three coats, which has preserved them, so 
 that there is not a spoke loose yet even after that 
 hard drive up in Cherry County last summer, when 
 I broke both axles and springs and the main cross- 
 member and several other things. I hope I shall 
 never need to put it to such a test again. I think 
 it is better to let some one with a new car take 
 such places, or better go horseback or with an 
 aeroplane. 
 
 I have not seen my family since early last fall, 
 and don't expect to get home until some time in the 
 spring and yet I love and long for my home and 
 family as much as any man. I have walked eight 
 miles at midnight against a snow-storm when it 
 was twenty below zero, just for a chance to be with 
 my family a few hours. Now I cannot go home 
 very often, as they live so far away, and railroads 
 do not grant one-half fare to colporters this year. 
 
 Several times I have been requested to write 
 something about our work and experiences, our 
 trials and victories. In looking back over these six 
 teen years of colportage work in Kansas and Ne 
 braska I surely have reason now to thank my God 
 for his protecting care and blessings. We have 
 been trying with his help in different ways to bring 
 the gospel message to the people, both through the 
 printed page and spoken word; through songs and 
 sermons and a daily life of walk and talk with God 
 and man. Humbly will I, therefore, mention just 
 
So that Their Lives May Not Be Barren 137 
 
 a few of the various experiences from a colporter- 
 missionary's life and work. 
 
 I have pleaded with men and had the privilege 
 of leading souls to Christ and have seen them re 
 joice with new-born hope. I have led and helped 
 in revival meetings where many have sought and 
 found their Saviour. Have had the pleasure of 
 baptizing quite a few; once twenty-three on one 
 Sunday afternoon and thirty-six within six weeks 
 in a creek at a place twenty miles from a railroad. 
 At other times I have worked for months without 
 any such visible results. 
 
 Sometimes while out in this work I have been 
 received with open arms and treated like a prince 
 or as a dear friend and brother, while at other times 
 and places I have been despised and rejected and 
 have had to endure cold and hunger and all sorts of 
 discomforts. 
 
 Sometimes I have had breakdowns an axle or 
 some other part of the car when I have been out 
 in some lonely place thirty or forty miles from a 
 garage. Often have I been stuck in mud-holes or 
 snow-drifts where I have had to dig myself out; 
 at other times I have run into deep, loose sand, 
 where I have had to work like a slave under a 
 scorching sun for hours and hours to get out, and 
 not a living soul in sight to reach out a helping 
 hand. 
 
 Many times a colporter finds himself among 
 people altogether ungodly. He has to preach and 
 lead services in small meetings, where he must be 
 janitor and preacher, organist and singer, and not 
 
138 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 have a person along whom he can ask to lead in 
 prayer. 
 
 At other times the Mission Boards have kindly 
 arranged it so that we could have the privilege of 
 attending some great convention or other meeting, 
 where our souls, in fellowship with our brethren, 
 have feasted on spiritual things for which we surely 
 are thankful. I appreciate these privileges more 
 than words can tell. 
 
 Sometimes a colporter may devote himself alto 
 gether to spiritual things, while at other times it 
 is his privilege to help with all kinds of manual 
 labor in order to reach the people. 
 
 While out in this colportage work I have helped 
 to organize churches and Sunday schools. I have 
 sold and distributed thousands of Bibles and books 
 and tracts. I have fixed up churches, plastered 
 houses, built chimneys ; painted and papered homes ; 
 have helped to butcher and brand cattle; cleaned 
 and repaired organs and clocks and sewing- 
 machines as well as all kinds of farm implements. 
 I have helped to build houses and barns and sheds ; 
 half-soled shoes and 'fixed harnesses; put up wind 
 mills and fences; sometimes helped to plant and 
 plow and gather in the harvest. I have buried peo 
 ple and married people, and even served as both 
 doctor and nurse at confinement cases, when it was 
 absolutely necessary. 
 
 Of course, I never ask anything for this kind 
 of service except during my vacation-time when I 
 have helped in hay- or harvest-field. If they ask 
 what they owe me or what I want for my help, I 
 
So that Their Lives May Not Be Barren 139 
 
 answer : " That is all right. You don't owe me 
 anything; this is simply missionary work." I 
 endeavor to reach out a helping hand where I see 
 that help is really needed, just as I think Jesus, 
 my Master, would do if he were here. Of course 
 some insist on paying something, and then I say, 
 " If you really want to do something for the mis 
 sionary cause, I will surely be glad to send it in." 
 
 Once I went up in Sherman County and called 
 at a Methodist home. As soon as I stepped in, the 
 mother spoke up and said : " We are surely glad to 
 see you! We have been hoping and waiting a long 
 time that brother Olson would come around." 
 
 " Why," said I, " what is the trouble now? " 
 
 " Oh, you see how our house looks. I have been 
 trying so long to get some one to come and help 
 us paper, but can't get any help. Everybody is so 
 busy." 
 
 " Well," said I, " I am very, very busy too, but 
 have you got the stuff at home? " 
 
 " Yes, it is all here." 
 
 " Well, let's get busy then." 
 
 It was late in the afternoon, but before we went 
 to bed that night the house was papered, and early 
 next morning I was on the road again. I set the 
 father to plastering up the rat-holes and places 
 where the plastering had fallen down, the children 
 cut borders and held the lamps while the mother 
 pasted, and I hung the paper. We were all as happy 
 and busy as bees, and got through easy by mid 
 night. But that was not all. They bought one of 
 the best Bibles I had along, and gave me two dollars 
 
140 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 extra for missionary work. They have been as 
 faithful workers as any members in the little Bap 
 tist church near-by, ever since. Last time, when 
 I was out there trying to raise the pastor's salary, 
 they subscribed two dollars a month or as much 
 as any of the members did. 
 
 " The way to a man's heart is often through his 
 stomach." Yes, and through a little paint and wall 
 paper too, or almost anything they need. It is a 
 good thing to be able to help. 
 
 Some of these pioneer people are wonderfully 
 resourceful, while others seem to be perfectly help 
 less when it comes to fixing things up. Sometimes 
 a person with some enthusiasm and determination 
 to conquer difficulties is needed to help get things 
 started. This is true in both temporal and spiritual 
 things. 
 
 Often I have seen children coming home from 
 school with shoe-soles clean through so that their 
 bare feet pressed against the snow every step they 
 took, and I have visited their homes very early next 
 morning and found some pieces of leather from 
 an old saddle or belt or discarded horse-collar; sev 
 eral times I have used parts of old, blown-out auto 
 mobile tires that I happened to have along. At any 
 rate the children's shoes have been half-soled before 
 they woke up in the morning. 
 
 But these are only little things. Not long ago 
 I came to a poor family living way up in the sand 
 hills in an unplastered house. It was so cold that 
 if they spilled a little water on the floor it would 
 freeze immediately; and no fuel but some corn- 
 
A frontier Baptist deacon, whose Christian loyalty 
 blessed a community. 
 
 Wayside pastoral call, Las Animas Valley, Colo. 
 
So that Their Lives May Not Be Barren 141 
 
 cobs. They had three small children, ages one, 
 three, and five years, creeping and playing on the 
 floor most of the time. No wonder they caught 
 cold ! I was told they had had the sand and plaster- 
 cement at home all summer and tried several times 
 to get some one to come and help them plaster, but 
 had not succeeded. Now they had almost given up 
 hope, with no money and winter coming on in 
 earnest. They did not know what to do. 
 
 " Well," said I, " it surely is too bad. If it is 
 absolutely impossible for you to get any one to help 
 you, then rather than allow you to live in that un- 
 plastered house with those three little children all 
 winter, I suppose I will have to stop a few days 
 and plaster your house." 
 
 "Can you? Will you?" 
 
 I stopped and worked each day from before day 
 light until ten or eleven o'clock at night, and not 
 being used to that kind of hard work my arms 
 ached so I thought they would break off, especially 
 when plastering the ceiling. But we got the six 
 rooms plastered and fixed up warm and comfortable. 
 
 You should have seen how thankful they were, 
 how their voices trembled and their eyes filled with 
 tears of gratitude when I bade them farewell. I 
 know if God will bless them, there will be something 
 done in behalf of the kingdom by the members of 
 that home in future years. They are Christian peo 
 ple. I baptized the mother some time ago, and the 
 father was a Baptist already. 
 
 I have learned a good many things during these 
 sixteen years of colportage work. I wish now that 
 
142 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 I had the resources and the health and strength 
 to enable me to keep on for many years in this work. 
 But I am getting older and suppose I shall soon 
 have to quit. 
 
 I enjoy reading Paul's last words in Titus, which 
 I have before me as a motto every day: "Let all 
 our people learn to devote themselves to doing good 
 in order to meet the most pressing needs, so that 
 their lives may not be barren of results " (Titus 
 3 : 14, Twentieth Century New Testament). 
 
 P. S. If you can and want to use any of this 
 material in any way you are at liberty to do so. 
 I have made no statement I cannot verify. 
 
 AUTHOR'S NOTE. This letter reveals the fine spirit of the 
 frontier. It is not published with the idea of setting forth a 
 method of missionary procedure. The colporter-missionary 
 work, carried forward jointly by the Publication and Home 
 Mission Societies, is more fully described in " Old Trails and 
 New," a companion to the present volume. 
 
JOE BARANOFF'S GOOD FORTUNE 
 
 (AUTHOR'S NOTE. Joe Baranoff is an imaginary character, 
 but in all essential particulars the events as narrated in this 
 story actually have occurred at one time or another in con 
 nection with the lives of the boys and girls at the Kodiak 
 Baptist Orphanage, Alaska.) 
 
 T70RTUNE seemed cruel to Joe Baranoff when 
 A four men came to the shack that had been his 
 home and carried the still form of his father away 
 to bury it forever from his sight. He was now 
 alone in the " Valley of Ten Thousand Smokes," and 
 this meant a life of slavery for an Alaskan Indian 
 boy. Not far from his home was a collection of 
 squalid Indian homes. He went from house to house 
 asking to be taken in. He could not remember his 
 mother, but he hoped that she had been of gentler 
 heart than the women who ordered him from their 
 doors. He did so much want some food and a place 
 where he could get warm and go to sleep. He 
 passed from hovel to hovel until he was told by a 
 man smoking a pipe in his doorway that he could 
 stay there if he could carry a bucket full of water 
 and cut wood with an axe. 
 
 Two months later a government official stepped 
 from his launch in front of the village and found 
 Joe staggering under a log which the man who gave 
 
 143 
 
144 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 him shelter and a little food was compelling him 
 to carry home. 
 
 " He not my boy," said the man when the official 
 asked him why he had loaded the boy down so 
 heavily. " Father and mother both dead." 
 
 The government man was angry. He took the 
 log from the boy's shoulder and threw it to the 
 ground. 
 
 " If he is an orphan I'll take him to a place where 
 he'll get right treatment." 
 
 " On Wood Island? " asked the Aleut Indian. " I 
 think of sending him there on next boat." 
 
 " Too bad you didn't send him on the last boat," 
 said the government man. 
 
 Joe came into a world he did not know existed 
 a world in which kind voices, good food, and gentle 
 treatment took the place of starvation, hard work, 
 and abuse. He will never forget the smile on the 
 face of the superintendent of the Kodiak Baptist 
 Orphanage when the man who brought him in the 
 launch told the superintendent that he had brought 
 another boy for him. Joe looked around for a big 
 water-bucket and an axe and told himself that he 
 would be willing to carry two buckets if that man 
 let him live with him. 
 
 But no hard tasks were given Joe. His biggest 
 trial at first was a bathtub. Every day he had to 
 be bathed and then have salve applied to the sores 
 on his body. He had never known what it meant 
 to be free from these sores. In time he learned to 
 love the bathtub and went into it of his own accord. 
 Gradually the sores disappeared, his cheeks filled 
 
Joe Baranoff's Good Fortune 145 
 
 out, and he learned to play and laugh with the fifty 
 other orphans at the home. His ribs did not show 
 so prominently any more because the fresh eggs, 
 homemade butter, sweet milk, and lovely bread such 
 as our mothers make drove the protruding ribs to 
 cover. 
 
 In time Joe learned that the Orphanage to which 
 the thoughtful government official had brought him 
 had been built and was supported by the Woman's 
 American Baptist Home Mission Society so that 
 children left alone in Alaska might have an ideal 
 home and know what it meant to be loved. 
 
 He learned to love this home and everybody in it, 
 including the superintendent and his wife and the 
 boys' matron and the girls' matron. He learned 
 that the Orphanage consisted of six hundred and 
 forty acres of land, a dormitory for the girls, a 
 dormitory for the boys, a barn, a herd of cattle, a 
 flock of chickens, and a silo. The cattle could not 
 have given so much milk during the winter without 
 the corn fodder pickled in its own juices in that 
 silo. Any boy or girl on a farm understands that. 
 
 Joe rose with the other children at 5 : 30 A. M. 
 and was ready for the 6 : 30 bell for morning pray 
 ers. He learned to sing with the others. After 
 the Bible reading and prayer by one of the workers, 
 he marched to the dining-room, the procession being 
 headed by the youngest child in the home. After 
 breakfast he joined the wood-cutting force while 
 the girls washed dishes, made the beds, and helped 
 with the other housework. Then at 8 : 30 A. M. he 
 trudged off with the boys and girls to the Terri- 
 
146 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 torial District School, which is very near the home. 
 After school there was a play-time. 
 
 And in this way the days passed in rapid succes 
 sion. Months passed and with them Joe grew to 
 be, a sturdy lad. He learned the story of Jesus' love 
 by hearing the superintendent preach in the little 
 chapel on the island and from the talks of the good 
 matrons at the home. 
 
 Joe had been a profane boy. It seemed to him 
 that he could not overcome the habit. One day he 
 got into some argument at the dinner-table and gave 
 voice to a whole string of oaths. The superinten 
 dent sent him from the room, assuring him that he 
 could finish his meal afterward. Driven by shame 
 and chagrin Joe resolved to leave the Home forever. 
 The most available means of escape from the Island 
 was the motor-boat that belonged to the Orphanage. 
 He had been taught to run it. Heedless of conse 
 quences, he resolved to flee northward to some islands 
 he had heard one of his schoolmates describe. 
 
 A providential wind arose and compelled Joe to 
 put in at Kodiak Island. Here the United States 
 Marshal took him in charge, but would not arrest 
 him until he could confer with the superintendent 
 of the Orphanage. 
 
 " Why did you run away, Joe? " asked the super 
 intendent when he arrived on Kodiak Island. 
 " Aren't you at all sorry to treat us in this way? " 
 
 Joe was silent. He knew that he had been treated 
 with all kindness at the home, but was too stubborn 
 to tell the superintendent that he was sorry. He 
 was still smarting with the humiliation which his 
 
Joe Baranoffs Good Fortune 
 
 147 
 
 hasty temper and unruly tongue had brought upon 
 him. 
 
 " Shall I arrest him for stealing the motor-boat? " 
 asked the officer. 
 
 "No," said the superintendent. "I do not be 
 lieve Joe realized what he was doing. I think I 
 will accept the offer of the good wife of the super 
 intendent of the radio station and leave him at her 
 home for a time." 
 
 For several days Joe lived at the radio station 
 and it was so arranged that all the duties assigned 
 him kept him near the superintendent's wife. It 
 was her plan to do this so that she could keep him 
 continually reminded of all the activities of the 
 home on Wood Island. 
 
 "What a good time they must be having now, 
 Joe/' she would remind him. " Let's see, it's just 
 six o'clock, and they must be gathering about the 
 supper-table." Or possibly this : " They are play 
 ing games now, Joe. They must be missing you." 
 
 Joe became the most homesick boy you can 
 imagine and one morning begged to be sent to the 
 Orphanage. And when he once more found his 
 friends there he thought that no boy on earth could 
 be happier. The knowledge that he was forgiven 
 by all at the home filled his heart with a gratitude 
 words cannot describe. The thought that there was 
 forgiveness in God's plan for him was also brought 
 home to him. When he knelt by the side of the 
 superintendent he prayed for help to overcome 
 every temptation. And when a boy does this he 
 is taking the Royal Highway to nobler living. 
 L 
 
IV 
 
 UNDER MARCHING ORDERS IN 
 NICARAGUA 
 
 1 
 
A PIONEER IN PERIL 
 
 HE door of the little mission building in Mana- 
 J- gua, Nicaragua, 1 suddenly was thrown open and 
 three small girls rushed in and dropped upon their 
 knees before the missionary. 
 
 "Pray quick, Miss Blackmore!" pleaded one of 
 the girls. 
 
 "What has happened?" demanded the mission 
 ary, as she noted the abject fear in the faces of two 
 of her young friends. 
 
 " We met papa on the street just now, and he 
 saw us walking with Eva. Papa will beat us when 
 we get home." 
 
 Miss Blackmore understood. Eva was the daugh 
 ter of Christian parents and attended the mission 
 Sunday school, and in Managua at that time it was 
 considered a public disgrace to be seen in company 
 with evangelicals, or any one who even attended 
 the services at the mission. 
 
 " If we pray, papa can't beat us." 
 
 1 Clear, brief statements of the development of the Baptist home mis 
 sionary enterprise in Latin North America may be obtained without 
 cost by addressing the General Board of Promotion of the Northern 
 Baptist Convention, 276 Fifth Avenue, New York City. The most 
 recent publications are five booklets by Rev. C. S. Detweiler, entitled 
 " Twenty Years in Cuba," " Progress in Porto Rico," " Baptist Begin 
 nings in Nicaragua," " Glimpses of the Salvador Mission," and " Mis 
 sionary Intervention in Mexico." These deal with the work as carried 
 forward by both Home Mission Societies. 
 
 151 
 
152 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 The simple faith of the children touched the mis 
 sionary's heart. 
 
 " Yes, let us pray," she said. 
 
 The two girls for whom the prayer was offered 
 went home to be seized by their enraged father. 
 His whip was in readiness. 
 
 " Papa, you can't beat us." 
 
 The man was of great strength, a soldier seasoned 
 by the prolonged campaigns of a recent revolution. 
 
 " I can't beat you ! " The revolutionist laughed, 
 his arm upraised. But his curiosity was excited. 
 "Why can't I beat you?" 
 
 " Because we stopped in at the mission and 
 prayed." 
 
 Whether it was the voice of a conscience seldom 
 heeded, or the unquestioning faith that shone in the 
 eyes of his young daughters, that prevented the out 
 rage, the narrator is unable to state. At any rate 
 the father did not strike the blows he fully had in 
 tended to administer as the punishment he felt 
 was due. 
 
 One day Miss Blackmore heard a woman's voice 
 on the other side of a high board fence in the rear 
 of the mission. Through a crack between two 
 boards she saw a pair of black eyes. 
 
 "I dare not come into the mission," said the 
 native. " Will you not tell me some of the things in 
 your book while I stand here? I dare not let my 
 husband know that I have spoken to you." 
 
 The mother of the two girls mentioned above, 
 the wife of the revolutionist, was this humble peti 
 tioner for the crumbs of the Bread of Life. 
 
> 
 
 OP 
 
 ~ 
 
 W _ 
 
 . O 
 
 p "H 
 
 fi 
 
 o n> 
 
 3 3 
 
 ft 
 
 3 S 
 
 El 
 
 Ir 
 
 r*- >1 
 
 r &> 
 
 3 S 
 
 I! 
 
 3 -s 
 
A Pioneer in Peril 153 
 
 Miss Blackmore pried a board out of the fence 
 and spoke to her audience of one. Earnestly and 
 lovingly she told her the story of the Saviour's love 
 and of the salvation which is the heritage of all who 
 accept this love. This sacred clandestine meeting 
 was repeated time after time until the native 
 woman became a devoted follower of Christ. Daily 
 she read in secret the Bible which Miss Blackmore 
 gave her until she was discovered in the act by her 
 husband, who, in his anger, snatched the book from 
 her and destroyed it. 
 
 One day the man found his wife at the mission. 
 " If I catch you here again I'll shoot you," he de 
 clared. 
 
 Later the revolutionist relented somewhat, for he 
 noted that his harshness was making his wife de 
 spondent. As he truly loved her, after his rough 
 fashion, he went to see the priest about her strange 
 religious awakening. 
 
 " She wants to read the Bible all the time, and 
 what can I do? " he asked. 
 
 The padre gave the man a Bible and instructed 
 him to tell his wife that as a special privilege he 
 would allow her to read it. " This favor should 
 make her contented to remain a good Catholic," he 
 added. But if the Romanist thought thereby to 
 keep the woman away from the mission, he was 
 mistaken. At the first opportunity she took the 
 Bible to Miss Blackmore for her inspection. 
 
 " Is this the good Book? " asked the woman, after 
 she had explained how it had come into her pos 
 session. 
 
154 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 When Miss Blackmore read the imprint of the 
 American Bible Society on the title-page of the 
 book she was surprised. However, she knew that 
 the colporters of this Society had visited Nicaragua 
 and that every Bible the priests could lay their 
 hands upon had been confiscated as " immoral lit 
 erature." 
 
 " Keep it and read it," said the missionary. " It 
 is the good Book." 
 
 As the revolutionist was not told where the book 
 came from, he began to read it too. For had not the 
 padre given it to him? 
 
 There came a change in that home. It came to 
 pass that in time the mother and children were en 
 abled to attend the mission without molestation 
 from the father. And occasionally he was seen in 
 the vicinity of the building where the hated evan 
 gelicals held their services. This man, who had sent 
 a bullet crashing through a window one day to ter 
 rorize the missionary and her comrades of the 
 Cross, now came to stand at a distance to listen 
 respectfully to the preaching of the gospel. One 
 day he stood in the middle of the street and called 
 to Miss Blackmore. She answered by stepping to 
 the door. 
 
 "Miss Blackmore," he humbly apologized, "I 
 may have been wrong." 
 
 Then he strode away. 
 
 A few days afterward he was called out to fight, 
 for another revolution was in progress. He never 
 came back. The widow and her daughters became 
 members of the Baptist church at Managua. 
 
A Pioneer in Peril 
 
 155 
 
 II 
 
 Down the street toward the little mission a mob 
 was making its way, only pausing long enough to 
 demolish the homes of two members of the evan 
 gelical church that some Christians had dared to 
 establish in Managua at a time when it was scarcely 
 permissible to declare publicly a regard for any 
 church except the Roman Catholic. Eleanor Black- 
 more, the missionary, heard the commotion and ran 
 to a friendly merchant to inquire as to its nature 
 and cause. 
 
 " Miss Blackmore, you are not safe in this city," 
 the man told her frankly. " The mob is headed by 
 some fanatics who intend to smash the mission and 
 frighten into submission every Protestant believer." 
 
 Miss Blackmore returned to the mission and told 
 all who were assembled there to go to their homes 
 and to remain within doors until the fury of the 
 mob had spent itself. She then entered her own 
 home, which was in another part of the mission 
 building, to secure her valuables and some property 
 of two Bible Societies whose interests she cared for 
 in Nicaragua. She could hardly believe that the 
 populace intended to destroy the mission, but it was 
 not long before her doubts fled. Before she could 
 effect her own escape the rioters were smashing the 
 doors and windows. Next they would probably 
 demolish the little apartment between the mission 
 and Miss Blackmore's part of the house. She heard 
 their threats of violence against all " heretics." For 
 the first time since beginning her work in that far- 
 
156 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 away land she entertained a feeling that her life 
 was in danger. As there were rioters at the rear 
 of the building she could hear them battering in 
 the back door of the mission she was at a loss to 
 know how to escape unseen. 
 
 The only front window in that part of the build 
 ing where Miss Blackmore had her living rooms 
 was a small transom over the entrance. Climbing 
 upon a chair she swung this window open and 
 peered without. Just below her she saw a police 
 man who was helpless to disperse the mob, but 
 evidently had taken a position near her door to 
 protect her if possible. 
 
 " Is it safe for me to come out? " she asked. 
 
 " Not at this moment," replied the officer. " I 
 will give you notice when I see the way clear." 
 
 Presently the word was given, and Miss Black- 
 more unlocked her door and sought refuge in a 
 bakery across the street. 
 
 "I will give ten dollars to the person who gets 
 a cab for me," she offered, knowing that safety lay 
 in keeping out of sight of the fanatics. She knew 
 that she could not remain in the bakery long as the 
 proprietor had been hostile to her work. 
 
 A man crawled out from under the counter. She 
 recognized her next-door neighbor! With his wife 
 and child he had fled from the small apartment be 
 tween the mission and the missionary's living 
 quarters. While he had not attended the mission, 
 he had been willing to live under the same roof that 
 sheltered a Protestant missionary and he had al 
 lowed this sympathetic little Englishwoman to nurse 
 
A Pioneer in Peril 
 
 157 
 
 to health his child, therefore he knew that he was 
 in disgrace and might suffer at the hands of the 
 misguided rioters. As a matter of fact they did 
 not spare his home. But his gratitude to Miss 
 Blaekmore now overcame his fears, and he volun 
 teered to call a cab. 
 
 Fortunately the cab arrived before any member 
 of the mob discovered the near presence of the mis 
 sionary. Miss Blackmore was taken in safety to 
 the British consulate she was an English subject 
 and thence to a hotel across the street from the 
 consulate. 
 
 American and English residents of Managua ad 
 vised Miss Blackmore to give up her pioneer Chris 
 tian work in the city as altogether futile in the face 
 of such odds. But she labored faithfully on, visit 
 ing all the evangelical Christians in their homes 
 and encouraging them to remain stedfast in the 
 faith. The municipal authorities repaired the dam 
 ages caused by the mob, and in a month or two 
 Miss Blackmore again took up her residence at the 
 mission and regular services were resumed. 
 
II 
 
 REENFORCEMENTS 
 
 ONE of the earlier events in Miss Blackmore's 
 life might have deterred one less courageous 
 from continuing the work in Central America. Yel 
 low fever attacked the people in Costa Rica. Many 
 towns were practically wiped out in the year 1902. 
 Hearing of the desperate straits in which the peo 
 ple were, Miss Blackmore went to the fever district 
 to do what she could. 
 
 Day after day and night after night she was the 
 only person in the village who could render any real 
 assistance to the old practitioner. It was almost 
 inevitable that in time she too was stricken with 
 the dread disease. Every one in the house in which 
 she rented a room fled. The only attention she re 
 ceived was from a girl in a neighboring house who 
 brought to her door a little milk that had been 
 boiled. 
 
 One day when the crisis was on she learned that 
 a doctor was to pass through the village. She sent 
 a man to stand in the middle of the road and stop 
 him when he came through. About midnight the 
 doctor entered, looked at Miss Blackmore, and said 
 in Spanish to the attendant (not knowing that Miss 
 Blackmore understood Spanish), "No hope, she 
 will die before morning." 
 158 
 
Keen for cements 
 
 159 
 
 Miss Blackmore begged the doctor for some medi 
 cine that might help her recover, but he refused, 
 saying that she was sure to die, and that as she 
 was an English subject he might be held responsi 
 ble and there would be reprisals. He then proceeded 
 to collect ten dollars before he rode away. 
 
 Miss Blackmore lay upon her bed and heard the 
 receding hoof -beats of the doctor's horse. A feel 
 ing of absolute loneliness came over her. Then her 
 indomitable will asserted itself and she said to 
 herself, " Well, if I am to die in the morning I shall 
 die game." 
 
 She came through. During her convalescence she 
 crawled on her hands and knees from bed to table 
 and back, or leaned on a chair and guided herself 
 about. And since that recovery, what a wonderful 
 work God has permitted this valiant soldier of the 
 Cross to perform ! 
 
 Who is Miss Eleanor Blackmore? The following 
 vivid description of this missionary, written by 
 Mrs. Lida W. Miller, helps us to get a view-point, 
 for we yield to the sentiment that led Dr. L. C. 
 Barnes to republish it in " The Central Republics 
 of Central America/' when he affirmed that " every 
 reader who appreciates a high enthusiasm, a daring 
 venture in the Master's service, a heroism without 
 limit, and a consecration without stint, will be glad 
 to read it again " : 
 
 " Years ago a novelist with a vivid imagination 
 clothed the moors of Devonshire with such charm 
 that streams of pilgrims have since journeyed to 
 visit the land of Lorna Doone. Another member 
 
160 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 of the Blackmore family, with an equal imagination 
 and a loving heart, listened to the stories told by 
 two returned missionaries of the needs of Latin 
 America to hear the gospel of Jesus Christ. She 
 left England, and alone in far-off Nicaragua this 
 little woman, Eleanor Blackmore, has toiled for 
 many years, going in and out of the homes of the 
 people, making friends of the children, and carry 
 ing good news to sad and hopeless hearts who have 
 heard the message with gladness. She has estab 
 lished a strong Christian mission in the district 
 about Managua, the capital city. For a time Miss 
 Blackmore was supported by a faith organization 
 in England. When their faith burned brightly, 
 funds came to enable her to carry on her work; 
 when their faith waxed dim, she was often in dire 
 need of means of subsistence, and at one time was 
 reduced to living on a menu of starch until relief 
 came. Often her life was in danger; chills and 
 fever, the results of malaria, racked her frame. 
 Still she has labored faithfully and built up a strong 
 mission. The little, modest woman attending the 
 conference at Panama roused but slight attention, 
 but her history proves her a heroine. She refused 
 to listen to the proposal that she come to the 
 ' States ' for a year of rest and study, because there 
 was no one to carry on the work for the time she 
 might be gone. ' But could you not work in a less 
 malarial district? ' she was asked. * Some one has 
 to live with my people, they cannot be left alone,' 
 she answered. Her prayer for assistance has been 
 heard. Our Woman's Home Mission Society has 
 
Keen for cements 161 
 
 been able to come to her relief, and she is to be one of 
 our own missionaries, working under the appoint 
 ment of our Woman's Society; and she will be con 
 scious of the affectionate interest and support of 
 our Baptist women." 
 
 When Miss Blackmore was a visitor to New York 
 City recently, she said : 
 
 " I want to thank personally the Baptists of the 
 North for taking over Nicaragua. For long years 
 I struggled there alone, and it did not seem as 
 though I could get anybody to take Central America 
 into account. I am an Englishwoman, and I went 
 to Mr. Harry Guinness and he said, 'I'll send 
 you to Peru tomorrow, but Nicaragua, never ! ' 
 G. Campbell Morgan said, 'That's fine work, but 
 Nicaragua America for the Americans ? ' I am a 
 Baptist by conviction, but I went outside of the 
 denomination to a dear old friend of mine who was 
 a member of the London Missionary Society, and I 
 asked him, 'What can you do for poor Central 
 America? ' ( I'll give you a letter to the Congrega 
 tional Board in New York.' I said, 'That's very 
 kind, but it won't answer my purpose.' 
 
 "I went back to Nicaragua in 1905, thinking 
 there was no Baptist aid for Central America and 
 it was useless for me to seek farther. But the 
 Lord opened the door, and our good Baptist friends 
 of the North came seeking me, and so I am very 
 thankful that, though rather late, still in time, our 
 good friends of the North have taken under their 
 wing Nicaragua, Salvador, and Honduras. We have 
 a small beginning, but there are wide-open doors 
 
162 By -Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 and splendid opportunities, and I am sure you will 
 never regret having begun the work." 
 
 The little Baptist mission in Managua, in a way, 
 was the biggest attraction in the city for a time. But 
 the greater part of the audience stood outside the 
 building. Any one stepping over the threshold 
 of the mission could see his name in the paper the 
 next day; he also could see his best friends re 
 sorting to various methods of avoiding him in pub 
 lic places. Many wanted to walk in the light, but 
 could not endure the resulting persecution. To live 
 through the early days of evangelical Christianity 
 in a land where Christ's evangelists have been un 
 known is to understand the Master's words, "And 
 every one that hath left houses, or brethren, or sis 
 ters, or father, or mother, or children, or lands, for 
 my name's sake, shall receive a hundredfold, and 
 shall inherit eternal life." 
 
 During those early days and those days were 
 not so long ago members of some of Managua's 
 first families traveled long distances to obscure 
 rural places where the missionaries were holding 
 meetings, just to get a taste of the gospel without 
 suffering the social ostracism which would have 
 been their lot should they have identified themselves 
 with the local mission forces. Nevertheless there 
 have been notable instances of the complete sur 
 render of all things which you and I hold as among 
 our most priceless treasures, namely, the comrade 
 ship of friends, the sure compensations that follow 
 in the wake of competency in one's chosen profes 
 sion or business, the high regard of contemporaries. 
 
Keen for cements 163 
 
 All these were forfeited when one should as much 
 as step over the threshold of the little mission. 
 
 A beautiful Nicaraguan girl, a graduate student 
 at the University, possessing the degree of A. B., 
 and nearing the completion of a course in law, was 
 horrified when her mother and the little ones in 
 the family became regular attendants at the mis 
 sion. Such a procedure for her was unthinkable, 
 the last word in bad form. The disgrace was hard 
 enough to bear as it was. She remained aloof. She 
 had no thought of sacrificing her profession, the 
 estimation of her young associates, her social posi 
 tion. It was not to be thought of. 
 
 "Pray for our young people of Central Amer 
 ica ! " implored Miss Blackmore at the climax of a 
 wonderful story she was telling one afternoon to 
 a group of Brooklyn women. " They have so much 
 to give up when they accept Christ ! " 
 
 God heard the prayers which Miss Blackmore 
 and her native colaborers offered in behalf of this 
 brilliant young law student. Yes, in time the latter 
 took Christ at his word. Humbly, penitently she 
 came to the Cross. And the " hundredfold? " Yes, 
 she has received that and more, although she has 
 accepted a position in the mission school at a very 
 low salary. Every day she gathers her pupils 
 she calls them her children about her for a prayer- 
 meeting. Willingly and bravely, and for His name's 
 sake, she stands the insolence of her old-time bosom 
 companions. The "hundredfold?" One glance 
 into that sweet, happy face and into those sparkling, 
 resolute eyes will give the answer. 
 M 
 
Ill 
 
 ONE AND INSEPARABLE 
 
 SOON after Miss Blackmore began work under 
 the direction of the Woman's American Baptist 
 Home Mission Society, the mission station at Masaya 
 was opened. In cooperation with the American and 
 native missionaries of the American Baptist Home 
 Mission Society the work here and elsewhere was 
 continued. 
 
 From the first the petty annoyances usually at 
 tending a new work were experienced at Masaya. 
 It was difficult to rent a building. Few merchants 
 would sell bread or other supplies to the despised 
 "heretics." The converts were in more difficult 
 straits than the missionaries because of family and 
 neighborhood complications. They often were de 
 nied a ready means of obtaining a livelihood by 
 reason of their open stand for Christ. 
 
 Brotherhood became an actuality in Nicaragua. 
 Delegations from one station traveled long dis 
 tances, often on foot, to visit a sister church still 
 in its infancy. Indeed it was deemed hardly safe 
 in some instances for a new body of worshipers to 
 hold a public meeting unless Christians from other 
 points attended the services to render a moral if 
 not a physical reenforcement to their numbers. 
 Such was the situation during the early days at 
 164 
 
One and Inseparable 165 
 
 Masaya. Christian friends came from Managua to 
 attend the gospel meetings at Masaya to hearten 
 the worshipers in the little mission in the latter 
 city. The need of such reenforcement was empha 
 sized rather suddenly on one occasion particularly. 
 
 There was a happy assemblage of converts in 
 the mission at Masaya one evening. Miss Black- 
 more was at the organ and Rev. Jose Mendosa, the 
 pastor at Managua, was preaching. Suddenly the 
 peace of the worshipers was disturbed by ominous 
 noises in the street. Miss Blackmore had been an 
 ticipating trouble. There had been ugly signs of a 
 plot brewing that had reminded her of the develop 
 ments at Managua. She had sent word to the chil 
 dren not to come to the services. By a strange 
 coincidence the native pastor had chosen as his 
 text, " Come unto me, all ye that labor and are 
 heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Let it be 
 said that the loyalty of that little band in the face 
 of threatening persecution would have been hard to 
 equal. They were ready to sell their shoes to obtain 
 bread, if need be, before entertaining a thought of 
 surrender. The Acts of the Apostles repeated! 
 
 Hurriedly the leading opponents of the evangeli 
 cals, under the pretense of a religious exercise, had 
 organized an impromptu procession in exaltation of 
 " The Sacred Heart of Jesus." 
 
 " We will have no trouble," said Miss Blackmore. 
 "When the procession nears the mission we will 
 remain silent." 
 
 To cease all audible religious exercises was a rule 
 followed by the evangelicals whenever a procession 
 
166 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 passed near their meeting-places. On this occasion 
 the worshipers were instructed by Miss Blackmore 
 to engage in silent prayer. They waited. The 
 clamor in the street grew louder. Angry voices in 
 denunciation of the " heretics " were heard. 
 
 The procession did not pass the mission. The 
 destination of the celebrants of " The Sacred Heart 
 of Jesus " was the Baptist mission. Led by their 
 priest, who flourished a six-shooter, the marauders 
 broke ranks and charged. 
 
 " Now go at them ! " commanded the priest as 
 he flung open the door. 
 
 The attackers were armed with sticks of fire-wood 
 with which they smashed the lamps, thus plunging 
 the room in darkness at once. They then proceeded 
 to smash the furniture. Under a semblance of au 
 thority they attempted to seize some of the male 
 worshipers as political prisoners for whom they 
 pretended to have warrants. Miss Blackmore, with 
 admirable presence of mind, summoned the mission 
 people to one end of the room. She made available 
 for just such an emergency a preparedness born of 
 years of experience in that country. From another 
 room she had lamps brought in and lighted them. 
 
 Then into a solid phalanx she marshaled the 
 forces at her disposal. Unitedly they advanced 
 against the attacking party and pushed all who 
 were hostile to the cause outside the building. The 
 doors were then bolted. 
 
 Presently, during a lull in the tempest of angry 
 voices outside, a man at the rear door insisted that 
 he be granted admittance. 
 
One and Inseparable 167 
 
 " Who are you? " asked Miss Blackmore. 
 
 " A police captain." 
 
 " Pass me your number." 
 
 When this reasonable request was not granted, 
 Miss Blackmore peered under the door and saw the 
 dim forms of armed men crouching in readiness 
 for the charge as soon as the door was opened. The 
 door remained bolted. 
 
 During the attack a woman slipped away from 
 the mission and summoned aid from the Nicara- 
 guan military police, and toward midnight the mob 
 was dispersed by soldiers. 
 
 One of the last persons to leave the mission 
 building was a ten-year-old boy, the son of the brave 
 little woman who had gone for help. The boy had 
 a lantern with which to light the path homeward 
 for the missionary. 
 
 " Why, my dear little laddy," exclaimed the mis 
 sionary, " why did you not go home with mamma? " 
 
 "She told me to stay with you," said the boy. 
 " I would stay and die with you." 
 
 Such is the devotion of these wonderful people ! 
 
 It was declared by the leading opponents of our 
 Baptist missionary enterprise that our workers 
 would never get a foothold in Jinotepe. But finally 
 a man was discovered who was willing to rent a 
 building. Miss Blackmore made the arrangements. 
 A native pastor visited the place regularly. 
 
 That there existed a bitter prejudice to overcome 
 at the station the following incident serves to re 
 veal: 
 
168 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 One day Miss Blackmore and the native pastor 
 were in the village to hold some meetings, when 
 they heard a great commotion up the street. Fear 
 ing trouble they hurried toward the crowd and were 
 shocked to see a lad of seven years of age, the son 
 of an evangelical Christian mother, with a rope 
 around his neck and waist. He had been dragged 
 by some adults to one of their innumerable saints' 
 images, and brutal efforts were being made to force 
 the boy to kiss the image. 
 
 When Miss Blackmore and the native pastor ap 
 peared, the child was freed. The missionaries lec 
 tured the fanatics on the depravity of grown-ups 
 who could get amusement out of torturing a child. 
 Then they went to the home of the boy thinking to 
 console the parents because of the grievance. 
 
 To their surprise they found them on their knees, 
 mother, grandfather, and the boy who had been 
 persecuted. All were praying for the misguided 
 opponents of the gospel. They rejoiced that they 
 had been found worthy to suffer for Christ. 
 
 Months later this child was the divine means of 
 converting a man who had been strongly opposed 
 to the gospel in that village. He became interested 
 when he heard about the little fellow's bravery un 
 der persecution. He often sought the boy's com 
 pany to listen to his songs and prayers. His heart 
 melted in the warmth of such devotion and he is 
 now a staunch follower of Christ. 
 
THE SOUL OF THE NEW AMERICAN 
 
I 
 
 FIELDBRAVE OF THE IMPERIAL VALLEY 
 
 A HINDU and an American rode up to a ranch- 
 house in the Imperial Valley, dismounted, 
 knocked upon the front door, and, finding the place 
 deserted, pushed open the door and invited them 
 selves in. The Hindu seemed to be more at his ease 
 than the American. It was near dinnertime. 
 
 " We'll soon have something to eat," said the 
 Hindu, after a search through the pantry had re 
 sulted in a conviction that further foraging was 
 necessary. 
 
 He took down a shotgun from the wall and se 
 lected two shells from a box of ammunition upon 
 the mantle. His next selection proved his judgment 
 of poultry, and a young rooster fell a victim to his 
 marksmanship. It was not long before the fowl 
 was in a pot. Flour, butter, and curry helped to 
 complete the meal. The two invaders fared 
 sumptuously. 
 
 When only an assortment of well-picked bones 
 remained of the extemporaneous repast, the Amer 
 ican saw two men approaching the house and re 
 marked jokingly that he thought of hiding. 
 
 " Don't be alarmed," said the Hindu. 
 
 "But won't they be offended at our intrusion?" 
 asked the American. 
 
 171 
 
172 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 " They will be delighted." 
 
 " I can scarcely believe you." 
 
 " You will observe that I have the password." 
 
 "What password?" 
 
 " India." 
 
 The Hindu passed out and spoke to the power 
 fully built, turbaned men who had arrived. 
 
 " Ham to tumhare makan men gusgaye (We have 
 broken into your house)." 
 
 "Great!" 
 
 "Fine!" 
 
 Here was genuine hospitality. The American 
 wondered at it and perceived that he must alter his 
 notions of the swarthy foreigners who often are 
 classed as interlopers. He wondered still more 
 when the Hindu farmers invited him and his com 
 panions to remain as guests at the little ranch. 
 
 What afforded the American the most pleasure 
 was the discovery that the friendship which existed 
 between these two heathen and his Christian com 
 panion was unaffected and real. For he remem 
 bered that there had been a time in the early min 
 istry of Theodore Fieldbrave when the Hindus of 
 the Imperial Valley had scorned to speak to him, 
 looking upon him as a traitor to the best traditions 
 of India. 
 
 Kindness and infinite patience had won for Field- 
 brave a position among the Hindus on his field 
 which was hardly thought possible for him to attain 
 when he was commissioned by the Home Mission 
 Society to enter this difficult field. 
 
 Many of the Hindus in the Imperial Valley are 
 
Fieldbrave of the Imperial Valley 173 
 
 from that part of India called The Punjab (Punj, 
 meaning five; ab, meaning water a place nour 
 ished by live rivers.) They are an independent, 
 proud people, yet lovable and loyal. Within three 
 years after they enter the farming regions of the 
 Pacific coast they progress from ditch-diggers to 
 independent farmers. They are natural agricul 
 turists, expert in the raising of cotton, rice, and 
 wheat. 
 
 Fieldbrave's work among the Hindus is chiefly 
 personal. But when the missionary speaks in a 
 church they will often come and listen to him with 
 respectful attention. He visits them at their 
 ranches ; he meets them upon the streets ; they come 
 to his room. When they are in trouble, and their 
 troubles are many, they solicit his aid, for they 
 have learned that he is their friend. 
 
 Many events have occurred which have tended to 
 foster in the hearts of the Imperial Valley Hindus 
 a faith in the sincerity of this missionary. He 
 interprets their leases, attends court with them, 
 and among the merchants pleads for them the 
 square deal. 
 
 A bitter prejudice exists against the Hindus in 
 several localities where they have settled. In cer 
 tain towns it has been difficult for them to buy 
 anything to eat in the restaurants. Not long ago 
 a good-looking, well-dressed Mohammedan went to 
 a restaurant and ordered dinner. He was served, 
 but was charged two dollars for a fifty-cent meal. 
 Unwilling to suifer the injustice without protest he 
 went to his Christian friend, the Baptist mission- 
 
174 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 ary. The latter took up the matter, but could get 
 no redress for the Mohammedan except the refund 
 of one dollar and fifty cents. 
 
 There are two groups of Hindus with whom 
 Fieldbrave is working. He describes these as the 
 Mohammedans and the Sikhs. He says that the 
 Mohammedans, anti-Christian from start to finish, 
 are always ready to argue with him. This he avoids 
 doing if possible, as no strict Mohammedan can be 
 won by an argument for, like the Jews, they are 
 slaves to religious rites and customs even to the 
 minutest point. Their religion sanctions hatred 
 toward Christians, but the hearts of many of them 
 have been touched by the kindness which the young 
 missionary invariably shows them. 
 
 The Sikhs, in religion, are neither Mohammedan 
 nor Hindu, the name meaning " followers " or " dis 
 ciples." This religious sect was founded in the 
 Punjab in the fifteenth century by Baba Nanak, 
 who rejected the caste system in India and idolatry 
 and taught the worship of one God. They believe 
 in the Fatherhood of God and the brotherhood of 
 man. They have a temple in Stockton which is 
 considered one of the most expensive and imposing 
 buildings in that city. 
 
 Missionary Fieldbrave makes the following con 
 trast between four religions: 
 
 Picture a man in a deep, dry well, the sides of which are 
 smooth and perpendicular. Unaided, there is no possible way 
 of escape for the victim. Along comes Krishna, who says: 
 " I am very sorry for you. But really, sir, you should not 
 be unhappy. There is no such thing as a well or ground or 
 
Fieldbrave of the Imperial Valley 175 
 
 smooth sides. Indeed, there is nothing material; all is 
 spiritual. You are mistaken, there is nothing wrong with 
 you. I am sorry, but I can do nothing." 
 
 Then comes Buddha: "I am very sorry for you, but I 
 cannot help you. You must work to save yourself. Even if 
 not in this life, you have the hope that in the next life you 
 will be born into a better and happier state." 
 
 Mohammed stops a moment : " Well, I am very sorry 
 for you. But it is fate. You would not be in there if it were 
 not to be that way. I cannot help you. If you are to be 
 saved, you will be; if not, you must die there." 
 
 Christ comes. The blessed Saviour reaches down his 
 hand and raises the man to the level ground, feeds, clothes, 
 cares for him, and saves him. He has a cure as well as 
 compassion. 
 
 There is one phase of the work which is of recent 
 development but of no less interest. Inasmuch as 
 there are no women from India in California, a 
 number of men of the religions mentioned above 
 have secured brides from other nationalities. The 
 women these men have married for the most part 
 are either Mexican or Spanish Roman Catholics. 
 The children resulting from these marriages are 
 half-Christian of some sort and half Mohammedan, 
 Hindu, or Sikh of a kind. The other day, the 
 wife of a Mohammedan named Walayat Khan, 
 whom our missionary frequently visits, took her 
 baby boy to the Catholic priest to be christened, 
 and Walayat Khan consented to the procedure on 
 condition that the child be given a Mohammedan 
 name also. What will the boy become? Moham 
 medan or Christian? 
 
 At the present writing our missionary to the 
 Hindus is in India on furlough. A letter from him 
 
176 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 to Dr. C. A. Brooks, of the Home Mission Society, 
 brings the interesting news that he expects soon 
 to return with a Christian bride. His happiness 
 is great, for it is his thought that she will be able to 
 render a distinct service to the wives and children 
 of the Hindus with whom he comes in contact. 
 
II 
 
 LOAVES FOR THE HUNGRY 
 
 OUR home missionaries believe that by the 
 terms of the Great Commission they are not 
 wholly loyal to their Master unless they go out into 
 their respective communities and in homes, facto 
 ries, shops, and on street corners make known the 
 blessings of the gospel. The following two stories 
 bear testimony of the results of their faithful min 
 istry to the needy wayfarers: 
 
 One day the missionary working among the new 
 Americans in the Homestead steel district was in 
 vited to a certain home for dinner. A most unex 
 pected and trying experience followed, and for 
 many days thereafter she was saddened by what 
 she beheld. 
 
 In that room, as the family and the guest gath 
 ered about the bountifully set table, there sat a 
 young man with sunken cheeks and hollow eyes, 
 looking hungrily at the steaming food. The mis 
 sionary looked about her, and when she saw no 
 place set for him, she looked questioningly at her 
 host and hostess. 
 
 " No, he is not to sit down with us. We no longer 
 will give food to such a man." 
 
 "And he is your son?" asked the missionary. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 177 
 
178 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 To sit down and partake of a hearty meal while 
 some one looked on half-starved, was more than 
 the missionary could endure. She knew the story 
 of this young man's life. She knew that his soul 
 was hungry, too, hungry and half-starved for lack 
 of love and the life abundant. 
 
 Bela was a carpenter by trade, but squandered 
 his earnings in drink and dissolute living. His 
 clothes were ragged and dirty, and his countenance 
 had lost the freshness of youth and had become 
 that of a confirmed drunkard. As no employer 
 wanted such a workman, he was searching for a 
 new job after every drunken debauch. Even his 
 family had no faith in his promises. 
 
 As the missionary looked into the hungry eyes 
 of Bela, her heart melted in pity. In her kind, 
 gentle way she excused herself and asked the young 
 man to follow her. In her own home she prepared 
 a meal for him. 
 
 Like a starved creature Bela ate what the mis 
 sionary set before him. His hunger appeased, he 
 was about to take his leave when she placed a de 
 taining hand upon his arm. 
 
 " Bela," she said, " are you not tired of all this? 
 Are you not weary of sin? " 
 
 In answer to the assurance of new life and hope, 
 he looked doubtful and said, " There's no use." 
 
 But the missionary knew that Bela was mis 
 taken. " Jesus is able to save. Will you pray? " 
 
 Bela shook his head. 
 
 "Will you repeat a few words after me as I 
 pray?" 
 
Loaves for the Hungry 179 
 
 Bela consented. In faltering words he repeated 
 the missionary's earnest petition in his behalf and 
 arose from his knees with a new grip on life. Once 
 more he found employment as a carpenter. Day by 
 day, and hour by hour he fought against the old 
 temptation and fought to break the fetters that 
 bound him. More than once he fell, but somehow 
 the conviction that God would not give him up 
 helped him to his feet again and in time the forces 
 of darkness that had enshrouded his soul were de 
 feated, and he walked into the light. 
 
 After a public declaration of his allegiance to 
 .his Lord and Saviour he was baptized. Today he 
 is a respected member of his community, a happy 
 husband and father, and his daily life is a testimony 
 of the freedom won through Christ. 
 
 One evening the missionary whom God had used 
 in the recreation of Bela was holding a street meet 
 ing on the outskirts of Pittsburgh. While she told 
 the story of God's way of redemption, a drunken 
 person hanging to a telephone-pole swore at her. 
 After the service she spoke kindly to him. This 
 charitable treatment stirred the remaining spark of 
 manhood in him and he wanted to talk further 
 concerning a religion that made one so gracious to 
 strangers. 
 
 "Come tomorrow, when you are not under the 
 influence of alcohol, and I will talk with you." . 
 
 The immigrant responded to the invitation by 
 
 appearing on the street-corner before the gospel 
 
 service began. He was sober and wore a clean 
 
 shirt. Again he heard the news of salvation; the 
 
 N 
 
180 By -Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 Lord opened his heart to the gospel, and he became 
 a new man. 
 
 Not long after the turning-point in this man's 
 life, his wife arrived from Europe to join her hus 
 band in America. She arrived in the colony while 
 her husband was at work in the Homestead Steel 
 Mills. Her friends greeted her heartily, but with 
 serious misgivings reported that her husband had 
 gone crazy. 
 
 " What do you mean? " she asked in alarm. 
 
 " He is like one in a trance," they said. " He 
 doesn't drink and carouse; he has stopped fighting 
 and swearing. He doesn't attend mass and has 
 taken the holy pictures out of his room. He has 
 passed up the dance-hall and the card-table, and 
 worst of all he seems possessed to read the Bible 
 and talk religion and preach on street-corners." 
 
 The woman's heart turned cold. She wished that 
 she had not answered his entreaties to come to 
 America. She recalled something about his religious 
 experience which he had mentioned in one of his 
 letters, but was unprepared for this. 
 
 When she greeted her husband she was silent on 
 the subject of religion and for two weeks watched 
 him for signs of insanity with all the anxiety of 
 love. Then one day she threw aside all restraint 
 and said: "Joseph, they told me you were crazy. 
 If this is true, then I'd like to be crazy, too." 
 
 Joseph became a missionary to his countrymen 
 in America, laboring under the direction of the 
 American Baptist Home Mission Society until his 
 death not long ago. 
 
Ill 
 
 CASTLES ON THE ROYAL HIGHWAY 
 
 (AUTHOR'S NOTE. The actual name of the missionary 
 whose work is described herewith is withheld.) 
 
 MARGARET CARLETON, on a vacation trip, 
 was nearing her destination, when a small 
 boy, grown weary by the long journey, came over 
 to her seat with his building-blocks. 
 
 "Can you build a castle?" he asked, looking up 
 hopefully into her face. 
 
 The young woman had been looking out the win 
 dow at the lofty mountains, deep canons, and forest- 
 clad slopes that make Oregon scenery as interesting 
 as any that may be seen in America. While con 
 scious of the wonderful panoramic view, her 
 thoughts had been far away. She smiled reminis- 
 cently when she answered the boy. 
 
 " Yes, I can build castles but they are air- 
 castles." 
 
 "Then build an air-castle for me!" The child 
 clapped his hands delightedly. 
 
 With solid wooden blocks Miss Carleton began 
 the building of an " air-castle," but it was a castle 
 not a whit more substantial than the " air-castle " 
 that gradually had been taking shape in her mind 
 during three strenuous years while serving as a 
 
 181 
 
182 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 missionary among our new Americans at , 
 
 Pa. 
 
 It was of " her people " she had been thinking. 
 To help to meet their needs in a great industrial 
 community was her great ambition. Even vacation 
 days and a separation of over two thousand miles 
 from her field could not drive from her mind anx 
 ious thoughts concerning the field to which the 
 Woman's Board had sent her. 
 
 When Margaret Carleton went to , Pa., 
 
 she found no public library, no playground, no 
 day-nursery, no hospital, no dispensary, and no 
 other denomination except the Baptist working 
 among the seven thousand foreign-speaking people 
 who lived in this crowded city of tenements near 
 the great steel-mills of Homestead. 
 
 In a little chapel of one room she began her work 
 for these new Americans. There she learned how 
 to use the limited resources at her command to the 
 best advantage, because she learned first of all the 
 home conditions in the community. 
 
 Some of the conditions this young missionary 
 found existing in just one half-block would surprise 
 the majority of people who live in the average 
 American community and enjoy average home com 
 forts and social privileges. She found in this one 
 small half-block sixty-four families living in two- 
 story tenements, and of this number fifty-four 
 families made homes in two rooms. Among these 
 sixty-four families she found eleven different na 
 tionalities. She found one hundred and fifty-four 
 children for whom the alley and the curb were the 
 
Castles on the Royal Highway 183 
 
 only playgrounds. From this one small, densely 
 inhabited half-block twenty-seven children came to 
 the mission conducted by Miss Carleton. 
 
 There were a great many things Miss Carleton 
 met during her calls which fell back into the com 
 pany of things forgotten because their frequency 
 had made them common, and in time she ceased to 
 be appalled when she found that seven or eight in 
 a family were obliged to occupy one sleeping-room, 
 or when she found no sign on the door of a house 
 where there was a case of measles, whooping-cough, 
 or mumps, because " the doctor he maka children 
 stay home." 
 
 In more than one home she found some girl in 
 her teens cut off early from attendance at the pub 
 lic school, while in the home there were brothers 
 and sisters depending upon her as the little mother. 
 
 In one of these homes an incident occurred that 
 might have caused one of less faith and courage to 
 desist from making more calls in the neighborhood. 
 When she entered this home a woman regarded 
 her with ill-disguised suspicion and hastily called 
 her husband. Up from the cellar came a half dozen 
 men with dark faces and black beards, some carry 
 ing flash-lights. That a stranger was in the house 
 seemed to alarm them. They angrily demanded 
 why the young woman had called. When she stated 
 that she was from the Baptist mission and desired 
 only to be of help in the community, they impu 
 dently asked, " Do you have to put down whether 
 we are citizens?" She left the house with the im 
 pression that she had invaded the nest of some 
 
184 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 anarchists who suspected her of being a govern 
 ment spy. 
 
 It was not long before twenty-seven children from 
 this half -block became members of the mission Sun 
 day school. There were many sections just like 
 it which the missionary visited. Scores of chil 
 dren, with souls starving for something which 
 they could not define, flocked to the little chapel 
 and quickly learned to love the young woman who 
 kept on with her arduous work, because she wanted 
 these children to know the love of her Saviour. 
 
 And as the weeks passed the work at the Baptist 
 mission grew in significance and power. The mis 
 sion was used almost constantly, not only on Sun 
 day, but during the week. It is doubtful if any 
 other floor space in the area of the Northern Bap 
 tist Convention has had recorded upon it more foot 
 prints than the worn floor of this little chapel. As 
 the work grew, so did the castle grow and take 
 definite shape in the mind of the young missionary 
 who directed this work. Two large capital letters 
 became imprinted upon her heart over the gate of 
 that castle letters that increased in vividness as 
 the pattering of small feet upon the worn floor be 
 came more frequent. The letters were "C. C.," 
 and you already may have guessed what they stood 
 for. 
 
 In order to meet one of the needs of the commu 
 nity, Miss Carleton, with the help of friends, estab 
 lished a library, and it was not long before there 
 were circulating five hundred books. A library and 
 a good reading-room formed part of her castle 
 
Castles on the Royal Highway 185 
 
 which was now becoming a thing of reality. A 
 boy's club called the " Crusaders " was organized. 
 There where so many who wanted to join that ten 
 companies, each with a captain and nine members, 
 were formed. Inasmuch as the seating capacity of 
 the chapel was limited, each company was given 
 its special section of ten seats at every meeting. 
 To assist the ushers in seating the crowd, each boy 
 was given a metal-rimmed tag bearing a red num 
 ber to signify his company and a black number to 
 denote his position in the company. The ushers 
 became experts in deciphering the meaning of the 
 figures, and long before the hour to begin the ses 
 sion the seats were filled with "Crusaders," with 
 the " waiting list " standing in the rear. 
 
 Last fall when the dressmaking class was formed 
 several fourteen-year-old girls made their first 
 dresses. Walking models took the place of bulletin- 
 board announcements. One can easily imagine 
 some of the remarks that were made. 
 
 "Oh Ann, you have a new dress. Where did 
 your mother buy it? " 
 
 " She didn't buy it. I made it." 
 
 " Quit your kidding. You know you can't sew." 
 
 "I did make it. Miss Carleton, at the Baptist 
 mission, showed me how." 
 
 " Well, of all things! I never knew they taught 
 any one to make real dresses at that mission." 
 
 When once these children of our new Americans 
 hear the story of Jesus' love as told by Miss Carle- 
 ton, they want to come again and hear it all over 
 again. In time, however, a strong unchristian 
 
186 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 opposition to the work showed itself in various 
 ways that cost Miss Carleton many sleepless nights 
 and no end of worry. One day her heart was 
 stirred by grief and pity when a little Italian girl 
 came to her and in a quiet way told her that her 
 day-school teacher had told her that if she attended 
 the Baptist mission again she would whip her. 
 The next Sunday this girl was at the mission Sun 
 day school, and on the following Monday she in 
 formed Miss Carleton that her day-school teacher 
 had whipped her and had threatened her with a 
 worse punishment if she told any one about it. 
 This was a serious affair. Other children came to 
 Miss Carleton with the same story, and word of 
 what was being done reached the ears of members 
 of the school board. Miss Carleton was called be 
 fore the board and was asked to reveal the names 
 of teachers who threatened children with punish 
 ment because they attended the Baptist mission. 
 This Miss Carleton refused to do, believing that, 
 for the sake of the children and the work at the 
 mission, nothing could be gained by her taking a 
 public stand against those who were trying to un 
 dermine her work. The school board went ahead 
 with its investigation and discovered enough evi 
 dence to warrant the dismissal of two or three 
 teachers who did not know the real meaning of re 
 ligious freedom in America. 
 
 And so, week by week and month by month, Miss 
 Carleton's air-castle grew in importance and reality 
 until some of the denominational leaders were con 
 vinced that it was a very practical dream indeed, 
 
Castles on the Royal Highway 187 
 
 and there is every assurance that a fine building 
 is going to be erected on the double lot where the 
 tiny chapel stands so that Sunday school and church 
 services can be held without too much crowding. 
 The boys' and girls' clubs will be given a chance 
 to develop properly. And in addition to other good 
 things there will be a hospital for children, a kin 
 dergarten, day-nursery, community laundry, gym 
 nasium, shower-baths, and rest-rooms. As at our 
 Christian centers in other industrial communities, 
 there will be a royal Christian welcome for every 
 body. 
 
 And this from the missionary herself: 
 "It is coming, I feel sure! Meanwhile, I shall 
 send sick children ten miles to a dispensary. I 
 shall conduct the clubs as best I can in the chapel. 
 The children will have free access to our small 
 library of donated books. When the Sunday school 
 is packed and some are standing, I shall try to 
 refrain from the desire to burst the walls asunder 
 until there is sufficient room. I shall do my best 
 with what we have. I shall not cease to pray that 
 our vision may be realized and that the air-castle 
 may be a castle of mortar and brick in the form 
 of a Christian center for this needy community." 
 
IV 
 
 * 
 
 A BOWERY PRAYER CIRCLE 
 
 FROM Mulberry Street and the Bowery a num 
 ber of boys gathered on the sidewalk opposite 
 the Baptist mission on the Lower East Side of New 
 York City. At a given signal from the leader of 
 the gang the boys charged across the street and 
 entered a side door of the mission and raided one 
 of the vacant rooms. They overturned benches and 
 chairs and stamped upon them, doing all the dam 
 age possible during the brief interval they remained 
 in the building. 
 
 The Italian pastor, two Italian young men, and a 
 visitor were drawn to that part of the building by 
 the loud racket. One of the raiders was seen flying 
 through the side entrance, the last member of the 
 gang to leave the building. A woman appeared 
 from a door and hysterically demanded that the 
 police be called. An old man who often came to 
 the mission to render what assistance he could 
 in distributing song-books and arranging chairs, 
 seemed greatly disturbed. 
 
 " We should get the police after those hoodlums," 
 he declared. "We ought to make a lesson out of 
 one of them." 
 
 The pastor and his two young friends did not get 
 excited. 
 188 
 
A Bowery Prayer Circle 189 
 
 " One time a policeman caught one of these mis 
 chief-makers," said the pastor. " He brought him 
 to me and asked me if he should jail him. I said, 
 ' No, let him go. He feels sorry for what he has 
 done. Some day he won't bother us any more.' " 
 
 The visitor turned to one of the young Italians. 
 You could walk several blocks in a big city before 
 seeing a finer type of the New American. His skin 
 was clear and healthy, his eyes were the open, 
 friendly sort that inspire confidence. 
 
 "What have you got to say about this raid?" 
 was asked. "It was rather vicious, don't you 
 think? " 
 
 Louis smiled in a quiet way. " I know who they 
 are. They don't mean anything by it. Nobody is 
 setting them up to do it, as some tell us. It's just 
 their way of having fun. We are praying for a 
 number of the boys in that gang, and some day 
 yes, it may be several years from now we'll win 
 them for Christ. We never give up a fellow when 
 we once start praying for him." 
 
 A wonderful night at the mission! Down in the 
 social rooms a group of Italian young people with 
 the two women missionaries served supper for the 
 teams working for the success of the New World 
 Movement. Around the table were gathered repre 
 sentatives of several nations China, Italy, Russia, 
 and America. They were residents of the Lower 
 East Side, and they pledged their loyalty to the 
 advanced program. 
 
 After supper the Italian young people gathered in 
 the Christian Endeavor rooms and held their weekly 
 
190 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 prayer-meeting. Leading them in their devotions 
 was an American high-school boy from an up-town 
 church. With them were the two devoted young 
 women who had consecrated their lives to home 
 missionary work. As a part of that group, but not 
 actually members of it, were half a dozen Italian 
 boys, who were still members of the street gangs, 
 but were drawn into the circle by some power they 
 could not resist. When the prayers and testimo 
 nies made them conscious of their lack of harmony 
 with the higher plane of living, they bolted down 
 stairs, shouting their derision, but it was an hour 
 before they left the building. The English pastor 
 in charge of the mission held them in earnest con 
 versation in some room below and listened kindly 
 to their vague objections to the Christian faith as 
 exemplified at the mission. 
 
 In that prayer circle were three Italian girls 
 grown to womanhood, who knew that as soon as 
 they returned to their homes that night they would 
 be beaten unmercifully by parents who had prac 
 tically forsaken the Roman Catholic church and yet 
 refused their daughters the peaceful enjoyment of 
 a gospel that brought Jesus directly into their lives 
 without priest or prelate as intermediary. Twice 
 and sometimes three times a week these beautiful 
 Italian girls were willing to suffer cruel punish 
 ment in honor of their blessed Saviour. 
 
 "Why do you not appeal to some organization 
 for the prevention of cruelty to children in behalf 
 of these young converts?" the visitor asked one of 
 the missionaries. 
 
A Bowery Prayer Circle 191 
 
 " They do not wish us to," said this young woman. 
 "They love their parents and are sorry for them. 
 All of our young people pass through this period 
 of persecution because of their stand for Christ." 
 
 " I never feel the strap when father lays it across 
 my back," said a starry-eyed young woman whose 
 daylight hours were spent in hard labor assisting 
 her mother to care for a large family of children. 
 " I can't explain why the strap doesn't hurt. Last 
 night father broke it across my back. It seems to 
 me that Jesus is always with me and takes upon 
 himself some of the force of the blows." 
 
 The girl smiled brightly while she told her story 
 a story as old as the gospel itself. Beautiful as 
 the morning is such a faith a faith which keeps 
 the world from growing old. 
 
 Among these children of the tenements was 
 Joseph. He and Louis are staunch friends. On 
 this same wonderful night at the mission, Joseph 
 gave his testimony before the deacons, who there 
 upon voted to recommend him to the church as a 
 candidate for baptism. 
 
 " I came to this country from Sicily when I was 
 ten years old," said Joseph. " Father, mother, and 
 a younger brother were with me. Father could 
 not find work, so I used to get up at four o'clock 
 in the morning to sell papers until nine so that I 
 could earn fifteen or twenty cents to buy milk and 
 bread for our breakfast. I attended the public 
 school just off the Bowery. After school every day 
 I was out with my shine-box. I also picked up an 
 occasional dime by acting as porter for folks walk- 
 
192 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 ing from subway stations to the ferries or railroad- 
 stations. 
 
 " My father kept right on having poor luck get 
 ting steady work, and when I was thirteen and a 
 half years old I walked out of school and never 
 went back. I got a job at six dollars a week as an 
 errand-boy at a store on Fulton Street. Then I 
 went to work in a soap-factory for nine dollars a 
 week. This wasn't enough money for family use, 
 so I went into a shoe-factory and became an expert 
 in my department. 
 
 " As a newsboy, bootblack, and errand-boy on the 
 streets of the Lower East Side I guess I learned 
 every bad habit a boy can have. I was a member 
 of a tough gang that used to be up to all sorts of 
 pranks. We called it fun. 
 
 " I knew Louis in those early days. We attended 
 the same school and often met on the streets. But 
 he was a different boy. He attended the Mission, 
 and his folks used to beat him up for it. Some 
 times I went to the mission with others of the gang. 
 We went to have fun, laughing and talking and 
 banging chairs during Sunday school, and stoning 
 the building when we were outside just like that 
 gang did tonight. We used to abuse Louis on the 
 street. We called him * the deacon ' and tried to 
 guy him into quitting the mission. But he was 
 always kind to me. I could see that the workers 
 at the mission respected him while I was always 
 making trouble for them. I can't see even now why 
 they didn't drive me out and order me to keep out 
 on threat of getting the police after me. 
 
A Bowery Prayer Circle 193 
 
 "I guess their kindness won me. I owe every 
 thing to the pastor and the women missionaries, 
 and I'll never forget what Louis and the other 
 members of the prayer circle have done for me. 
 They tell me that they have been praying for me 
 seven years. And now I'm praying for some boys 
 in that gang out there. 
 
 "As soon as I began to attend the prayer-meet 
 ings and speak for Jesus I found happiness. I can 
 not tell you how happy I am. I am in the shoe 
 business for myself now. I will never return to 
 the old, careless, sinful life. Next Sunday I will 
 be baptized, and it will be the greatest day of my 
 life." 
 
 Ernest had been a member of a gang of hood 
 lums, but came under the sweet, Christian influ 
 ence of the young women missionaries at this mis 
 sion and the prayer circle which they had formed. 
 Not long ago he joined the United States Army and 
 was sent to a Southern training-camp. As a young 
 Italian immigrant his chances to make much of 
 himself in the environment which the Bowery, Mul 
 berry Street, and the Chinese community afforded 
 had been slim indeed. He had been a leader in 
 much of the trouble which the rough element 
 caused the mission workers. The young women 
 who had been sent to this unevangelized district 
 never lost their grip through lack of faith in 
 Christ's power to win even those who strayed 
 farthest from his side. In spite of all kindness 
 shown him, Ernest had seemed hopelessly opposed 
 to Christianity. The prayer circle never took his 
 
194 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 name from the list, however, and when he left the 
 Bowery to train for a military career he was nearer 
 the kingdom than his closest friends supposed. At 
 length a letter came to Miss B., one of the mis 
 sionaries. According to the light he had received 
 he had tried to represent Christ in the barracks. 
 He told his story without smoothing the rough 
 spots. Some of us might have found a better way 
 to show our loyalty to Christ, some of us may have 
 been less successful. 
 
 There had been an argument in camp. It was 
 about gambling and the disreputable camp-follow 
 ers. Ernest did not hesitate to tell how much he 
 admired those who lived worthily, like Miss B. and 
 her fellow workers at the mission on Manhattan's 
 Lower East Side. In order to gain a hearing for 
 himself he did not speak of his former life with the 
 tough gang. He simply argued from the standpoint 
 of right or wrong and made a plea for the clean 
 life. His story follows : 
 
 "Well, Miss B., these soldiers were all against 
 me. Some didn't want to argue, so they started a 
 game of cards. One fellow spoke up and said some 
 thing that made me pretty mad. All the others 
 started to laugh. It made me feel pretty bad to 
 see them laugh at me for trying to tell them some 
 of the good things you people taught me. I took 
 it as a joke, but stuck to my saying. These boys 
 down here are husky fellows, and to go against 
 them is a pretty rough matter. I didn't want any 
 trouble, so walked away to where the boys were 
 playing cards. One of the soldiers I had just been 
 
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A Bowery Prayer Circle 195 
 
 talking with said in a mean way to one of the sol 
 diers playing, ' He'll tell his mother you are teach 
 ing him bad.' Why, Miss B., a slap in the face 
 would have done me less harm than those words. 
 All the soldiers laughed with tears in their eyes. 
 I felt blue." 
 
 (Ernest had come up a long way out of every 
 form of vice. There was nothing these soldiers 
 could teach him. Yet he was determined to gain 
 no favor with them by telling them of his former 
 life. He was resolved to stand up against them as 
 he conceived that a Christian gentleman should. 
 The reference to his mother he resented. Yet he 
 might have passed that by. Before he could say a 
 loyal word in her behalf he found himself con 
 fronted by his opponent, the latter stripped for a 
 fight, his fists doubled.) 
 
 Ernest continues: 
 
 "'We should ask permission from the sergeant 
 first/ I said. 
 
 " They said that I was afraid, and just then, as 
 luck would have it, the sergeant stepped up. ' Are 
 they trying to put something over on you?' The 
 sergeant looked at me. 
 
 "'No, there's just a little misunderstanding,' I 
 said. 
 
 " I believe the sergeant understood what was up. 
 He sleeps next to me, and every night he sees me 
 read the Bible. 
 
 "Well, we were taken out on the field, the ser 
 geant giving his consent. From the barracks to 
 the field these are the words I said, ' God, if I am 
 o 
 
196 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 wrong I am willing to stand for a licking, but if I 
 am right, help me.' 
 
 " It seemed that every one was against me, and 
 I felt blue. There was no one to back me up. ' God 
 help me ! ' They told me it was to be a fight to a 
 finish before I had a chance to say a word. Well, 
 after taking my shirt off I just looked to God and 
 said aloud, ' Ready ! ' We started. I could see no 
 one but this soldier who fought against me. There 
 were soldiers shouting to him how to hit me. He 
 was a good fighter. He was all I could see. I kept 
 myself pretty good. Darkness was all around. Did 
 I get hit? No, it wasn't a blow, for I felt myself 
 moving around. Then why did I see black around? 
 I couldn't answer the question. My mind worked 
 pretty fast. I heard soldiers shouting against me. 
 I felt dizzy. I was discouraged. All the world 
 seemed to be against me. I heard myself speak in 
 my mind, ' God, did you forget me? ' I was falling. 
 Was I in a dream? No, it could not be a dream, 
 because I felt the blows. Then all of a sudden I 
 heard a shout. It waked me up. This is what I 
 heard: ' Stand up to it, Ernest! ' Did I hear those 
 words or was it imagination? I heard that same 
 voice again. Then all of a sudden we stopped fight 
 ing. I felt myself falling. One of the men picked 
 me up. After a few minutes I looked around and 
 saw the sergeant. I smiled at him, and he smiled 
 back. 
 
 " I didn't know what had happened, but the ser 
 geant told me that the other fellow fell first, and 
 when the referee had shouted ' Stop ! ' I fell to the 
 
A Bowery Prayer Circle 197 
 
 ground. He explained about the voice. It was the 
 sergeant himself who had shouted to me his en 
 couragement. 
 
 " I felt sick. My nose bled, and my lip was 
 cracked, and I was faint. They helped me to the 
 barracks. There I saw the other fellow. I was 
 surprised to see that I had given him such a lick 
 ing. He was some sight. 
 
 "The boys felt sorry for me, and some of them 
 shook hands with me and said that they were with 
 me. But I wanted to shake hands with the one I 
 fought. But he didn't want to. The sergeant told 
 him that he was a poor loser. He told me to go to 
 bed, and I did. 
 
 " When I awoke the next morning I had forgot 
 ten all about the trouble. The boys joked with me, 
 and I laughed with them. My, how things had 
 changed ! Yesterday they were all against me. 
 Today most of them are with me, but they still 
 gamble and talk about the things they should not. 
 I can't stop them. But they never talk wrong when 
 I am around, as they know I don't like it. 
 
 "What I have told you from the beginning to 
 the end is the honest truth, and I would have told 
 you just the same if I had lost. And, Miss B., 
 I intend to do all I can for Jesus. I love him more 
 than ever. I am sorry that I did not work for 
 him before, but it is never too late. You people 
 simply must believe in me. I feel that God is work 
 ing for me through my friends. They must keep 
 me going and not let me stop at the most important 
 moment. Tell all the people that I want them to 
 
198 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 forget what they thought of me. The army is giv 
 ing me a chance to show that I am trying to live 
 a true life. I mean to work for God with all my 
 might. When I come back they will see that I am 
 a different ' Ernest/ Miss B., don't forget me. 
 Tell them to pray for me at Christian Endeavor." 
 
 Setting aside for the moment the question as to 
 whether or not a man may be truly a man and still 
 take an insult in silence, we must thank Ernest for 
 showing us that a fellow can enter the army and 
 not succumb to the peculiar temptations that assail 
 a soldier. He has pictured for us the little band of 
 young people in the slums of New York City, pray 
 ing for him and for other immigrant boys groping 
 for higher ideals and a nobler scheme of living. 
 The other day the interesting news came to the 
 mission that as a result of his good record in the 
 training camp at San Antonio, Ernest had been 
 sent to the military school at Rockford, Illinois. 
 Let us thank God for the beautiful lives of our 
 young women missionaries. They are occupying 
 difficult positions at the farthest outposts of Chris 
 tian effort and achievement. Among the New 
 Americans who are handicapped as few of us can 
 understand, they are leading many to see at least 
 something of Jesus' serenity in the midst of anger 
 and hatred. In a letter to one of his friends, 
 Ernest has written : " Louis, don't ever go back on 
 Miss B. I only wish I could repay her for what 
 she has done for me, but it's no use; it is beyond 
 my power." 
 
V 
 
 AN ANGEL OF HOMESTEAD 
 
 IN a quaint little town twenty-five miles from 
 Budapest, Hungary, a gospel street meeting was 
 broken up by an angry mob armed with pitchforks 
 and threshing-flails. Women, wielding long wooden 
 ladles which they used to turn bread baking in big 
 ovens, joined the men and boys in the savage at 
 tacks upon the evangelists. Heinrich Meyer, pastor 
 of the First Baptist Church at Budapest, was so 
 brutally beaten that he fell fainting in the arms 
 of the young men who had journeyed from Buda 
 pest with him. The missionaries carried their 
 leader to the river with the purpose of boarding 
 the passenger-boat bound for Budapest. But Hein 
 rich Meyer was in such a deplorable condition that 
 he was not allowed on the boat. His face was a 
 mass of bruises, and his clothing, or as much of it 
 as had not been torn from his body, was covered 
 with blood and mud. They were obliged to wait 
 for a freight-train before the journey to Budapest 
 could be made with the wounded minister. As they 
 lifted him upon the train he told his associates to 
 remain in the village and continue the street 
 meetings. 
 
 " Don't be discouraged," he begged. " This is a 
 place where the people will be converted." 
 
 199 
 
200 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 The following week this intrepid Baptist preacher 
 and his little band of followers again went to the 
 village. From the housetops the men and boys 
 stoned them. They did not retreat. A meeting was 
 held, and the people heard the gospel. Many were 
 converted, and now a Baptist church stands on a 
 hill in this village, and converts from that church 
 are in America preaching the word among the 
 Hungarians, Croatians, Slavs, and Greiners. 
 
 One of the first converts under the preaching of 
 Heinrich Meyer in Budapest was Amalia, a girl in 
 her early teens. She is Hungary's twenty-seventh 
 Baptist. In a land where religious freedom was 
 unknown, Amalia was destined to suffer as no 
 young convert in an enlightened home in America 
 is called upon to suffer. Under the dark shadow 
 of an archaic religious system, no public sentiment 
 or home discipline prevented the brothers and sis 
 ters of Amalia from entering the Baptist chapel 
 and pulling Amalia out of the room by her hair. 
 Twisting their hands into her long tresses they 
 forced her to go home with them. This was only 
 one of the many trials experienced by Amalia to 
 test her adherence to the Protestant faith. In time 
 the members of Amalia's family learned that they 
 could not destroy her love for Jesus and the truth 
 nor break her spirit, and so they ceased their at 
 tempts to prevent her from attending the church 
 where she first discovered Christ. 
 
 Amalia became an earnest missionary in Hun 
 gary, receiving a thorough Christian training under 
 her pastor, Heinrich Meyer. To obtain funds to 
 
An Angel of Homestead 201 
 
 further the cause of Christ in Hungary, Amalia 
 determined to go to America, but under God's 
 providence she came into contact with that saintly 
 Baptist woman, Miss Burdette, who persuaded her 
 to exercise her extraordinary gifts as a missionary 
 among the Hungarians, Slovaks, Croatians, Poles, 
 and Roumanians, and other foreign-speaking peo 
 ples of Homestead and Rankin, in the heart of the 
 steel-mills of Pennsylvania. For over eighteen years 
 Amalia Paliniy, as the faithful representative of the 
 Woman's American Baptist Home Mission Society, 
 has been doing the spiritual plowing that has re 
 sulted in a remarkable growth of the kingdom 
 among our new Americans in the Pittsburgh steel 
 district. The story of her life would rival in in 
 terest that of Ann of Ava. Let us hope that some 
 day it may be told completely. 
 
 Even while working in America the influence of 
 this woman missionary has extended to her native 
 land thousands of miles away. One little story will 
 illustrate the truth of this : 
 
 A Sunday school at Rankin, Pa., was organized 
 by Amalia Paliniy and her fellow worker, Lyda 
 Jenkins, an American. Amalia could not speak a 
 word of English and Lyda could not speak Hun 
 garian. But the work was carried on with sweet 
 mutual helpfulness by them. In their house-to- 
 house visitation Amalia spoke to the mothers in 
 their native tongue, and Lyda spoke to the chil 
 dren in English. Some of their experiences were 
 laughable and some rather pathetic on account of 
 Amalia's inability to speak or read in English. One 
 
202 By-Paths to Forgotten Folks 
 
 day Lyda told Amalia to meet her on the corner of 
 Butler Street and Pennsylvania Avenue, Pittsburgh, 
 at 9 : 30 A. M., and, thinking she had the instruc 
 tions accurately in mind, Amalia took a car early 
 in the morning (so as to be at the appointed place 
 in good season) and traveled eighteen miles from 
 Pittsburgh to Wilmerding. 
 
 So anxious was Amalia to learn the English lan 
 guage that she used to study until two and three 
 o'clock in the morning, when " everybody in the 
 neighborhood had turned on their other sides for 
 a second sleep," as Amalia humorously expressed it. 
 
 But in time the little children could be told the 
 Bible stories by Amalia in the English language. 
 Among the Hungarian girls who came to the mis 
 sion was thirteen-year-old Cecelia. 
 
 Cecelia was converted and told her parents that 
 she wanted to be baptized. The parents were en 
 slaved by the superstitions of an old-country re 
 ligion and refused to allow their daughter to join 
 the Protestant church. In order to take their 
 daughter out of the Christian atmosphere in which 
 she had found her Saviour, the father and mother 
 returned to Europe at once. But it happened that 
 they chose a residence in a village near one of the 
 churches organized by Heinrich Meyer, Amalia's 
 first pastor. 
 
 One day Cecelia was sent to a store to buy some 
 articles for home use when her eyes fell upon the 
 photograph of a sweet-faced woman, which hung 
 above the desk of the merchant. Rushing toward 
 it, she stretched out her arms in eager delight. 
 
An Angel of Homestead 203 
 
 " My Sunday school teacher! " she cried. 
 
 " It is Amalia Paliniy, who was converted in this 
 country and then went to America," explained the 
 merchant. 
 
 " Yes, I know it is," said Cecelia. " She taught 
 me all about Jesus." 
 
 "We have a Sunday school here too," said the 
 merchant. " We will teach you the same things 
 Amalia Paliniy taught you in America." 
 
 The following Sunday Cecelia attended the Bap 
 tist mission in the little Hungarian town. When 
 her father missed her he searched everywhere and 
 could not find her until, like the parents of the boy 
 Jesus, he went to the church (temple of God) to 
 find her. He wanted to call her out, but the deacons 
 of the church requested him to sit down and wait. 
 
 The father waited. After the service he took 
 Cecelia home to punish her, but conscious of a stir 
 ring in his heart that was different from any emo 
 tion he ever had experienced, he refrained from 
 carrying out his purpose. Both father and mother 
 began attending the gospel services, and all three 
 are now happy members of this Baptist church in 
 Hungary. 
 
 THE END