On The Indian Trail By A. Lyle Van Dyne, M.D. Printed for the Author By The Abingdon Press, Chicago On Copyright 1921 By A, Lyle Van Dyne Bancroft Library On The Indian Trail Written by A. L. Van Dyne CHAPTER I THE AWAKENING In the gray mists of early dawn, Ahwaha awakened from a strange dream. Bending over her, she had seen her Indian mother and heard her say, "Daughter, maybe you found riches and high position with your white friends, but you have forgotten your poor Indian mother. I loved and nursed you for a long time, Ahwaha, now I am sad be cause you have forgotten me." Ahwaha raised her slender body and sat upright upon her bed. "Riches and honor !" she sadly whispered, "Ah, no ! dear mother. I found love that has caused my heart to bleed; I found sorrow and weakness and I have found my soul. I am going back to you, mother, and our people. Now I know that even Ahwaha has work to do. Dr. Martel many times said, 'Ahwaha, you are brave and strong.' Yes terday I saw them place his ashes in the cold ground. Now I have only his kind words to sustain me." At that moment she recalled the little box which the doctor had given to her on the very night of his sudden, terrible illness. "Do not open the box, Ahwaha," he had said, "until 1 am gone." Ahwaha knelt down before the little black trunk at the foot of her bed and reverently drew out the box from be neath piles of folded clothing. She felt that the doctor was close beside her. She lifted the cover and there lay a small white envelope addressed in his own hand "To Ahwaha, who has been my comfort and support through hours of nameless agony." Great, hot tears fell over the little white envelope from the dark eyes of the Indian girl. 3 4 ON THE INDIAN TRAIL Many minutes passed before she could uncover the last message from the man she loved and mourned. Very tim idly she drew out the folded sheet of elegant paper and read through her tears, "Ahwaha dear child of Nature: You can never know how much you have comforted me. You are so calm and brave. After all, Ahwaha, a loving, pure friendship is the highest possession of this life. It brings no pangs of remorse, no terrible complications, no wreckage. Dear child, go back to your people. Until I knew your heart, I thought the Indian a worthless, hope less creature. But in you, Ahwaha, I find a rare intelli gence, a rare soul, a deep, sensitive, intricate nature. I now believe that the Indian's great need is to find himself. Ahwaha, help them as you have helped me. May Heaven shower upon you all the good that can come to any mortal. Accept the little gift 1 here enclose, with my heart. To Ahwaha, from Eugene Martel." Down at the bottom of the box, folded carefully, in a white linen handkerchief Ahwaha found ten one hundred dollar bills. In all her life she had never seen so much money. But so deep was her grief she could not sense the value of this gift. "I will go back to my people, as he commanded me," she sobbed. "And with me I take knowl edge that cannot be imparted by books, for I have learned that success, and happiness, do not depend upon money, nor talent, nor position, nor marvelous personal gifts, for Dr. Martel had all these and much more. Here, in this magnificent home, I have witnessed a prince descend into the depths of Hades, because the laws of Nature are re lentless, unchangeable, eternal, and my precious friend paid the price. Great God, help me to hold up the torch of Truth to my people." One hour later, Ahwaha said to a gaunt, haggard-eyed woman who descended from the top floor, "I am going away going back to my mother and my father. I shall leave to-day." THE AWAKENING 5 They looked at each other and the haggard woman said, "No doubt that is a wise thing for you to do, Ahwaha. Take with you all the furnishings of this room. There are such loads of stuff in this house I do not know what to do with it." There were some things in her little room which Ahwaha loved a tiny writing-desk, placed there by Dr. Martel when she came, three small pictures, and a half dozen books he had put on the walls and the desk. She thanked the pale mistress of the house between broken sobs. She would take everything away with her. It would enable her to transplant a bit of the doctor's life into her Indian home. She would build a shrine where their spirits would meet before this little desk. With a feeling of reverence she re moved the pretty curtains from the window, lifted the rug from the floor, packed the books and pictures, and one small bust of Wagner. Dr. Martel had placed the little bust upon a shelf in the corner. Ahwaha ran to the room where the doctor died. She laid her head upon the couch where his had lain in its last sleep. She closed her eyes and whispered, "I will try ! I am only a poor Indian girl, but I will try, and your spirit will go with me and sustain me." Hot tears fell from her eyes. Then suddenly, she said aloud, "I am weak and helpless, and the doctor called me strong and brave. He trusted me and leaned upon me." She arose and said in a firm voice, "He is not gone ! He is here ! He will walk beside me and I shall hear his voice because this is a world of our own making, a world of thought." The pale-faced woman had gone out without bidding Ahwaha farewell, but in the lower hall she met the old housekeeper, who said, "Well, good-by, little Indian girl." And then, suddenly, the door of the great house closed for the last time upon Ahwaha. CHAPTER II THE RETURN Ahwaha returned to her Indian home on a cool, bright spring day. There was gladness in the air, and everything looked fresh and green. Half an hour before the train reached the little town adjoining the reservation, a terrific thunderstorm had swept down from the northeast and left everything clean and sparkling in the sunlight. It only lasted a few moments, but in that time it had carried away a section of the track and the train was stalled just outside and in full view of the village. Over the prairie the people came straggling, curious to learn what had happened. Ah waha sprang down into the wet sand and the conductor placed her hand baggage upon the ground beside her. At that moment a tall, young Indian approached and lifting his hat, inquired in low tones, "May I assist you with your baggage, miss?" The man, although a stranger, belonged to her people. That was quite obvious. Ahwaha replied, "Yes, you are very kind. They did not expect me home. We live up on the river bank. You may go with me beyond the village. Maybe father will come to meet me. His eyes are alert for strangers upon the path." The young man had caught up the heavy luggage and was swinging along with the natural ease and grace of the Red Man. Ahwaha followed in silence, through the town and out across the fields where the path was flanked by huge beds of blue crocuses. As they neared the river, Ahwaha's companion turned and looked back, for he no longer heard her footsteps. He saw the Indian girl kneel ing upon the ground, with both hands pressed over her eyes. Stepping softly, Tonto Cabo went back along the path. When he reached Ahwaha, he stood staring at the blue flowers until she sprang to her feet and said, "It is THE RETURN 7 nothing, only my friend loved the crocus." This was true, but there was something more. Ahwaha had reached a curve in the path, from which point she saw her Indian home, and there upon the doorstep sat her mother, with her tangled hair falling about her shoulders and her bare feet protruding from beneath a soiled and ragged calico skirt; and the poor girl cowered before this vision of reservation life. But the doctor's face came between, and suddenly all her strength and courage returned. Tonto Cabo was not a reservation Indian. He looked upon the girl's daintily clad figure and into her great, dark eyes, and understood. Ahwaha stammered, "You are kind and good, but mother is coming to help me. Go now." She ran toward the Indian woman who took her in her arms and held her close to her breast. The mother was comely to look upon, in spite of the fact that her outward appearance contrasted sharply with that of the daughter, who had returned from the great city in smart attire. Tonto dropped the heavy luggage in the path, turned back and glided along toward the village. As he walked, he mused "She is the daughter of Chief Thunder Bird. That is well. I shall meet him at nightfall and talk about the land and see his pretty daughter." But when the night descended, and the moon climbed toward the zenith, Thun der Bird went down the path to meet Tonto and led him to the river bank, where they sat down upon a mound of earth and talked of tribal matters, far into the night. When they parted the old Chief said, "Yo>u will come back in three moons. Then you will see Ahwaha and hear her sing like the birds." In the morning Tonto went away, and to the distant city he carried the memory of Ahwaha's beautiful face and gentle sadness. To the birds in the city park he whispered, "I will go back and hear her sing." 8 ON THE INDIAN TRAIL When the second day dawned, Ahwaha was up with the birds. She saw the sun rise and bathe the earth in rose and gold. She heard a thousand bird voices hail the day. She walked out among the Indian shanties; not a window or door was open. "Sealed up tight to keep out this glorious morning air, and light, and color," Ahwaha said aloud. Then she walked away up the river, drinking in all the beauty and life poured out so lavishly about her. When beyond the little settlement, she sang just for the joy of singing, just because she felt herself a part of the beautiful morning. Then slowly she retraced her steps, and as she walked she planned what she would do to better the life of the people existing in the dirty little hovels, without even the air and sunlight, for every opening was carefully fas tened. The thought came to Ahwaha "this life is not the normal life of the Indian. They shifted their homes often and the wind swept through the lodges at will in the old times ; I see ; I know ; it all came about through the changed way of living." She went back to the house, and with her own hands removed the window from her sleeping room. The old Chief had built a substantial frame cottage on the bank of the river near the bridge, over which the footpath led to the little settlement in the woods. The grass was a pale, bright green, and the cottage had received a fresh coat of bright, blue paint. For two days Ahwaha counseled with her parents; but on the evening of the third day all the Indians of the little settlement, and some from beyond the grove several miles distant, came to a council-fire lighted to welcome Ahwaha. Beyond the river, the road climbed up a steep hill. Near the top of the hill a path led off to the right, through the woods, and into a small clearing. Here the Indians had built their shanties and log huts in a circle, close to the trees, on the border of the clearing. THE RETURN 9 In the center the council-fire was built. Chief Thunder Bird sat facing the east, before the fire. At his right, in a semi-circle, were huddled the men and boys. At his left, sat all the women and children, with Ahwaha nearest to himself. The women had donned their beads and trinkets, and allowed their hair to fall in long braids, and Ahwaha arrayed herself like all the other maidens. After Chief Thunder Bird had addressed the gathering in their native tongue, the Indian girls sang and danced the Peace Dance, in the weird light of the council-fire. Then Ahwaha told them of the white man's ways, and of their dances, and then she said, "I have returned to you with love and sorrow, and peace and hope in my heart. Come to me, dear friends. Perhaps I may help you. That is my wish. I have received much light. I have suffered. I came back because a good spirit commanded me to come to my people. Much that the white man has is not civilization, but simply commercialism. We must choose the good, the best. The Indian race is forced to let go the old life. That is gone. The life we live now, here on the reservation is not so good as the old life not so natural not so clean not so full of romance and mystery, and hope. The change has already occurred, and we had nothing to do with that. What I say to you is, Get the best or we are lost. Health and happiness are life's greatest gifts." "There, that will do," Chief Thunder Bird commanded. "I see our people someones understand not. That much heap good, but too much said." He beckoned to a tall, dark Indian girl, and all the maidens came forward and laid upon the ground before Ahwaha, little gifts of beadwork and baskets. Some were useful, others ornamental, but all were fashioned by the hands that bore them. "See," continued Chief Thunder Bird, "this much more good than talk. Our children go among the whites, then 10 ON THE INDIAN TRAIL they come back and speechify. Sing, Ahwaha, sing. That more good." And while the older women brought food and served each guest, Ahwaha sang the songs she had learned at Carlisle. Then the big fire burned low, and the black shadows stretched far behind the dusky figures. The red glow flared up over the dark faces, died down, flamed up again, and then again more feebly, until there was no light save that from the moon, and one by one the Indians disap peared. CHAPTER III THE RESERVATION Tonto came back; came to counsel with Chief Thunder Bird; came to hear Ahwaha sing; came to court the Wild Flower, who during his absence had patiently tried to help her people. He found the home of Thunder Bird changed from a squalid, dreary place into a habitation that might have held the soul of an artist. Ahwaha had made good use of the furnishings brought from the home of her friend in the city. The low walls were adorned with choice pictures. She had draped the doors with old faded blankets, but they were clean and soft-toned in color. She had hung the mounted deer-heads above the doors, spread the Indian mats and rugs where the colors blended best, made with her own hands a book-rack, placed it against the wall of the living-room and filled it with books. She had made a den for Chief Thunder Bird, decorated with Indian relics, where the old Chief could smoke and dream and relate his old-time stories. When Tonto first visited Chief Thunder Bird, not a tree, or shrub, or flower, grew about the house. Now the whole place was abloom with green and flowering things, and here and there young trees were planted. At the rear of the dwelling, a big vegetable garden flourished. Ahwaha had also purchased a cow and a large flock of chickens. "Bravo," cried Tonto, "someone is thinking, someone is working, about this place, and the result is wonderful." "I bought the chickens," Ahwaha explained, "because the old lady who lives just beyond the bridge came home one day from the village lugging a dead hen, one that had died from disease and been cast over the fence by the owner. I could not prevent her eating that diseased fowl, but now I give her one every week, and she weeds in the garden for 11 12 02V THE INDIAN TRAIL a couple of hours in payment." "Fine, fine!" cried Tonto, "I have found a real Princess a woman who thinks. Our people do not comprehend that without material possessions one is helpless. We must surround ourselves with neces sities, with comforts, and beauty." Ahwaha replied, "Yes, even the little squirrels teach this lesson of thrift and reserve supply. Material possessions give power and prestige. In the old days our people were rich in furs, blankets, baskets, etc. But a blight has fallen upon them. Now poverty and helplessness and disease cry out from all the reservation homes. It is all because of the changed life." "I hate the Pale Face," Tonto said. Then he turned upon his heel, returned to the house and said to Chief Thunder Bird, "You said that I should hear Ahwaha sing." "Yes, yes, the lark sing now but not so much. She think all time." He called to his daughter and from a peg on the wall she took down the old guitar and sang, low, sad, minor melodies. Then she and Tonto sang together. They sang the old songs they had learned at Carlisle, afterward they talked of their old school days. "O, those were glorious days," Ahwaha murmured, "and the good Dr. Nachita, was he there at that time? Did you know him?" Tonto eagerly questioned. "Yes, I never could forget Dr. Nachita. He gave us the pills and powders and said, 'Take care of yourself. Don't get sick. Understand, if you do, I must give you bad medicine.' We owe much to Carlisle." Chief Thunder Bird beckoned Tonto and again they went to a lonely spot on the bank of the river, where they remained until the sun had set and the big moon sailed out into the blue heavens. On the following morning the east was flushed with pink and gold, and the long, gray shadows lay over the green earth, when Tonto rowed up the river from the village. At the bridge he ran the nose of his canoe on the bank and waited not long for Ahwaha was watching and ran down the hillside and stepped into the bow of the boat. Chief THE RESERVATION 13 Thunder Bird had given permission for them to go up-stream and pass the day at the agency, several miles north from his little settlement. For a long time no word passed between the man and woman in the boat. They listened to the swish of the oars through the water, and the voices of the birds. They watched the banks of rose, and gray, and gold clouds piled up in the east. The river was fringed with silver poplars and willows and pines. The current was not rapid. Tonto's arms were long and sinewy and the canoe sped swiftly onward until they reached a little cove filled with white lilies, and little green, boggy tufts, or hillocks. Tonto turned the boat into this harbor away from the current of the stream and there rested for a time, while Wild Flower broke the lilies from the stalks and laid them at her feet in the canoe. Few words had passed between them, for all nature was singing to them in soft, clear tones. The little yellow and blue warblers and the cat-bird filled the air with sweet sounds, and the flowers shook their heads and filled the air with fragrance. The blue sky and the fleecy white clouds said, "Come up higher where the air is clear and cool," but the canoe rocked upon the water, and Tonto said, "Wild Flower, are you happy here among your people?" "Well," the girl replied, "everything is beautiful. Every thing is harmonious and full of life and joy except the people. Tonto, my heart is heavy. Something is wrong. I do not understand. They dance and shout and laugh, but it is not for joy. It is for diversion, to forget their utterly hopeless condition." Tonto looked into the eyes of Ahwaha and felt that a great change was taking place in her. "Come away from this place, Wild Flower," he whispered, "come back to the city. Come with me and be my song-bird and I will make you happy, child." She pulled the white petals from a full blown lily and threw them into the water. She watched them float beyond her reach. Still she was silent. "You have been out into the big world where people think and 14 ON THE INDIAN TRAIL act for themselves. You cannot live here. Wild Flower. The social and mental atmosphere will stifle you." "Ah, Tonto," the girl replied, "what you say is true, but I gave my promise and it is sacred. Then, too, mother is far from well. She sits silent and motionless for hours. She never speaks with strangers, and her words are few when alone with the family. She has a wasting disease. I cannot leave her. I have a double trust. When you come again, Tonto, I will give you my answer. My life here is very busy. I find much to accomplish, but I stand apart from my own people. They look upon me as one out of sympathy with their interests, one trying to teach them new tricks. Many times I find it necessary to do as they do in order to have the least influence with them or be admitted into their circle." "Yes, Ahwaha, I see this change. They are dragging you down to their level in speech and appearance. You must come with me. Before the snow falls I will come back and take you to my home." "O, Tonto, we must be going now. We have lingered a long time in this pretty nook." A frightened look passed over her face. Tonto grasped the oars, plunged them into the water, pulled hard and steady and away shot the canoe up stream. When they reached the agency a dance was in full swing. Close to the river where the air was cool a large company of Indian men and women were jumping and whirling upon the bare ground, accompanied by weird sounds from the tom-tom. On the ground sat old women, with gay-colored blankets piled all about them. Others were beading moc casins or making finger rings. Tonto joined the dancers, but Wild Flower lingered among the baskets and purchased many pretty trinkets. Afterward she made her way to the lodge of the great medicine man and told him of her sick mother. About the THE RESERVATION 15 old, weather-beaten, grizzled Red Man there was a wealth of mystery and quiet dignity. He closed his eyes and sat in silence for a long time, then he spoke slowly and in broken, halting English: "Bring the sick one. Come to my peote temple sick no more. All gone pain. Medicine heap good. Be quiet. Agent no like peote medicine. Agent doctor lose pay when medicine man make well." Ahwaha gave him two pieces of silver and promised to tell her mother all that he had said. She had kept her promise to her mother. She had consulted the Great Med icine Man, and her doubt and distrust had increased. This was the third day of the dance, and they expected to keep on dancing for five or six days longer. At two o'clock in the afternoon down on the river bank, beyond the settlement, the council was called, just where the ground sloped gently toward the stream and the grass was shaded by a clump of silver poplars. A runner had gone to the homes of each one called to sit in the council, and presented a small roll of tobacco. This was a form of invitation to the Big Smoke. For an hour they sat or reclined upon the hillside and smoked in silence. Each man brought with him the little roll of tobacco pre sented by the runner and from these they filled their pipes. Tonto was the son of a noted Chief and accustomed to sitting in council. He came as the representative of his own tribe and Thunder Bird, who had said, "You tell me all. They only discuss. Indian can't do nothing. Agent big scare. Me tired of discuss. No good. Indian must stand by agent or go to jail." On the hillside they smoked for an hour, then slowly and with much show of dignity, an old Indian arose and spoke only a few words in the native language. Very slowly he resumed his seat upon the ground, and they all smoked on in silence. Twenty minutes passed and then another Indian arose and answered the first speaker. Tonto 16 ON THE INDIAN TRAIL did not understand all that the old men were saying, but from the interpreter he learned that the question before the council related to a good old Indian Lone Dog who had been allotted land some twenty years previously. Two years after said allottment the agent said to Lone Dog, "You have two children. Why not have them allotted?" "Ugh! no!" replied Lone Dog. "Law say he must be twenty-one year old and head of fam. No ! no !" Three months later the dishonest agent brought Lone Dog the allottment papers for his children, and thrust them upon him. After some parley Lone Dog, fearing the dis pleasure of the agent, accepted the papers. Later the agent sent a buyer from a lumbering firm to the old Indian to arrange for the purchase of the timber upon his land and that of the children. The agent resigned. A new agent came and now Lone Dog has been notified that the land of his children would be taken from him. The transaction was illegal. Lone Dog had built his home upon the land of his children. They both had died long ago, and he had sold his personal allottment. The old Indian was now about to become homeless and penniless. The Indians smoked their pipes, refilled them and smoked and discussed, and when at sunset Tonto and Wild Flower waved farewell to the dancers, the council was still dis cussing Lone Dog's misfortune, and the rascal agent who had assisted the lumber firm to unlawfully secure the tim ber. What could be done? Indians are not allowed to employ attorneys to represent them without permission from the commissioner of Indian affairs. Lone Dog could not read, write nor speak English, and the bad agent was gone, no one knew where. They could discuss and that was all. "Education in civil government and the English language is sorely needed by our older people," Tonto said, as the boat drifted away down stream. "Going back to the THE RESERVATION 17 starting point with the current is play. We were a long time pulling up stream, Wild Flower, but watch the trees hurrying past us now." The moon cast a pale, white light over the earth. The night was still and calm. Ahwaha looked away into the clouds, but she was thinking of Tonto's words. "Yes, the boat glides down stream silently and swiftly, and, Tonto, I am thinking of the Indians. They, too, are drifting down stream. No one offers any resistance. They cannot think for themselves. They can only obey or fool the agent. This whole life breeds deception. At the agency they seemed very happy, but some of them came a long distance to the dance. And what about their crops and their cattle? A dance that lasts eight and ten days must interfere with the support of the family, to say nothing of the loss of vitality and sleep. To me time and strength and intelligence are valuable. The Indians get their pittance from the govern ment and they are carefree." "Come away from all this, Wild Flower," Tonto pleaded, "This is not the place for you. The sky and the air and the birds and the flowers are all beautiful, but commercial ism in varied forms has changed the Red Man. Come with me. Wild Flower. I cannot let you live and die here. Come, be my bride. Come, help me out in the great world, where there is thought and action." The canoe rounded a curve in the stream. The moon light silted through the trembling leaves and fell upon the water, and there in the shadows beneath the willows, Ah waha saw the pale, sad face of Eugene Martel. "O, Tonto," she cried, "I know why many people believe in the return of spirits. Out from our grief and love we visualize the old scenes and the dear faces until to us the pictures are real and we believe in them. Thoughts, Tonto, are the material out of which we build our world. Tonto, I love you, you are kind and good. You understand my heart. But wait a little for my answer. I must think." 18 ON THE INDIAN TRAIL "You think of some Pale Face/' Tonto cried. "Yes/' replied the Indian girl, "the face I see is the face of a white man; a face from the spirit world; the face of my dear friend. Dr. Martel. But, Tonto, he was all that the Indian could he. His heart was noble and tender. His eyes saw all that was beautiful and he was loyal. Loyal to a fault. Yes, Tonto, he was loyal. He had absorbed the culture of all people, and yet he failed miserably, wretchedly x because he defied natural law. Often he said, 'I care nothing about food. I may^eat if I choose or I may not eat. I may sleep or not sleep. It matters not. The mind rules.' But, Tonto, I know now that everything is governed by fixed laws, and it is our business to know the application of these laws. Dr. Martel's noble spirit could no longer dwell in such a habitation." "What was the matter with him?" Tonto asked with a shade of impatience. "An evil spirit must have led him to use morphine. Now, I know that the real enemies are crouching in the realm of thought, ready to slay us, Tonto. Dr. Martel said, 'Until I knew you, Ahwaha, I always thought the Indians were picturesque, seen at a distance. I thought they decorated the landscape in a wild fantastic way. I had been told that they were very dangerous, and bad. But now I know that you, dear child, possess all that is best in the white race.' Tonto, the thing the whole world needs most is more truth regarding fundamentals. Knowl edge would do away with segregated spots like the Indian Reservation. The Indian has the crude material, but he barters away his birthright, when he neglects the training of his intellect." The canoe neared the bridge by Chief Thunder Bird's home. Tonto brought the little craft to land, sprang out and carefully assisted Wild Flower to gain the mossy bank that sloped abruptly up from the water. Meanwhile he said, "That is fine talk, all true, Wild Flower, but it tires THE RESERVATION 19 the brain and makes you sick. Come with me away from this dull place where no one will, or can understand you. I am going in the morning. Come with me, Wild Flower." She looked across the river toward the group of filthy huts she knew were nestling there among the trees. She thought of the dull, vapid, empty, aimless life of the people. To her it seemed a long, drawn-out struggle with death. "Tonto," she whispered, "I will go but not now. Come back, Tonto. I shall count the days until we meet again and I will keep on trying to help the Indians." Tonto drew Ahwaha to him and reverently kissed her forehead. "The name is wrong," he whispered, "you are the beautiful white rose that grows in the great gardens, watched and tended with loving care. You are too frail for this place. Wild Flower. What can anyone do for the Indians in this environment? They are not as fortunate as the squirrels. Over yonder is the white man who wants to sell the Indian whiskey. Yonder is the fellow who wants the Indian's timber. Down there is one who wants to sell him bad meat, cheap tobacco, etc. Another steals fire wood from the Indian in the dead of night, and they all despise him, for his shiftless habits, dreamy moods, ignorance, and cautiousness. You must leave this place, Wild Flower, before the bad weather sets in, but teach them all you can, especially to speak English and to think. To think, Ah waha, that is the greatest thing for any human being. The people who think cannot be enslaved." When Wild Flower awoke on the following morning the sunlight streamed through her window and flooded the whole room. She felt lonely, for Tonto was gone and she would not see him for a long time; but she sprang up and went about the business of the day with new courage. She persuaded her mother to go outside and sit in the sun light. "Mother, dear," she pleaded, "there is no life with out sunlight, no vegetation, no growth of any sort. We 20 ON THE INDIAN TRAIL cannot afford to cheat ourselves by hiding away from the sunlight. There is no life without oxygen. We cannot afford to cheat ourselves of the normal amount of fresh air, and, mother, these are absolutely free." "Ugh! ugh!" wailed the old woman, "me see the big Medicine Man." But she was too weak to make the jour ney to the agency, so Chief Thunder Bird brought the Medicine Man, who prayed and cried to the Bad Spirit, "Be gone! be gone!" Over her body he made strange passes with his hands and groaned and waved a sacred crow's foot. Then he sang and administered peote but tons. This was what Mrs. Thunder Bird had been told would make her well. Accordingly, her spirits began to revive, and immediately after the administration of about the tenth button she declared, "Me better. Me sleep now." She slept and dreamed of strange, uncanny spirits, of a long journey, of fantastic forms, and wild scenery. Late on the following afternoon she awoke and called Ahwaha and Thunder Bird to her couch. "I am tired," she said in soft low tones, "I go to my long sleep. By and by I call you. I call all 'till you come to me. Chief Thunder Bird good, Ahwaha good child. All is good. I not afraid. The great spirit watch me." Then she straightened her body out upon the couch, closed her eyes, and lay silent and motionless until the hour preceding dawn, when her spirit departed from the lodge of the proud old chief and the gentle Wild Flower, Ahwaha. CHAPTER IV STARLIGHT; ANOTHER TYPE OF INDIAN MAIDEN Above the blue lake lay the green hills. A path zig zagged up and down, in and out, along the wooded shore, beneath a tangled growth of shrubs and vines. At a point where the path lay close up to the bank, a small canoe glided noiselessly over the water. A tall man sat in the little craft holding the oars poised in the air. "Talk about voices," he said aloud, "that has the ring of a bird's voice; angel or bird, I 'must behold the owner." He rowed into a nearby cove, where the foliage was dense and the green branches dropped their points down into the blue water. Nearer came the voice, and then ceased. The man bent forward and listened for an instant only, then he parted the branches before him and was about to emerge upon the path when again he heard the refrain, "Lo ! Hear the Gentle Lark!" This time still nearer. The melody rip pled along spontaneous and free, like water gushing up from a spring in the hillside. The listener thought he had stumbled upon an opera singer taking her vacation beside the lake. On and on flowed the rich melody, embellished by trills and daring flights that rivaled the song of the English skylark. Then suddenly it ceased. Cassius Mott clapped his hands vigorously, sprang from cover, and stood in the path, facing a tall, slender Indian girl. A flash of surprise passed over his face and then he cried, "Glorious ! Glorious ! Where did you learn to sing like that, miss? It went straight to my heart." Starlight shrank from the handsome white man who barred her path. The red blood mounted to her cheeks and temples. She did not answer his question, but replied in low tones, "When there is music in the soul, it sings. When there is harmony in the soul, it registers sweet 21 22 ON THE INDIAN TRAIL sounds." In her eyes there was a depth of mystery, hauteur, and suspicion. She continued, "I thought I was alone with the trees." For a moment Cassius stood abashed, then he lifted his hat, bowed low, and returned to the little canoe. He took up the oars and said aloud, "She is the daughter of an old-time Indian, by Jove. They were as proud as kings." The boat shot out upon the water, and Cassius began to sing, "Who now will sail with me, in my bark o'er the sea ?" Starlight walked on, but she heard the white man's voice, drifting in from the lake. It rang clear and mellow. She listened for a moment, then a look of scorn passed over her face, and she, too, said aloud, "Once my people possessed all this beautiful country. They were powerful and happy, but those insolent whites drove them back, back to the barren places. Now my people starve." She clinched her fingers and went on, "But I will succeed. I will master Fate. I will have the knowledge that has made the white race great. I will conquer Fate." That evening she sang in the big pavilion that stood on the sloping hillside above the water. Cassius Mott was there. He, too, sang, and Starlight heard the music in his voice, although she remained outwardly cold and silent. At the close of the meeting they met and were formally introduced, and Cassius said, "I knew that we two would meet again. You could not hide with such a voice. You surely will allow me to listen when you sing." Ah, too well man knows the art of flattery. Too well he knows the heart of woman. A fascinating smile played over Starlight's face. It was a flash of the Indian girl's soul that came to the surface. To be appreciated, to be understood, to be treated kindly, was the deepest desire of her heart. Cassius was usually surrounded by a galaxy of girls. His handsome appearance, elegant manners, and fine voice, STARLIGHT 23 drew all the susceptible fair ones, and brought about no end of jealousies. Starlight felt that a great gulf lay between them. She was an Indian girl, and Cassius Mott was a white man. About herself she folded her mantle of proud reserye more closely than ever, and went her soli tary way. The next day she returned to the academy in the big city where she kept her place at the head of her class, and won honors in spite of bitter jealousy. The home of Cassius chanced to be near by the school, and it was not long before he would drop in at the musical gatherings just to hear the Indian girl sing, and as the weeks passed he learned that Starlight was an exceptional student; that prejudice had sprung up among her classmates, owing to her color, and gradually his attention became centered upon the Indian girl. At first it was a sense of pity that he felt, later a form of pique. Seldom it was that any woman remained wholly indifferent to his charms, and here was an Indian girl, calm, cold, and serene in his presence. He must fathom the mystery. Starlight must be brought to his feet, and so it came about that each time she sang or recited before the academy gatherings, a page would come tripping down the aisle bearing a huge bouquet of roses, with a small white card nestling in the center, bearing the words, "To Starlight, from one who always listens from one who hears. C. M." By and by they met and sang together, and Cassius found the pathway to the soul of the Indian girl. Their voices mingled as one, and Starlight's dark eyes glowed and sparkled with a new light. No voice had ever before thrilled her with such perfect harmony. She had always heard an element of discord when her voice mingled with others. To sing with Cassius was harmony divine. One day when alone with Jane Condon, a classmate, she said, "Music takes me into another world, and it is hard for me to come back. It shocks my sensibilities. If I were 24 ON THE INDIAN TRAIL not handicapped by birth, I would plan a career upon the operatic stage, but now I shall be a philosopher," Jane laughed aloud, "Whoever heard of a woman philosopher? You will marry, as all sensible girls do, and be content to love and be loved." Starlight shook her dark head and resolved to devote herself more and more to study and meditation. But she could not escape the attention of Cassius. He was more kind, more sympathetic, more de voted, as the days passed, until the hour came when Star light loved him with all the depth and power within her. One evening when they parted he placed in her hand a small pencil sketch. While she sang she had wondered what he was drawing upon the white sheet of paper. Cas sius not only sang, but dabbled in law and picture-making. Starlight glanced at the scrap of paper and then hastily concealed it from prying eyes. She had looked upon a pretty cottage nestling among the trees and shrubs. A woman sat upon the veranda, holding a babe in her arms. A tall man upon the lawn among the rose bushes held by the hand a little boy. Above the picture was written, "Hark, hark the Lark," and underneath, "Our Home my Star- light." The Indian girl gave no outward sign, but her heart struggled to be free from restraint, from deception, from fear. Not long afterward occurred one of those strange little incidents which are really great. Cassius went with Starlight and Jane Condon for a long drive in the country. They made the start from a little suburban village. On their way back, at dusk, they were driving along quietly, when out from the shadows and clouds of dust, emerged a horse driven by a man apparently intoxicated. In an instant a struggle was on for the lead. Starlight saw the ditches upon either side. She knew that just beyond, a narrow bridge spanned a culvert. She grasped the man's arm, and for the first time spoke his name, "Cassius, Cas sius, I beg of you, be careful. There is danger." Her voice STARLIGHT 25 trembled and her grip upon his arm was very firm. Cas- sius instantly reined his horse out, and brought him back upon his haunches, giving his rival the full width of the road. They saw the buggy reel and pitch from side to side, swing over the culvert, and plunge on beyond a low hill. They were rid of the dangerous horseman and then Cassius whispered, "It was worth a broken neck to hear you speak my name. Never again call me Mr. Mott." Starlight bit her lips in shame, but it was done. Nothing could conceal the love that escaped with that one word spoken in a moment of deep anxiety. Jane began softly to sing, "Lo, Hear the Gentle Lark." "Yes, yes/' said Cas sius, "the Gentle Lark has an adoring audience, even at this late hour." Thus they journeyed homeward. Starlight was happy, while the weeks and months passed. Every one at the academy predicted for her a brilliant future. Then one dark night, when the sky was heavy with low hanging clouds, Cassius came to the home of Starlight. His manner was changed. About him there was a cloak of cautious restraint. In his eyes there was an anxious troubled look. "What is it, Cassius? You are not your self to-night," Starlight said. He sat down beside her, took her hand and spoke in that soft, winning voice that thrilled her soul. "Starlight, you are very dear to me. You possess noble qualities, far beyond those of ordinary women. No girl could claim greater respect. I really must explain myself to-night. I have had a very pleasant dream, but to-day I awakened to the truth. My family, you know, are very proud. They have some grand old ancestors and well to-day they came to see me two of my most distinguished relatives, and, Starlight, they are shocked by my conduct by my attention to you. I have viewed the subject from various angles and I guess they are right. I have arrived at the conclusion that it would be an injustice for me to marry outside of my circle." 26 ON THE INDIAN TRAIL The dark eyes of the Indian girl contracted. Her face took on an ashen tinge. She did not speak, nor look toward the man who had thus stabbed her. She silently glided from the room, closed the door very gently, while she walked as one asleep. The curtain had been lowered upon their love scene. Cassius waited a long time for the return of the Indian girl, and then he hurried out into the night, muttering, "A bit of unpleasant business, but, by Jove, I came through with flying colors." Through the long hours of that horrible night Starlight battled with her grief and humiliation. When the morning dawned she looked into her little mirror and beheld a hag gard, ugly face. She lifted her clinched hand and shook it at the Indian girl before her. "I hate the Pale Face," she said aloud. "Death is in my soul, but I will live. I will not soil my hands, and I will not be crushed. I will triumph over every obstacle. I will forget and I will help to redeem my race. He knew when first he looked upon my face that I was an Indian. I did not deceive him. A long time he was finding out that he was too good to marry an Indian girl. I was indifferent. He saw my indifference and com pelled me to love him. Now he compels me to hate him. He will never know that the heart of the Indian bleeds. I can live without love. I will master Fate. Murder is in my heart but I will not soil my hands upon him. No, Star light will live without revenge." The days dragged on. At night Starlight's eyes were red with weeping, but when she stepped from the solitude of her own little room, all the calm stoicism, all the caution and deception of the Indian was wrapped about her. From the academy she was graduated with highest honors. She did not deign to speak with members of her class. She stood apart, cold, proud, silent, while all the time in the depths of her great dark eyes a fire burned. A messenger came, bearing an armful of flowers from the man she now STARLIGHT 27 hated. She pointed to the floor. He laid them down and Starlight pushed them from her with her foot. This terrible grief and chagrin soon did its work and Starlight was ill. Her plans for the future had been care fully laid, but suddenly she had been deprived of the power to execute them. "They shall not know that I am ill. He would understand," she muttered. On the mor row she disappeared, without one word of explanation. No one knew where or why. CHAPTER V TONTO AS SCOUT "Just the man I'm looking for!" Dr. Nachito grasped Tonto's hand and pulled him through the doorway. "Come in. Come in. Where have you been? When did you reach the city? Say, Tonto, where is Starlight?" No, Tonto did not know. And Dr. Nachito settled back in his great arm chair. A grave, earnest look came into his eyes. "Tonto, I must find her. I have written and my letter was returned. I have no time, understand, to trace her. Help me find the girl, Tonto. Strange that she dis appeared in that way. She had been offered a position at Carlisle. But at the close of her school year she just dropped out of sight. I believe that Starlight is teaching on one of the Western reservations, probably some distance from her own tribe. She feels very bitter toward certain white people and she hates notoriety, understand. Starlight is a wonderful girl, but too shy. I expect great things of her. She represents the high-minded, lofty-souled Indian woman. Her intelligence ranks with the best. No white woman ever possessed more native ability. I am proud of Starlight, understand. Tonto, how long before you go West?" "I dropped in, doctor, to say good-by. I go to-morrow. If Starlight is out there, I will find her. She cannot hide that voice." "No, no," the doctor replied, with a hearty laugh, "she sings just like the birds, understand. It is easier for them to sing than to keep still. That's what I call music." For an hour Tonto lounged upon the big davenport, while they discussed matters pertaining to their race, and when they parted the doctor said, "Tell Starlight to come, or communicate with me, and, Tonto, show the whites that 28 TONTO AS SCOUT 29 we are men that we belong to the great human family and don't forget to come back. Tonto, there is a chair and the davenport and a pillow always waiting for you. My people are always welcome, and the friends of my people. It is a real pleasure to greet them here and share what I have. Farewell, Tonto, and don't forget to come back." CHAPTER VI THE TRAIL On a midsummer evening Tonto sat on the ground before a camp-fire, in company with a dozen Indian friends. A chilly wind swept down from the north and they drew close to the little fire, smoked their pipes and discussed famous hunting expeditions. The fire burned low and then Tonto began to sing. The Indians listened in silence. He finished his song and then one young lad sat up very straight and said, "Up stream three miles a girl lives with friends. She teach school in winter she sing fine, fine. Her name Starlight." Tonto bounded to his feet, "Where? Which way? Tell me. I know Starlight." When the boy had imparted all the information he possessed Tonto whistled in imitation of the night birds and danced the Happy Dance about the smoking fire. He had given up all hope of finding Starlight long ago, and here he stumbled upon her trail at the last moment, for to-morrow he would turn back toward the great metropolis. Round the fire Tonto executed the Ghost Dance, the War Dance, the Peace Dance, the Medicine Dance, all in one. If only the boy had told him earlier in the evening. It was now midnight, and he must wait until morning. But before sunrise he was up and impatient to start in search of Starlight. He took the sleepy Indian boy with him the boy who had heard Starlight sing. It seemed a short three miles, and when they reached the small circle of huts upon the bank of the river, no one was stirring. "Come along, lad," he commanded, "we will take the first canoe we find and row about until the Indians come outside." They trudged along for a few rods, when suddenly Tonto heard the voice of Starlight. "Hark, hark, the lark at Heaven's gate sings." The tones rang out clear, and for a moment Tonto was unable to speak or stir. The pink 30 THE TRAIL 31 and gold of morning gilded all the hills and tree tops, and the voices of a thousand birds seemed blended with the matin song of the Indian girl. "That is Starlight. That is Starlight/' Tonto whispered, "dear child of Nature/' and then he bounded down the path and came upon the Indian girl sitting on a boulder that hung out over the water. Her bare head and arms and feet were bathed in a flood of sun light. Tonto touched the brim of his straw hat and laughed aloud, when Starlight sprang from the rock and greeted him. "That was mighty rude to cut short a song like that, Starlight, but I must be gone and I have a message for you to deliver from Dr. Nachita. He is very anxious re garding you, anxious to see you, Starlight. He insisted upon my finding you. He wants you to return to the nity." An expression of contempt swept over the girl's face and then she smiled, "The doctor is a good friend to all Indians. Tonto, I think that I will go. I cannot remain here. Reservation life is intolerable. The Indians distrust those who have been among the whites. They build a wall about themselves and leave you outside. I cannot go back to the old way of living. The agent dislikes educated Indians. He makes you feel unwelcome. I have decided to live with the white race and work for the Indian. I hate the Pale Face, Tonto, but I must have knowledge and culture. I cannot exist in this aimless, lifeless way." "The advice of Dr. Nachita will be valuable to you, Starlight. He has lived the life of the white man for forty years. He has attended their schools, dwelt in their homes. He has the white man's education and the Indian's heart. He stands between the two races. Go to him, Starlight." The Indian girl promised to see the doctor or to com municate with him in the near future. When they parted upon the river bank, Starlight cried out, "Hear the birds, Tonto. See how the sunlight bathes the whole earth. But the people ! Something has gone wrong with them." CHAPTER VII MEMORIES Dr. Nachita was writing big, terse sentences between spells of pounding the table. "The Indian is a man like other men," he wrote, "and the Indian will come up faster than any other race when given a chance." The door opened and Starlight stepped inside. She did not speak but smiled just a wee bit. Dr. Nachita lifted his head and then bounded from his chair, and upset the ink well upon the Navajo spread. "Why, child," he roared, "where have you been all this time? Why did you run away? Nonsense! Nonsense! You might have had a fine position at Carlisle." The girl replied in not over-confident tones, "I was ill. I could no longer endure being stared at by white people. I went back to the Indians that I might escape notice, and rest. I was tired, tired. But, doctor, the reservation is no place for educated Indians. I would go mad if unable to escape from the dull, monotonous, restricted, aimless life they lead, with no incentive, no hope, no aim." "Yes ! Yes ! I understand. I know it is awful ; no place for you, Starlight; a waste of time; but we must master Fate! Fate, you understand, is simply environment and circumstances. Starlight, we must master Fate!" He closed his eyes and shook his great shaggy black head. Presently he arose and shook his fist at the girl: "You ran away from a common mongrel cur. You! A noble Indian girl ! You hated and hate made you ill. You should be teaching at Carlisle; you wasted a lot of per fectly good energy, power, understand, that we need. A great responsibility rests upon our few educated Indians. We are to lead the whole race. Sit down there while I tell you a sad story." Starlight obeyed. The doctor went MEMORIES 33 back to his chair, closed his eyes, and began to speak in tones so low that Starlight leaned forward to catch the sounds. "Starlight, I was called to the bedside of a dying woman, the mother of a babe. To me she said, 'Doctor, where is the Indian girl they call Starlight? Tell her that I did not steal from her the white man.' 'Whom do you have reference to?' I questioned. 'Did you never hear of Cassius Mott, the white man who rejected Starlight because she was an Indian?' 'Well! well!' I replied, 'I am glad to know that Starlight escaped such a man.' 'Well,' she continued, 'I met him after he had lost sight of Star light.' 'That was good,' I remarked. 'There was no more Starlight for him; go on.' 'He never mentioned the Indian girl to me until we were married. Then he bragged about his irresistible charms for women. I compelled Mott to marry me,' she went on hurriedly, 'he did not intend to take a wife, but I taught him a lesson. He left me with the baby there/ She nodded toward an infant sleeping in the corner of the room. 'Now I am dying. Who will care for my child ? Cassius Mott was never in love with anyone but himself. He was handsome, and this was his ruin.' 'Where is the cur?' I asked, 'Gone to the dogs,' she continued, 'in jail for forgery. He is a physical wreck. Cassius Mott's star has set. I know from the lips of Mott that Starlight went back to reservation life to hide her grief. I fear she holds me responsible; but, doctor, I did not meet Mott until after Starlight had disappeared; and would to God that I had never known him; all he possessed was good looks and egotism.' "Well, Starlight, the woman died that night. Her last words were, 'Ask Starlight to love my child. The father said, "Starlight is noble and loyal, but she is an Indian." ' Starlight looked aghast. She did not speak, but shrank back into the corner of the big davenport. In her face Dlr. Nachita read the answer "Foster the child of Cassius Mott? Never!" 34 ON THE INDIAN TRAIL "There! There! Starlight/' the doctor pleaded, "just think about it. Just think very calmly, very sensibly, and by and by give me your answer. Resentment and grief have made you sick. Sickness makes you weak and helpless. Passion is destructive. Time is precious. You have the elements of greatness. Use those forces, Starlight, for the glory of our race. Think of this little motherless, helpless baby. What has he done that we should not love him ? He has wronged no one. Carry out the mother's wish, Starlight. It will prove an anchor for your soul. It is not the object of our love, but the love itself that saves us, understand it is the love itself that transforms the life." At last Starlight replied, "And you ask me to adopt the child of that man, Dr. Nachita? Why?" "The helplessness and dependence, and innocence, of the child will save you, Starlight, from hate and bitterness. When our heads and hearts and hands are full of work, there is no time for hate and bitterness. This is the lesson our race must learn. We who think and reason must lead the way; would to God that I had gotten the light long years ago. Do not go back to your people, sitting in dark ness, Starlight. Stay here where conditions are more helpful, where it is no crime to think, understand. Forget yourself and all the past. Sorrow and pain do not hang around long when we ignore them. Let us teach our people to forget, and then, Starlight, the pale face will forget those things which you and I do not care to remember in the history of our race. Dear child, we must forget. It was a horrid misunderstanding, but, Starlight, had our race bent all their energy toward finding the way to live peace ably with the pale face, instead of nursing hate and re venge, there would be no great gulf between us." The Indian girl glared at him and opened her lips, but the doctor continued, "There! There! I must forget. I must not regret or reprove. I must go forward. I must MEMORIES 35 deal with the present. I must be the bridge over which my people pass to something better. The child is the present. He demands attention. I must go now. Think about it, Starlight. Wait here for me or come back. The door is always open." The doctor had been gone a long time and still Starlight sat crouching in the corner of the big davenport, that was completely concealed by Navajo blankets of unique design and weave. The girl was battling with the dead past, fighting the phantoms of yesterdays. She was pitying the woman Starlight; when, in reality, Fate had been kind; she had escaped; she was free; the other woman was dead. The room was filled with brown and purple shadows, when suddenly that phantom chaser, the sunlight, came stream ing through a window. It fell upon the table where here and there lay scraps of paper upon which the doctor had written down in a bold hand, his latest thoughts regarding the future of his race. It fell across the Navajo blanket; it illumined the whole room; it warmed the hands of the Indian girl ; it gilded her j et black hair and heightened the color in her cheeks. A new light came into her eyes and a smile transformed her whole countenance. She blinked as one just awakened from sound sleep. She arose, drew her cape about her shoulders and passed out as silently as she had entered. CHAPTER VIII THE WILD FLOWER FADES When Tonto arrived at the lodge of Chief Thunder Bird, he found Ahwaha lying ill, upon a pile of blankets, under a small white tepee which the old chief had placed upon the green bank above the river. She was looking away into the blue sky, through drifts of fleecy white clouds, when Tonto appeared in the opening. "Ahwaha, dear child, what has happened?" She cried out, "O, Tonto, I feared you would not come in time." Her voice was like the voice of a child after much suffering. She held up her hands toward the great strong man who bent over her ten derly. Tonto knelt down and lifted Ahwaha and placed her head against his breast. "Child, I came to take you away from this dreary place. I have money now. I sold the land my father left me. Ahwaha. you must be brave you must live ! We will go to-morrow if you wish." He spoke hurriedly and great tears trembled on his eyelids. "Sit there, Tonto, by the door. I smother. I am tired always. I will speak slowly. I must tell you, Tonto," she whispered, "I am going away, going to meet mother and my one dear friend. Tonto, my heart is broken. I cannot endure the life here. The misery and hopelessness of the people have eaten deep into my heart. I have tried to help, but, Tonto, effort is useless. The reservation system is wrong; it saps the life and ambition. There is nothing to look forward to, nothing to inspire hope or effort. Black ignorance is the natural atmosphere. When mother left us, my father thought he must abandon the home where death had entered. I could not give up all for which I had labored so strenuously. Poverty is one of the afflictions of our race. They must learn to cling to their possessions. I would not give up the home, so father went alone to the 36 THE WILD FLOWER FADES 37 agency. He returned when friends informed him that I was very ill. Aunt Lizzie Waco, the good soul, has been a mother to me. "You remember the first hut at the edge of the clearing, where the old-fashioned flowers bloomed along the path and under the windows ? I gave the flowers to Aunt Lizzie and assisted her in paying for a little cottage-organ, because Aunt Lizzie sings. She loves to sing, and together we have passed many hours singing the old familiar songs. The one she loves best is, 'Where the River Shannon Flows.' Tonto, the Indians have souls. There is no gift possessed by the white man which is not theirs if only their environment were favorable to its development. My heart bleeds for them, Tonto." The man's eyes were blinded by tears ; he could not speak. Ahwaha continued, "Something terrible happened here, Tonto a scandal regarding the agent. The circumstance was so openly immoral, I could not remain quiet. I drew up a petition asking for his removal. All the Indian men who can write signed their names to the paper. I signed for those who cannot write, and then I made a copy and mailed it to Washington. And, Tonto, I received a letter of reprimand from the commissioner and was branded a forger. The commissioner came with the agent and talked in a threatening and insulting manner. He would not ex amine the original petition with the names signed by all Indians at this point who can write, although I offered the petition in evidence. Maybe I did wrong; but, Tonto, the trouble involved a young Indian girl. I thought I had a right to act in her defense. O, Tonto, I am so tired! I have tried I have tried to help them! Promise, Tonto, that when I am dead you will not let my body rest on the river bank where the others are with the little board sheds over them and all manner of trinkets inside. Come close, Tonto." 38 ON THE INDIAN TRAIL He knelt beside her and Ahwaha whispered, "Tonto, I can die content if you promise that my ashes shall be placed in the grave with the ashes of Dr. Martel. In my little black trunk you will find a letter directing you to his grave." "It shall be so/' Tonto whispered. She fell back upon the rude couch and lay with closed eyes. Tonto bowed his head and kissed her pale lips. Then he sprang to his feet. The tent was filled with shadows, for the sun had gone down behind the silver poplars. He beckoned to the old chief who sat alone upon the river bank, dreaming the old sad dreams. Thunder Bird crept into the tent. He laid his hand very gently upon Ahwaha's raven locks. He looked upon her pale face, and then he sank upon the ground and wailed and moaned: "The Little Lark is dead! The Great Spirit is angry with me ! Why did I not get the great Medicine Man ? It was wrong for the little one to go away to school and to the big town, and come back with such notions in her pretty head. She used to sing and I forgot to hate the whites. I was no more angry. But now for two moons she no sing. She say something won't let her breathe something make her too sad. She can no sing. She want to go to her doctor and he now live with God. I will follow. I cannot live here. Now I will burn the house." He drew from his pocket a knife, bared his breast and slashed it; and then cut off his hair close to his head. Tonto laid his hand upon the arm of Thunder Bird and said: "Listen, chief, to the teaching of Ahwaha, your own beautiful daughter. There was more real wisdom in her way of thinking than the people understood. She said, 'Tonto. the earth has too many people; they are crowding each other; the Indians must settle down and remain in one spot and hold fast to their property; the ground is in THE WILD FLOWER FADES 39 demand; in order to live, people must concentrate their forces ; make good use of the intellect, the strength, and the time these are the forces that make for success.' " "What do we care about all that?" sobbed Thunder Bird. "Ahwaha is dead. I no understan what you say. The Lark no more sing." Tonto turned away, shook his head, and muttered : "It is this accursed reservation system that fosters and nourishes their poverty and ignorance ; but I can do nothing. I will keep my promise to the Wild Flower and go my way. No more Indian life for me." The lamentations for the dead girl were kept up all through the night, and participated in by all the Indians of that section of the reservation. Tonto was grave and silent. He had learned that grief does not demand a noisy mani festation. Tonto was troubled; how could he remove the body of Ahwaha ? There was the agent, always watching, lynx-eyed. It would be useless to ask permission; the agent preferred having the old traditions carried on; it perpetuated the sort of Indians which made the bureau system necessary. At last Tonto decided upon a plan. He kept his own counsel. After the body of Ahwaha had been laid in the ground, he took from beside the door where she had placed it, a large white rose-bush and planted it at the head of her grave to mark the spot. Tonto gave money to Chief Thunder Bird and Aunt Lizzie. The old chief could not be induced to re-enter the house. When all was over he said, "No, Tonto, I go with the Medicine Man back to the agency." When Tonto boarded the train that carried him from the village he had signed a compact with two nondescript white men whereby, for a money consideration, they were to deliver the body of Ahwaha at the depot of a railway junction fifty miles down the line. They were to go at night, "and mind that you make no mistake in the grave." 40 02V THE INDIAN TRAIL Tonto said. "Find the tall rosebush ; I tied a white ribbon to one stalk low down ; the name Ahwaha is on the ribbon ; bring that piece of ribbon but do not disturb the rose-bush." He could trust these henchmen, for both had grievances against the Indian agent. A week passed before Tonto reached the city with the body and succeeded in making out the papers and having the body incinerated, and then he went on a very dark night, alone, carrying the little receptacle which contained the ashes of Ahwaha, to the grave of Dr. Martel, carefully removed a square of sod near the head of the grave and hid the little box in the earth. He kissed the bit of ribbon and placed it under the metal box, replaced the piece of sod, and murmured: "I have kept my vow to the noblest, sweetest soul that ever came to this sad world. Farewell, Ahwaha Wild Flower the Lark ! The Indian's word is sacred." Then Tonto scaled the high fence for the second time and disappeared in deep shadows. CHAPTER IX A DECISION Dr. Nachita looked up from his writing and there in the doorway stood Starlight. "Well! Well! I knew you would come back! Good girl! Looking fine! Sit there!" He pointed to the corner of the davenport and Starlight sat down upon the Navajo blanket and leaned against a yellow satin cushion. "News for you, Starlight/' he con tinued, "the father is dead. The child is not well needs care, you understand." While he talked Starlight looked away into space. After a time she said, "Where is the child, doctor? I came for the baby. It has taken me all this time to find employment and establish a little home." "My ! My ! Starlight, I am proud of you ; depend upon me; I will help when help is needed, understand? Wait! Wait!" He left the room and returned, carrying an infant in his arms. "Understand, Starlight, I do not advise the adoption of the child ; but it must have immediate care." Starlight took the babe in her arms, and the little fellow looked up and smiled. The compact was sealed. "It was the dying woman's request, Starlight, the last words spoken by the mother; she had confidence in you founded upon the father's respect." Again Dr. Nachita left the room. This time he returned bearing a small package "All that be longs to the child," he said, "All Indian women are good mothers; keep up the tradition, Starlight. There is a lot of bosh and nonsense about not being able to love another's child like your own. The world has too many people now. It is far more noble to care for some homeless waif who is here without being consulted, who is helpless and homeless far more noble, understand, than to bring more children into the world. The human heart is capable of great love, great devotion, great sacrifice. This love and devotion 41 42 ON THE INDIAN TRAIL saves us from our own miserable selves. Understand, Starlight, it is the love that saves. Shall I go with you and help you with the youngster?" "No," Starlight replied, "outside the woman waits who will live with me and care for the child. I must furnish the support." "Yes! Yes! I understand," the doctor continued in a dreamy mood, "women are wonderful plan ners far more resourceful than men. This other woman who is she?" "A woman who has lost her only child and her husband. She has no home. She is willing to work." "There! There! See how it works out. Already matters are adjusting themselves." The two women left with the infant. The Indian woman was young and beautiful but not overly strong In appear ance. The white woman was of middle age, pale and thin, of the wiry type, born for endurance. The door closed and Dr. Nachita sat dreaming before a pile of unanswered let ters. "What was it about that youngster?" he whispered, "that wrung my heart? One time I suppose that I was quite as helpless." He closed his eyes and by and by the tears fell from beneath their lids. "The Indian mothers love their children. My mother ! God only knows her sor row. I am going back. My sisters ! What of them ? I am going back ! My childhood rises up before me like a terrible nightmare. I must know the truth. I must search for proof regarding their fate. I have taken all the com forts and blessings, and fortune has been very kind to me. But what of them ? A man cannot forget his mother. The relation is too close. This poor little fellow awakens mem ories, strange memories in me, that have lain dormant for many years. I cannot shake them off. Starlight will be faithful. She will, I am sure. Now I am. going back to that rock-ribbed, sun-parched region where most growing things bear spikes and needles for protection. I am going to hunt for my people." CHAPTER X THE MIRACLE The sonl of Tonto was saturated with gloom. He had lost the comradeship and affection of a noble woman. The beauty