SKETCHES OF INDIAN LIFE AND CHARACTER. 



By Albert B. Reagan, Nett Lake Indian SchooL 



WHEN a boy I read in some book that an Indian is always 

 truthful, and once a friend always a friend, but my expe- 

 rience has often been quite contrary to this maxim. A majority 

 of the Indians over whom I have been placed by the government 

 have been willing to tell an untruth even when the truth would 

 have been more plausible, and friendship with them often goes no 

 farther than securing a living from it. If it is to the red man's 

 advantage to appear friendly he will do so, but if not he will not 

 know you. This has always been one of his traits, but he is im- 

 proving in this respect year by year. 



In the accounts of the massacre of the whites in Iowa in the 'GO's 

 we learn that the Indians entered a trader's store at one place, pre- 

 tending to be friends till an opportune moment, and then mercilessly 

 killed him and all his family. 



During the Indian trouble at Fort Apache, in 1886, the Indians 

 shut in the fort for a time before word could be got to outlying 

 camps, and the government live-stock camp on the mesa was 

 sacked. The Indians came to the camp as friendlies. A lone scout 

 had charge of the provision house, while several other men were 

 herding the horses and cattle some distance away. The scout 

 cooked dinner for his Apache friends, who sat down and partook 

 of the meal and then killed their host as he was drinking from his 

 coffee cup. He fell over on the table, where he was found several 

 days afterward. The savages then went out, killed the herders, and 

 slaughtered all the stock for a great feast. Illustrating their un- 

 truthfulness an experience of my own may be cited. 



While at Jemez I had a chore man, and asked him if he would 

 not take me to his estufa to see the dance, then in session, on a 

 certain night in the winter of 1899. He said he would take me and 

 come to my house at nine p. m. that evening. But after waiting 

 till ten o'clock he did not come, and I went to the estufa alone. I 

 climbed the ladder to the flat roof of the rectangular building, and 

 there stood my chore man. I spoke to him, but he feigned not to 

 see me, even when I asked him to take me to the secret room, 

 and passed by me down the ladder to the plaaa and disappeared in 

 the darkness. I then went boldly into the secret room alone, and 

 at once was made welcome, as I was many times afterwards. 



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