56 SADDLE AND CAMP 



dians do not turn in their arms, and medicine 

 dances are held. The Indian policemen drink 

 tulapai like other Apaches, and they are in 

 sympathy, as a matter of course, with the medi- 

 cine dances. They close their eyes to the dances, 

 which they cannot fail to know take place, and 

 of which in the nature of things the agent and 

 his aids are unlikely to learn, and policemen 

 only destroy tulapai when it is so notoriously 

 in evidence that the authorities will in all proba- 

 bility learn of its existence and discipline them 

 for lack of attention to duty if they do not de- 

 stroy it. The policeman still remains an 

 Apache, with all the Apache traits and tastes, 

 even though he is clothed with authority, and 

 he drinks as much tulapai and as often as he 

 likes — in secret, so far as his superiors are con- 

 cerned. 



We spent a day and a half at Fort Apache, 

 and while there I rode over to the White River 

 Agency house, met Mr. Crouse, the agent, and 

 received from him a permit giving John and 

 myself freedom of travel on the reservation. 

 This may not have been necessary, but it is al- 

 ways well for the traveler here to have a pass. 



Several old Indian women were seated on the 

 shady side of the agency building, and a young 

 Indian policeman suggested that I photograph 



