92 AUTUMN NOTES IN IOWA 



freshets. Standing on a bridge across one of these 

 ravines, gazing down into woody gloom, one was 

 told by a passer-by that a murder had been com- 

 mitted there the night before. It seemed a place 

 that might well be chosen after darkness fell for 

 deeds of crime, or better for romance, of no mean 

 order. Perhaps drink bore no relation to this par- 

 ticular murder, but today one can count at least 

 fifteen places along Fourth Street where liquor is 

 openly sold. Though the fact gives no true index 

 to life here, some Iowa citizens probably think of 

 Sioux City chiefly with reference to its corn-pal- 

 aces, its Indian name — and the Haddock murder. 

 Late this afternoon a wagon drawn by small, 

 scraggy horses — perhaps they should be termed 

 ponies — passed slowly along one of the principal 

 business streets. On the driver's seat was a benev- 

 olent looking old Indian, in cap and other some- 

 what dilapidated paleface clothing, and wearing 

 eye glasses. In the bottom of the wagon squatted 

 two Indian women, one with a small child, the 

 women appearing in dress and manner much less 

 happily adjusted to civilization than the driver. 

 The equipage disappeared, the ponies still moving 

 at a slow w^alk, into the hill country back of the 

 city. Not much in this quiet incident suggested 

 Sitting Bull, the Spirit Lake Massacre, or any 

 event or prophecy of terror symbolized by the 

 word ^' Sioux." 



