Sept. io, 1904.] 
FOREST AND STREAM, 
217 
sign language seems to have been a surprise to Henry. 
He says : "They hold conversations for several hours 
upon different subjects, during the whole of which time 
not a single word is pronounced upon either side, and 
still they appear to comprehend each other perfectly well. 
This mode of communication is natural to them. Their 
gestures are made with the greatest ease, and they never 
seem to be at a loss for a sign to express their meaning." 
The houses, villages, and customs of the Mandans were 
all new to Henry. The house he lodged in measured 
ninety feet in diameter. 
These people collected their fuel in the spring, when 
the ice broke up, arid great quantities of wood drifted 
down. The young men were accustomed to swim out 
among the drifting ice and bring in the trees, however 
large, which they hauled out on the bank. Immense piles 
of driftwood were seen opposite each village, and some of 
the trees were very large. While collecting this drift- 
wood, they also drew to land great numbers of drowned 
buffalo, of which they were very fond. 
He noticed — as many others have — that some children 
were gray-haired, and that others were blond. A Mini- 
tari was seen with yellow hair, something not unexampled 
in old times. 
The men wore their hair twisted into a number of small 
tails, hanging down the back to below the waist. In some 
of them it trailed on the ground. The Cheyennes to-day 
tell us that a hundred years ago the men of their tribe 
wore their hair in the same fashion. From the village of 
the Mandans they went on up the river to those of the 
Soulier and Minitari villages. Here they met Mackenzie 
and Caldwell, employes in the service of the Northwest 
Company, who had been residing some little time in the 
village. 
Henry was not particularly well pleased with his re- 
ception here, and indeed the Indians paid little attention 
to the white men, and seemed to despise them. He pays 
tribute to their physical qualities, and says they all have 
manly and war-like countenances. The village, which 
formerly contained nine hundred houses, now had only 
with increased celerity and twofold force, whence it re- 
quires a much longer time for the freighted winds to re- 
turn it to the lands again; this to the direct destruction 
of his own works and to the detriment of the very scheme 
of nature. He has swept away forests and left a withered 
waste behind with such frenzy as to suggest that he is 
afraid of passing away before he can compass all and 
be compelled to leave some of the lavish wealth of nature 
to posterity. As yet nothing has been done toward the 
rebuilding: the trend of the age is toward destruction. 
Some outcry has been made at the destruction of the 
forests, and some feeble efforts made to restore them; 
that is all, so far, on that side of the question. 
Drainage sometimes lapses for a short period during 
protracted drouths, but the first shower starts it up again. 
Not one word has yet been said or action taken looking 
to a general construction of reservoirs, with due regard 
to economyof space, to take the place of lakes, marshes, 
and swamps that are being drained. Drainage is a great 
factor in production. But what is land without water? 
Who has ever wandered in the lake lands of the North 
and East and viewed its forest-crowned slopes and clover- 
decked hills, and again the withered plains and hills of the 
West and Southwest and not marveled at the difference? 
The difference is not of soil, for the soil of the arid 
plains is vastly superior to the soil of the lake lands. 
It is not in rainfall, for, eliminating local showers, it is 
about equal. The difference is in formation. The lake 
lands retain their moisture while the arid lands discharge 
it immediately back to the ocean. There are no disastrous 
floods, and seldom long drouths, in the lake lands, be- 
cause there is no rapid drainage. What moisture comes 
from afar is retained and rises and falls again and again 
in local rains. The history of the arid west is of flood 
and drouth. Its cause is plainly seen. A like result may 
be reached in any far inland country by artificial drain- 
age and forest destruction without rebuilding. 
My life has been spent in these two sections, and much 
thought has been given to this condition. That part of 
the Chicago, St. Paul, Minneapolis and Omaha Railway 
MANDAN VILLAGE ON THE UPPER MISSOURI. 
From Catlin's "Letters on the North American Indians." 
a hundred and thirty, smallpox and other diseases having 
reduced them to that number. While in this village the 
white men found it dangerous to stray out of the hut 
without a good stout stick to keep off the dogs, which were 
so numerous and savage as sometims actually to attack 
them. The people had many horses, which they valued high- 
ly ; and Henry greatly objected to their custom of apparently 
becoming dissatisfied with their bargain after a trade had 
been concluded, and returning and taking back the article 
they had sold, while giving up the price paid for it. For 
example : "One of the natives had a turkey cock's tail, 
great numbers of which they get from the Schians, and 
which served them as fans ; this was a new and fresh one 
of beautiful hue. I gave him five rounds of ammunition 
for it, with which he appeared well satisfied, and left me, 
but soon' returned with the ammunition, and demanded 
the tail. Being loath to part with it, I added five more 
rounds to the price, which he accepted and went away. 
However, he soon reappeared, and I added four more; 
but to no purpose, for he continued to go and come until 
the payment amounted to thirty rounds. . Upon his next 
appearance I offered forty rounds ; but he would no 
longer listen to any offer, threw down my ammunition, 
and insisted upon my returning him the tail, which I 
was obliged to do." George Bird Grinnell. 
[to be concluded.] 
Rebuild the Earth. 
BY E. P. JAQUES. 
Rain seldom falls in exact proportion to the need of 
man. Periods of over-supply are followed by periods of 
no supply at all; floods rush down and destroy the works 
of man, often in a single day, in amount, equal to the 
life efforts of many thousand people. Drouths follow and 
nullify the efforts of other thousands. The one washes 
away the seed in planting, the other withers the stalk in 
growing time. In this way half the possibilities from the 
efforts of man are destroyed, while the burden of support 
is increased in corresponding degree. 
This was so from the beginning and has been intensified 
by man's own efforts. In his zeal to reclaim the land 
from the waters, he has laid tiling, dug ditches, and 
straightened watercourses, draining swamps, lakes, and 
marshes ; tumbling the rainfall back to the distant ocean 
that connects St. Paul with Duluth, runs through a very 
picturesque section of the lake lands of Wisconsin. I 
have been over that line occasionally for the last twelve 
years. The last trip was made on "The Twilight Limited," 
an evening train, both ways, between the two. cities. It is 
a beautiful ride, and was described in part in a letter to 
the Stubville Yell, where I had this to say in noting the 
rapid settlement of the country : 
"To make room for more, the ax and dredge are. driv- 
ing the wild things in nature through ever-narrowing 
limits to extinction. When shall we see the rebuilding 
begun with equal vigor? When will reforesting and irri- 
gation be begun in a common sense way ? When shall we 
see each swale, ravine and gorge throughout hill and 
mountain country turned into reservoirs, holding in check 
floods and increasing rainfall alike ? This would open the 
way to practical forest building, while water for irrigation 
would be at hand. An amount equal to that spent in 
destruction during the Spanish-American war would ad- 
vance the work to a stage where all would understand 
how practical and simple it was, and that understanding 
by the masses would in turn insure the finish. But why 
expect mankind to understand such a problem by a less 
process than the slow growth of a thousand years." 
This letter was not published, but the next issue of 
the Yell, in a short, crispy editorial, said this : "If some 
of the pumpkin huskers of the back counties would de- 
vote less time to literature and more to their pumpkins 
and potatoes, leaving economic subjects to someone who 
knew something about them, there would be more pros- 
perity and less crop failure, beside giving our overworked 
waste-basket a much needed rest." 
A few days after this the great floods of 1903 occurred 
in the West. In another editorial on the subject, the Yell 
exploited itself thus: "It would be a simple matter to 
impound the surplus water in the hills around the head 
of the streams by damming the ravines and gorges. That 
would prevent disastrous floods and leave the water where 
it belongs to be used in irrigation later on." 
This was a great hit, and the Yell was quoted far and 
wide, and among the members of Congress from Ihe 
stricken district there was quite a strife as to who should 
be first to introduce a bill that would lead to action on 
that plan. 
The events that led to making the discussion a national 
event, was that soon after the great floods of 1903 in 
Kansas and many other Western States/ in less volume, 
took place. At the same time New England was withered 
by drouth and scorched by fire, and a general discussion 
ensued in newspapers and periodicals on irrigation and 
flood prevention by a reservoir system. Few, however, 
seemed to grasp the idea. Most people j umped to the 
conclusion that reservoirs would have to be dug of suffi- 
cient capacity (o hold the excess of rainfall in flood times. 
Seeing how stupendous a work it would be, some were 
inclined to scoff.i Others thought the end could be gained 
by damming the running streams and forming gigantic 
reservoirs. But the danger of such a course was too easily 
detected by the casual observer. The result of such a 
course was seen at Johnstown, Pa., and various other 
places. A better way is to slop it in detail before it gets 
dangerous. 
In this article I propose to further show how it may be 
done, but first let 11s take a look at the real stumbling- 
blocks in the path of progress in this line. It seems ab- 
surd to say_ that it will or is • likely to take a thousand 
years for this and future ages to understand any problem 
that is either simple or practical. A backward glance will 
show many reasons for believing that it will. However, 
to judge the future by the past, will not do in all cases; 
but human nature changes rather slowly, if at all, and 
man will be found to be stumbling over the same big ego 
a thousand years hence as now. 
An old legend telling of the discovery of the art of 
cooking illustrates one phase of the situation very aptly. 
In this legend we find the human race living in houses, 
though utterly devoid of any knowledge of cooking. The 
diet was fruit, roots and berries, eaten raw, with perhaps 
a few raw oysters. There were pigs in those days as 
now, but then the pig was kept in the house and wor- 
shipped as a divinity. Anon it transpired that a house 
took fire and was burned to the ground. The pig, being 
forgotten, was left inside and roasted to "a queen's 
taste." The owner, in clearing up the wreck, smelled the 
savory odor of roast pig and tasted thereof. Tempted 
beyond resistance by the flavor, he fell to and did eat a 
veritable wolf's meal of burnt pig. Detected in the act, he 
was haled before a justice to be tried for heresy. At the 
trial, his defense was that burnt pig was really good to 
eat — better than anything before known to man. As he 
was "a ward keeper" of great influence, the judge listened 
to his plea, and ordered the rest of the burnt pig brought 
into court. A smell of the pig strengthened his case, a 
taste ended it, while judge and jury fell to and finished 
the roast, and the case was marked off the docket. Thus 
roast pig came to be a part of the diet of kings and the 
very rich. The roasting was done by putting the porker 
in a house, and then burning the house. This style of 
cooking held good for several hundred years. Presumably 
then, as now, schools were maintained to advance the in- 
terest of the different sciences. Cooking had its depart- 
ment. Scientists were appointed and supported by public 
tax to do nothing but advance the art of cooking. Socie- 
ties were formed, debates instituted, and conventions 
held; rivers of ink flowed, and even wars were waged to 
settle mooted questions as to whether this, that or the 
other style of architecture was best adapted to the com- 
mon end of roasting pork. But the fact that an erstwhile 
divinity was good to eat remained the single discovery of 
its thousand years. 
Most of the discoveries of man are made by accident, 
and so the next improvement in the art of cooking came 
about. It came to pass that a workman was sent into the 
forest to build houses for the purpose of roasting pigs. 
There was to be a convention of delegates from all the 
schools of science devoted to cookery. As such conven- 
tions always ended^in a feast and general jamboree, many 
pigs would be required. At that time pigs were so numer- 
ous that a great many ran at large in the forest. It hap- 
pened that a tree fell on a pig and killed it. The work- 
man was greatly alarmed at this, for the penalty was very 
,• severe. It was, rxow about the sixth hour, and the work- 
man sat; -down to' eat what little there was in his dinner- 
pail and to try and think of some way to escape punish- 
ment for killing the pig. He had labored hard, and after 
eating the few roots and a nut or two which the pail con- 
tained, he was still very hungry. There was the pig; if 
it were only roasted he could eat it and satisfy the crav- 
ings of his stomach while destroying all evidence against 
himself. Finally it occurred to him to build a fire of 
broken branches and burn (as cooking was then called) 
the meat by holding it against the fire, one side at a time. 
He built his -fire and when the coals glowed red, he held 
the pig against them, but in doing so he burned his 
fingers. Then he tried holding it between two sticks, 
but dropped it into the ashes. Necessity is said to be the 
mother of invention; if so, hunger is at least its grand- 
mother. Thinking for a time, the workman at last 
sharpened a stick, and, thrusting it through the pig, held 
it to the coals, and the thing was done. 
After eating his fill of pig, something he had not tasted 
before, he bethought him that he had made a great dis- 
covery. He would see the faculty and relieve them of 
further trouble on the score of cooking, and they, in turn, 
glad to be relieved of so great a burden, would proclaim 
him a great man in the land of his fathers. Away he went 
forthwith to seek the faculty. He was a very foolish fool. 
The faculty listened with horror to his revelations. Was 
the science of cooking to be done away with in this slap- 
dash manner, and by a mere workman ? Was their easy 
living to be thus taken away? Never, never! And they 
fell on the workman and destroyed him. But generation 
after generation may be tortured to death by error, even 
to a thousand, but truth cannot be destroyed until the last 
human mind is destroyed with it. Thus it smouldered in 
the minds of the faculty until it finally contaminated other 
minds which held no prejudice and broke out afresh, and 
the stick method of cooking came into general vogue. 
This legend may not be strictly true as to the facts set 
forth, but where it applies to human nature it is strictly 
true. Though the scope of man's intelligence has been 
vastly increased since those days, human nature remains 
practically the same. 
The real labor of rebuilding the earth is in removing 
prejudice, jealousy, self-seeking, self-glorification, and 
ignorance, and that the time limit of a thousand years is 
none too great. That once done — and it can only be done 
by the commoner— the work of digging ditches, building 
dikes, and constructing the necessary machinery will be 
: a mere bagatelle. 
It may appear strange at first glance, but the ground 
