History of the big bonanza

by Dan De Quille

The Piutes are the early birds in Virginia City. Almost as soon as it is sufficiently light for them to see, the squaws are down from their huts on the slopes of the surrounding mountains. The Piute squaw is the scavenger of the town. When she rolls into the place in the morning, she comes with her gunny-sack over her shoulder, and into this stows all that in her eyes is valuable. She gathers up every little wisp of hay that falls in her way, even to the last straw, as she wants it for the half-starved family pony, staked out in the hills near the camp; looks into dry-goods boxes in search of straw, also for the pony; dives into barrels in front of the markets, for half-rotten fruit, wilted turnips, carrots, and other vegetables good for the family, and as the markets open and the business of the day begins, she manages to secure all the heads and tails of salmon and other fish that are cut up. All this time she has one eye open for fuel—the hills being stripped to the last rotten stick, by the Chinamen, who have even dug all the tree-stumps out by the roots. Bits of boxes, wooden hoops, staves, all that is wood she stuffs into her sack, along with the rest of her plunder.

If the sack is full and a good haul of wood falls in her way, she makes it up into a bundle and places it on her head, and finally, loaded down like a donkey, the frugal housewife climbs the mountain to where her hut is perched, when she makes glad the heart of her lord and master and little ones, with the good things she has brought home to them. Others hang about the kitchens of the town, and collect loads of broken victuals, as there no swine are kept by families, and they have no use for the scraps that are carried from the table.

The male Piute is not always idle, but he cannot always find a job. The Chinamen swarm the town in search of about the only kinds of work poor “Lo” is able to do. But no man with a fat government contract ever felt himself better fixed, than does one of these ex-warriors when he has fairly settled down at a job of wood-sawing, for which he is to receive one dollar per cord in coin, and board while he is doing the work. This is just the kind of bargain he likes to make with a newcomer, or some other unsophisticated citizen. The kitchen upon which he has thus established a lien is never out of his mind. He is on hand at dawn of day, and from the mountain height on which sits his eyrie, brings the appetite of a tiger. Until he has had his breakfast, his face is ever toward the dwelling of his employer, and ever and anon he is seen to pause with his saw in the midst of a half-finished stick, as he snuffs the odors wafted from the kitchen.

Breakfast over, he begins watching and snuffing for his dinner; dinner over, his mind dwells upon the coming supper. Between meals, he frequently becomes so exhausted that he cannot force his saw through the smallest stick, unless braced up by an occasional cup of coffee, slice of bread, and joint of cold meat.

When the noble red-man boards himself, however, he works like a steam-engine, and loses not a moment until the last stick is done, and he can extend his palm for his coin.

We hear much about the disappearance of the Indian before the march of civilization, and in some quarters predictions are freely hazarded that in a short time he will become extinct—will pass away with the dodo. Whatever may be the case with other tribes, the Piute has no notion of passing away. He is among the most prolific of autochthones. To “increase and multiply” appears to be the first care of the average adult Piute. It looks somewhat as if he were bound to occupy the land in case his productiveness shall continue. The Piutes are a remarkably healthy people. They are seldom sick, and few deaths occur among them. The few who die seem to die of old age. There appear to be about one hundred births among them to one death. Hardly a squaw that is over sixteen and under sixty years of age can be seen, but she has a pappoose slung on her back, and some of them surpass the wife of the martyred John Rogers in evidences of prolificness. The women do not appear to be much addicted to twins, but the little ones come marching along quite rapidly in single file.

The Piutes are certainly multiplying more rapidly than any other people in the State of Nevada. Even astonishingly old women among them bear children.

“What shall be done with these people?” will one day be a question in Nevada that must be answered in some way. The women are virtuous, and the men temperate, and so long as they thus remain, there seems to be no likelihood of their dying off.

Among the Piutes to work is considered no disgrace, and the biggest “brave” is not ashamed to be seen handling an ax or saw—no, nor to be found carrying his child, a thing that would ruin him in almost any other tribe. Their greatest vice is gambling among themselves.

All is now well with these children of the desert, as they are not yet so numerous but that the cast-off clothing of the whites suffices for all, great and small, and the cold victuals given away in all the towns is more than enough to feed them; but a time will come when this will not be the case. Then some place must be found, and some provision made for this people.