“Yes,” said Hugh, “I noticed that, and it’s so that when these Indians pray they are surely in earnest. They are not getting off something that they’ve learned by heart and just saying it because they have to; they mean all that they say and they are really asking favors. People say that they’re nothing but poor savages and that they’re pagans, and all that, but I tell you when they’re talking to their God they could give points to a whole lot of white folks.”
“Well,” said Jack, “I’ve seen some Indians pray, and I’ve been present at some ceremonies, like the medicine lodge and like opening the beaver bundle, but I never saw anything that seemed to me as real as this that we’ve seen to-day.”
“Well,” said Hugh, “I am right glad we went, and I’m glad that you saw it. These Indians and all the other Indians that I know anything about are changing mighty fast. They’re losing their old ways and picking up new ones that are not half so good. They’re changing all the time, and before you are many years older you won’t be able to see any of these old-time ways. There are three or four railroads now running across through the country that used to belong all to the Indians, and now that the buffalo are about gone they’ve got to come on to their reservations and learn to work to earn a living, and just as soon as they do that you’ll see all the old customs go, and when they once go they’ll very soon be forgotten.”
“But what a pity it is, Hugh,” said Jack, “that they’ve got to change! Why can’t they be left out here to live their life in the old way?”
“Why, son,” said Hugh, “you are talking now without thinking, talking just as I have felt a great many times; but you know and I know from what we’ve both seen that before very long these people are all going to be crowded out of the most of this country by the white folks. Don’t you remember a couple of years ago when we came back from the coast, how the little towns were springing up all along the new railroad that they were building, and now that the railroad has been finished, all along it, east and west, there are growing up settlements of people that will soon be towns. The white people are coming in crowds, and as soon as they’ve taken all the best locations along the railroad they’ll begin to spread out and take up other locations, and I believe that I’ll live long enough to see this Montana Territory full of people. It’ll be here just as I’ve seen it happen in the South. First the cattle will come into the country, lots of them, and for a while it will be all cows and cowboys; and then, little by little, the ranchers will come in, and they’ll settle first on one creek bottom and then on another, and then maybe mines will be found in the mountains, and new railroads will be built, and at last there won’t be room in the country for anybody but white folks that are working hard to make money out of the prairie and the river bottoms, and even out of the mountains. A few years ago I wouldn’t have believed it, but I have seen it happen now in lots of different parts of the country, and I reckon it will happen here, just as it has in so many other places.”
“Well, Hugh,” said Jack, “I suppose that’s so. I remember, as you say, the way the settlements were springing up along the new railroad when we came back from British Columbia, and this time, coming out, I could see the little towns starting all along the Northern Pacific, back in Minnesota and west of there, but it does seem awfully rough that these Indians should all be driven from their own land and should have to be penned up on a little reservation. And I don’t see what in the world they’re going to do to live unless the Government feeds them.”
“Well,” said Hugh, “I don’t either. I suppose maybe some time they’ll have to turn into cattlemen. I always had an idea they’d make good cow hands, if they could be taught to look after cattle. Certainly the Indians used to take awful good care of their ponies, and if they could be taught to take good care of cows, they could make a good living just as long as they’ve got the range that most any reservation will furnish. You know the Navahoes down South and some others of those Southern Indians have big herds of sheep and take pretty good care of them, but of course sheep and cattle are different things.”
That evening in the store Hugh asked Bruce what he thought of the probability of the Indians taking to cattle-raising.
“Why,” said Bruce, “they could make good cowmen if they’d look after the stock. This is one of the greatest cattle ranges in the whole country, and the few cattle that I own have done mighty well. I have had two Indians, my brothers-in-law, looking after the stock, and they are getting to understand how to handle cattle well. But the trouble is that the average Indian hasn’t much feeling of responsibility, and instead of spending the day on his horse looking after the cattle, he’s likely to get off and lie down in the sun and sleep for half a day and let the stock get away from him. They haven’t yet got any idea of the importance of staying with a job. They’ll work hard until they get tired of it, and then they’ll stop, and you can’t start them up again. You see, they’ve never been used to working steadily. They’d work as long as they felt like it, and then stop. That’s what they’ve got to learn before they can accomplish anything toward making a living. They’ve got to learn the lesson of steady, continued effort, and it’s going to be mighty hard to teach them that.”
Late in the evening Hugh said to Jack, “Well, son, we’ve seen about all we need to around here, haven’t we? What do you say to our starting out to the mountains to make our trip?”