Indians of the Enchanted Desert

by Leo Crane

Of flags festooned over the wall,

Of the candles that shed their soft lustre

And tallow on headdress and shawl;

Of the steps that we took to one fiddle,

Of the dress of my queer vis-à-vis,

And how I once went down the middle

With the man who shot Sandy McGee.

Bret Harte: “Her Letter”

Among employees of the Desert Indian Service, the Marylander is a rarity. Back in Maryland the Indian Service is unknown, all readers of the Sun-paper believing that Indians were originally designed by Buffalo Bill.

So when a lad seated himself on my porch one night, and announced: “Why, Ah’m from Maheland too; yes, indeed!” it rather struck me where I ought to have lived. I was eating at the mess then.