Maps and specific information can be had by addressing A. A. A. headquarters, Riggs Building, Washington, D. C.
Indian Waif-king to Assemble Tribe.
He is king of the remnant of a great race now scattered to the winds—David Seattle, of the Snohomish tribe. Lean as a wolf was the king, and footsore with far travels, when he entered the office of the Seattle Star, asking that paper to help him in locating his widely dispersed tribesfolk.
Until a few moons ago he did not know he was king, this stolid Indian lad, who had been placed in St. Joseph’s School, in Tacoma, when a baby. He did not remember when he came or who brought him there. On the register he is simply “David Seattle.” No hint of royal inheritance appeared to mar his democratic playing and boyish quarreling with school companions. Assertions of kinship would only have served to call down upon him the wrath of his playmates, and who were certain that royalty rode on magnificent chargers and was heralded with blaring trumpets.
Charlie David Seattle, only living son of Chief Seattle I., waits for death. He is very old, and his work is done.
There came to him not long ago in Snohomish an Indian of another tribe. “I met one of your people in Seattle,” he confided. “His name is like yours—David Seattle.”
The old man, strangely excited, came to the city and found David.
“Where,” he asked, “were you born? And who was your father?”
“I do not know,” said the young Indian. “I was put in St. Joseph’s School when a baby.” And he told the old patriarch all he knew, which was little enough, though it served.
“It was I who put you there,” said Charlie David Seattle. “Your father was dead some time before. I took you from your dead mother’s arms. You are the oldest son of the oldest son of Chief Seattle. You are the head of the Snohomish people.”