Continuing, the chief said: "President Roosevelt, him all right, him different from McKinley and Cleveland. They way up in the air, standing on their dignity, but him down here on level with the people. Him Injuns' President, as well as white man's President. Him all kinds of man; when he with cowboys, he cowboy; when he with Rough Riders, he roughest rider of all; when he with statesmen, he statesman; and when he with Injuns, he just like Injun; all same he white Injun. We personal friends. I talk to him and use influence with him for pardon Geronimo. I got message for Geronimo, but I no tell you, tell him first." "Then you will be going to Fort Sill in a few days to deliver the President's message?" I ventured to remark. But the reply was, "No! no! I much heap big chief; he come to see me."
I told him I realized that fact and intended to give him a good mention in my Indian history I was just completing, and asked him if he could furnish me a late photograph to enable me to have a good cut made for the book. He said that he and Geronimo had some pictures taken together in Washington City, and added, "They no come yet, may-be-so they come to-morrow, may-be-so next week; when they come I send you one." The chief kept his word, and some time afterward I got a photograph from him.
It was hard to realize as I saw the good-natured looking Comanche Indians loafing or trading in the stores of the enterprising little town of Cache, that only a few years ago some of those same warriors had doubtless made night hideous with their dreaded war-whoop, which is said to resemble the 'rah, 'rah! of the college boys.
Quanah Parker is really a great man, and a born ruler. He seems to combine the shrewdness and stoicism of the Indian with the intelligence and diplomacy of the white race. He manages to conciliate that element of his tribe which hates the whites and doggedly opposes all innovations, while vigorously advocating progress.
When the lands were allotted to the Comanches he advised them to choose good farming lands and become peaceable, industrious citizens of the United States. They took his advice and chose lands close to those of their chief, thus forming a Comanche settlement and village which is beautiful for situation at the base of the picturesque Wichita Mountains, about eighteen miles from the military post of Fort Sill.
About two and one-half miles from Cache, on the south side of one of the Wichita Mountains, stands Quanah's home, known as the "White House of the Comanches." It is quite an imposing square, two-story frame building, with wide galleries running entirely around it. It gleams startlingly white and tall against the blue of the sky and the vivid green of the prairie, and presents a striking contrast to the somber gray and brown of the mountain side, which forms a background.
Built in the days when lumber had to be hauled hundreds of miles over rough prairie trails, it cost at least double what it would to-day. It is said to contain thirty rooms, and is furnished with all the comforts and many of the luxuries of civilization. Over the organ in his parlor hangs a life-sized oil painting of his white mother, to which the chief proudly calls the attention of all his visitors. For many years his was the only house on the reservation, and it became an object of wonder to the Indians and of interest to the white visitors.
The shrewd chief is a good financier, and looks after his own interest closely; owning large droves of cattle and at least a hundred ponies, and controlling thousands of acres of land, the allotments of his wives and children. To-day there are three "ladies of the White House," To-ah-nook, Too-pay and Too-ni-ce (we never supposed a lady could be too nice). They have separate apartments and each has her own sewing machine, of which she is as proud as a small boy with a new toy.
Quanah not only belongs to the two races, but is somewhat dual-natured. In appearance, as we have stated, he is decidedly more Indian than white, and when he is with the full bloods, the moccasins, buckskin leggings, gaudy blanket and eagle-plume headdress or war bonnet adorn his stalwart person. But when mingling with his white friends, he adopts the garb of civilization—cutaway coat, stiffly laundered linen and soft felt hat.
Too-ni-ce, his youngest wife, accompanies him on his trips abroad, when she, too, dresses like the white ladies at the agency, and poses as "Mrs. Quanah Parker," driving with the chief in his handsome turnout behind his team of prize-winning sorrels, that even a Kentuckian might admire.