Indians of Lassen Volcanic National Park and Vicinity

by Paul E. Schulz

The management of the University of California’s excellent informative “UNIVERSITY EXPLORER” radio program series has given permission to quote the following from its broadcasts. This material concerns the conflict of the closely related Yana and Yahi tribes with the whites and the fabulous story of Ishi. The script has been abridged and considerably rearranged:

“... The Yana way of life was a strange one to the white observer, but the tribes prospered under it until white emigration from the East threw them into conflict with a new and unfriendly people. The Indians, of course, resented the white incursion and revolted against it. That happened in all sections of the country where whites displaced Indians, but it would be hard to imagine a more inept way of handling the situation than that used by the white men in the Sacramento Valley. Some of the large land owners protected the Indians of their holdings; among them were General John Bidwell, one of the founders of Chico, (Peter Lassen on his Rancho Bosquejo between Mill and Deer Creeks), and John Sutter, on whose property the Gold Rush started. But they were exceptions. Most of the settlers apparently believed the only way to handle the natives was to compete with them in cruelty. One celebrated Indian-killer took great pride in a blanket he had made from Indian scalps. The whites had learned scalping from the Eastern Indians, but they themselves popularized it in California....

“The Indians often plundered settlers’ cabins and stole livestock. This was natural, since they regarded the whites as invaders. Unfortunately, the settlers’ retaliation frequently consisted of rounding up a gang of Indians and slaughtering them. And it didn’t make too much difference whether they were the guilty Indians. Professor Waterman wrote that the Yahi expressed their resentment of the white men more violently than did the other Yana groups, but since the Yahi moved around more and displayed greater skill in hiding out, quite innocent groups of Indians often took the blame for the acts of the Yahi. Professor Waterman cited the case of one white posse which took to the trail following a series of Indian raids. The posse came upon an encampment of Indians and shot about forty of them. But the Indians had been camped in the same place for two nights, and the whites later found a couple of almost-empty whiskey barrels there. It doesn’t stand to reason, Professor Waterman pointed out, that Indians skilled in warfare would be so careless after an attack on their enemies.

“As the animosity between white men and red men grew, the atrocities on both sides became revolting. White women and children were tortured and killed by the Yana. But the anthropologists who have studied this unpleasant phase of California history believe the whites invited such savage assaults by their own brutal mistreatment of the Indians.

“... The Yana gradually took to the woods as it became obvious that they were being outnumbered and decimated by the settlers in one massacre after another. By the late 1860’s the Indians had been reduced in numbers and intimidated to the point where they no longer could be considered a serious menace to the people who had taken over their hunting grounds. By then the Indians’ crimes were more on the level of petty theft than major violence. The three Yana tribes had become almost extinct as social organizations, but a fair number of Yana-speaking individuals survived long after the turn of the century.

“With the Yahi tribe, however, it was a different story. For a long time the Yahi—then called the Mill Creeks, because area around that little stream was their principal hunting ground—for a long time, the Yahi were believed to have been wiped out in a final massacre in 1865.... In 1871, a group of cattle-herders in Tehama County found a spot where Indians apparently had wounded a steer. The whites used dogs to follow the steer’s bloody trail, and cornered some thirty Indians in a hillside cave. They promptly slaughtered the Indians, including several children. The settlers’ peculiar idea of mercy was pointed out by Professor Waterman’s informant, who noted that one of the cattle-herders could not bear to kill the children with his .56 caliber rifle—‘it tore them up so bad’ he said. So he did it instead with a .38 caliber revolver.... They call the rock shelter Kingsley Cave after Norman Kingsley, the settler who ... supposedly ... shot the Indian children. The Kingsley Cave site was apparently used for a long time. Grinding tools of two different cultural periods were found ... (by University of California Archeological Survey staff excavations currently investigating the site).

(The Yahi were thought to have been completely wiped out by this last unjustified atrocity, but in 1908) “... surveyors for a power company in the hilly country around Deer Creek reported they had caught a glimpse of a naked Indian standing poised near the stream with a double-pronged primitive fishing spear. Next day, other members of the party were startled when an arrow came whistling through the underbrush at them—a stone-tipped arrow like those used by the supposedly extinct Indians. The surveyors kept on pushing ahead, until they came upon a cleverly concealed camp in the tangled woods. There they found a middle-aged woman and two aged and feeble Indians, a man and a woman. The old woman, hiding under a pile of rabbit skins, apparently wanted water, and the surveyors gave her some after the old man and the other woman had hidden in the underbrush. The surveyors also carried off all the blankets, bows and arrows and other articles in sight; but when they returned next day to make some sort of restitution, the Indians had disappeared. They were never seen again, even though the University later sent anthropologists in search of them....

“... with the dawn of a clear August day in 1911.... The butchering crew of a slaughterhouse near Oroville were awakened ... by a furious barking of the dogs at the corral. They rushed into the corral to find a man crouching in the mud, surrounded by the slaughterhouse shepherd dogs. The butchers called off the dogs to get a closer look at their guest—and a most unusual guest he was.

“The man’s only clothing was a piece of torn, dirty canvas across his shoulders. His skin was sunburned to a copper brown, his hair was clipped close to the skull, and he obviously was suffering from severe malnutrition. His body was emaciated and his cheeks clung to the bones to accentuate his furiously glaring eyes.

“But the strangest thing about this man was his speech. It was like nothing the butchers had ever heard.... The sheriff tried English and Spanish, then several Indian dialects. But he was unable to draw any intelligible response from his prisoner. For lack of a better place to put him, the sheriff locked him in the jail cell reserved for mental cases, even though the man from the slaughterhouse appeared to be more lost than insane.

“The ‘Wild Man of Oroville’ made good newspaper copy, and clippings about his mysterious discovery caused much excitement in the department of anthropology at the University of California. It was a good thing that the news reached the University when it did. The frightened wild man was cowering in his cell, refusing to accept food from his captors whom he obviously distrusted, while the sheriff vainly tried to identify him.

“The late Professor T. T. Waterman was especially excited. So excited, in fact, that he stuffed a few clothes in his suitcase, quickly picked out a list of words from the files on California Indian languages, and caught the first train to Oroville for an interview with the prisoner.

“The reason for Professor Waterman’s excitement was that he believed the Oroville prisoner was a Yahi Indian. If this guess was correct, Waterman would have a major anthropological find. For anthropologists are concerned with origins, development and variegated cultures of mankind; and if the frightened prisoner in Oroville turned out to be a Yahi, Professor Waterman and his colleagues would have a living encyclopedia of the language, customs, and habits of a people who were believed to be extinct ... he might be one of the little band reported at Deer Creek (in 1908), perhaps the man with the fishing spear.

“The task of determining whether the prisoner was Yahi was complicated by the fact that no one knew the Yahi language. This doesn’t sound like an insuperable stumbling block, until you remember that the California Indian languages were numerous and distinct; there were over one hundred dialects, many of them mutually unintelligible. These dialects were classified into eighteen major language groups, which in turn made up six entirely different language families. These six language families apparently are completely unrelated—a strange circumstance, when you consider that almost all of the languages of Europe can be traced to common origins.

“However, Professor Waterman was fortunate in one respect. A fairly extensive word-list had been collected from the dialect of the Nozi Indians who had once lived just to the north of the Yahi and were their nearest relatives. Both the Yahi and the Nozi belonged to the Yana language stock, which stemmed from the widespread Hokan family. So Professor Waterman relied on Nozi words to make the identification.

“At first, the prisoner in Oroville seemed as frightened of Professor Waterman as he had been of all the other white men. Patiently, the anthropologist proceeded through his list of Nozi words, but the captive Indian apparently recognized none of them. At last, though, the professor pointed to the wooden frame of the Indian’s cot, and pronounced the word ‘si’wi’ni,’ which according to his list meant ‘yellow pine’. Immediately, the Indian relaxed. His harried, unhappy look turned to beaming good cheer, and he acted as if he had found a long-lost friend. Pointing to his cot, he repeated Professor Waterman’s word ‘si’wi’ni’ several times, as if agreeing that, yes, his cot was yellow pine. His own language differed from that of the Nozi, but some of the vocabulary was the same. Professor Waterman had struck upon one of the right words; later, he pronounced more familiar words, and it was established that the Indian was a Yahi. He also managed to explain that he called himself ‘Ishi’, which meant simply, ‘I am a man’.

“Professor Waterman was naturally elated with his new-found acquaintance. The Butte County sheriff was equally elated to be rid of his difficult charge, so Ishi was taken to the Museum, then located in San Francisco, for further study and interrogation.

“Thus it happened that this human relic of the Stone Age came to live at a modern university. The Regents of the University gave Ishi some official status by appointing him an assistant janitor at $25 a month. But his value to the University did not come from dexterity with a mop and broom; he was valued because he could tell the anthropologists about his people, preserving knowledge which otherwise would have died with his fellow-tribesmen.

“Ishi adapted himself well to this new life, and he was a friendly and popular fixture at the museum for five years. He picked up the white man’s ways by watching the people around him; at his first civilized dinner, he imitated his hosts’ motions and managed a knife and fork far more skilfully than most of us can handle chopsticks in a Chinese restaurant. He was delighted and awe-stricken by many of the developments of civilization; but the things that impressed him most were not what the anthropologists had expected. Electric lights, airplanes, and automobiles made little impression; they were completely beyond his range of experience, and he dismissed them as ‘white man’s magic’, worthy of little attention. The tall buildings in downtown San Francisco did not startle him; as he explained, his own country had cliffs and crags just as high. But what really amazed him about the city were the enormous crowds of people on the streets. He had seen people before, of course, but never more than twenty or thirty in one place.

“In general, the things that Ishi considered most remarkable were things which approached something in his own experience. He knew how hard it was to start a fire by friction, so pocket matches were indeed a wonder. Water faucets which could be turned on and off were likewise marvelous; why, the white man could make a spring, right there in the house! One of the first modern devices to catch Ishi’s babbled attention was an ordinary window roller shade. He tried to push it aside, but it flipped back; he lifted it, but it fell down. Finally someone showed him how to give it a little tug and let it roll itself up, and Ishi was amazed. A half-hour later, he was still trying to figure out what had happened to the shade.

“Ishi and his hosts learned to communicate with each other fairly adequately; he never became accustomed to formal grammar, but he picked up a vocabulary large enough to express his wishes and his comments about the things around him. Actually, the anthropologists admitted, Ishi learned to speak English far better than any of them were able to learn Yahi. They suspected that some of his vocabulary was acquired from the school children who used to visit him, for it included a fair sampling of most unacademic slang.

“There were some things Ishi didn’t like to talk about—the death of his relatives and the last horrible years around Deer Creek before he wandered to the Oroville slaughterhouse—were subjects he found too painful. Besides, there was a tribal taboo against mentioning the names of the dead. His close-cropped head, incidentally, was the result of burning off his hair in mourning for his mother and sister, in accordance with tribal custom.

“But the knowledge which Ishi passed on was rich and varied.... Among the contributions for which Ishi is remembered are some of the finest arrowheads and spear tips in existence; he made these for the University Museum both of modern bottle glass and from the natural materials.... In fact, Ishi was the source of almost all that is known of Yahi life. He gladly described the customs of his people, and he enjoyed chipping out Stone Age weapons and showing how they were used. With primitive drawings, he tried to tell the story of the massacre which wiped out most of his tribe....

“Ishi’s own life ended in March 1916, when he died of tuberculosis. He was then believed to be in his 50’s. Those who knew him at the University considered his death a great loss—not only because of what he had contributed to anthropology, but because he had a natural friendliness and dignity which made him a beloved personality. Professor A. L. Kroeber once told me: ‘The manner in which he acquitted himself, both from the scientific and social points of view, was so admirable that everyone who chanced to meet him counted it a privilege to be his friend’. And Ishi had the comforting knowledge that his departure from this earth would not be a completely alien one. Because he had passed on the elements of his culture, it was possible to bury him with all the ceremony of his own people. His bows and arrows were laid beside him, and some bowls of food were placed in the grave so he would not grow hungry on his long journey to the Happy Hunting Ground....

“Ishi was not only the last survivor of the Yahi ... but he was also believed to (have been) the last representative of the Stone Age in the United States.”

While not apropos to the subject of this chapter, “Pioneer Conflict...” we digress with some quotations from Pope’s “Medical History of Ishi” to give the reader a better understanding of this last of the Mill Creek Indians, his character, and his beliefs.

“... Ishi himself later made the statement that he was not sick but had no food. White men had taken his bow and arrows; game was scarce, and he had no means of procuring it. He had strayed from his usual trail, between Deer Creek and ... Lassen (Peak). The railroad on one side and a large river on the other kept him from making his way to the refuge of the hills. His fear of trains and automobiles seems to have been considerable in those days.

“Upon being captured, Ishi, according to his own account, was handcuffed, confronted by guns and pistols, and intimidated to such an extent that he vomited with fear....

“About this time (fall, 1912) I became instructor in surgery in the University Medical School, and thus came in contact with the Indian.

“From the first weeks of our intimacy a strong friendship grew up between us, and I was from that time on his physician, his confidant, and his companion in archery....

“The Museum (of Anthropology) is near the Hospital, and since Ishi had been made a more or less privileged character in the hospital wards, he often came into the surgical department. Here he quietly helped the nurses clean instruments, or amused the internes and nurses by singing his Indian songs, or carried on primitive conversation by means of a very complex mixture of gesture, Yana dialect, and the few scraps of English he had acquired in his contact with us.

“His affability and pleasant disposition made him a universal favorite. He visited the sick in the wards with a gentle and sympathetic look which spoke more clearly than words. He came to the women’s wards quite regularly, and with his hands folded before him, he would go from bed to bed like a visiting physician, looking at each patient with quiet concern or with a fleeting smile that was very kindly received and understood.

“ISHI’S MEDICAL BELIEFS”

“Women—Ishi had many of our own obsolete superstitions regarding women. One criticism he made of white man’s civilization was the unbridled liberty we give menstruating women. The ‘Sako mahale’, as he designated them, were a cause of much ill luck and sickness. They should be in seclusion during this period. In fact, he often commented on the number of sick men that came to the hospital. I asked him what he thought made so many men sick. He said it was ‘Sako mahale, too much wowi (houses), too much automobile,’ and last but most important of all, the ‘Coyote doctor’, or evil spirit.

“Dogs—Playing with dogs, and letting them lick one’s hand, Ishi said was very bad. He assured me that to let babies play with dogs this way led to paralysis. It is interesting to note that Dr. R. H. Gibson of Fort Gibson, Alaska, has reported the coincidence of poliomyelitis among the Tanana Indians and the occurrence of distempers in dogs.

“Rattlesnakes—Ishi’s treatment for rattlesnake bite was to bind a toad or frog on the affected area. This is interesting in the light of the experiments of Madame Phisalix of the Pasteur Institute, who demonstrated the antidotal properties of salamandrin, an extract obtained from salamander skin, and the natural immunity that the salamander has to viper venom. Macht and Abel have obtained a similar powerful alkaloid from the toad Bufo nigra, called bufagin, which has some of the properties of strychnin and adrenalin. It has been used as an arrow poison by South American aborigines. Experiments which I conducted with salamandrin as an antidote to crotalin, show that it has a pronounced protective and curative value in the immunization of guinea pigs and in their cure after being bitten by the rattlesnake. It is, however, too dangerous and potent a poison itself to be of any practical value.

“When out camping we killed and cooked a rattlesnake or ‘kemna’. Ishi refused not only to taste it, but also to eat from the dishes in which it had been cooked. We ate it, and found that it tasted like rabbit or fish. Ishi expected us to die. That we did not do so he could only explain on the grounds that I was a medicine man and used magic protection.

“Moon—Ishi held the superstition common among uneducated Caucasians, that it is unwholesome to sleep with the moon shining on one’s face, so he covered his head completely under his blankets when sleeping in the open.

“Hygiene—Ishi had wholesome notions of hygiene. When out hunting he has several times stopped me from drinking water from a stream which he thought had been contaminated by dwelling houses above.

“His residence in the Museum caused many misgivings in his mind. The presence of all the bones of the dead, their belongings, and the mummies were ever a source of anxiety to him. He locked his bedroom door at night to keep out spirits. When we stored our camping provender temporarily in the Museum bone room, Ishi was not only disgusted but genuinely alarmed. It was only after the reassurance that the ‘bunch a mi si tee’ could not enter through the tin of the cans that he was relieved.

“Surgery—On some of his visits to the University Hospital, Ishi gazed through the glass-panelled door of the operating room and watched the less grewsome scenes therein, wondering no doubt what was the meaning of this work ... and his questions afterward, though few and imperfectly understood, showed that he marveled most at the anaesthetic and that he debated the advisability of such surgical work.

“Once he saw me remove a diseased kidney. He viewed the sleeping man with deep wonder. He seemed interested at the methods we employed to prevent hemorrhage. For days afterwards he asked me if the patient still lived, and seemed incredulous when I said he did. When he saw an operation for the removal of tonsils he asked me why it was done. I told him of the pain and soreness which was indicative of disease, and necessitated the operation. He conveyed to me the information that among his people tonsillitis was cured by rubbing honey on the neck, and blowing ashes down the throat through a hollow stick or quill; no operations were necessary.

“The only surgical operation with which he seemed familiar was scarification. This was accomplished by means of small flakes of obsidian and had as its purpose the strengthening of the arms and legs of men about to go out on a hunt.

“Herbs—His own knowledge of the use of medicinal herbs was considerable, as we learned later when he went back to Deer Creek canyon with us on a three weeks’ camping trip, here he designated scores of plants that were of technical, medicinal, or economic value. But he put very little faith in these things. The use of herbs and drugs seems to have been the province of old women in the tribe.

“There was a hole in the septum of his nose which he had used as a receptacle for a small piece of wood, as well as for holding ornaments. When he had a cold he placed in this spot a twig of baywood or juniper, and indicated to me that this was medicine. It served very much with him as menthol inhalers do with us. Its influence was largely psychic but agreeable.

“Magic—The real medicine was magic. The mysteries of the k’uwi, or medicine man, were of much greater value than mere dosing. Their favorite charms seem to have been either blowing of smoke and ashes in certain directions to wield a protective or curative influence, or the passing of coals of fire through themselves or their patients by means of sleight of hand. They also sucked out small bits of obsidian or cactus thorns from their clients, averring that these were the etiological factors of sickness.

“The principal cause of pain, according to Ishi, was the entrance of these spines, thorns, bee stings, or, as he called them, ‘pins’, into the human frame. The medicine man sucked them out, or plucked them while they were floating in the air in the vicinity of the sick man. They were then deposited in a small container, usually made of the dried trachea of a bird, or of a large artery. The ends of this tube were sealed with pitch or some form of a stopper and the whole thing taken possession of by the doctor, thus keeping the ‘materia morbosa’ where it could do no further harm.

“The fact that I was able to do sleight of hand: vanish coins, change eggs into paper, swallow impossible objects at will, and perform similar parlor magic, convinced Ishi that I was a real doctor, much more than any medication or surgery at my command. He came, nevertheless, to our clinic whenever he had a headache, or a bruised member, or lumbago, and accepted our services with due faith.

“ISHI’S PERSONAL HABITS”

“Sleep—... he slept between blankets in preference to sheets. He had several flannelette nightshirts but he preferred to sleep naked....

“Clothing—... At first he was offered moccasins, but refused to wear them. He wanted to be like other people. Usually he wore a bright colored necktie and sometimes a hat, when he was going down town ... cotton shirts and (cotton) trousers were his choice. He used a pocket handkerchief in the most approved manner, and because of his frequent colds he needed it often.

“Modesty—Ishi, strange to say, was very modest. Although he went practically naked in the wilds, and, as described by Waterman, upon his first appearance in Deer Creek Canyon he was seen altogether nude, nevertheless, his first request after being captured was for a pair of overalls. He was quite careful to cover his genitalia; when changing clothes, assumed protective attitudes, and when swimming in the mountain streams with us wore an improvised breech clout even though his white companions abandoned this last vestige of respectability.

“Toilet—When well he bathed nearly every day, and he always washed his hands before meals. He was very tidy and cleanly in all his personal habits. When camping, he was the only man in our outfit who got up regularly and bathed in the cold mountain stream every morning.

“Ishi was an expert swimmer.... He used a side stroke and sometimes a modified breast stroke, but no overhand or fancy strokes; nor did he dive. He swam under water with great facility and for long distances. The rapids of Deer Creek were rather full yet he swam them, and carried my young son hanging to his hair.

“When he was sick he resented being bathed except when ordered by the nurse or doctor. Like many other primitive people, he considered bathing injurious in the presence of fever. He never attempted to take a sweat bath while in civilization, but often spoke of them. I never saw him brush his teeth, but he rubbed them with his finger, and they always seemed clean. He washed his mouth out with water after meals.

“His beard was sparse but he plucked it systematically by catching individual hairs between the blade of a dull jack-knife and his thumb. In his native state he used a sort of tweezers made of a split piece of wood. He did this work without the use of a mirror.

“He combed and brushed his hair daily. He washed it frequently.... At first he had no dandruff, but after two or three years’ contact with the whites he had some dry seborrhoea, and began to get a trifle gray at the temples ... he used grease on his scalp when in his native state; whereas bay leaves and bay nuts he said were heated and reduced to a semi-solid state, when they were rubbed on the body after the sweat bath. Here they acted as a soporific, or, as he said, like whiskey, and the person thus anointed fell into a sweet slumber. The same substance was rubbed on moccasins to make them waterproof.

“On one occasion he contracted ring worm, probably from a wandering cat. He was given a sulphur salve for this, and after its cure he still used the ointment to soften his hands.... He was not susceptible to ‘poison oak’ ... nor to sunburn. His skin bleached out considerably while in San Francisco, and became darker when exposed to sunlight.

“... (he) seemed to have the same fondness for sweet-scented soap that Orientals manifest.

“His personal belongings he kept in a most orderly manner, everything in his box being properly folded and arranged with care. Articles which he kept outside of this box he wrapped in newspaper and laid in systematic arrangement on shelves in his room.

“In working on arrows or flaking obsidian, he was careful to place newspapers on the floor to catch his chips. In fact, neatness and order seemed to be part of his self-education.

“In the preparation of food and the washing of dishes he was very orderly and clean.

“Diet—... After a certain period of this luxury (eating heavily) he discerned the folly of this course and began eating less, when his metabolism returned to a more normal balance. Part of this increase was due to the large quantities of water he drank. Being unaccustomed to salt, our seasoning was excessive and led to increased hydration of his bodily tissues. He had a great fondness for sweets.... He tried and liked nearly all kinds of foods, but seemed to have an aversion for custards, blanc manges, and similar slimy confections, nor could he be persuaded to drink milk. He contended that this was made for babies, while he said that butter ruined the singing voice....

“Matches he took up with evident delight; they were such a contrast to the laborious methods of the fire drill, or of nursing embers, which he employed in the wilds.

“... His meat he boiled only about ten minutes, eating it practically without seasoning.

“His own food in the wilds seems to have been fish, game, acorn meal, berries, and many roots. Prominent among these latter was the bulb of the Brodiaea. The Indian could go out on an apparently barren hillside and with a sharp stick dig up enough Brodiaea bulbs in an hour to furnish food for a good meal. These roots are globular in shape, with the appearance of an onion, ranging in size from a cherry to a very small potato. The flavor when raw is like that of a potato, and when cooked like a roasted chestnut.

“Alcohol—... Ishi himself had no liking for strong drink, although at one time he purchased a few bottles of beer and drank small quantities diluted with sugar and water. He called it medicine. His response to my query regarding whiskey was, ‘Whiskey-tee crazy-aunatee, die man.’

“Tobacco—Occasionally Ishi smoked a cigarette, and he knew the use of tobacco, having had access to the native herb in the wilds. But he seldom smoked more than a few cigarettes a day, and frequently went weeks without any. He disapproved of young people smoking. He chewed tobacco at times, and spat copiously. Both of these indulgences, however, he resorted to only when invited by some congenial friend.

“Etiquette—Although uncultured, he very quickly learned the proper use of knife, fork, and spoon. His table manners were of the very best. He often ate at my home, where he was extremely diffident; watched what others did and then followed their examples, using great delicacy of manner. His attitude toward my wife or any other woman member of the household was one of quiet disinterest. Apparently his sense of propriety prompted him to ignore her. If spoken to, he would reply with courtesy and brevity, but otherwise he appeared not to see her.

“When he wanted to show his disapproval of anything very strongly, he went through the pantomime of vomiting.

“Thrift—As janitor in the Museum, he was making a competent income, understood the value of money, was very thrifty and saving, and looked forward to the day when he could buy a horse and wagon. This seemed to be the acme of worldly possession to him. He was very happy and well contented, working a little, playing enough, and surrounded by friends.

“ISHI’S DISPOSITION AND MENTALITY”

“Disposition—In disposition the Yahi was always calm and amiable. Never have I seen him vehement or angry. Upon rare occasions he showed that he was displeased. If someone who he thought had no privilege touched his belongings, he remonstrated with some show of excitement. Although he had lived in part by stealing from the cabins of men who had usurped his country, he had the most exacting conscience concerning the ownership of property. He would never think of touching anything that belonged to another person, and even remonstrated with me if I picked up a pencil that belonged to one of the Museum force. He was too generous with his gifts of arms, arrow-heads, and similar objects of his handicraft.

“His temperament was philosophical, analytical, reserved, and cheerful. He probably looked upon us as extremely smart. While we knew many things, we had no knowledge of nature, no reserve; we were all busy-bodies. We were, in fact, sophisticated children.

“His conception of immortality was that of his tribe, but he seemed to grasp the Christian concept and asked me many questions concerning the hereafter. He rather doubted that the White God cared much about having Indians with Him, and he did not seem to feel that women were properly eligible to Heaven. He once saw a moving picture of the Passion Play. It affected him deeply. But he misconstrued the crucifixion and assumed that Christ was a ‘bad man’.

“Use of tools—He was quite adept in the use of such simple tools as a knife, handsaw, file, and hatchet. He early discovered the advantages of a small bench vise, and it took the place of his big toe in holding objects thereafter.... Journeys were measured by days or sleeps ... (he) was awe-struck when I took him to a sawmill where large cedar logs were brought in and rapidly sawed up into small bits to be used in making lead pencils. It would have taken hours for him to fell even a small tree, and an interminable length of time to split it. But here was a miracle of work done in a few minutes. It impressed him greatly....”