Lippincott'S Magazine Of Popular Literature And Science, Volume 26 December, 1880. by Various None (smart ebook reader .txt) 📕

By The River-Bank; The Horses Are Picketed And The Camp-Fire Is Blazing;

Brown Children Play In The Sand While Their Parents Lie Stretched Out In

The Shadow Of The Wagons. They Left Civilization On The Banks Of The

Missouri More Than A Month Ago,  And Their Eyes Are Still Turned Toward

Those Grand Old Mountain-Ranges In The West Over Which The Declining Sun

Is Now Pouring Its Transfiguring Sheen. The Brightness Dazzles The Eyes,

And The Mexican Who Rides By On A Scarce Manageable Broncho With Nose

High In air Might Be Old Juan Chiquito Bent Upon Some Murderous Errand.

But No: The Rider Has Stopped The Animal,  And Is Soliciting The Peaceful

Offices Of A Blacksmith,  Whose Curious Little Shop,  Bearing The

Suggestive Name Of "Ute," Is Seen Near The Bridge. Here Bronchos,  Mules

And Burros Are Fitted With Massive Shoes By This Frontier Vulcan And

Sent Rejoicing Upon Their Winding And Rocky Ways. Our Sleepy Gaze

Follows Along Santa Fe Avenue,  And The Eye Sees Little That Is

Suggestive Of A Modern Western Town. But Soon Comes Noisily Along A

One-Horse Street-Car,  Which Asserts Its Just Claims To Popular Notice In

Consequence Of Its Composing A Full Half Of A System Scarce A Fortnight

Old By Filling The Air With Direful Screeches As Each Curve Is

Laboriously Described. And Later,  When The Magnificent Overland Train,

Twenty-Six Hours From Kansas City,  Steams Proudly Up To The Station,

Fancy Can No Longer Be Indulged. The Old Has Become New. The Great

Plains Have Been Bridged,  And The Outposts Of But A Decade Ago Become

The Suburbs Of To-Day.

[Illustration: Old Bridge.]

Doubtless Old Si Smith Now And Then Indulges In Reveries Somewhat

Similar,  But His Retrospections Would Be Of A Minute And Personal

Character. To Warm Up The Average Frontiersman,  However--And Old Si Is

No Exception--Into A Style At Once Luminous And Emphatic And Embellished

With All The Richness Of The Border Dialect,  It Is Only Necessary To

Suggest The Indian Topic. However Phlegmatically He May Reel Off His

Yarns,  Glowing Though They Be With Exciting Adventure,  It Is The

Red-Skins That Cause His Eyes To Flash And His Rhetoric To Become Fervid

And Impressive. To Him The Indian Is The Embodiment Of All That Is

Supremely Vile,  And Hence Merits His Unmitigated Hatred. Killing

Indians Is His Most Delightful Occupation,  And The Next In Order Is

Talking About It. His Contempt For Government Methods Is Unbounded,  And

The Popular Eastern Sentiment He Holds In almost Equal Esteem. The Smith

Brothers Have Had A Varied Experience In Frontier Affairs,  In Which The

Indian Has Played A Prominent Part. They Hold The Western Views,  But

With Less Prejudice Than Is Generally Found. They Argue The Case With A

Degree Of Fairness,  And Many Of Their Opinions And Deductions Are Novel

And Equally Just. Said Stephen Smith To The Writer: "We'Ve Got This

Thing Reduced Right Down To Vulgar Fractions,  And The Utes Have Got To

Go. The Mineral Lands Are Worth More To Us Than The Indians Are"--This

With A Suggestive Shrug--"And If The Government Don'T Remove Them From

The Reserves,  Why,  We'Ll Have To Do It Ourselves. There'S A Great Fuss

Been Made About The Whites Going On The Indian Reserves; And What Did It

All Amount To? Maybe Fifty Or Sixty Prospectors,  All Told,  Have Got Over

The Lines,  Dug A Few Holes And Hurt Nobody. But I Suppose The Indians

Always Stay Where They Ought To! I Guess Not. Some Of Them Are Off Their

Reserves Half The Time,  And They Go Off To Murder And Kill. Do They Ever

Get Punished For That? Not Much,  Except When Folks Do It On Their Own

Account. But Let A White Man Get Found On The Indian Reserves And

There'S A Great Howl. I Want A Rule That Will Work Both Ways,  And I

Don'T Give Much For A Government That Isn'T Able To Protect Me On The

Indian Reserves The Same As Anywhere Else. Some Years Ago Indian

Troubles Were Reported At Washington,  And Sherman Was Sent Out To

Investigate. Of Course They Heard He Was Coming,  And All Were On Their

Good Behavior. They Knew Where Their Blankets And Ponies And Provisions

Came From. Consequently,  Sherman Reported Everything Peaceful: He Hadn'T

Seen Anybody Killed. That'S About The Kind Of Information They Get In

The East On The Indian Question.

"Misused? Yes,  The Indians Have Been Misused,  Badly Misused. I Know

That. But Who Have _They_ Misused? This Whole Country Is Covered With

Ruins,  And They All Go To Show That It Has Been Inhabited By A

Highly-Civilized Race Of People. And What Has Become Of Them? I Believe

The Indians Cleaned Them Out Long Years Ago; And Now Their Turn Has

Come. I Find It'S A Law Of Nature"--And Here The Narrator'S Tone Grew

More Reverent As If Touching Upon A Higher Theme--"That The Weak Go To

The Wall. It'S A Hard Law,  But I Don'T See Any Way Out Of It. The Old

Aztecs Had To Go Under,  And The Indians Will Have To Follow Suit."

Whatever Humanitarians And Archaeologists May Conclude Concerning These

Opinions,  They Are Nevertheless Extensively Held In The Far West. The

Frontiersman,  Who Sees The Indian Only In His Native Savagery,  Who Has

Found It Necessary To Employ A Considerable Part Of His Time In Keeping

Out Of Range Of Poisoned Arrows,  And Who Must Needs Be Always Upon The

Alert Lest His Family Fall A Prey To Indian Treachery,  Cannot Be

Expected To Hold Any Ultra-Humanitarian Views Upon The Subject. He Has

Not Been Brought In contact With The Several Partially-Civilized Tribes,

In Whose Advancement Many See Possibilities For The Whole Race. He

Cannot Understand Why The Government Allows The Indians To Roam Over

Enormous Tracts Of Land,  Rich In Minerals They Will Never Extract And

Containing Agricultural Possibilities They Will Never Seek To Realize.

His Plan Would Be To Have Only The Same Governmental Care Exercised Over

The Red Man As Is Now Enjoyed By The White,  And Then Look To The Law Of

The Survival Of The Fittest To Furnish A Solution Of The Problem. The

Case Seems So Clear And The Arguments So Potent That He Looks For Some

Outside Reasons For Their Failure,  And Very Naturally Thinks He

Discovers Them In Governmental Quarters. "There'S Too Many People Living

Off This Indian Business For It To Be Wound Up Yet A While." Thus Does A

Representative Man At The Outposts Express The Sentiment Of No

Inconsiderable Class.

Next To The Indian Himself,  The Frontiersman Holds In Slight Esteem The

Soldiers Who Are Sent For The Protection Of The Border. The Objects Of

His Supreme Hatred Still Often Merit His Good Opinion For Their Bravery

And Fighting Qualities,  But Upon Raw Eastern Recruits And West-Point

Fledglings He Looks With Mild Disdain. Having Learned The Indian Methods

By Many Hard Knocks,  He Doubtless Fails To Exercise Proper Charity

Toward Those Whose Experiences Have Been Less Extended; And Added To

This May Be A Lurking Jealousy--Which,  However,  Would Be Stoutly

Disclaimed--Because The Blue Uniform Is Gaining Honors And Experience

More Easily And Under Conditions More Favorable Than Were Possible With

Him In The Early Days. "They Be About The Greenest Set!" Said An Old

Indian-Fighter To Whom This Subject Was Broached,  "And The Sight Of An

Injun Jest About Scares 'Em To Death At First. I Never Saw Any Of 'Em

_I_ Was Afraid Of If I Only Had Any Sort Of A Show. Why,  Back In '59 I

Undertook To Take A Young Man Back To The States,  And We Started Off In

A Buggy--A _Buggy_,  Do You Mind. When We Got Down The Arkansas A Piece

We Heard The Red-Skins Was Pretty Thick,  But We Went Right On,  Except

Keeping More Of A Lookout,  You Know. But Along In The Afternoon We Saw

Fifteen Or Twenty Coming For Us,  And We Got Ready To Give 'Em A

Reception. We Had A Hard Chase,  But At Last They Got Pretty Sick Of

The Way I Handled My Rifle,  And Concluded To Let Us Alone For A While.

They Kept Watch Of Us,  Though,  And Meant To Get Square With Us That

Night. Well,  We Travelled Till Dark,  Stopped Just Long Enough To Build

A Big Fire,  And Then Lit Out. When Those Injuns Came For Us That Night

We Were Some Other Place,  And They Lost Their Grip On That Little

Scalping-Bee. They Didn'T Trouble Us Any More,  That'S Sure. And When We

Got To The Next Post There Were Nigh A Hundred Teams,  Six Stages And

Two Companies Of Soldiers,  All Shivering For Fear Of The Injuns. It

Rather Took The Wind Out Of 'Em To See Us Come In With That Buggy,  And

They Didn'T Want To Believe We Had Come Through. But,  Like The Man'S

Mother-In-Law,  We Were _There_,  And They Couldn'T Get Out Of It. And,

Sir,  Maybe You Won'T Believe Me,  But Those Soldiers Offered Me

_Seventy-Five Dollars_ To Go Back With Them! That'S The Sort Of An

Outfit The Government Sends To Protect Us!"

[Illustration: Santa Fe Avenue,  Pueblo,  Colorado.]

We Have Had Frequent Occasion Since Our Frontier Experiences Began To

Ponder The Untrammelled Opulence Of This Western Word,  _Outfit_. From

The Mississippi To The Pacific Its Expansive Possibilities Are

Momentarily Being Tested. There Is Nothing That Lives,  Breathes Or

Grows,  Nothing Known To The Arts Or Investigated By The

Sciences--Nothing,  In Short,  Coming Within The Range Of The Western

Perception--That Cannot With More Or Less Appropriateness Be Termed An

"Outfit." A Dismal Broncho Turned Adrift In Mid-Winter To Browse On The

Short Stubble Of The Plains Is An "Outfit," And So Likewise Is The

Dashing Equipage That Includes A Shining Phaeton And Richly-Caparisoned

Span. Perhaps By No Single Method Can So Comprehensive An Idea Of The

Term In Question Be Obtained In a Short Time,  And The Proper Qualifying

Adjectives Correctly Determined,  As By Simply Preparing For A

Camping-Expedition. The Horse-Trader With Whom You Have Negotiated For A

Pair Of Horses Or Mules Congratulates You Upon The Acquisition Of A

"Boss Outfit." When Your Wagon Has Been Purchased And The Mules Are Duly

Harnessed In Place,  You Are Further Induced To Believe That You Have A

"Way-Up Outfit," Though,  Obviously,  This Should Now Be Understood To

Possess A