of exhibiting himself for money was very distasteful and humiliating to the proud chieftain. This, together with his habit of brooding over the wrongs and afflictions of his unhappy people, brought on a sickness. He went back to the reservation the early part of July, but it was simply going home to die. He lingered along until the 21st day of the following September, when his great soul took its flight to the "Great Spirit Chief," who will judge between him and the Government who (it would almost seem) deliberately wasted and destroyed one of the noblest and most civilized of the native American tribes.

Soon after his death, Dr. E. H. Latham, the agency physician, was interviewed by a newspaper reporter, and he declared that Joseph had died of a broken heart."

No people on earth have a nobler patriotism, or greater love for their country than the Indians. We doubt not the doctor's diagnosis was correct, and we firmly believe that thousands of other leaders of that race have died of the same malady. All fair-minded people now believe it was a mistake, and a burning shame, to take the Wallowa valley away from Joseph and his band for the benefit of a few greedy settlers, when there were at that very time teeming millions of acres of land just as good, and open to settlement, throughout eastern Oregon and border States. All the vast treasure and bloodshed would have been saved, and to-day there would have been in that valley of "Winding Water" one of the most civilized, prosperous and progressive Indian settlements in America.

It would actually pay our Government in dollars and cents to mete out the same protection and justice to the Indian as it does to every one else under the flag whose skin is white. Whatever the theory may be, the practice has been to regard the Indian as the legal prey and predestined victim for every white scoundrel who wanted to rob or even murder him, and he was often justified on the theory that "the only good Indian is a dead one."

But it is a long lane that has no turn. Those broken-hearted martyrs, like Joseph, have not died in vain. We seem to be

entering on a new era of human brotherhood, in which the value is placed on the jewel rather than the color of the casket containing it. Manhood, worth, virtue, are now sought for and honored even by the proud Anglo-Saxon, regardless of race or color.

The proof of this statement is found in the splendid monument erected by the Washington University State Historical Society over the remains of Chief Joseph.

We are indebted to Prof. Edmond S. Meany, secretary of the above society, for an account of the exercises held at the unveiling and dedication of the monument. This took place at Nespelim, Washington, June 20, 1905, in the presence of a large number of white and Indian friends and admirers of the great chief.

The monument is of white marble and measures seven and one-half feet in height. On the front is carved a fine portrait of the famous warrior. On the base, below this portrait, in large raised letters, appears the name, CHIEF JOSEPH. On one side is his Nez Perce name, Hin-Mah-Too-Yah-Lat-Kekt, and its translation, "Thunder Rolling in the Mountains." On the other side, "He led his people in the Nez Perce war of 1877. Died 21 September, 1904, age, about 60 years." On the back of the shaft: "Erected 20 June, 1905, by the Washington University State Historical Society.'

We also received from an Indian correspondent, Tom Eagle Blanket, of Nespelim, a newspaper containing a report of the exercises of the occasion. Several speeches were made by representatives of both races. The principal Indian orator was Yellow Bull, an aged Nez Perce from Montana, who was a subchief, next in rank to the younger Joseph, at the time of the war, and fought with him, side by side. Though old and blind, Yellow Bull walked erect and made quite an imposing appearance in his rich Indian dress. He spoke very earnestly, and said in part: "I am very glad to meet you all here to-day, my brothers and sisters, and children and white friends. When the Creator created us, he put us on this earth, and the flowers

on the earth, and he takes us all in his arms and keeps us in peace and friendship, and our friendship and peace shall never fade, but it will shine forever. Our people love our old customs. I am very glad to see our white friends here attending this ceremony, and it seems like we all have the same sad feelings, and that would seem like it would wipe my tears. Joseph is dead; but his words are not dead; his words will live forever. This monument will stand-Joseph's words will stand as long as this monument. We (the red and the white people) are both here, and the Great Spirit looks down on us both; and now if we are good and live right, like Joseph, we shall see him. I have finished."

As soon as the two widows of Joseph and other old squaws who were with the fighting Nez Perces during the war heard the voice of Yellow Bull once more, and his words of the dead chieftain, they broke forth into loud wailing, thus proving that Indian women love as devotedly, and mourn for the loved and lost, exactly like their white sisters.

After electing Albert Waters chief, to succeed Joseph, the bands returned to their homes and reservations.

CHAPTER XV.

GERONIMO, OR GO-YAT-THLAY, THE YAWNER,

THE RENOWNED APACHE WARRIOR AND MEDICINE MAN.

W

ITH the possible exception of the Sioux, the Apaches were the most formidable of all our Western Indian tribes. Indeed it is conceded that in cunning, ferocity and endurance they have never had an equal on this continent, or a superior on this globe.

General Crook, who was an acknowledged authority, has seen an Apache lope for fifteen hundred feet up the side of a mountain without showing any sign of fatigue, there being neither an increase of respiration or perspiration. A band of Apaches have been known to ambush a party of whites on an open plain, where there was neither tree, shrub, nor blade of grass growing. It was done by burrowing in the sand and covering their bodies, all but their eyes, and remaining motionless until the unsuspecting whites were within a hundred yards of them.

Capt. John G. Bourke, who served under Crook against the Apaches, thus describes those warriors: "Physically, he is perfect; he might be a trifle taller for artistic effect, but his apparent 'squattiness' is due more to great girth of chest than to diminutive stature. His muscles are hard as bone, and I have seen one light a match on the sole of his naked foot. Twenty years ago, when Crook took him in hand, the Apache had few wants and cared for no luxuries. War was his business, his life, and victory his dream. To attack a Mexican camp or isolated village, and run off a herd of cattle, mules or sheep, he would gladly travel hundreds of miles, incurring every risk and displaying a courage which would have been extolled in an

historical novel if it had happened in a raid by Highlanders upon Southrons; but when it was your stock or your friends, it became quite a different matter. He wore no clothing whatever, save a narrow piece of calico or buckskin about the loins, a helmet, also of buckskin, plentifully crested with the plumage of the wild turkey and eagle, and long-legged moccasins, held to the waist by a string, and turned up at the toes in a shield which protected him from stones and 'cholla' cactus. If he felt thirsty he drank from the nearest brook; if there was no brook near by, he went without, and, putting a stone or twig in his mouth to induce a flow of saliva, journeyed on. When he desired to communicate with friends at home, or to put himself in correspondence with persons whose coöperation had been promised, he rubbed two sticks together, and dense signal smoke rolled to the zenith and was answered from peaks twenty and thirty miles away. By nightfall his bivouac was pitched at a distance from water, generally on the flank of a rocky mountain, along which no trail would be left, and up which no force of cavalry could hope to ascend without making a noise to awaken the dead."

The Apache had another practice which made it still more difficult to trail or capture a roving band. After striking a murderous blow, and when closely pursued, they would break up into small parties, which, if hard pressed, would continue to dissolve until each one was pursuing his way alone through the mountain fastnesses. When pursuit was suspended and the danger over, they reunited at some remote rendezvous well known to all.

Another great advantage which the Apache had over the soldier is the fact that these people were familiar with all the ravines, caverns, cañons, defiles, gorges and places inaccessible to horses, which are almost innumerable in the mountain ranges of Arizona, New Mexico and across the headwaters of the Rio Grande. The Apache, when on a raid, could live on rats, mice, terrapin and rabbits; and if all these failed and he was hard pressed, he would kill and eat his horse.