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 fullbloods, 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.

Quanah has a large family of children, and is giving all of them good educational advantages, at the mission schools on the reservation, the large school at Chilocco, Oklahoma, and at Carlisle, Pennsylvania.

We met one of his sons, Baldwin, who is a sprightly and handsome youth of about seventeen, the day we spent at Cache, and from him derived much of the information contained in this chapter. He has also a beautiful and accomplished daughter, Needle Parker, whose sad, sweet face resembles somewhat the portrait of her grandmother. She also brings to mind one of the night-eyed Castilian beauties of old Mexico, whose blood mingles with and tinges the life-current of the Comanche Indians.

CHAPTER XVII.

A SHEAF OF GOOD INDIAN STORIES FROM HISTORY.

D

I. AN INDIAN STRATAGEM.

URING the Revolutionary War, a regiment of soldiers was stationed upon the confines of an extensive savanna in Georgia. Its particular office was to guard every avenue of approach to the main army. The sentinels, whose posts penetrated into the woods, were supplied from the ranks; but they were perpetually surprised upon their posts by the Indians and borne off their stations, without communicating any alarm or being heard of afterward.

One morning, the sentinels having been stationed as usual over night, the guard went at sunrise to relieve a post which extended a considerable distance into the wood. The sentinel. was gone. The surprise was great; but the circumstance had occurred before. They left another man, and departed, wishing him better luck. "You need not be afraid," said the man, with warmth, "I shall not desert."

The sentinels were replaced every four hours, and, at the appointed time, the guard again marched to relieve the post. To their inexpressible astonishment the man was gone. They searched around the spot, but no traces of him could be found. It was now more necessary than ever that the station should not remain unoccupied; they left another man and returned to the guardhouse.

The superstition of the soldiers was awakened and terror ran through the regiment. The colonel, being apprised of the occurrence, signified his intention to accompany the guard when they relieved the sentinel they had left. At the appointed time, they all marched together; and again, to their unutterable wonder,

they found the post vacant, and the man gone. Under these circumstances, the colonel hesitated whether he should station a whole company on the spot or whether he should again submit the post to a single sentinel. The cause of these repeated disappearances of men whose courage and honesty were never suspected must be discovered, and it seemed not likely that this discovery could be obtained by persisting in the old method.

Three brave men were now lost to the regiment, and to assign the fourth seemed nothing less than giving him up to destruction. The poor fellow whose turn it was to take the station, though a man in other respects of incomparable resolution, trembled from head to foot.

"I must do my duty," said he to the officer; "I know that; but I should like to lose my life with more credit." "I will leave no man,” said the colonel, "against his will." A man immediately stepped from the ranks and desired to take the post. Every mouth commended his resolution.

"I will not be taken alive," said he, "and you shall hear of me at the least alarm. At all events, I will fire my piece if I hear the least noise. If a crow chatters, or a leaf falls, you shall hear my musket. You may be alarmed when nothing is the matter; but you must take the chance as the condition of the discovery."

The colonel applauded his courage, and told him he would do right to fire upon the least noise that he could not satisfactorily explain. His comrades shook hands with him, and left him with a melancholy foreboding. The company marched back and awaited the event in the guardhouse.

An hour had now elapsed and every ear was upon the rack for the discharge of the musket, when, upon a sudden, the report was heard. The guard immediately marched, accompanied, as before, by the colonel and some of the most experienced officers of the regiment.

As they approached the post they saw the man advancing toward them, dragging another man on the ground by the hair of his head. When they came up to him, it appeared to be an