The Elk Mountain pilot., 1881-05-05
SITTING M
Hn SDeea Dekfe he CsnDsl Csaael 4
II SDU

| >>s~e. >e~~ SSS.~ St~Ss~~ee\ sAs"sO~~~~~ -
reported by our Indian editor, who i
also wholesale and retail dealer in de.
ceased languages and general agent
for home. made Sioux rhetoric and
smoke tanned Indian eloquence New
laid Indian laments with bead trim.
mings. Compiler of novel and desi.
rable styles of war dances. Indian
e]oquence furnished to debating clubs
and publishers of school readers:
Wsr,7o,s asd way- SCARED vekera3,
efAe JSustitr-Once more the warpath
is overgrown with bunch grass, and
the :omahawk slumbers in the wigwam
of the red man. Grim visaged wal
has given place to the piping times Of
peace. The cold and cruel winter is
upon us. 1t has been upon US for
some time.
"The vail of departed spirits is on
the night wind, and the vail OF the
man with the chilblain anersws back
from the warriors wigwam.
"Children of the forest, we are few.
Where once the shrill warwhoop oi
the chieftain collected our tribe like
the leaves of the forest, might now
yell till the COWS come home without
bringing out quorum.
"We are fading away before the
march of the paleface, and sinking
into oblivion like the snowflake on
the bosom of the Sinking Water.
"Warriors, am the last of a mighty
race. We were race of chieftains.
Alas! we will soon be gone. The Bull
family will soon pass from the face Of
the earth. Ole is gone, John is fail
ing and l don'e feel very we'll myself.
We are the victims of the paleface,
and our lands are taken away.
"a few more suns and the civiliza-
tion, and valley tan and hand made
sour mash, and horse liniment will
have done their deadly work.
"Our squaws and papooses are scat
tered to the four winds of heaven, and
we are left desolate.
"Where is the Daughter-of-the- TEN
pest7 Where is the Wall-Eyed- Maid
en- -With-the- Peeled -Nose7
"Where is Victoria Regina Die
Gracia-Sitting- -Bull1 Where is Knock
Kneed Chemiloon? Where are Sway
Back Sue and ek-Eyed Govern:
ment Socks1
They have sunk beneath the fire.
waters OF the gogle eyed Caucasian.
They have succumbed to the delirium
triangles and when l call them they
come not. They do not hear my
voice. Their means are heard upon
the still night air, and they cry for
revenge. Look at the sad remnant Of
the family of Sitting Bull, your chiet.
One sore-eyed squaw is left alone.
Her face is covered with furrows of
many winters, and her nose is only
the ruin of former greatness. Her
moccasins are worn out and the SOL
dier pants she wears are too long for
her. She, also, is drunk. She is not
as drunk as she can get, but she is
hopeful and persevering. She has also
learned to lie like the white man. She
is now an easy, extemporaneous liar.
When We gather around our camp fire
and enact our untutored lies in the
cleaning, Lucretia Borgia Skowhegan
Sitting Bull, with the inspiration Of
SIX fingers Of agency coffin varnish,
proceeds to tell the prize prevarica-
ticn, and then the house adjourns,
and nothing can be heard but the
mu@ed tread of the agency corn beef
going out to get some fresh air. Lu-
cretia Borgia is becoming slovenly. 1t
IS evening, and yet she has not donned
her evening dress. Her back hair is
unkempt, and her front hair is un-
bung. Pretty soon 1 viii take a toma-
hawk and bang it for her. She seems
dspondent and hopeless. As she
lems against the trunk Of . mighty
eak and scratches her back, you can
see that her thoughts are far away.
She IS thinking Of her childhood days
by the banks of de Hmnehaha.
Warriors, We stand in the mocca-
! lsins q : nighg nation. We Jepee-