Los Angeles herald., 1891-10-25
How Yuma Indians Cremate
Their Dead.
An Occasion When the Subject
Was Not Ready.
A Description of the Ceremony by an
Eyewitness.
Building the Funeral Pyre-Professional
Mourners-Almost Pagan Ideas
of a Wife's Duty to Her
Dead Master.
[BY ]. $. BANCROFT

Ever since the time when as small
boy watched with bated breath, gaping
mouth and wide open eyes, the transfer
ring of bodies from a sixty-year-old bury
ing ground to a new and rather preten-
tious cemetery, in little village in Cen
trail Ohio, cremation has been more
than an acceptable idea to me. Crema-
ten, however, by modern process, with
all the appliances that art and science
can call to its aid, is somewhat different
from the crude methods employed by
those tribes of North American aborig-
inees who still use this means of dispos-
ing Of their dead; but in either case the
result is the same. From the crematory
furnace the ashes of the dead are car
ried away in semi-sacred urns; while
the rude, untutored Indian casts dust
over the ashes OF the funeral pyre, and
as he rings down the curtain upon this
last act his half-whispered "ka-vark"
makes a fitting epilogue to the drama OF
life.
So secretive are the Yuma Indians in
all things relating to their tribal, social
and domestic affairs that | had been
for some time on the banks of the Colo
RADIO river before was able to witness
cremation by the natives. Numbers OF
them had died, time and again l had
visited the Indian village in hope of see~
ing the ceremony, and many times |
had made break-neck speed across the
river in response to a hasty summons;
but each time / was rewarded with
figurative apple of Sodom, rather than
the ashes OF the dead.
At that time Mike Nugent, now sheriff
of Yuma county, was superintendent OF
the Southern Pacific company's round
house at that place. Mike had an In
dian retainer named Charley, who in
payment for an occasional pair of trous-
ers or other cast-of article of clothing,
ran errands and performed other func-
tions of body servant. Mike was par
ticularly liberal with Charley
both in the way OF clothes
and money, and in return the
Indian was as faithful as
we'll, as an Indian ever is.
But there was one thing Mike never
would give that Indian, and have al
ways thought it was perpetual sorrow
to Charley-Mike would not give him a
pair of socks. Whether it was super
stition with him, or whether he thought
it would encourage undue familiarity on
the part of menial, | was never in
formed. But all Yuma knew it was a
fact. Mike was no dude; he didn't
wear any socks.
One September morning as | was tax
ing an early breakfast the shaggy head
of Charley came through the dining
room window, and he handed me note
from Mike announcing that il we could
start Immediately we might be in time
to witness cremation. Charley was to
be our pilot. In fifteen minutes we
were on the bridge, heading for the In
dian village west of the fort. But
instead of following the beaten path
through the mesquit thicket, Charley
bore off to the left little, striking the
first slough about an eighth of mile
north of the railroad trestle. His skifi
was in readiness to carry us across, and
on landing he led US due north, and at
a much more rapid gait than was agree
able to a tenderfoot. Three other
sloughs we're encountered within mile
all of them too deep to wade convent.
emily and too wide to jump. But We
had to cross them, all the same, and
lose no time about it. Charley's cos
tune on this occasion was the regula
ton Yuma Indian business suit-a
gauze undershirt, a buckskin string
around his waist and G-string. II
would dry easily. Bending over in leap.
frog attitude one of us would climb up.
on Uharley's shoulders, holding on tc
his matted braids of hair and in this
manner he would carry us through the
mud and water, which sometimes even
made US lift our feet to keep them dry.
After crossing the last water-course
we came to teepee when our guide
procured us two ponies. Mounted on
these, with blankets for saddles, and
hair ropes for brides, we again set of
on brisk canter, all the while pre-
ceded by Charley, who kept up continu-
ally that swinging Indian trot that will
kill the toughest mustang that ever
lodged squirrel hole.
Three miles through the dense
mesquit and screw-b bean thicket brought
us to the edge of little clear space, on
the far side of which we could see the
poles OF an improvised rdmadG, beyond
which was the brush and mud enclosure
which forms Yuma Indians habita-
tion.
Motioning US to ride around and
dppTOdcu Uue rd0CUerld from Lne west
side, Charley darted across the opening
and was soon inside the Indian house.
Obeying his instructions, we rode
leisurely along through the brush, being
easily guided in the direction by the un-
earthly bowling and moaning of the
squaws at the teepee. When we reached
the point indicated by our guide we
dismounted, tied our ponies and walked
slowly out toward the ramada. AS our
guide had not appeared we waited and
rolled cigarette. Still he tarried, and
still we waited Finally a sound behind
us attracted our attention. There
stood Charley, but with a face
longer than the moral law and with a
look of pain and distress upon his face
that was truly pitiable. 1t was almost
a moment before he spoke, and then he
hung his head, and in tone of mingled
chagrin and modification said:
"Too bad; dam squaw not dead vet. y
There didn't seem to be anything else
to say just then. That settled the mat.
ter; and once more, with the taste O.
dead sea fruit in our mouths, we ploddec
YEARLY back to Yuma.
Two DAYS after, as / came down te
breakfast, the hotel clerk told me al
Indian had fallen off the bridge during
the night, had broken his head on th'
rocks at the base of the pier, and tina
L. fod n,