Arizona republican. [volume] (Phoenix, Ariz.) 1890-1930, 1901-01-05

The early history Of every country is
but the chronicle of quarrels and fights
between the different tribes, or clans.
The law of ''.he survival Of the fittt 81"
was supreme. the "fitsest" applying to
the physical, not to moral or intellect
ual superiority. Life in those days
was nothing, victory everything, and
death was preferred to defeat and
shame.
History has made of those primitive
agitators ana slaughtere:s mighty ana
chlvalrous heroes. Time has vanished
their criAles with coat Of glory. Ihe
stories now told of the ancient Greek,
Roman and Saxon aTe classics, and
their questionable deeds are wrought
into poem and song.
Neither Homers Illiad, nor SCOTS ro-
mances describe more daring deeds
Than hundreds performed by our own
North American Indians. We have
come to regard the Indian merely as
u cruel, vindictive and blood-thirsty
wretch, devoid OF sentiment, true
bravery or virtue. Stories by the hun
dred could be told which entitle lin to
a place by the side of the crafty lIjys-
ses or a seat at the round table of King
Arthur, the Bold.
TJ ilustrate:-The Mandans were a
tribe of about two thousand souls, Nv
ing along the banks of the Missouri,
about 1900 miles from IT'S junction with
the Mississippi in the early part Of the
present century. They had been driven
northward by their ancient enemies,
the Arickarees, or Pawnees, who still
pursued them from the south. The two
tribes were deadly enemies AMI fought
on every occasion.
At one lime Wongatap, an Arickaree
chief, shot Mandan through the Dcdy
with an arrow. and then pinned his
body to the ground with spear. leav-
ing it there. Mah,otohpa, second chief
of the Mandans, and brother of 'the In
dian slain. was the first to find the
body. 1t was shocklngly mangled, and
the handsome spear. which he recoS-
nized as belonging to the Arickaree
chief, pierced the heart. Plucking the
spear from the body he ran into the
Mandan village, wild with grief, and
b,andishing she weapon above his
head. swore a mighty cath to the Grcat
Spirit that some day he would avenge
the death of his brother with the same
weapon.
Time passed and the coveted oppor-
tunity came rot. The warrior broodtd
In silence, and wept with shame that
his brothers blood was not avenged.
Four weary years he waited and
watched, but fortune favored him not,
4 n. 1,a eIe.aly thas
spear, with his brothers blood dried
upon 1t, hoping to see his victim. At
last his proud soul nsar burst with In
dignation at his misfortune; Impatient
with further delay and mad with long
ing to revenge his brothers death, he
again rushed through the village, ex-
claiming thar the blood of his brothers.
heart was still fresh upon the blade OF
the SPEAR which he brcndishcd above
his head and called aloud TT revenge.
Let Every brave be SILENT" he said,
"lot every lip be STILL Let no one
sound the name of Mahtotopha, let no
one ask wht.her he goest, nor when he
will return, until you hear his war cry
in the distance. Then you may come
to meet him. for the blood of his ene-
my wiz cover that Of his brother, and
my brothers soul will rest IN peace.
This lance will drink tae blood OF Won
gatap or MahsotOpha viii mlngle his
shadow with that Of his brother"
He then went forth from the village,
with head proudly erect and lance in
hand. Straight as the crow flies H.
marched toward the enemies country,
without pause, never once looking back,
his war plumes waving proudly In the
wind. his eyes flashing. and his heart
beating high with hope. All eyes were
upon him. though none dared TO speak
or call him back, until he was lost to
sight over the distant hills, For two
Hundred milss he Travelled entirely
afcnr, with nothing to cat burt little
parched corn In his pouch. He march
ed by night. when the moon was hid,
and secreted himself during the day.
At length he came to the Ar.ckaree viii
lage. almost exhausted. but with
stout heart. and with petitions On his
TIPS to the Great Spirit for courage and
guidance. mingled with the obscure
throng until ne located the lodge of
Wongatap. Here he Uttered, his dis
gulse serving him we'll. and observ I'd
through the rents of the wigwam the
last motions and movements Of his Vie
tim as he retired to bsd with his wife.
He saw him satisfy his hunger from a
pot that hung over a fire in the middle
Of thu tent; saw him light his last pipe
and slowly and solemnly smoke IT to
ghe last Whit; he watched the village
awhile till dts Intermittent noises gave
way to slumbrous silence. He walked
until the iayl. sparks waver.ngly quit
ted the dying ,mbers OF the fire In the
TENT and then as quietly as TIE tread
of the Death-angel. he rose and en-
tered. He walked lightly. but not slyly.
and seating himself tg. the hanging
pot. with a quantity OF meat remaining
in Il. he satiased the desperate appe-