The Opelousas courier., 1902-02-01
LIFE FOR A F

gone from New York in search Of
health and recreation. The town was
only a few miles from the Flatheao
reservation, to which l made frequent
visits, and in time / became acquainted
with many of the Indians. 1t was al
most a daily custom with me to arise
before daybreak and make my way te
an adjacent spur of the Rocky noun
tains and there await the sunrise-a
magnificent spectacle. In n OF these
morning reveries which the b auty OF
the scene engendered IN idea entered
my mind, the subsequent carrying OF
Of which resulted in laying bare the
secret of a tragedy which otherwise
probably would have remained a mys-
terry forever.
I had been a member of a camera
club in the east and an expert anna
teur photographer. From my elevated
position among the crags I had a very
extensive view Of the surrounding
country, Is we'll as the picturesque lit
tie town that nestled almost beneath
my feet. The thought suddenly oc-
Cured to me one morning that II l
had brought my parachute camera
with me | should have been able to get
some splendid views. Accordingly /
t~elegraphed for the outfit and received
it in a few days.
Among the acquaintance / made was
a young Indian. of the name of Rem,
an adopted son of a Mr.. Warren, a
business man of the town. Rem, who
had been graduated from the Carlisle
school, was a Hercules in stature,
handsome of feature and mild and gen.
tie in his He and | became
fast friends and for hours at a time
l sat in ome coy nook in the noun
| tains listening to his tales of Indian
life and adventure.
A few weeks before the time set for
my departure my landlady asked me
to take some views Of the town that
she might retain as souvenirs. So the
next afternoon I went to the spot l
had selected as the most desirable
spot from which to take the views,
having delayed the trip until late in
the afternoon so as to avoid the fierce
heat of the sun. 1t was rapidly turn
ing dusk when | packed my traps and
started down the mountain side for
my boarding house. 1 had gone but a
short distance when / nearly stumbled
yer the PROSTATE figure Of my friend
Rem, whom I had not seen for several
days, and who was so deeply wrapped
in thought that he was apparently I'M
conscious of my approach. When l
called him by name, he instantly
sprang to his feet, and grasping me
by the arm, at the same time fixing
his lustrous dark eyes upon my doubt
less rather anxious face, said: my
white friend. you have no doubt many
times wondered at my secretiveness
concerning my parentage and prob
ably have attributed my silence on the
subject to a desire to hide a shameful
birth But as you will soon leave me,
after bringing me much pleasure in
our short acquaintance, | wish to re-
Here Eenr mind from any doubts you
may have formed as to my birth and
parentage."
I frankly told him that | really
thought it strange that he avoided all
reference to his father, and added that
probably there was some secret vow
which he preferred to shelter in his
own bosom instead of having others
share it with him.
"Tou are partly right" he said, with
a slight tone of bitterness in his
voice. Nov, follow me, and I will
explain the cause of my silence"
/ followed his lead, and we soon
entered an Enclosure formed by the
abutting sides of two giant crags.
There, hating neal the centre, he
pointed to a white stone slab, which
bore the legend, now dimly visible in
the gathering gloom:
my FATHER"
There" he said in a voice choking
with emotion, lies the body of one
murdered, stabbed to death In cold
blood by a cowardly white man.
Though it is now nearly IA years since
that occurred and 1 was then a lad of
6. years, l can recall everything that
took place on that fatal day.
II had gone into camp to procure
something to eat when I was greatly
surprised to See the form of my father
stretched at full length on the ground
and surrounded by a number of the
tribe. Young as I was, a dread sus-
picion of what had occurred at once
took possession of me, and breaking
through the crowd, | threw myself
upon his PROSTATE form imploring him
to speak to me. My voice seemed to
restore him to consciousness, for,
turning his eyes toward me with a
look that haunts me to this day, he
motioned me to bend closer to his lips
that | might not miss a single word
of his dying wishes. After some water
had been given to him he seemed to
recover slightly and grasping my hand
he Kissed rather than said, in a voice
husky with pain and exhaustion:
MY por boy, your father is dy-
ing, stricken sdown by the cowardly
knife OF Frank West, the cowboy. MY
life is ebbing fast, but as it dies in me
it must live in you to mete out JUS
tice to my slayer. He must die at
hands, with the same knife, and
let this be done ere you reach mans
estate
by a mighty effort he raised him.
self to a sitting position, and drawing