Kingsbury County independent. (DeSmet, Kingsbury County, S.D.) 1894-1929, 1905-05-26

ha Indian BOYS left the reservation for
the school in Carlisle, Pa. and four
years later they returned. They are
scattered far and wide over the great
reservation, and sone of them have
now gone to live with other tribes.
Career of FATTY Fewclothes."
Charlie Harris, or Fatty Few
clothes or something like that in the
Omaha tongue, was a particularly
bright lad of twenty summers. who
talked United States better thai most
OF the White traders, n was anxious
to bring about certain reforms among
the Indian nations of Nebraska. He
declared he would show them how TO
live like the whites, teach them to
work and make their own living and
have an object and purpose in life.
Fatty" succeeded in a He
influenced his father TO build a house
OF six rooms and IL was furnished bet
ter than any in the neighborhood.
But IL didn't suit "Fatty's" father,
who was known as old Red Turtle"
and a wigwam was quilt about a half
mile from the house. Here the old
Indian and his quaw were content to
live for a number of years. After their
death, Fatty" planned TO live in the
house, but he vas ridiculed by his
brothers. and a few years later he join
ed the bad DRINKS on a drunk, and the
education was all off with him. His
long matted hair Vas more comfort
able than a trimmed head of glossy
black which he wore for several years
while he was civilized. The tobacco
he condemned. and the liquor he had
been taught to despise, found places
in his face and stomach.
Won't Recognize White Men.
He remained Mr.. Harris" on the
books at the agency, but when one adj
dressed him by that name he said
How" He knew perfectly well the
English tongue, but the simple How"
was all that he could be induced to
say. He had sunk to the level OF his
fellows and gone back to the tepee
and traditional manners of his tribe.
At one time he was a cultured N
civilized outcast, but now he is a
drunken, lazy, dirty Indian, refusing
to even acknowledge that he had ever
associated with white men, or had ever
known now to twitter the English
tongue.
The ease of Fatty Fewclothes has
been many times repeated on the Oma-
ha reservation, as shown by the agency
records. 1t is not the love for fellow
ship with the earth and SIX ys which
has called the Indian back to the tepee.
back to a more complete idlenesS than
that of his ancestors who hunted for
their living, but it is the luxury of
government support and the destruc-
tive habit of strong drink, which he
takes to as quickly as an Irishman to
politics.
Out on the farms of Nebraska the
Indian is as neal to earth and sky as
In his Creators park. He has woods
n the foothills in all their native
splendor, the landscape he loved and
plains strewn with rich verdure and
lighted by a western sun. But with
thAt,n he fu NOT nnnfnnf He hos fnCfad
of debauchery and lewdness, and in
stead of the plaintive cry of the plains,
the ceaseless and insistent call of the
western wild, he hears only the calls of
his drunken squaws, and the irresist-
ible desire to sink into forgetfulness
by paralyZing his own brain and body
with liquor.
Squaws Must Now Be courted.
With all the crime and d~ebauchery
to which the Indian is prone. there
are many signs of American civiliZa-
ton. Some customs hay taken a firm
hold on the red men and women, and
will probably never depart until the
last Of a really noble race joins his
squaw and dogs in the happy hunting
ground, where he believes all will bear
him company.
There is not a little omar among
the young Indian men and women, and
the Indian bride is no longer secured
from her father by surrendering to him
a number of ponies or skins. She must
be courted and won, just as her white
sister. Buggy rides, ice cream s~ocials,
confectionery and ever flowers are lit
tie attentions which the Indian woman
now demands of her would-b b master.
Lone walks in the woods and talks in
gentle whispers, hard indeed for the
Indian buck, are all required TO win
her affection and secure her promise
to leave her home, as did the lovely
M~innehaha, n follow her husband to
a wigwam of their own.
The little old fashioned town of De-
catur, Neb., is the scene of many a
pretty Indian romance, as well as of
many a sad orgy.
One Indian Romance.
As the ferry boats pushed off from
the Nebraska shore a few evenings
ago., and the spring sun slowly sank
behind a string of foot-hills, a lone
indian stood on the bank of the river,
holding in his hands a bunch of vio-
let's.
He was looking a%nxiously about him,
and soon he vas joined by an Indian
maiden, fairer than q tinted dream.
| She had stolen aWay from her friends
who were busy at the church bazaar.
to enjoy a stroll! with Poor Lo along
the banks of the more or less pic
turesque Missouri. Her glove-clad fin
gers took from Poor Lo the bunch OF
violets and they started on together.
The girl stopped and watched the fer
ry boat move slowly away, and then
with deft fingers loosened her flowing
hair, which fell ver her shoulders and
blew about her face.
Poor Lo stood I'm silence, then offered
her his arm and the Two walked on
down the river toward a grove where
hey might sit and talk, as would true
American lovers.