The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1910-04-09

pleasing landscape surround
Ing the capital of Kansas. We nave
all made pilgrimages to 1t, climbed It's
grassy slopes and stood upon its rocky
ledge, gazing into the past.
The old chief from whom it took its
name lived In the vicinity long since
to record events for the State Histori-
cal society, and many of us can recall
his huge bulk rolling along Kansas
avenue and riding home in his little
wagon, his girth almost filling its SIN
gle seat. He was not the Burnett to
whom Gen. Andrew jackson beQueath-
ed q gold snuff box. and was at one
time surveyor general of Kansas ana
Nebraska. Chief Burnett of Burnetts
mound was just plain Indian, much
addicted to f1rewater and the white
mans card tricks. but he loved the
mound as dearly as any titled and
stead in old England, and because OF
that love he tarried near it after his
brethren had moved on" to leave
room for the white settler, almost the
last representative in this region of
that silent race, fast vanishing and
leaving so little sign. The old chief
was somewhat of a philosopher, and
claimed that his people were not diff
ferent in their primal attributes from
the white man. sSThey are of purer
blood, that's ALL" he would say. And
We know that he spoke truly. The men
who once climbed the mound with
sinewy, agile feet and from its height
scanned the prairies for deer and an
telope and buffalo, were possessed of
the same human impulses as our
selves. And so, White Wing, a daugh-
ter of the lodge on the mound, had
the heart of woman. One day when
the beauty lines of the hill stood out
in fine relief against the clear blue of
the southern sky, this daughter, as
fair to her father as the daughters of
the pale-faceS to theirs, walked slow
1y up a path on its western outline.
n
with her hand and look off into the
distance. The breezes lifted her black
hair and sent it streaming out as II
reckoning to some one. and let it fall
over her blanket unanswered. Then
she would follow the winding of the
narrow path and seek a higher point.
1t was a day of watching and waiting
to White Wing. for the sweet agony
of love had made its home in her
dusxy breast and sent through it
quick pulsation of hope and fear. At
times there danced before her sight
as she stood like sepia drawing on
a great blue canvas, bright visions of
a rider leaping through the air on
steed as swift as her thought, and
again there stretched away before her
weary eyes great wastes of the green
plain, as lonely as her heart. Her
look bent mainly to the northwest, to-
ward that high point of land that jutS
to the river three or four miles above
Topeka, on which there are yet traces
of Indian occupation. but which is
now mainly marked by the picturesque
summer home of Mr.. and Mrs. F. P.
MacLennan. At that time the lodge of
the father of Sky-Eye stood on the
slightly spot. Sky-Eye was taller than
Whitening, with a keener eye, a step
like the antelope and a carriage of the
head that made her look the queen of
the tribe. Yet. with all these charms,
the braves of the Raw valley often
passed her by, and rode on to the
mound. where whitening with her
a inn l0I
lived with her father. But this day
the heart of whitening was full of
misgfvings; she looked all the day long
for the coming of the young brave
whose glance brought the brightest
color to her cheek and the sweetest
light to her eye. and yet he came not
She knew that Sky-eye was her rival,
and for this reason she went many
gazed to the northwest. 1t was from
that direction he would come if he
came at all. Something warned her
that this day would decide between
them. If F'lying-arrow did not leave
Sky-eye, where she was sure he had
been since early morning, and come to
her while the sun was yet in the
heavens, then her faint heart would
despair. Sky-eye's father was prepar-
ing to take a long journey, far away
from the intruding white man; Sky-eye
would go along, the brave young Fly
ing-arrow would follow, and White
alone. From the topmost pinnacle she
gazed long and earnestly but no sign
of a lovers coming greeted her. Miles |
away in another direction, a young In |
dian brave rode up in front of the little |
old stone house yet standing on Quincy |
street, directly back of the postoffice |
He was painted and decked in colors |
and plumage native to the soil, and |
from his belt hung strings of wampum |
and trophies of the chase. He turned |
his furry, dun-colored pony loose to |
browse on the hazel brush while he |
went inside to swap the game he |
brought with him for beads and to-
bacco Having selected the quality AMI |
color of each commodity best suited to |
his artistic eye he carefully weighed |
them in either hand, put the tobacco |
inside his blanket, but continued to
this was going on, John Armstrong |
took note of the shapely hands, show
ing after all these years of unrecorded |
wild life a direct descent from a pa
trician people of the long ago. "More?"
he asked. Heap more,'' the Indian re-
piled, and held out his hand. John took
q generous blue strand from his box
of beads and held it up before the
brave. The addition to his share in the
trade so pleased him that he quickly
mounted his frowsy pony and galloped |
off. His course lay along the bluff in Il |
Decline towards Washburn college of
today. Reaching that broad level, he
halted and took a long survey of the
surrounding country, east and west
north and south, as far as his trained
eye could carry. In the face of all
American Indians may be seen the eff