The Detroit times. [volume] (Detroit, Mich.) 1903-1920, 1914-12-18
One Hundred Years Old and Behind the Times
big Chief Harry Has Never Seen Civilization

Los ANGELES, CAL Dec. lS.-Big
Chief Harry is 100 years behind the
times. That's all the name he has
just Big Chief Harry,
His home is on the Harrington
ranch in the Deep Spring valley. be-
tween the lnyb and White mountains.
Harry is al Indian who has never
soon a railroad train, an automobile,
a moving picture or any other mod
ern miracle.
Travellers from Los Angeles try to
tell him about them. He listens %ith
an agreeable smile, but Il Is only too
evident thar within rimself he is say.
ing:
This palelace licth. He openeth
his lips anG the fdlsehoods tumble
froIl them, yea, even as the drops OF
water from the heavens in the years
OF the Great Floods. He mocketh me
but ! will harken In silence. as becom-
eth the noble red man Verify, the
liar is clever. His imagination leap
eth like the gazelle from height TO
height. IL soareth like the buzzard on
windy day. Does he think me
child to be deceived by his empty
prattlings? Ha-ha,"
Harry is 100 ears old. He has
wife and relatives.
The greatest event in his life, as
nearly as he can remember, was the
coming OF monograph to the Far
rington hacienda Arch Harrington
had tried in vain to give Harry some
idea OF the talking machine. His
,iuh on hah az hts a
whimsical smile and slightly raised
eyebrow.
So one was carried into the wilder
ness. and one evening the sound OF u
male quartet singing ragtime issued
frcm the Harrington house and came
TO the ears of the Indian.
A silent shadow rose suddenly
among them.
Ii was Big Chief Harry.
He pressed his nose fiat against
the window screen and glared in at
the phonograph Then. still noiseless
as wrath. he slipped indoors and
inspected the machine at closer range.
A quick step backward he took, then
fled from the house as II the fend
were at his reels. Despite his weight
OF 100 years he made good time down
the path toward his own rude domi-
cile and there sulked. like Achilles in
his tent, until the phonograph was
brought TO his shelter and made TO
perform in the hot sunshine, where
the brilliant light OF day seemed good
insurance against the evil doings OF
spooks.
When an indian war dance record
was played, Big Chief Harry's aged
body swayed, his eyes cleaned. he
rose and circled around his house,
stepping high. bending forward until
his forehead almost touched the long
grass.
Ii seemed that the music had car
ried his thoughts back to the days OF
his youth. TO the days when the Unit
ed States was a struggling little ma
ton on the Atlantic coast, when all the
populous middle west OF today was a
bowling wilderness, peopled with
bloOd-thirsty savages. and when few
brave monks were establishing strag-
Cling little settlements and missions
on this side OF the vast, desolate
American continent.
Recently. on windy, jetblack night
the ranch horses began whinnying
impatiently In the stables, Kicking
nervously and jerking at their halters.
The sheep huddled, a panic-stricken
mass, in a corner OF their pen. The
cows bawled in fright Listening at
their doors, the ranch people heard
the weird scream of a lion-and they
shuddered.
Big Chief Harry suddenly appeared
among the shadows in the lee OF the
rambling house. His rifle was lying
in the crook of his arm, and In the
lamplight from within his eyes CLEAN
ed with a strange, baleful glare.
"Me-go get lion" he said, and
was gone.
High up among the lofty caverns
and canyons the lightning fiickered
viciously and the thunder rolled. 1t
was an evil night.
Next day early risers saw, just out
side Harry's cabin, the carcasses OF
two enormous mountain lions. Each