The Tomahawk., 1917-07-12

w YHERE does it lie, this Pc
M culiar lure Of the Indian?
" " It grips us when Big Chief
comes to town, pictured
Indian brave quickens our pulses and
especially has the Cuna Cuna or San
Bias tribe aroused my interest, writes
Alice S. Mcqueen in the Los An
geles Times. For more than four cen
turtles they have dwelt along the At
lantic coast of Panama, about 60 miles
north of Colon toward Colombia. His
torical records tell us that formerly
their territory extended as far as the
valleys of the eastern reaches of the
Chagres river, covering both sides Of
the Continental divide between the
present Canal zone and the bays Of
Atrato and San Miguel; but much Of
their belongings have gradually been
taken from them, although they are
constantly on the watch for the hated
invader, ready to fight for their pos
sessions.
The very withdrawal of the San
Bias Indian women from contact with
the outside world lends romance and
mystery to visit to their country.
Until recently, am told, white women
had not visited their dusky sisters,
who bear little resemblance to our In
dams of the United States. These
diminutive people, seldom reaching
more than five feet, with their dark
copper skins, could hardly be taken
for Africans, but for their telltale crisp,
black hair. Years Of ocean bathing
and basking in the rays Of the sun has
given them deep bronze complexion.
At the Island of corti
Early on a bright July morning we
sat on the deck Of the S. S. San Bias
Our little steamer was low in the Wa
ter. Twice an alligator grnzed her
bow, creating great excitement. The
brilliant sun had converted the ever
blue Caribbean into Il glistening jewel
box; cocOnut palms clothed in verdant,
shceny green lifted proud heads from
water edge to horizon.
An hours ride and the island Of
COrti, our destination, was in sight.
"Cayucos," large and small, danced
about on the yves. Tiny Indian boys
of five or six years valiantly padded
boats no larger than themselves; each
ripple threatened disaster. Big BROTH
err manned larger craft. Sometimes
seven or eight occupied one boat
"Nuede" they greeted, so "Nuede" we
called back over the water. This
meant "How do you do?" the captain
told us, although I cannot vouch for
the spelling, using sound for my guide
Soon q reception committee sWarmed
the deck of our ship, accompanied by
"Charlie," the Interpreter, and after
considerable consultation among them
selves, he advised us to follow him.
We had seen many Of these Indian
men on the streets Of Panama, but
closer study was interesting. Hats,
far too small chiefly black derbies,
were perched aloft the stiff outstanding
hair. Shirts of different hues, worn
outside blue Jean or black trousers or
uncertain length and an occasional
necktie completed their costume.
Gravely the elders surveyed us, while
the younger generation eagerly wait
ed our tossing Of coins into the water.
when their shining, naked bodies would
Doise for an instant on the boats side,
then splash they went into the water,
only reappearing when the victor had
secured our offering. SO clear was the
water that their agile bodies were not
lost to sight for an instant.
Before US lay brown patch. A
"wart," we agreed, on Mother Natures
face. This was Corti. The island
seemed to be floating about on the wa
ter and looked as though it might sink
any moment. Camera laden and filled
with the spirit of adventure, we crowd
ed into "Charlie's" waiting "cayuco.'
AS we neared the island black heads
bobbed up here and there in the wa
ter. How they chartered, those curl
GUS boy Indians!
The doorways, opening fairly on the
water edge, were crowded with men,
women with babes in arms and chill
dren. The women were CARRIED in
"fiesta" attire, as q five-day celebra-
ton, the nature of which we were I'M
able to ascertain, was being held. Gay
turkey red, yellow and purple calico
encased them. while behind, covering