But wait. More shots, and more; and now they come faster, like the ominous, irregular but increasing skirmish firing before a battle. Five or six of the cattle go off together, with a dozen men pressing behind and at the side of the fleeing group. A horseman fires, and a steer drops, so suddenly, head first, that he turns a complete somerset, and the pony just behind, unable to stop, repeats the movement, tumbling over the prostrate beast, and dismounts his rider. Some of the cattle are, at first, only slightly wounded, others are crippled so that they cannot run, but several shots are required to dispatch them. Now and then one turns in fury upon his pursuers, and the ponies swerve aside to avoid his charge. The ladies turn quickly from side to side, to note the most interesting occurrences. The dying animals lie all about the plain. Some struggle long, getting up and falling again, and the Indians wait warily, till it seems safe to approach, for a mortally wounded beast will sometimes make a plunge at his tormentor. Now a hunted brute dashes madly among the crowd around the corral, the horses start and rear and the brown maidens scramble hastily on to the wagons. A large cow, shot through and through, comes staggering up to the very walls of "the grand stand." The Indians try to drive her away, but she no longer heeds their yells and blows. She reels, braces herself, turns her great beseeching eyes up to the women above her and falls at their very feet. The Indian butcher appears, throws off his leggings, and bestrides her with naked brown legs and thighs. He opens her throat with a short knife and cuts out the tongue. He pierces no artery or large vein, and the poor, tongueless beast dies slowly. She lifts up her head, stares around again, and tosses about wearily in mute agony. The half-naked slaughterer goes on with his work, and the cow is partly skinned some time before she dies. It is all so near that the ladies have an excellent opportunity to see every step of the process. As the carcasses all about the plain are opened the work of the Indian women begins. They attend to the "fifth quarter" of the beef, the entrails. They remind me of the witches in "Macbeth." As we drive out homeward, threading our way between the bloody groups around the flayed and dismembered beasts, many Indians are already beginning their feast. They are seated on the ground, eating the raw, blood-hot liver. Our host stops and buys a piece of liver from an Indian for our next morning's breakfast. As we go on again, a young lady to whom I had been introduced at the grand stand asks me: "How did you enjoy the beef issue?" The next day, at the great Government boarding school, the principal told us that his boys and girls had behaved so well all through the term that he meant to take them out in a body to see the next beef issue as a reward for their good conduct. It is a brutal and brutalizing spectacle. To the President and Executive Committee of the Indian Rights Association, Philadelphia. GENTLEMEN:-The accompanying volume is hereby respectfully submitted to you as my report of the journey which it describes. Hoping that it may receive your approval, and thanking you for all your courtesy and kindness, I am, Very respectfully and truly, Your obedient servant, Philadelphia, March, 1887. J. B. HARRISON. PART SECOND. REFLECTIONS. The preceding portion of this book describes what I observed during my tour of the Indian reservations. This concluding part tells what was suggested to my mind by what I saw. I have not undertaken to express the views or opinions of the Indian Rights Association, or anybody's views or opinions but my own. Of course, no person or society is in any manner or degree committed to the support of the ideas or judgments embodied here. I have been so long accustomed to work with no other end in view than the thorough observation, accurate reporting and full discussion of facts, that it would be impossible for me to do anything useful with any other aim. I shall, of course, be pleased if the book stimulates and widens the discussion of the general subject. But at any rate, this is what, at present, I have to say. MISSIONARIES AND THEIR WORK. The missionary work of the different churches and religious organizations on the Indian reservations which I visited, although varying consider ably in quality and value in different places, and in the hands of different men, is all, or nearly all of it good, and in general, or as a whole, it is of great importance as a means for the improvement and civilization of the Indians. The work of missionaries and missionary teachers among the Indians necessarily involves much greater trials, hardship and isolation than Eastern people can understand or appreciate. With all possible facilities and encouragement it would still be a most toilsome, lonely and depressing life for all persons of seriousness and sensibility. So far as I have been able to observe, none of the people engaged in such work have adequate means or instruments for it, or adequate support in any way. In many cases their efforts are distressingly hampered and limited, the value of their work. greatly reduced, and, in time, their health seriously impaired, by the difficulties and anxieties of their situation, produced chiefly by the lack of sufficient pecuniary means and support. It is also true that character itself may in some degree be sacrificed in this work, and that the pressure of such conditions may at last develop undesirable traits. But if the sweetest and noblest men sometimes seem warped or narrow, it is not a reproach to them, but to those who determine the conditions under which they must live and work. In some cases the theory that a man can do better |