Adventure Magazine Cover, August 18, 1921 — page 114: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

108 I WAS walking through Bridge Street, with the leafing tree-boughs overhead and the walls of Fort George before me, when another and smaller crowd rounded the corner from the Broad- Way, a street which formed the principal thoroughfare of the town and took its name from the wide space between the house- walls. In the lead came an Indian. He was the first of his race I chanced to see, and sure, *tis strange that we were destined to be friends—aye, more than friends, brethren of the same Clan. He was a large man, six feet in his moccasins, and of about the same age as myself. He stalked along, arms swinging easily at his side, wholly impervi- ous to the rabble of small boys who tagged behind, yelling and shrieking at him. His handsome face, with its high-arched nose, was expressionless. His eyes stared straight in front of him. He wore the ga-ka, or breechcloth, and thigh-leggings of soft, tanned deerskin. A single eagle’s-feather rose from the scalp-lock which hung from his shaven head. He was naked from the waist up, and on his massive chest was painted in yellow and red pigments the head of a wolf. He wore no other paint, and he was weaponless, except for the tomahawk and knife which hung at his belt. The children danced around him like so many little animals. They never touched him, but some of the more venturesome hurled pebbles from the walk at his brawny shoulders. “Injun Jim came to town, with his breeches falling down,” they chanted. “Scalp-taker, scalp-taker,” shrieked an- other. “Big Injun howled a group. “Injun dirt, Injun dirt, always ’feared that soap will hurt,” proclaimed others. I can not repeat all the catch-calls and rimes which they employed, some of them too disgusting for print. Sure, the gamins of Paris, with their natural ability at verbal filth, might have listened respectfully to these children of a far province, attempting to humiliate one of the race who had former- ly been lords of the whole land. I looked to see some citizen intervene, but several who sat on their doorsteps or lounged in front of shops, smoking the in- evitable pipe, viewed the spectacle with in- drink much fire-water,” Adventure difference or open amusement. And the Indian stalked along, his dignity unruffled through it all. My wrath boiled over, and I charged down upon the tormentors. “Be off,” I shouted. “Have you no proper play to occupy your time?” They fled hilariously, pleased rather than outraged by the attack, after the perverse habit of children who prefer always to be noticed instead of ignored. ‘The citizens who had witnessed the persecution of the Indian chuckled openly at the discomfiture of his assailants, and then returned to their pipes. I was proceeding on my way when I was dumfounded by hearing the Indian address me. “Hold, brother,’ he said in_ perfect English, but with a certain thick guttural accent. ‘“Ta-wan-ne-ars would thank you.” “You speak English!” I exclaimed. A light of amusement gleamed in his eyes, although his face remained expres- sionless as a mask. “You do not think of the Indian as these ignorant little ones do?” he asked curiously. “I—I know nothing of your people,” I stammered. “I am but this day landed here.”’ “My brother is an Englishman?” he questioned, not idly but with the courteous interest of a gentleman. en | am.”’ ‘“’Ta-wan-ne-ars thanks you, Englishman.” He extended his hand. “Your kindness was the greater because you obeyed it by instinct.” I regarded him with increasing amaze- ment. Who was this savage who talked like a London courtier? “T helped you,” I said, “because you were a stranger in a strange city, and by the laws of hospitality your comfort should be assured.” “That is the law of the Indian, English- man,” he answered pleasantly; “but it is not the law of the white man.”’ “Tt is the law our religion teaches,” I re- monstrated, feeling that I must defend this indictment of my race. “Your religion teaches it to you, and you try to apply it to yourselves,” he objected. “But you do not even try to apply it to the Indian. The Indian is a savage. He is in the way of the white man. He must be pushed out.” C© MICLOOOKS C©