"Now the Utes possess some of the best mining lands in Colorado, but will never develop them; so it seems to me better that they should be removed to the desert lands, which are worthless for purposes of civilization, and let the whites have their opportunity. I have my eye on a gulch which I discovered while hunting in the San Juan Mountains four years ago, and which I mean to pre-empt just as soon as we get the Utes to give up their present reservation and pack off to Utah. We shall go back that way, and I will show you the spot."

Jim opened his eyes very wide. He did not quite comprehend what Mr.

Armstrong had said. Surely he could not mean to defraud the Indians in any way! He would doubtless pay them the worth of their mine, and if they liked the ready money better than the trouble of mining the silver for themselves it would be all fair.

At Antonito Mr. Armstrong left the railroad, provided himself with a span of horses, a wagon, camping outfit, and a brace of greyhounds, and struck out through the Ute reservation for the mountains. He told some gentleman whom he met at Antonito that he proposed to enjoy a little coursing for antelope; but there was a set of surveyors' instruments in the wagon, which proved that he intended to locate the mine which he had come across during his previous visit. His acquaintance attempted to discourage his making the trip alone, saying that the Utes had been restless of late, owing to a failure in receiving their supplies from Government, and it was hardly safe to approach their reservation.

"You need not be afraid of the Utes," another gentleman replied. "I knew their old chief, Ouray, and was entertained once in his house--a neater farm-house than many a white settler can show, and I was hospitably waited upon by his wife, Chipeta, who gave me peaches from their own orchard, and saleratus biscuit, and when I saw the familiar yellow streaks in them, and tasted the old chief's whisky, I had to confess that the Indian was capable of civilization."

Mr. Armstrong laughed, but the first speaker bade him be careful, for all the Utes were not like Ouray, who had so well earned his t.i.tle of the White Man's Friend.

"Now," exclaimed Mr. Armstrong, after he had driven out of sight of the last human habitation--"now at last we can breathe! What do you think of it, Jim?"

"I didn't know the world was so big," the boy replied; "these must be the Estates del Paradiso which Miss Prillwitz talks about. Why, there's room for all New York to spread itself out, and every child to have a yard to play in. It seems a little bit lonely," he added, after a pause.

"I should think you would have liked to have had some of those gentlemen go with you."

"Why, you see, Jim," Mr. Armstrong replied, "I am going to hunt up that silver mine, and I had a little rather not share the secret with any one but you. Besides, I like the loneliness. I grow very tired of people sometimes, Jim, and it seems good to get away from them. Don't you ever feel so?"

"Mother did," Jim said. "She likes helping at the Home very much, but she got a little tired just before the young ladies sent for her to go to the seash.o.r.e, and she came across one verse in the Bible which sounded so beautiful. It was, 'Come ye yourselves apart into a desert place and rest awhile, for there were many coming and going, and they had no leisure so much as to eat.'"

"I didn't know they had such hurrying times down in Galilee," Mr.

Armstrong replied, lightly. He was in good spirits, and they drove a long distance that day, camping at night by a small stream, in which he caught some fine trout. As Jim curled up close to him under the army blanket, Mr. Armstrong felt a slight tremor run through the boy's frame.

"What is the matter?" he asked. "Are you afraid? We are still miles away from the Indians."

"It isn't the Indians," Jim replied, "but it's all so still! I don't hear horse-cars, nor the Elevated, nor people pa.s.sing, nor nothing. Down at the Pier it was something like this, but there was always the sea; and at the pueblo there were the dogs; while here it seems as if something had stopped."

"'All the roaring looms of time,'" Mr. Armstrong replied, quoting from Tennyson, "have stopped for a little while for us, my boy, and that's the beauty of it. But the old machines will have us in their grip again very soon."

The next day Mr. Armstrong enjoyed a rabbit hunt. Jim, though he took part in the sport, could hardly be said to enjoy it. "It seems such a pity to kill the pretty things!" he said. But this did not keep him from making a hearty meal of broiled rabbit, or from hoping that they might find antelope before the trip was over. The loneliness which he had felt the night before came on again toward evening, and Jim was not sorry, on their third day out, to see that they were approaching a new frame house.

"An old half-breed guide used to have a tepee here," said Mr. Armstrong; "I shall engage his services for our trip. He is a good cook, a good hunter, faithful to his employers, and he knows every rock and clump of sage-brush in all the region. His only fault is that he will get drunk.

He was with me when I found the silver ore, and I need him to guide me to the spot again."

As they came nearer, Mr. Armstrong seemed greatly surprised to see a large field of waving corn in front of the house, while some cows were being driven toward an out-building by a young Indian in checked shirt and brown overalls.

"What can have come over old Charley!" exclaimed Mr. Armstrong. "When I was here before, nothing would induce him to degrade himself by farm labor. Some boomer must have established himself here. It's illegal, for the land still belongs to the Indians."

They drove up to the front door, and were met by the same young man whom they had seen driving the cows, but the overalls were replaced by a faded pair of army trousers, and a paper collar had been hastily added to the checked shirt. He bade them enter, in good English, and the interior of the house was clean and inviting. The walls were papered with newspapers, a bright patchwork quilt was spread upon the bed, and a pleasant-faced girl was frying ham and eggs over the stove; while there was a shelf of books over the table. An Indian woman emerged from a shadowy corner and expressed a welcome by pantomime.

"Is not this Charley's wife?" Mr. Armstrong asked, and the woman smiled and nodded her recognition.

"Where is your husband?" was the next question. "Charley no good," was the wife's frank reply; "gone hunting with white men."

This was a disappointment that Mr. Armstrong had not antic.i.p.ated; he was not sure that he could find his way to the silver mine without Charley's help, but it was worth trying. The odor of the frying ham was appetizing, and the invitation to supper was promptly accepted.

"Are you Charley's son?" Mr. Armstrong asked of the young man, who presently brought in a foaming pail of milk, and a.s.sisted his mother and sister in waiting on their guests.

"Yes, sir," was the prompt reply, "and my name is Charley too--Charles Sumner."

Mr. Armstrong stared in astonishment. "Where did you learn to speak English so well?" he asked.

"At the Indian Industrial School at Carlisle, Pennsylvania."

"Then you are one of Captain Pratt's boys?"

"Yes, sir," and a smile lightened the somewhat stolid features. Mr.

Armstrong did not believe in Eastern schools for Indians, and he asked, rather sarcastically, "And what did you learn when you were in the East--Latin and Theology?"

The boy shook his head. "I learned to work on the farm," he said, "and to read and write, and do a little arithmetic; and I learned some carpentry--enough to build this house, and make that table, and the cupboard and things."

"Very creditable, I am sure," Mr. Armstrong replied, half incredulously, "but how did you come into the fortune necessary to set you up in this flourishing style?"

"I helped build the new depot at S----, and they paid me off with the lumber that was left, and I built the house out of that. Then I had some money which I had put in the savings-bank from my earnings every vacation in the East, and I bought the cows with that; and then I made a churn, and we've been making b.u.t.ter the way I saw them do it in Pennsylvania, and I sell it for a good price at the Springs."

"Well, you have more stuff in you than I ever thought it possible for an Indian to have," Mr. Armstrong replied, fairly won, in spite of himself, to admiration. "I always supposed that those Carlisle students, as soon as they returned to old surroundings, went back to savagery."

"It is pretty hard for us," the boy replied. "Last year I planted about three times as much corn as you see here. I had taken a contract to supply the quartermaster at Fort ----, and I thought I should make a good deal of money; but just as it was green, all of our relations came to see us. There were ten families. They camped there by the creek, and they stayed until they had eaten every roasting ear. They said they had come to celebrate my home-coming, and father made them welcome, and gave a dance, and killed one of our cows for them. They would have killed them all, but I drove them off into the mountains, and hid them. That is the reason I have planted so little corn here this season. I have another field over in a little valley in the mountains which I hope they will not find, and I drive the cattle up the canon every morning, for they may be here any day."

"You poor fellow!" said Mr. Armstrong. "I have heard the proverb, 'Save us from our friends!' but I never understood the full force of it before."

After the hearty meal the little house was put at the service of the travelers, the family camping outside, and, much to Mr. Armstrong's contentment, they pa.s.sed a comfortable and restful night. The next morning Mr. Armstrong asked Charles Sumner if he was familiar with the mountains, and could guide him to a certain valley, which he indicated as having a chimney-like formation at one end.

"Why, certainly," the young man replied; "don't you remember I was with father when he took you hunting four years ago? He killed an eagle that had her nest on a ledge high up on the chimney, and I climbed up for the young ones."

"Ah yes, I remember now, but you were such a little fellow then that I could not realize the change."

"I grew more at Carlisle," said the young man, significantly, "than at any other time of my life. We all grew at Carlisle."

"Then you will take us to the chimney," Mr. Armstrong asked, "and cook for us while we are out? What will you charge?"

"I don't think I ought to ask you anything, sir, for there is good pasturage thereabout, and I can drive my cows along, and herd them there until after the visit of our relatives. My sister is going to B---- with all the green-corn that the ponies can carry, so when they come they will find mother, and very little else. The valley in which my other corn is planted is in that direction, and perhaps you will let me bring some of it in your wagon when we come back?"

Charles Sumner rode cheerily beside them on a diminutive pony, driving his cows and the pack pony, and chatting freely of many things.

Sometimes Jim sprang from his seat to make him change places and rest awhile. The pony had a fascination for Jim, and he speedily learned from Charles Sumner how to manage it, and to "round up" the herd of cows and calves. The young Indian taught him, also, how to make arrows, and to shoot with them, to picket the horses, and to use the la.s.so, to make camp coffee, and to set up and take down the tepee, or tent of buffalo hide, which the pack-pony dragged between long poles.

"You would like to be a cow-boy, wouldn't you, Jim?" Mr. Armstrong asked, but Charles Sumner shook his head. "Cow-boys are no good," he said, emphatically; "they shoot Indians as if they were wild beasts.

Better stay in the East, where the white people are good. I wish I could, but the Government insists that as soon as we are educated we must go back to our reservations. I wish it would let us stay and earn our living in the East, where it is so much easier to stay civilized."

Jim, on the other hand, was delighted with everything he saw. "If all the boys in Rickett's Court could only come out here!" he exclaimed, "and ride, and herd cows, and hunt, and camp out, and all the Indian boys could only go East, and go to school, and work at trades--how nice it would be!"

Mr. Armstrong admitted that the change might be good for both, but while speaking they came in sight of the chimney-shaped pinnacle, and he hastily unpacked his theodolite and other instruments, and began to take angles, and to jot down memoranda.

"This is the first time that I have ever seen a surveyor on the Ute reservation," said Charles Sumner, "and I think that our troubles will be ended sometime by that little machine. Just as soon as the Government divides up our land and gives each Indian his own share, then each good Indian will cultivate his own farm, and will have some heart to work. How can he now, when the land belongs as much to every lazy Indian in the tribe as to himself? O sir, is it possible that the Government has sent you to begin this division?"

Mr. Armstrong confessed that his observations were made only for his own amus.e.m.e.nt. He was surprised to find that the young man had such advanced views on the "land in severalty" question, and he asked whether any of the other Indians of the tribe shared his opinions.

"There are a good many who have staked out farms and are cultivating them, just as I have," he replied, "but we know that we have no right to the land, and may be turned out any day, whenever bad white men persuade our chiefs to give up this reservation and move away to the bad lands in the West."

Mr. Armstrong winced a little under the earnest, questioning look with which Jim regarded him. To turn his train of thought he said, "There is the old eagle's nest on the ledge still, Charles Sumner. Can you climb up there to-day as nimbly as you did four years ago?"