The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, June 7, 1903, Page 13

e second article in & e series of papers by Wharton James, the eler and explorer, who e full length of the Col- n & small boat for the of probing its mys- and who, under le of “From Needles to Boat,” has written ex- usively f the Sunday Call this nteresting serial describing in his fascinating way just what he discov- ered and what strange and all-ab- sorbing adventures befell him on the In these articles Mr. James gs out all the grandeur and the danger of the Colorado River as it has never been shown before. And because he has lived more than half s life among the Indians of Amer- the especial purpose of learn- ing their habits, their traditions and their inner life as mo one else has ever learned it, it is not difficult to realize that he speaks with author- ity and fine comprehension of the pe'ople he visited along the course of this wondrous waterway. This series is therefore one of the most valuable contributions to the history of the great Southwest that hes ever been made. It is a scientific treatise of rare value. Wext Sunday the third article will appesar. ica for ART!CLE‘II \ By George Wharton James of doors and bed canvas verir That was experience on the zecond and y another morning of my trip. the river molstened the e early part of the night and temperature of the early 4 the moisture into & thin To jump up, take off one's (for 1 undress as completely of doors as when in The dew s tu lowering £ tur g of 36 om cany the merni right robe when 1 gleep out my own home), dress, light a campfire, yush dgwn to the river and wash, put the coffee pot on the fire and have the scon frying i the work of just about five minvtes to an old-time camper. Early morning time is more than money. A good wiart is to be desired more than a good breakfast. but s as easy with care and fore- ught it to have one as an- not long before breakfast was ag rolled up, a photograph ef taken, everything in place d the Edith in the stream he great bridge was now close iooked very different now it did last night. Its great was impressive and 1 stopped several s =t different points to photograph it. = a station at the bridge called and this is the shipping point for \ing camps on or mear the river the Mohave Indian school, which at Parker, 150 miles or so down. carload of mining machinery, sp8 e mi end for s locatec sions, powder, etc., has been un- ded on the level of the bridge and taken o the edge of the river bank, where a wooden chute or slide is so ar- snged that goods are easily lowered to # rude wharf at water level. To this point i tow their boats up stream, p and then start down to their des- A cent a pound is their regu- er freigiht charge, and though the work s arduous, many of the Indians make gcod wages at it. Opposite the wharf, on be other side of the river, tied to the benk, was one of the small stern;wheelers ior at ‘sometimes ply on the ri e ey can ever manage to navigate h eam I dor w, for with a draught t more than two inches my boat was ntiy in danger of bank, tent the nortk o 7k X for the childre of railway Humble place, bt giorious insti- tution. My heart always gives ex- tra throbs at sight of the flag—sometimes when I come u it sudde I can ely catch my breath—and when it is over a schoolhouse or tent, no mat- ter how humble, a few thrills perambu- ate through my nervous system and I el like shouting and taking off my hat Grand commen school, whose fruit the world has seen in Lincoln, G 1, Mec- Kinley and others of our nation's heroes. About three miles below the bridge the Sieepy River enters a canyon.,Rough and rugged rocks, some of them volcanic, ap- pear to bar our way. We know more than a little of the dangers of canyon ids, etc., in the upper portion of the orado River, and it is not until we have had some few miles in the heart of this canyon that we fully overcome our lest nervous trepidation some rapid or cataract or whirlpool should suddenly leap upon us with the suddenness of a For the strange thing about experiences is that they spring upon as it were, instead of your floating into them. For several miles our passage was between rocks in the depths of an interesting canyon. Some were volcanic, others conglomerate, and some appeared as if they were highly metamorphosed limestones. All of them were deeply eroded. Wind, weather and water had combined to carve and gnaw them into all kinds of pecullar forms and odd shapes. A mile or so down and the river makes a tremendous bend, a perfect cl- bow, and after another mile still another, so that we have no idea as to the direc- tion we are traveling unless we take counsel of the sun and the shadows. At each of these bends is a great sand bar, and just ahead on the left a mutural monument stands. It is an jmmense pil- lar, larger and thicker than the Washing- ton monument and perhaps higher, that owing to some freak of erosion or split- ting off has been detached from the main rocks and now lives an independent and separate life. Here 1 was placidly drifting, giving a gentle stroke of my oar now and again, when suddenly the roar of water reached my ears. Ahead was a rude granite dike, its cruel and jagged rocky arm thrust out into the river as if to catch any unwary traveler that dared invade these long se- cret and unknown regions. The current was dashing rapidly upon it, taking me at an increasing speed. I seized the oars and rowed with powerful strokes. I barely missed the collision by the merest shave. Looking back we cap readily see why this whole range of mountains suggested the name “The Needles.” BScores of them panther. s THE €UNDAY OCALL. d s Lovr” oF THMEHEVIS =P TENIV e TO THE STk TELLER e s b Photographs Copyrighted by | George Wharton James. d have sharp peaks—a common feature of the whole of the mountains that line the Colorado River up to the entrance of the deep canyons above. A few miles below the outlet to the can- yon I found, en the California side, my o8 2 first settlements of Chemehuevis. The word ¥ unced Chem-i-way-viz, with the cmphasis upon the third syllable. These people have long been regarded as t tribe, but I discovered that they v Paiutis. For long centuries itis have occupied the inhospit- the P: able desert regions of Nevada and South- western Utah. When seasons were bad, and food short. they were about to find the bare There must have rain compelled to cast necessities of existence. scarce, been some ‘“push” to them, for we find distinct migrations in three different di- rections. n California, between Kings River and Kern River, they poured in, right into the heart of the Yokut na- tion, and split it into two parts. Though unwelcome intruders, they were able to hold their own and soon settled down for £00d, and now he is an cxpert ethnologist who can tell the difference at the Tule River Reservation between a real Yokut and a Paluti. Another band crossed the Colo- rado River at its junction with Paria Creek, where Lee's Ferry now is, and settled among the Navahoes of Northern Arizona, and a third followed the Colo- rado River down to this beautiful valley and settled there. One of the old men of the tribe told me the following story: “A long time ago I heard the old men of my people talk. They said their great- great-grandfathers lived way up in the north and toward the rising sun. In that country there mnot much water, not much seeds, not much grass, not much corn, not much deer, not much cotton- tail and jackrabbit. One time no rain come and they pretty quick die. Lets of children and women and men dle. 8o the others say, ‘We go and hunt for food.’ They come down the river to the Mojaves, and the Mohaves have lots em corn, and melons and pumpkins and mesquite, and deer and cottontail and jackrabbits, and my people eat and eat and eat. The great Pah-ra (Colorado River) flowed along by their homes very different from the way it flowed up where my people lived, for there it was buried deep be- tween high walls and no one could get any water from it to make corn grow, or to drink, so my people say to the Mohave chiefs and medicine men: ‘You let us come and stay here. We bring our wives and children. We be good friends and help you fight against the Wallapais and Yumas.” And the Mohaves say: ‘You come.” So my people went back to the northland and gathered up their wives and children and came back here, and some stayed near Fort Mohave and others came down here, and here they have stayed ever since. But when the old Palutis, who would not leave their own country, knew that my people were com- ing to live near the Mohaves, they sneered and scoffed at them and mocked them, saying, “You are Achee Mohaves' (fish- eating Mohaves), for it must be remem- bered that a good Paluti will never eat fish. And it was a bad insult to call my people fish-eating Mohaves, for, while they were friendly with the Mohaves, they lived their own lives and dia not forsake the old Paiuti ways for those of the Mo- haves, and they did not cat fish.” Thus the old man confirmed by tradi- tion the conctusions to which I had ar- rived, owing to the facial similarities, and the fact that the speech of Chemehuevis and Paiutis, is practically tue same. And I am satisfied that the old man's story fully aecounts for the origin of their name. Doubtless when the Chemehuevis were first seen, the gulde of the white men who recorded their name was a Pajutl. Imbued with his people’s scorn for these renegade members of his own tribe, he would describe them as “‘Achee Mohaves,” and it is very casy to under- stand how the white transcriber would hear and record that “Chemehuevi.” My first night with these people was a fortunate 1 found a man who had been brought up by an old white pioneer. He spoke good English. His Chemehuevl name was Tu-um-bo; co-tum. This means vellow sky at sunset, and ufidoubt- edly refers to some extraordinary display which occurred at the time of his birth. At least that is what the old man told me. His white patron called him Charley, so 1 will follow sult, as it is a much easier name both to pronounce and write. Charley's home was a fair type of all those found along the river. Its main supports were heavy cottonwood tree trunks; indeed, the whole framework was made of these heavy poles. Then smaller poles and branches were nailed across the uprights and the whole of the interstices filled up with mud, outside and in. The roof was slightly sloped and covered with branches and mud. Near to every house on a small raised framework was the mesquite granary, or storehouse, called a su-quin. These are made of willows rudely wattled in circu- lar form and covered with loose branches and earth, and are about three feet in diameter and two feet high. The mesquite bean forms one of the staples of all the people of the Southwest. It s eaten raw (rarely), gr into flour and baked, and pounded and soaked to make a drink. There are two kinds of mesquite—o-pi (the flat) and the screw bean.’ The latter abounds on the Colorado River. When the beans are ripe they are gathered and thrown into a deep pit, where they are al- lowed to remain. This is said to take out from the beans a peculiarly unpleasant and bitter flavor. At Charley’s camp were three or four houses, and in one of them I found an old widow who had adopted three motHer- less children, two boys and a girl, whose father had gone off fo seek his fortune elsewhere. Though wrinkled, haggard and dirty, the old woman had a most kindly face, and when I learned of her charity I hurried off down to my hoat to see if 1 could not find among my “truck” some clothing and shoes for the children. As 1 approached I saw it was in the posses- slon of about as tough looking a spectmen of humanity as one would care to meet in a lonely lane on a dark night or in a New York Bowery dive. He was a hidcous- faced creature, and seeing my boat full of good things was doubtless hoping the pro= prietor would meet with an accident and never return. Putting on a brave front I bade him begone, and making the usual” movement toward the hip pocket he doubtless assumed I had hidden there the little barker that would make him mind. It was a pure bluff, but I find such often works, with Indians as well as whites. Then I rummaged over my trunk and found pants, jumpers, stockings, shoes and a small overcoat—old clothes kindly given to'me by various friends. T soon had the youngsters clothed in their new togs and no child was ever so happy with a brand-new sallor suit or other coveted treasure as were these poor Indiaa or- phans with the white children’s casta- ways. The gratitude of the old woman was touching in the extreme. One of the playhouses of these children was a su-quin in the process of erection. 1 found them romping about and hiding in it, and obtained the accompanying pho- tograph, which clearly shows them as bright, intelligent youngsters. Charley was very protd to show me his cornfield. It was a narrow stretch near the river, above high-water mark, that had been covered with willows. These he had grubbed out and had planted corn in their place. The fleld was a quarter of a mile long and surrounded by a rude wil- low fence to keep out the rabbits and other vermin that would eat the seed or the tender young shoots of the growing corn. The corn was planted in a pecullar manner. A hole, or rather a basin-like depression, was made from a foot to a foot and a half in diameter, and in the base of this a hole was made into which several grains were dropped. All Indians of the Southwest drop a number of grains in a cluster instead of with separated stalks as with us. As a further protection Charley built a sunshade, vnder which he or the chil- dren or women wo watch, in order to scare away the crows, quail and other birds that would come and roy his growing crop. As will be seen from the photograph, 1 caught him carefully who had never seen his father, but who espoke good English and offered to be my interpreter with the rest of his people. We stayed that night and the next day at a large camp farther down the riv (on the California side) and to write w! occurred there and all I learned woul fill up a newspaper. After our evening meal, to which I contributed canned beef, fruit, etc., as we sat or lolled around the campfire one of the women of the tribe— y means—began across the river from where we sat 1d be seen In the evening light the dark shadows of the Chemehuevl Mountains and leading off from them was a range of foothills, ¢ aint crater-like T seen. Undoubtedly voleanic origin, but this is the by the Chemehuevi woman to account for the existence of these peculiarly crowned hills. She said: “Jt is for me to tell you that those marks on the foothills are the tracks of a running bear. In the long time ago, 1y to tell stories. fox; then, when the taunting little crea- ture came out and began his sneering. the bear quietly dropped into the water, swam across and while the fox was still shout- ing his rude insults, fell upon him and. carrying him in his arms, took him to the other side. Then, laying the fox on his back he got ready to tear him to pieces ‘Wait a moment,” said the terrified fox “Don’t kill me until I have explained my self.” So the bear let the fox go and as he stepped behind bushes—for he was a clever fox—he ran away and escaped He traveled north until he came to home o he rattiesnak® to whom he told the story of his narrow escape. The rat- tlesnake hid the fox in his dirt house, where he kept seeds (his tu-vi-kén There was eve ginable kind of seed and they were each in an olla or jar, cov- ered up so that the mice and other ver- min could not get to them. The olla near- the e dool the bear awriv having tracked the fox to the home rattlesnake. ‘Where's the fox ‘1 don’t know,’ said the rattle- “It was not long bef ed of the unt for him then!" * responded the snake. bear went into the tu-vi-kan and l LHUOREN 1w A Granirs “watching.” He was strétchea out, with a comfortable pillow, and was sound asleep and snorin, The following evening I picked up a halfbreed Chemehuevi—Willlam Eddy— WHTCHANE HS Ve i Wnen men and animals could all talk and understand each other, a bear lived on one side of the Colorado River and a fox ’n the other. The fox was an fmpertinent little fellow and fond of teasing the bear. He would stand on the bank and call out: ‘You great, clumsy bear, what are you good for? Come across the river and eat mg!" The bear would grunt in his anger, tu wise enough to make no reply. But one day he got everything ready and built a large bonfire In which to roast the opening the olla farthest from the door sald: “ ‘Is he in here? He repeated the qestion he toek the 1id off each olla, one after To every question the snake an- the bear came to the h the fox was hidden to be asked so many he said: ‘Don’t you look in 1've bothered me enough,” and car persisted in lifting the cover, the snake coiled and struck his fangs deep in leg and killed him In great the fox came out of his hiding nned and tanned the bear and made a quiver for his arrows from the skin. Then the fox got all ready and t tlesnake made the quiver, for he and the fox were relation Then the fox sald, I'm going away to- morrow, down to the Yavapais, and I am going to eat some prickly pears Don't do that’ counseled the sna ‘at least don't eat any until you come to the middle of the patch. Don't touch the first ones you come to, and I beg of you do not, under any circumstances put your bearskin quiver down on the ground!’ “Then the fox said, ‘T'm going away to- got to the middle of the cac patch he was so hungry for the ripe fruit that he forgot all about his promise and set his quiver down and climbed up ene of the trees. (The cactus referred to is un- doubtedly the giant cactus or sirharo). As he ate of the fruit heard a s trom the quiver. He looked down but could see nothing, so he wer Then the sound came again, ar looked aw a ‘Look at that fellow descending the tree he caught it threw it away. Now he picked up the quiver and walking to another tree, de- posited it at its foot, climbed the treé and began to eat again. Again he heard a sound, and this time a great lizard, nearly as big as a gila monster, came out. He came down, caught it and threw it away and again placed the quiver on ti ground in a fresh place and ascended a other tree. This time when he heard tt noise he refused to pay any attention to § He cared nothing for the lizards and wi angry at their fooling him so. But this time the noise iIncreased and soon sounded stratgely llke a roar, so, look- ing down tLe tree, imagine his fright at seeing there the bear shaking the tree he was on and vowing he would kill him Terrified almost out of his wits he sprang from the tree and dashed away over the foothills yonder, the bear in hot pursuil The world was young then and the ground soft, so at each great stride he made, the bear's feet squeezed into the soft ground and made those tracks which, as the ground hardened, remained there until this day. “The fox ran very fast, but he was out of breath with fright and the bear was strong with his great anger. so just as they reached the foot of the hills. the fox was ght and the bear killed and ate him, and that was the end of that silly and impertinent fox. And that is why we call those hills Chim-pa-pon-no-qui—the place where the bear ran.” This is a fair specimen of an Indian story, and was told with a good deal of dramatic gesture. Though the listeners had doubtless heard it many times be- fore they were all duly impressed and heartlly applauded it. I was so pleased that 1 promised the woman a new dress, In the morning when I began to pheto- graph all I could get to submit to my operations, one woman refused with the greatest scorn and contempt. [ wondered at heg fierceness, but nothing I could say or do would change Her. When, however, I was about to leave the reason dawned upon me. I had falled to observe that she was the story teller of the preceding evening and I had not given Rher the promised dress. At once I apologized, took her to my boat to make her own choice and was then delighted at her ready acquiescence to sit for me.