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Newspaper Page Text
THE HEART OF AN INDIAN
By H. M. Egbert.
(Copyright by W. C-. Chapman.)
Each year the Hopi Indians
dance the .corn dance, in honor of
the tasselling blades and in praise
of the giver; and each year since
he had joined the agency Clifford
1 7m rim z
riinrw . tt ,.,
"This Is My First Return and My
Durham attended the spectacle
alone. And though he was the
first white man who had ever wit
nessed the sacred rites, no hand
was ever raised against him. For
there was no Hopi man or woman
but trusted him. Therefore he
laughingly , refused tip take his
bodyguard of troopers from the
Flatfeet, hereditary, - enemies of
the Hopis. "My people will not
harm me," said Clifford.
Men and women participated
in the great sacred dance in honor
of the corn. From the big cities
of the plains theyvcame, civilized
Indians, men in high positions,
lured back by the old ancestral in
stincts to reunite for one day
only, with their own people.
This year there was a new
comer, a girl of exquisite beauty.
She might have been twenty
three or four. She carried her
self like a princess, as one born
to command. Even in her buffalo -robes,
her long black hair hang-,
ing in two plaits down her back,
there was nothing 'about her
reminiscent of the squalor of the
"I am the assistant agent," said
Clifford, introducing himself to
her as she stood a little apart
from the throng of Indians after
the dance. "You are of this
tribe? But I have never seen you.
Where do you live?"
"I?" O, I am an Indian in.
exile," she answered, smiling.
"No, you will not see me again.
This is my first return and my
last. My father was Chief White
That is a famous name among
the Hopis. Clifford marveled the
more. But he could learn noth
ing from the Indians themselves.
Somehow he gathered that she
had been adopted by a white fam-?
ily in infancy and taken away, to
be brought up among the whites.
She might have passed for one.
She was dark, but less dark than
a Spaniard or Mexican. And hec