HOW THE INDIAN TWINS WERE SAVED FROM SLAUGHTER
Fred Vincent
TVTINE, superstition, tragedy —
these are the elements In this
t&le of the Cayuse Indian in his
t«pee near the flowing waters of
tie Uma-tllla in southern Orefcor.. It
begins with the superstition, thus:
For 200 years all twin babies born
In the Cayuse tribe were put to death.
The legend runs that the Great Spirit
is displeased at the coming of twins
tcto the tribe on account of a disas
trous war which was once waged over
the beauty of twin sisters; and. as
like all Indians, the Cayuse fears the
wrath of the Great Spirit more than
anything In the world, he has made it
a practice to rid the tribe of the little
newcomers as quickly as possible, that
the mighty one should be pacified. Vain
the tears and pleadings of the mothers:
vain the deep, guttural protests uf the
fathers. When twins arrived they also
•went. Kow or where no Indian asked.
He knew the reason.
But no rule exists without an excep
tion, and the exception to this par
ticular one may he seen in the picture
above. These two chubby, sturdy, bead
eyed, tight strapped papooses are it.
They are the first pair of twins who
have been allowed to live In the Cayuse
tribe for 200 y«»ars. and they owe their
lives to the natural ingenuity, resource
fulness and oratorical skill of their
father. Ha-hots-mox-mox. who cleaded
MERE ADELE,
MILLET'S
OLD MODEL,
VISITED BY A
SAN FRANCISCO ARTIST
Maren Frolich
k 1 ERE ADELE was sitting on one
V /\u25a0 of the flat stone seats such as
/ V I they have outside the front
<!oors of ail the houses In Bar
bizon. She was there for a little diver
sion and Just to see what was doing —
m easy thing to see in that small vil
lage, for one glance up the street and
another look In the opposite direction
usually took in the whole situation.
However, this was Sunday and the
little train (which comes from Melun
and bears a shrieking likeness to a
boy's ChrJstinaa toy) had Just arrived
and quite -a crowd was getting on!.
"Quelle Monde." said Mcxc Adele. "they
have come to take a little promenade
in the forest of For.tainebleau and some
of the men are dressed like hunters,
for you see the season has just opened."
The ""crowd** consisted of about 25 peo
ple, but that was quite an avalanche
*il at once for Barbizon. After, they
bad disappeared in the direction of the
forest tbe oldest Inhabitant became
very communicative.
She told of when" she was young and
there was yet a throne in France —
there used to be great doing* in the
•woods when the season of the chase
was formally opened. There would be
a sight procession -with royalty riding
at the head, and torch bearers pictur
esquely lighting tbe way, and . Jater
after a killing had taken place, and all
the came had been collected in one
EpGt, a wonderful feast and celebration
would bring the whole affair to a grand
climax.
"But It is very different these days."
she said. "Now there are not even
those celebrated artists who used to
live here some years ago. Monsieur
Millet. Monsieur Rousseau and Mon
sieur Diaz. Monsieur. Barye, the sculp-,
tor, and Monsieur Jacques, who painted
sheep, all lived in Barbizon. You have
seen the houses just down the street,
have you not, mademoiselle? Oh. it Is
trist' to think they are ' all gone."
"Then you knew Monsieur Millet?"
Mere Adele was asked. "Did I know
fclrs? Oh. la la! Ecoutez. I posed for
fcSra a great many tlznes; ye*, more than
with the tribe for his babies as other
people plead for gold. He was stra
tegical about it, for he played one su
perstition against the other, and the
one he backed won. So the twins,
Tox-e-lox and A-lom-pum, owe ' their
existence to their father in. a. double
sense, and they have repaid him ttH>
a fidelity and filial love rare eve*
among tribes where such qualities sr(
paramount.
One June morning, 11 years ago, '
young Indian mother looked fondly ai
two tiny baby girls just blinking ai.
the light of day for the first time. Their
plaintive cries were music in her ears;
the tight, screwed up. wriggling, red
featured faces more beautiful than all
else. She lay back on the bunched
grass and reeds of her narrow bed
with a happy sigh. The babies
squirmed closer and Him-ye-hl-hi,
"White Fawn." was as near happiness
as an Indian mother ever gets in this
•»vorld. She looked first at one little
rod face and then the other, with burst
ing maternal pride. Then suddenly
she sat up straight and snatched them
to her breast with a vehement ges
ture. Him-ye-hi-hi had remembered.
Indian mothers like all others are
mighty when danger threatens their
offspring. This mother sat up very
straight for a few seconds, and then.
With that superb physical power with
which the Indian is endowed", she caught
up on» of' the babies and" slipped
stealthily to the doorway In the shadow
of a great pine. Outside the sun sent
a hundred times; ue was such a lovely
man. and we never ceased to mourn
for him. He would come in the morn-
Ing and knock to my door and say,
"Mere Adele, won't you have time to
come and pose a little for me today?'
and I would reply, 'Mais oui. Monsieur
Millet,' and then I 'would go to his
atelier and pose. One day, oh, I re
member that so well, I was coming
from the forest with fagots on my
back when I met him on the road and
he painted me just like I was. He was
the kindest man I ever knew; if any
man was sick and he heard of it he
would call Mme. Millet into the studio
and say, 'Allez, ma femme, and see
what you can do for the poor invalid.'
You know when Monsieur Millet came
here he was very. poor, and while he
had painted some pictures, he did not
paint when he first eamej to Barbizon.
because he had no luck selling pictures,
so he worked in the fields. "Then he
found Monsieur Rousseau here and be
came interested in his painting, and
soon Monsieur Millet was painting
again, and before long he was painting
stronger, some people think,' than Mon
sieur Rousseau. After a while he mar
ried and in course of time he had a
family of nine children. Oh, mademoi
selle, if you only could have seen him
walking In the forest of Fontainebleau
with all the nine children in a proces
sion ahead of him! It was such a-benu
tiful right. I used to bake a big gal
ette very often and take to those little
Millets, and when they saw me coming
they would dance around and cry.
'Here comes Mere Adele with some
thing for us?
"Oh, pauvre. Monsieur Millet, do you
know, ma fille, why he died? I will
tell you; he died because. he didn't eat
enough. That is so. He used to work
so hard always in his atelier, and al
ways painting, and he never would take
sufficient time to eat. When he did
eat it would-be In such a hurry that It
did him no good, and after a while he
got- sick and died! They tell me that
The Angelus* was sold for a fortune.' I
wish the artist himself could. have had
all that money for his picture, for he
worked so hard! You must go some
day to Challly near here and see the
tomb of Monsieur Millet. I went to his
funeral and you should have seen the
crowds. of people! "Tout le mond,* all
the world was there. It was very Bad.
Then, too. at Challly in. the old church
over the big. door, is a large painting of
& religious subject which Monsieur Millet
gave to the parish many years ago.
There is a son who is also an artist and
who lives here in- Barbizon. but," J and
the dear old woman. shrugs. her shoul
ders, "It Is hard to \u25a0be the «on of so
great a man, for people will make com
parisons, n* est-ce-pas?"
. "But you never pose . now, do you,
Mere Adele?" "No.? not since, a long
time, but if you wish,* mademoiselle. I
? trill try and pose for you; come Into the
house and let us ~r talk about It," and
with her two canes for.; support she
leads the w»y Into the cottage. \u25a0'. . '
There everything was quaint and old
fashioned as one could 'wish for. Out
side on all the window sills were boxes
all abloom- with »\u25a0; scarlet, and . white
geraniums and -"ayer' the .front of the'
house were* rambling ; rose "• and *•' grape
vln**. Inside: the brasses and coppers s
were bright and shining hanging by
the big black fireplace and there were
strings and: strings of onions,, too.
The floor (an- old atone one) had evi
dently, "been, swept and: sprinkled very
recently and the bed of .the oldfash
ioned kind built into the wall had faded
blue curtains drawn back at the sides
with a gathered ruffle of. the same ma
terial.across the top. Two large white
linen . covered pillows were j primly , ar
ranged at the head and a fat feathered
"plumeau" was also there to Keep Mere
Adele warm in winter. . . :. . . £>*j
.La Mere Adele is the widow Finesse,
whose husband died and left herewith
five -small 'children *to raise, not (an • easy
task to accomplish; but the i young
mother did .not lose courage, and, as
something had to be done, she 'became
a "nourriee.V and* for -a small recom
pense, cared .for r other .people's babies
its white, ; hot v flare over the prairie
• lands with the gray "bunches of sage
brush. When she reached the river.
White Pawn, stooped quickly. down and
slipped something under a heavy, dark
clump of .brush. " Then,' like- a spirit,
she glided -back into the A tepee.
Later/in'the day the. tribesmen came
to -.visit' i'tliei addition to the popula
tion. , T The: Indian parents smiled at
each other/w hen the young bucks of
the tribe .praised the baby and pro
posed plans ; for ; the future, including
matrimonial' alliance "with their" boy
babies of proper age. But Him-ye-hi
hi's smil£ grew faint as she thought
until they were old enough to go home
and practically take care of them
selves, for they' were all infants whose
mothers .had to work in the •\u25a0 fields "for
a living /and could, not stay at home to
look- after their., little children. -. So It
came about that: the widow Finesse
was known to all Barbizon and the sur
rounding : : country ;:'as the < -".Mother,
Adele," . and " the :•; name * Is " certainly an 1
appropriate, one, for she; has -mothered
37. children "and -.her./ own five,, besides
being "a "garde -malade" to most of the
inhabitants ;of the- village--- whenever
of the >rl ver . a nd the clump of sage
brush that quivered on its bank.
For a month all went well with the
babies and their parents. Then the
same young bucks who had praised
the girl baby of Hlm-ye-hi-hi. walked
by the river one hot summer day, and
as their feet crunched the dry grass
near a thick clump of brush there
came, a little wailing cry.
The sound seemed to come from the
middle of the bush. Quickly the young
Indians stooped and' thrust aside the
dusty branches. The face of a tiny
papoose, just four weeks ' old. looked
up at them from its nest of river
grasses and smiled — a weak, little
wavering smile — and the "secret so
faithfully kept was out. .*
Him-ye-hi-hl was In her tepee
crooning her baby to sleep when the
two young ( men of the tribe stalked
grimly in. .One look at their stolid
faces was enough. She saw determina
tion and anger at the, concealment
written in their piercing eyes. They
accused . her of being the mother of
the bush hidden baby, and Hlm-ye
hi-hi listened silently, her wild gaae
roving from face to face. Then with
desperate courage she seized a strong
club standing near and attacked the
men. They thrust her aside and passed
out to send runners into the moun
tains, where most of, the tribe had
gone for the summer's hunting.to tell
of the arrival of the dreaded twins.
' In two weeks the Indians began to
congregate at the camping grounds
near Pendleton, Ore., on the Umatilla
river. Big Chief Si-ah-sum. (Chief No
Shirt) had already said that the an
cient law of the tribe must be com
plied with, and that the twinsw must
die. But Ha-hots-mox-mox only
"smiled when his squaw spoke of the
wa-wa-wee (big talk), now only a few
days off, when all the chiefs - and
tribesmen should assemble and the
fate of the twins be made known.
Him-ye-hi-hl wept, though Ha^hots
mox-mox only smiled; for he had at
last evolved his plan, and it seemed
to him good.. ,
Every brave was garbed in savage
finery, making ; the circle a galaxy ,of
brilliant colors' which .seemed to melt
into one harmonious whole in absolute
tongruity with the swarthy, austere
faces of the Indians met to pass the
death sentence on two helpless, uncon
scious babies.
they were 111 and needed attention, and
much, she did for which she received
no remuneration.
In her second (the spare) room han
two diplomas, to which the owner
points with great : pride. One is a
"mention honorable" from the com
mune of Barbizon and the other a
diploma from the Society of Protection
\u25a0for.- Children of Paris. Both were p-e
sented to Mere Adele about 10 years
ago, and her eyes fill with, tears when
she tells about it.
, "That was a great day. mademoi
• The San Francisco Sunday Call.
Chief Si-ah-sum spoke first. Briefly,
he stated the cauae of the assembling of
the tribesmen, and seated himself. One
by one the Indians arose and spo.ee.
Grim, terrible words were uttered.
They all demanded that the twins
should die.
And then, each Indian^ had spoken.
Judgment was all but passed, and still
Ha-hots-mox-TOox remained silent. The
Indians regarded him stolidly, but deep
excitement was felt. Ha-hots-mox
mox rose, and stillness fell on the as
sembly.
"I have seen a vision." said the
father of the twins. "In the night time,
in the Little Mlnem. my horse was graz
ing near., and I had lain me down to
rest. It was then that the spirit of
Qui-a-ml-sum (Cougar Shirt), our war
rior who has passed Into the lands of
the happy hunting grounds these many
moons, came to me. He spoke, and I
listened to his words. And when he
had finished I hastened to brlngr the
news to you. my people, that Qui-a-ml
sum had said that twin daughters.' th»
first born In the tribe for fifty years,
would soon come Into the world. It was
to be an omen of good, and through
this birth the Cayuse tribe would lrv»
long, be prosperous and bring forth
many mighty men In years to come.
Thus spake Qul-a-ml-sum. he who has
passed to the lands of the happy hunt
ing grounds these many moons. Listen,
my people! It Is the voice of the Great
Spirit which speaks. He has sent us
an omen. Shall we anger the Great
Spirit? Shall we darken his smile?"
and with one accord the Cayuse tribes
men answered "No."
Thus did the cunning, resourcefulness
and ingenuity of the Cayuse father save
the children of his squaw, Pim-ye
hi-hl. and preserve for the light of his
old age the twins. Tox-e-lox and A-lom
pum. who watch him sometimes as he
sits outside the tepee smoking h!s long
stemmed willow pipe, while Hlm-ye
hi-hi moves contentedly about within.
Superstition Is a mighty force, but love
backed by a made up superstition is
mightier still. - *
The twins are hearty girls of 11 now
and among all the dark skinned pupils
in the government Indian, school none
are brighter In- mastering their lessons
or more full of life. They "will tell you
how "their father ' saved them from
death, but they will not tell you that
his story was a clever rose.
4
selle; you see it was a srrand ra^prisw
for me, and I had no idea of what va«
golns to happen. : I "was sitting In rr.y
cottage, and all of a sudden the pla;»
was overflowing with people, and I
did not know what was the matter.
and all at once two young girls, all
dressed In white, whom I had taken
care of when little, came forward, car
rying their diplomas, with wreaths ©!
flov.-ers and greens, and a monsieur
made a speech and salil it was becaus*
I had been so kind to little children;
and then I was also given 100 francs;
and. Oh. mon'Pieu! I wa3 so happy
and surprised that I couUn't say any
thing, and 1 Just looked, at everybody;
and then — I cried. What a day that wa*
for me. ma filler This Is what Lo
Petite Journal of Paris printed about
my fete. VolUS*
And thf Journal tells about the bra v*
woman In Barbizon and about th«
diplomas given her. and the gift O C
money, and Mere Adele listens iiuev.tly
as one reads aloud, und says: "*tiis
oui. oui, that is so; that is juai ai, It
happened on that day, and I? you only
could have seen all the people and the
wine and the cak*. Oh. la, la!"
Eishty-two years of agj. and yW-sUe.
still does her own -cookhfg and housv
work. and everything is so clean a&d
exquisitely neat that . many a y*»ui\
housekeepej" — might easily he put to
shame. At last the day eoine3 fo- part-
Ing from Mere Adele. and she has all
her roses gathereG for m 3 to take away,
ami as she so sentrously gives \u25a0 them
she asks. "When will you come again
ma chere enfant — seen?" "No. not soon*
dear Mere Adele! but in the' spring I
will come a^ain to paint your portrait."
Then her dear old face looks sad and
her hand trembles as she takes mine
while she says. • But that 13 a lon~
time and I may not be here then." and
I wonder, too. as I walk away and turn
to wave farewell ar.d to hear her voice
feebly calling. "Adieu; ma fllle." wheth
er In thespringtlrae Mere Ad«U will h»
"here" or v"there."