will be very busy getting settled in the house. I must get things
arranged just as soon as I can, so I will be able to go out on
horseback with Faye and Lieutenant Baldwin.

FORT LYON, COLORADO TERRITORY,
October, 1871.

WHEN a very small girl, I was told many wonderful tales about a grand
Indian chief called Red Jacket, by my great-grandmother, who, you will
remember, saw him a number of times when she, also, was a small girl.
And since then--almost all my life--I have wanted to see with my very
own eyes an Indian--a real noble red man--dressed in beautiful skins
embroidered with beads, and on his head long, waving feathers.

Well, I have seen an Indian--a number of Indians--but they were not
Red Jackets, neither were they noble red men. They were simply, and
only, painted, dirty, and nauseous-smelling savages! Mrs. Phillips
says that Indians are all alike--that when you have seen one you have
seen all. And she must know, for she has lived on the frontier a long
time, and has seen many Indians of many tribes.

We went to Las Animas yesterday, Mrs. Phillips, Mrs. Cole, and I, to
do a little shopping. There are several small stores in the
half-Mexican village, where curious little things from Mexico can
often be found, if one does not mind poking about underneath the trash
and dirt that is everywhere. While we were in the largest of these
shops, ten or twelve Indians dashed up to the door on their ponies,
and four of them, slipping down, came in the store and passed on
quickly to the counter farthest back, where the ammunition is kept. As
they came toward us in their imperious way, never once looking to the