tribal ceremony had been performed. But the old people had called him
Ishi, which means "strong and straight one," for he was the youth of
their camp. He had learned to make fire with sticks; he knew the lost
art of chipping arrowheads from flint and obsidian; he was the
fisherman and the hunter. He knew nothing of our modern life. He had no
name for iron, nor cloth, nor horse, nor road. He was as primitive as
the aborigines of the pre-Columbian period. In fact, he was a man in
the Stone Age. He was absolutely untouched by civilization. In him
science had a rare find. He turned back the pages of history countless
centuries. And so they studied him, and he studied them.

From him they learned little of his personal history and less of that
of his family, because an Indian considers it unbecoming to speak much
of his own life, and it brings ill luck to speak of the dead. He could
not pronounce the name of his father without calling him from the land
of spirits, and this he could only do for some very important reason.
But he knew the full history of his tribe and their destruction.

His apparent age was about forty years, yet he undoubtedly was nearer
sixty. Because of his simple life he was in physical prime, mentally
alert, and strong in body.

He was about five feet eight inches tall, well proportioned, had
beautiful hands and unspoiled feet.

His features were less aquiline than those of the Plains Indian, yet
strongly marked outlines, high cheek bones, large intelligent eyes,
straight black hair, and fine teeth made him good to look upon.

As an artisan he was very skilful and ingenious. Accustomed to