I asked a very aged Indian where they got their
seed corn, but he did not know, saying they had raised it ever
since he could remember. They did their plowing with wooden plows,
which they made themselves, being pulled by oxen that were hitched
to the plows by a strong stick in front of their horns. For
harrows they used brush, and they had shovels made of wood to dig
with.
Notwithstanding they were in one sense uncivilized, they showed us
more hospitality during the time we were with them than most white
people would have shown to strangers.
These Indians keep their age by taking a piece of horn, pressing
it out flat and punching a hole in the center. When a child is a
certain age he has one of these tied about his neck, and every
year the child is supposed to cut a notch in the piece of horn. I
did not learn how old they had to be before they were supposed to
keep their own age.
We found the chief of the tribe to be very obliging. He told us
the Apaches were bad Indians, and that they had killed many white
people--men, women and children.
When we were ready to leave the village, the chief came out and
bade us good-bye, and gave us a cordial invitation to call on him
when passing through the country.
We crossed the Gila river near where Colville now stands. Here was
a tribe of very indolent Indians, that during this season of the
year did not wear a stitch of clothing of any kind whatever.
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