A LETTER TO THE CHILDREN Dear Children :—You will like to know that the man who wrote these true stories is himself one of the people he describes so pleasantly and so lovingly for you. He hopes that when you have finished this book, the Indians will seem to you very real and very friendly. He is not willing that all your knowledge of the race that formerly possessed this continent should come from the lips of strangers and enemies, or that you should think of them as blood-thirsty and treachero

  I "THE PITIFUL LAST" What boy would not be an Indian for a while when he thinks of the freest life in the world? This life was mine. Every day there was a real hunt. There was real game. No people have a better use of their five senses than the children of the wilderness. We could smell as well as hear and see. We could feel and taste as well as we could see and hear. Nowhere has the memory been more fully developed than in the wild life, and I can still see wherein I owe much to my early trai

  I WINONA'S CHILDHOOD Hush, hushaby, little woman! Be brave and weep not! The spirits sleep not; 'Tis they who ordain To woman, pain. Hush, hushaby, little woman! Now, all things bearing, A new gift sharing From those above— To woman, love. —Sioux Lullaby. —Sioux Lullaby.   "Chinto, wéyanna! Yes, indeed; she is a real little woman," declares the old grandmother, as she receives and critically examines the tiny bit of humanity. There is no remark as to the color of its hair or eyes, both so blac