The Indian agency was located just outside the military reservation, some five or six miles down the creek from the fort. Colonel Boone, a nephew of Daniel Boone of frontier fame, was Indian agent when we arrived at the camp but was succeeded the following spring by an appointee under a new ruling of the Interior Department. Colonel Boone was a very large man and his wife was quite below the average sized woman. I mention him here only because we were mutual friends, but also of at least one commendable trait of Indian character that is illustrated by their journey back to their ranch in Colorado. The colonel had decided, much against our protestations of the dangers, to go across the country, which to us seemed to be wilfully sacrificing their lives; but he insisted that he would send up to the chief of the Arapahoes, whose name I have forgotten, and if he thought it fairly safe and would send an escort, he certainly would take the chances. The escort came in a few days and they were certainly a fine looking lot of fellows, being extra well mounted and equipped and I felt sure that they would give a good account of themselves in case of trouble and the colonel assured us that the last one of them would die in defense of himself and wife if necessary. So, we said good-bye to them with some misgivings, but with a strong hope that they would make the journey safely. I got a letter from the colonel some months later announcing their safe arrival home, and praising the fidelity and other good qualities of his Indian escort. It was refreshing to hear and know something good of Indians that had so much that was bad to their credit. I am quite convinced that any Indian appreciates justice and a square deal as much as we do, and recognizes force and submits to it quickly enough, if tempered with justice, but he does not understand moral suasion as we understand it. I think that his conception of it is cowardice. He cannot comprehend why one should return good for evil but believes in an eye for an eye and he faithfully carries it out in practice. He believes in all kinds of ghosts and spirits, good and bad, and his life is largely shaped by this belief. A story Mr. Jones told me one day will illustrate their practical view of things: Mr. Jones had married a squaw and some of the chiefs were at his house for dinner that day. He tried to explain to them our Bible history of how sin came into the world, and they listened intently, and without interruption, until he had finished. Then one old chief spoke up and said, "That is just like a white woman. Now if that had been a squaw, she would have taken a stick and killed that snake, and saved all the trouble." And while it may sound funny it was not intended as levity or anything like a joke, but was said in all seriousness. He evidently did not grasp our interpretation of it in any way, but on the contrary he looked on the woman's actions as cowardly and inexcusable. CHAPTER VI.