He had a habit of breaking out at unexpected times and in unexpected places. He might be quiet in winter when the snow was deep and the reservation warehouse was so full of stores there was no possibility of his getting hungry, and consequently angry. When, however, the spring sun melted away the snow and brought the grass to the surface, so that it was cheaper to let a pony fatten on the grass than to kill him while he was lean, the Indian picked up his spirits and rifle--which always was a good one--and started on the warpath. He did not particularly care whom he might kill; but if there were no other Indian tribes about, he was not going home without a scalp, even if he had to kill a white man. The development of some of our Territories was arrested for months, and even years, by some Indian wars which began upon very slight pretext, and which our army, contemptible in numbers, was unable to suppress promptly; and the savages gained confidence from the knowledge, which they were not compelled to ignore, that we were not a fighting nation. Either through better soldiers or less dishonest agents, there has been a change in late years. The Indian has not been on the warpath in a long time, and some of the exciting accounts of Indian raids in the West amount only to this--that a body of men have left their reservation against the advice of their associates, and started on a stealing and murdering tour just far enough ahead of the military force to be able to do a great deal of harm in a short time. At the same time, however, the idea has been creeping to the surface that the Indian might possibly be regarded as a human being and as amenable to the ordinary laws and customs of civilization. All of us have heard the old brutal remark, attributed to General Sheridan and several other army officers, that the only good Indian is a dead one. But this is a base and cruel slander. There are a great many good Indians, and every honest Indian agent as well as every military officer who has much to do with the savage tribes knows that in each reservation there are a number of men, rude though they may be, who are of considerable character and large self-control, and whose principal faults may be charged to the negligence of the government, which has regarded the red man as its special ward. The Indian has brains. No one is quicker to admit this than the army officer who has had occasion to fight the Indian. General Custer was a good soldier and an experienced Indian fighter, but Chief Gall was a better one. The defeat of Custer is usually attributed to Sitting Bull, but that old ruffian simply did out-and-out fighting; the brains of the conflict--all the strategy and all the tactics--were supplied by an Indian named Gall, who still lives, and for whose military ability every officer in our army has a profound respect, not unmixed with fear.