OLD INDIAN TRAILS BY WALTER McCLINTOCK, M.A. WITH ILLUSTRATIONS FROM PHOTOGRAPHS BY THE AUTHOR BOSTON AND NEW YORK HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY The Riverside Press Cambridge 1923 TO MY MOTHER CLARA CHILDS McCLINTOCK PREFACE In the spring of 1896 I went into northwestern Montana as a member of a Government expedition which was appointed by President Cleveland to recommend a national policy for the United States Forest Reserves and to advise the Secretary of the Interior as to the reserving of certain other forests. Our expedition, which went in advance of the main Commission, was composed of Gifford Pinchot, Chief of the Forest Service (now Governor of Pennsylvania), and Henry S. Graves, later Chief Forester and Dean of the Yale School of Forestry; I went as photographer and to help in the forest surveys. We had two guides, William Jackson, an Indian scout of the Blackfoot tribe, and Jack Munroe, a white man who was married into that tribe. We examined the forests in northwestern Montana, both on the eastern and western slopes of the Rocky Mountains. We came into contact with the natives of the region, both white men and Indians. We made surveys in the country where the Flathead Forest Reserve was later established, and in the region now known as Glacier National Park. Then it was a paradise for hunting and fishing, a wild and unfrequented country, visited only by Indians, trappers, and a few hunters of big game. We made our last survey in the heavy forest on the western side of the Rocky Mountains. Then Graves set out for Kalispell and civilization; Pinchot, with Jack Munroe and our bear dogs, started south for Fort Missoula; I was left alone with the Indian scout. We crossed the mountains together and joined the tribal camp of the Blackfoot Indians on the plains. There I met many of their leading men; among them Chief Mad Wolf, who adopted me as his son, in ceremonies lasting through two days, and made me a member of his tribe. I maintained intimate associations with my Indian father and his tribe through many years, keeping records of everything that I saw and heard—their customs and legends and religious beliefs, our hunting trips, and the flora and wild life of their country. But into the region where we wandered civilization came with its automobile highways and great modern hotels. The old generation of Indians have died and their children are civilized. The Blackfoot are no longer nomads and hunters, following the great herds of buffalo and other game; they till the soil and live in houses like white men. Their ancient customs and tribal life have passed away forever.