“In that far distant time happiness hovered like a golden cloud over the lodges of the redman, for within all was peace, and comfort, and plenty. Neither cold nor hunger came like an evil spirit to bring woe to the redman’s bosom. The forests were alive with mighty game, and he was a poor and lowly hunter indeed, who could not show that acknowledged badge of fearless courage, a necklace made of the cruel claws of the fierce grizzly bear. The lakes and streams were teeming with glittering fish, in number like the falling leaves of the yellow autumn, many-hued and brilliant as the rainbow. “For him who fain would seek for glory, there was many a gory scalp lock to be fairly and hazardously earned in fierce, relentless battle, while for the feeble, timid spirit who shrank from the hardships and dangers of war, the warm and fertile soil promised the husbandman rich rewards of nutritious maize. “On the green-verdured slopes and in the broad, smiling valleys gleamed many a comfortable wigwam of poles and dried skins of wild beasts, wrought with the weird hieroglyphs of the tribe--strange, ancient characters and picture-writing, unintelligible even to the Indian of to-day. The smoke of a thousand lodges rose and mingled with the snowy vapor--the fleeces of the sky--mingled with the billowy flocks and herds of the Manitou. “The valley of the sparkling Yosemite--that wonderful stream of liquid silver whose mystic source is in the clouds, far, far beyond any trail of man--was the earthly paradise of the redman of the mountains. To say that the great ineffable Beyond--the land of Manitou the Mighty--was fairer than the beauteous valley of the Yosemite, was the utmost limit of the Indian’s faith in heaven--those Happy Hunting Grounds to which death alone could transport him. Aye, it was the farthest limit of the redman’s imagination. * * * * *