Oh, how on plain and mountain, and by streams That shine along their path; o’er many a field Proud with pied flowers, or where sunrise gleams In spangled splendors, does the rich air yield Its balsam; yea, how hunter, pioneer, Lover, and bard have felt that heaven was near Because the air their spirit touched and healed! And yet--God of the open!--look and see The millions of thy creatures pent within Close places that are foul for one clean breath, Thrilling with health, and hope, and purity; Nature’s vast antidote for stain and sin, Life’s sweetest medicine this side of death! How comes it that this largess of the sky Thy children lack of, till they droop and die? Many white people go out tenting in the summer and think they are sleeping out of doors. What a foolish error. Here is what a scientific authority says upon the subject: “Are you tenting? If so, you should know: “That a well-closed tent is nearly air-tight, and consequently,-- “That in an ordinary-sized tent, one occupant will so pollute the air as to render it unfit to breathe in less than twenty minutes; two occupants, in less than ten minutes. [Illustration: A CHEMEHUEVI INDIAN AND HIS OUT-OF-DOOR SHELTER FROM THE SUN.] “That if you are tenting for your health, an opening at each end of the tent must be provided for ventilation at night. The openings should be at least a foot square for each occupant. “Breathing impure air lowers the vitality, and consequently renders one susceptible to colds and other diseased conditions.” [Illustration: CLIMBING ONE OF THE TRAILS IN HAVASU CANYON, ARIZONA.] CHAPTER VI THE INDIAN AS A WALKER, RIDER, AND CLIMBER As a part of his out-of-door life the Indian is a great walker and runner, having horses he is a great rider, and living in a mountainous or canyon region he is a great climber. The Indian walks through necessity, and also through delight and joy. He knows to the full “the joy of mere living.” A few miles’ walk, more or less, is nothing to him, and he does it so easily that one can see he enjoys it. In one of my books[1] I tell the story of the running powers of the Hopi Indians of northern Arizona. It is worth quoting here: [1] The Indians of the Painted Desert Region. Little, Brown & Co., Boston, illustrated, $2.00 net, 20c postage. “It is no uncommon thing for an Oraibi or Mashonganavi to run from his home to Moenkopi, a distance of forty miles, over the hot blazing sands of a real American Sahara, there hoe his corn-field, and return to his home, within twenty-four hours. I once photographed, the morning after his return, an old man who had made this eighty-mile run, and he showed not the slightest trace of fatigue.