CIMARRON REDOUBT, KANSAS,
January, 1873.
FANCY our having given a dinner party at this sand-bag castle on the
plains, miles and miles from a white man or woman! The number of
guests was small, but their rank was immense, for we entertained
Powder-Face, Chief of the Arapahoe Nation, and Wauk, his young squaw,
mother of his little chief.
Two or three days ago Powder-Face came to make a formal call upon the
"White Chief," and brought with him two other Indians - aides we would
call them, I presume. A soldier offered to hold his horse, but he
would not dismount, and sat his horse with grave dignity until Faye
went out and in person invited him to come in and have a smoke. He is
an Indian of striking personality - is rather tall, with square, broad
shoulders, and the poise of his head tells one at once that he is not
an ordinary savage.
We must have found favor with him, for as he was going away he
announced that he would come again the next day and bring his squaw
with him. Then Faye, in his hospitable way, invited them to a midday
dinner! I was almost speechless from horror at the very thought of
sitting at a table with an Indian, no matter how great a chief he
might be.
