afflicted with some sort of dementia. People of great age were often invaded by transforming spirits.
'The white man must have been insane,' Kicking Bird theorized.
'I'm certain of that,' the old man retorted. “There's no understanding this white man's holy road. I wouldn't be surprised to see Comanches in those pens next.'
'The white people do not eat the flesh of other people, Grandfather.'
'How can that be known? The river of excrement was not known. The place they make meat was not known. I don't care to find out any more about the whites. I want to go home.'
'We are meeting the Great White Father tomorrow.'
'Of course we are meeting him. I will sit with him and hear his words. But I will have nothing to say. I want to go home.'
Chapter LII
The delegation arrived at the Great White Father's residence in the early afternoon of the next day. The temperature had plunged overnight and the bundled warriors peered out from the hoods of blankets as they drove up, uniformly impressed with the size of the place called the White House. Various dignitaries fell into step with the party as it made its way through the vast rooms and corridors, all of them appointed with splendorous articles of white culture.
The men from the plains were at last shown into the enormous room where they were to council with the Great White Father. Its center was dominated by a table the length of several horses and surrounded by the things called chairs. Above the table were the sparkling glass trees whites liked to attach to their ceilings, and at either end of the room huge fires were blazing.
The warriors were seated at the far end of the table. Ten Bears was given the honor of the biggest chair, which faced the one standing empty at the opposite end, the one reserved for the Great White Father.
Many civilians and a few high-ranking soldiers took the remaining places. A dozen of the white man's black- skinned slaves were posted at various points on the perimeter of the room, and shortly after all was in readiness, the Great White Father himself, a covey of assistants traveling in his wake, entered the room. The whites rose from their seats, but the Comanche, Kiowa, Cheyenne, and Arapaho, thinking that the rising was some kind of occult facet of encounters between the whites and their chief, stayed seated.
The Great White Father was not quite what they expected, for despite the hair on his face being extraordinarily thick and his eyes being unusually small, he looked about the same as most other white men. But it was clear that he possessed incredible power. With a simple lifting of his hand he induced the other white men to resume their seats, and when he began to speak, his followers leaned forward as if their lives depended on his words.
At the direction of the Great White Father the members of the delegation were made to stand up and arrange themselves in a line against a bank of windows. The Great White Father then started down the line, taking each man's hand and saying a few words of welcome. Over the men's necks he draped one of the heavy peace medals, each bearing a likeness of himself. When he reached Kicking Bird and saw that the Comanche was already wearing a medal stamped with the face of one of his predecessors, the Great White Father seemed especially pleased.
'Here is a man who knows peace,' he said.
'I have always loved peace,' Kicking Bird confirmed.
'And what is your name, sir?' the Great White Father asked.
'Kicking Bird.'
'Kicking Bird, uh-huh. .”
The Great White Father shook Kicking Bird's hand and hung a second medal around his neck. When he was finished with the line, he returned to his place at the head of the table as the delegation drifted back to their seats.
At some unseen signal the black-skinned slaves came forward to pour coffee into large white cups and lay thick, dark cigarettes called cigars in front of each man. The slaves fell back to their positions and the Great White Father commenced a talk, expressing gratitude to his “Indian children” for coming so far to meet him and hoping that their visit had been pleasant and informative. He spoke a long time of the need for peace and assured his guests that the key to peace and prosperity depended on their willingness to embrace the new world of the reservation and avail themselves of its many advantages. He closed his remarks by inviting each man to speak, pronouncing himself ready to hear their hearts.
For more than an hour the tribesmen took turns sounding the familiar themes of contention between the races, concerns that the Great White Father deflected with paternal benevolence, constantly returning to the declaration that his greatest desire was to ensure the welfare of his children.
The sharpest questioning came from Kicking Bird, who iterated a long list of conditions for a successful transition to the reservation, including freedom from assault by whites, limited sovereignty, hunting rights, and proper instruction in the ways of the holy road.
The Great white Father proclaimed repeatedly that he would never abandon those of his children who promised to behave themselves, and Kicking Bird's questions, like those of his brethren, at last collapsed under the weight of platitude.
Only Ten Bears was left to speak. He had sat placidly in his chair through the afternoon, listening attentively but expressionlessly to every exchange, and the Great White Father, though he was anxious to get on with his schedule, was curious about the old man.
'The oldest of you has not spoken,” he said, pointing out Ten Bears. “I would like to hear what is on his mind.”
Laying a hand on each arm of his chair, Ten Bears pushed himself up.
'You made us an invitation to come to Washington, and we accepted. You have taken our hands and made us presents and cared for our needs with generosity, and no harm has come to us. We never invited the white man into our country but he came anyway, not looking for game to hunt but for people to kill. Comanches did not fire the first shot. . the white man did.
'Why the white man wants our country I do not know. He has more than enough for himself. I do not understand why the white man wants to kill everything in our country and make it poor. When the Comanche resists, the white man says he is misbehaving and must be punished.
'We have never tried to take over your country. All that we have ever asked is to be left alone. You will not grant that wish. Instead you want us to give up everything we love and come to live in a small space and wear your clothes and eat your food and pray to your god. You want us to walk with you on what you call the holy road. I will not do that.”
As Ten Bears paused to wet his lips with a sip of coffee he could see and hear the whites shifting in their seats. Only the Great white Father did not move but kept his eyes steadfast on the speaker.
“I was born upon the prairie,' Ten Bears continued, 'where the wind blows free and there is nothing to break the light of the sun. I was born where there are no enclosures and everything draws a free breath. I want to die there. I would rather wander the prairie eating dung than live on a white man's reservation.'
Silence continued a few seconds after Ten Bears was seated again. At last the Great White Father rose.
'There is a poet among you,' he announced, directing his gaze upon Ten Bears. “His speech is beautiful. Thank you for sharing it with us. And thank you for coming to my home today. I wish you all a swift, safe journey home.'
Chapter LIII
