In the second journey to the East I had not come without some
precautions. I had a secret interview with one of our best medicine men,
and when I left his wigwam I carried securely in my sleeve a tiny bunch
of magic roots. This possession assured me of friends wherever I should
go. So absolutely did I believe in its charms that I wore it through all
the school routine for more than a year. Then, before I lost my faith in
the dead roots, I lost the little buckskin bag containing all my good
luck.
At the close of this second term of three years I was the proud owner of
my first diploma. The following autumn I ventured upon a college career
against my mother's will.
I had written for her approval, but in her reply I found no
encouragement. She called my notice to her neighbors' children, who had
completed their education in three years. They had returned to their
homes, and were then talking English with the frontier settlers. Her few
words hinted that I had better give up my slow attempt to learn the
white man's ways, and be content to roam over the prairies and find my
living upon wild roots. I silenced her by deliberate disobedience.
Thus, homeless and heavy-hearted, I began anew my life among strangers.
As I hid myself in my little room in the college dormitory, away from
the scornful and yet curious eyes of the students, I pined for sympathy.
Often I wept in secret, wishing I had gone West, to be nourished by my
mother's love, instead of remaining among a cold race whose hearts were
frozen hard with prejudice.
During the fall and winter seasons I scarcely had a real friend, though
by that time several of my classmates were courteous to me at a safe
distance.
My mother had not yet forgiven my rudeness to her, and I had no moment
for letter-writing. By daylight and lamplight, I spun with reeds and
thistles, until my hands were tired from their weaving, the magic design
which promised me the white man's respect.
At length, in the spring term, I entered an oratorical contest among the
various classes. As the day of competition approached, it did not seem
possible that the event was so near at hand, but it came. In the chapel
the classes assembled together, with their invited guests. The high
platform was carpeted, and gaily festooned with college colors. A bright
white light illumined the room, and outlined clearly the great polished
beams that arched the domed ceiling. The assembled crowds filled the air
with pulsating murmurs. When the hour for speaking arrived all were
hushed. But on the wall the old clock which pointed out the trying
moment ticked calmly on.
One after another I saw and heard the orators. Still, I could not
realize that they longed for the favorable decision of the judges as
much as I did. Each contestant received a loud burst of applause, and
some were cheered heartily. Too soon my turn came, and I paused a moment
behind the curtains for a deep breath. After my concluding words, I
heard the same applause that the others had called out.
Upon my retreating steps, I was astounded to receive from my
fellow-students a large bouquet of roses tied with flowing ribbons.
With the lovely flowers I fled from the stage. This friendly token was
a rebuke to me for the hard feelings I had borne them.
Later, the decision of the judges awarded me the first place. Then there
was a mad uproar in the hall, where my classmates sang and shouted my
name at the top of their lungs; and the disappointed students howled and
brayed in fearfully dissonant tin trumpets. In this excitement, happy
students rushed forward to offer their congratulations. And I could not
conceal a smile when they wished to escort me in a procession to the
students' parlor, where all were going to calm themselves. Thanking them
for the kind spirit which prompted them to make such a proposition, I
walked alone with the night to my own little room.
A few weeks afterward, I appeared as the college representative in
another contest. This time the competition was among orators from
different colleges in our State. It was held at the State capital, in
one of the largest opera houses.
Here again was a strong prejudice against my people. In the evening, as
the great audience filled the house, the student bodies began warring
among themselves. Fortunately, I was spared witnessing any of the noisy
wrangling before the contest began. The slurs against the Indian that
stained the lips of our opponents were already burning like a dry fever
within my breast.
But after the orations were delivered a deeper burn awaited me. There,
before that vast ocean of eyes, some college rowdies threw out a large
white flag, with a drawing of a most forlorn Indian girl on it. Under
this they had printed in bold black letters words that ridiculed the
college which was represented by a "squaw." Such worse than barbarian
rudeness embittered me. While we waited for the verdict of the judges, I
gleamed fiercely upon the throngs of palefaces. My teeth were hard set,
as I saw the white flag still floating insolently in the air.
Then anxiously we watched the man carry toward the stage the envelope
containing the final decision.
There were two prizes given, that night, and one of them was mine!
The evil spirit laughed within me when the white flag dropped out of
sight, and the hands which hurled it hung limp in defeat.
Leaving the crowd as quickly as possible, I was soon in my room. The
rest of the night I sat in an armchair and gazed into the crackling
fire. I laughed no more in triumph when thus alone. The little taste of
victory did not satisfy a hunger in my heart. In my mind I saw my mother
far away on the Western plains, and she was holding a charge against me.