Hon. Cato Sells recently visited the Yakima Indian Reservation
ostensibly in the interest of the Indian, but so far as can be learned
no Indian was consulted, no tribesman invited to council, none permitted
to air their many just grievances. None knew of his coming and but few
learned of his going, and this, through a few friendly whites. Perhaps
the Commissioner had not the time to devote to his Red Wards. Banquets
with officials and speculators in Indian lands could not be foregone. In
Toppenish a few of the Yakimas were informed of the stranger's personnel
as he and his "escorts," or "body guard," as one observer commented,
stepped into the Agency car and was whirled away. One of the tribesmen
exclaimed:
"What does this mean? Why does our Commissioner do this thing? I
thought he was =our= commissioner, to look after =us=. What is he
here for? What is he doing? I know some of those men with him. I
know who they are, what they are doing to the Injuns. We want to
tell Mr. Sells something about how we are treated, how we are
robbed, but Mr. Carr keeps him from us. Why is this? What is
wrong with Mr. Sells."
Let Mr. Cato Sells explain his course to this untutored Yakima.
There is "something rotten in Denmark" when an Indian who has a thousand
dollars due him at the Agency is compelled to borrow fifty dollars with
which to purchase grain sacks before he can thrash his wheat crop.
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"=It is Hell to be an Injun!=" was the rueful self diagnosis of a Yakima
allottee as he dejectedly surveyed his torn hog fence and ruined garden,
ground and demolished by one of the Government dredges. The crew,
finding a bridge on the public road possibly unsafe, had, without
consulting the Indian or asking his permission, opened his fence,
entered his premises with the many toned machine, passed over a part of
his garden, obliterating it, leaving the fence broken permitting his
hogs to scatter at large. The Indian was not aware of this occurrence
until hours afterwards when he found his hogs wandering on the highway.
When the dredge-crew was spoken to he was referred to the Indian Farmer.
When this official was approached, he was referred to the Agency
Superintendent. Appealing to this worthy, he was informed that he "knew
nothing about it." And yet it is expected of the Indian that he be law
abiding, show love and reverence for the Flag and the Government--to
lick the hand that vivisects him. Surely it is "Hell to be an Injun."
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