The Delight Makers | Page 9

from indifferent toward his surroundings. He
observes, compares, thinks, reasons, upon whatever he sees or hears,
and forms opinions from the basis of his own peculiar culture. His
senses are very acute for natural phenomena; his memory is excellent,
as often as he sees fit to make use of it. There is no difference between
him and the Caucasian in original faculties, and the reticence peculiar
to him under certain circumstances is not due to lack of mental
aptitude.
He does not practise that reticence alike toward all. A great number of
examples seems to establish the fact that the Indian has developed a
system of casuistry, based upon a remarkably thorough knowledge of
human nature. Certain matters are kept concealed from some people,
whereas they are freely discussed with others, and vice versa. The
Indian hardly ever keeps a secret to himself alone; it is nearly always
shared by others whom the matter directly concerns. It may be said of
the red man that he keeps secrets in the same manner that he
lives,--namely, in groups or clusters. The reason is that with him
individualism, or the mental and moral independence of the individual,
has not attained the high degree of development which prevails among
white races.
When Europeans began to colonize America in the fifteenth and
sixteenth centuries, the social organization of its inhabitants presented a
picture such as had disappeared long before on the continent of Europe.

Everywhere there prevailed linguistic segregation,--divisions into
autonomous groups called tribes or stocks, and within each of these,
equally autonomous clusters, whose mutual alliance for purposes of
sustenance and defence constituted the basis of tribal society. The latter
clusters were the clans, and they originated during the beginnings of the
human family. Every clan formed a group of supposed blood-relatives,
looking back to a mythical or traditional common ancestor. Descent
from the mother being always plain, the clan claimed descent in the
female line even if every recollection of the female ancestor were lost,
and theoretically all the members of one clan were so many brothers
and sisters. This organization still exists in the majority of tribes; the
members of one clan cannot intermarry, and, if all the women of a clan
die, that clan dies out also, since there is nobody left to perpetuate it.
The tribe is in reality but a league; the clan is the unit. At the time we
speak of, the affairs of each tribe were administered by an assembly of
delegates from all its clans who at the same time arbitrated inevitable
disputes between the several blood-relations.
Each clan managed its own affairs, of which no one outside of its
members needed to know anything. Since the husbands always
belonged to a different consanguine group from their wives, and the
children followed their mother's line of descent, the family was
permanently divided. There was really no family in our sense of the
word. The Indian has an individual name only. He is, in addition,
distinguished by the name of his clan, which in turn has its proper
cognomen. The affairs of the father's clan did not concern his wife or
his children, whereas a neighbour might be his confidant on such
matters. The mother, son, and daughter spoke among themselves of
matters of which the father was not entitled to know, and about which
he scarcely ever felt enough curiosity to inquire. Consequently there
grew a habit of not caring about other people's affairs unless they
affected one's own, and of confiding secrets to those only whom they
could concern, and who were entitled to know them. In the course of
time the habit became a rule of education. Reticence, secrecy,
discretion, are therefore no virtues with the Indian; they are simply the
result of training.

Okoya too had been under the influence of such training, and he knew
that Shyuote, young as he was, had already similar seeds planted within
him. But uncertainty was insufferable; it weighed too heavily upon him,
he could no longer bear it.
"Umo," he burst out, turning abruptly and looking at the boy in an
almost threatening manner, "how do you know that I dislike the
Koshare?"
Shyuote cast his eyes to the ground, and remained silent. His brother
repeated the query; the little fellow only shrugged his shoulders. With
greater insistence the elder proceeded,--
"Shyuote Tihua, who told you that the Delight Makers are not precious
to me, nor I to them?"
Shyuote shook his head, pouted, and stared vacantly to one side. He
manifestly refused to answer.
Cold perspiration stood on the brow of the elder brother; his body
quivered in anguish; he realized the truth of his suspicions. Unable any
longer to control himself he cried,--
"It is my mother who told them!"
Trembling, with clenched hands and