---
title: Improvement Era
description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930.
authors:
  - Paul, J. H.
collections:
  - periodicals
tags:
  - magazine
  - improvement-era
periodical: Improvement Era
volume: 33
number: 4
published: 1930-02
publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations
publisher_place: Salt Lake City
language: en
type: magazine
reference: "J. H. Paul, “Don’t Lie to an Indian,” *Improvement Era* 33, no. 4 (February 1930): 261–265."
source:
  url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera3304unse
  transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers.
  identifier: improvementera3304unse
start_page: 261
end_page: 265
rights:
  status: public-domain
  basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1930-02)
  source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera3304unse
  publication_year: 1930
  note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1930, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright.
---

# Don’t Lie to an Indian

<!-- page:261 -->

^Dont Lie to an Indian G/4 Campfire Story ^By PROF. J. H. PAUL AN early settler of the Tooele region was Tom Hale. Long before the white in- habitants amounted to much in the way of numbers, his ranch and cabin were widely known. Both Indians and whites acknowledged his prowess, and he was especially famed among his red neighbors. His record as a hunter and a wres- tler was heralded afar by the na- tive tribes. Early respected and feared by the savages for unerring marksmanship with his long rifle, he had become known also as a wrestler whom few opponents were ever lucky enough to down in a rough-and-tumble match. Many an Indian was especially trained to wrestle with him in friendly rivalry; and when one of them managed to gain a fall over 1 ROFESSOR J. H. Paul, for- merly president of the B. Y. Col- lege, then of the Agricultural Col- lege of Utah, later of the L. D. S. college in Salt Lake City, then for 22 years professor of natural science at the University of Utah, prior to these engagements, published a book, "Readings and Recitations," while first a teacher at the University. For thirty years he has been a contribu- tor to papers and magazines, having dealt chiefly with political science, philosophy, and education. He ad- mits a passion for literature, but writes chiefly to establish certain ideals in character building, social welfare, and politics. To foster ap- preciation of the beautiful in nature and the habit of learning truth at first hand, he often writes for schools and scouts on the plant, bird, and insect life of the West. The conservation of natural re- sources, the prevention of floods, and similar present-day problems, so absorb his time that he claims he cannot even attempt literary pro- duction. He is the author of five books and a score of pamphlets on Western nature topics, several Uni- versity bulletins, and many tariff and taxation papers. This story il- lustrates his method of interesting boy scouts and others in the value of accurate knowledge of man and nature. the champion, the fact was carried from tribe to tribe as an event of vast impor- tance. Among the red men, however, there was no tri- umphant rejoicing when one of their race won a vic- tory over Hale— only friend- ' ly good feeling with genial laughter and good-natured congratulations. For the In- dians liked Hale, and had given him a name — "Strong Arm" — because of his ter- rific grip in the wrestling contests. They liked him, too, because he had always dealt fairly with them, never taking advantage over even the least of their race. In his numerous trades and deals with either new or old acquaintances he always played fair; so that they bartered freely with him for the various articles they needed. a .ALE, moreover, had a saying, which was also widely made known — a sort of motto that was verified anew by each transaction the red men had with him — "Never lie to an Indian." In the simple life he lived, this rule held good for all people of either race; and neither friend nor foe had reason to complain that at any time he had sought to de- ceive them. The result, especially among the Indians, was genuine respect and admiration for Hale — a real friendship that made him feel secure in the presence of ma- rauding bands of redskins, who would spare nothing of other men's property nor even their lives. The incident that follows, based on the original story by Elizabeth Cannon Porter, has received cor- roboration, with slight variations, when related to the writer by vari- ous descendants of the original Hale family — a family now wide- ly distributed through many of the Rocky Mountain States. LyNE summer day, as Tom Hale stood musing at the door of his cabin, his eye was at- tracted by a cloud of dust arising from the road far out on the des- ert that lay westward of his home. The cloud came nearer; it was: not a whirlwind; and, the day being calm, not a breath was stir- ring. Hale paused, for the sight was unusual; and as the little white billows of the desert rolled! forward, he made out two human forms running swiftly toward him; and soon from out of the white mist sped a powerful Indian followed by a young Indian moth- er carrying her babe in the papoose basket tied to her head and shoul- ders. As the two rushed panting up to Hale, the red man exclaimed, "Hide us quickly, Strong Arm; I am Arrowpine, the Ute chief; the Shoshones are after us. They will kill me and carry into slavery my young wife." Hale had met Arrowpine and liked the man; they had hunted together and were friends. He thrust the pair into his cabin and pulled back a rag carpet from a hatchway in the floor; the Indians dropped into the cellar out of sight.

<!-- page:262 -->

262 The Improvement Era for February, 1930 Hale replaced the door and the carpet just when a shout from his young son Sol announced an- other and greater cloud of dust approaching out on the desert road. OTANDING uncon- cernedly outside of the cabin, Hale watched the clouds of dust roll near; soon out of them came gal- loping a band of Shoshones mounted on Indian cayuses. They rowPine explained and dashed toward the hill, thinking that Hale had intended to give them the hint to go in that di- rection. As soon as they were well up the hill, Hale removed the carpet and door from the hiding place of the Indian couple, who eagerly climbed out. "We are here on a visit to Northern Utes," Ar- 'and were fully armed, their faces streaked with red paint, their bows in hand and arrows ready, their faces eager and determined. Riding up to Hale and saluting the white man, whom he knew, the leader asked, "Have you seen two Indians — a chief and his squaw — come this way?" For a moment Hale was puz- zled, and stroked his chin; he had never lied to an Indian and hated to do so even in this emergency were out by ourselves pick- ing chokecherries when the Shoshones discovered us. They hate the Southern Utes and would like to get me for torture, because I have often defied or beaten them in battle. My young wife would meet a hor- ible fate if we should fall into their hands." "Could you find your way back to the friendly tribe," Hale asked, "if one of us should Typical landscape of Southwestern deserts. In the foreground the branching Yucca (Yucca arbores- cens) or Joshua tree, the most wild-looking of desert growths. The leaves are keen-pointed, bayo- net-like, and 6 to 10 inches long. the Indians and off toward northern hills went Sol the on a As he turned and lifted his eyes to lead you by a secret trail to the smooth trot, closely followed by a hill on his left, a little cloud of dust arose there. With a shout as they saw the dust, the Indians wheeled their horses to the right Northern road?" 'Yes," answered Arrowpine; "We know the way from there, and could elude the Shoshones." "Who will go as their guide?" inquired Hale, looking around on his neighbors, who had come in upon hearing that In- dians in war paint were about. None of them, however, was willing to undertake so dangerous an errand. Hale's question remained unanswered till his young son Sol, then about nine years of age, spoke out, saying, "I'll go, Arrowpine and his young wife carrying the Indian baby on her back in the basket woven of su- mach branches. The entire com- pany, watching them, breathed with relief as the little party fi- nally disappeared among the ce- dars, where even the field glass could not locate them. The anxious hours dragged slowly; but at nightfall, a faint shout was heard from the cedars on the distant hillside. The call came nearer, accompanied by the steady beating of feet — the Indian dog-trot; and out of the twilight into the arms of his waiting moth- Father; I know every step er emerged the lad, exhausted, but of the way, and can back in a few hours." be otherwise not one whit worse for his perilous adventure. For Sol had learned how to cover distance without exhausting himself. He could keep his lips closed for a long mother protested that he time while he ran, scarcely inter- was too young to risk his rupting the easy coyote glide, and I NSTANTLY Sol's 'Indian mother carrying her babe in a papoose basket tied to her head and shoulders." life on such a journey, with the chance of falling into the hands of the rag- ing Shoshones; but after some hesitation Hale said, "Mother, let him go; he will be as safe as anyone; and it will be hours before the Shoshones get back, even if they should return this way." Food for the journey traveling with no other refresh- ment than was afforded by a few grains of parched corn. These he held in his mouth till they slowly dissolved, sufficiently moistening his throat as, hour by hour, he sped on and on. There was rejoicing at the Hale cabin on his safe return; and the Sho- shones had not even yet made their reappearance, nor were they heard was quickly prepared for of again till the next day, when

<!-- page:263 -->

The Improvement Era for February, 1930 263 Arrowpine and his wife were far beyond their power. OEVEN years had passed from the time of this in- cident. Young Hale, now sixteen, had become skilled in frontier life and out-door experiences, which had included several visits to In- dian tribes. Arrowpine was again in the North, engaged in training a select body of his younger braves. A blunder by inexperienced trav- elers going to California had re- sulted in the death of one of Ar- rowpine's young men; and not ev- en the influence of their wise chief had been able to hold them back from taking revenge on the whites. Indian-like, they sought venge- ance, not on the fools who had slain one of their comrades, but on the first white people they might meet; and so they came sweeping through northwestern Utah, stealing, plundering, ravag- ing, burning. When Arrowpine had found that he could not restrain his men, he had placed himself at their head, with the desire to curb and lessen their depredations. Word of their onslaught sent the people for miles around to the Hale ranch for safe- ty. On came the Utes, sweeping up all the horses, cattle, and sheep they could come across. Hastily the livestock were driven to the Hale ranch, where a large enclosure with water from a spring afforded easy facilities for guarding them. With the stock thus folded, all seemed well, and the people could await with confidence the approach of the marauding Utes. Then Tom Hale suddenly remembered some choice animals in a distant pasture over the mountain — stock that had been overlooked and forgotten while the others were being driven in. It would not do to leave them out, so Hale called for a volunteer to go and bring them. No one spoke; but several looked in the direction of a dashing Mexican visiting among them and present that day at Hale's. He had told of his adventures, and was no doubt a fellow of a good deal of nerve and daring; but he was silent un- der this challenge, though many thought he should have been the first to volunteer. In the suspense that followed, young Hale spoke up, declaring himself willing to go, his mother protesting earnestly, just as she had done seven years before in a similar affair. The Mexican, who well knew the dangers of the er- rand, sneered at the young man's temerity, remarking that he would give Sol his silver spurs if he should come back alive — a taunt that made young Hale the more determined to undertake the job. It was decided, over his mother's remonstrances, to let him try it; and away he went afoot upon the precarious task of bringing in the distant livestock before the Indians could reach them. Wi HEN he had crossed the mountain and reached the pasture, he found it already raided. The Indians had been there and had driven off the animals, though which way they had gone was un- certain. Yet he judged, from cer- tain signs he had been trained to recognize, that Indians were even then getting between him and the ranch house, so he took to the cedars to make a long circuit back. To keep under cover, however, he had to make so wide a detour that darkness came on and he was still many miles from home; he was hungry, and it was growing cold. As he threaded his way, stoop- ing, hiding, crawling at times, he came upon a calf, which he rec- ognized as one of the Hale ani- mals. He knew that it would presently seek its mother, so, urg- ing it forward a little, he followed its zigzag meanderings in the dark- ness, till, in answer to its bleat, came the welcome "Moo-oo" of its mother, telling them which way to go; and as the calf knelt on one side, by the cow for its milk, Sol knelt on the other, milking into his mouth till hunger and thirst were satisfied with the warm, wel- come fluid. Then the cow lay down with the calf beside her. Some claim that Sol wedged him- self between them to keep warm. At all events, on a bed of leaves, he fell sound asleep. Just before daylight the boy awoke, impressed with the feeling that he was in grave danger. As he stood up and tried to pierce the darkness, he fancied that shad- From Painting by Le Conte Stewart. The Creek Bed, A Typical Oasis Scene in Western Utah

<!-- page:264 -->

264 The Improvement Era for February, 1930 owy forms of tents loomed not very far away. When his eyes be- came accustomed to the darkness, he made out a few tents, besides many human forms stretched out upon the earth. It was the Ute camp, and he had been sleeping within 300 yards of it. There it was, slowly becoming visible right before his eyes. H: E knew the ways of Indians and was well aware of the fact that he could not get away. That they had not found him al- ready was due merely to the cir- cumstance that animals were all about, so that the guards had paid little attention to this one, which they must have heard and seen. He decided to do as trained scouts everywhere have done under such circumstances: he would go straight into the encampment. As he walked toward the big tent, Indians lying on the ground sprang up and seized him. They threw him to the earth, then bound his hands and feet. Hearing the commotion, a chief came out of the tent. It was Arrowpine, and the youth recognized him. The chief spoke sternly. "What are you doing here? and why did you come into my camp?" he asked in anger. "Are you a spy? "I came here," answered the youth, "to find my father's ani- mals, which your men have driven away." "Who is your father?" demand- ed the chief; "and who are you?" "My father is Tom Hale; I am Sol Hale and no spy, but a friend of the red man," the boy respond- ed. "Are you Strong Arm's son?" asked the chief, peering doubtfully through the dim light at the pros- trate form beside him. "Don't lie to me." "I do not lie; neither did my father ever deceive you or your people," declared the boy in strong tones. "Stand him up," the chief com- manded; and they stood him erect before Arrowpine, who eyed him keenly. But the boy had changed so much in seven years that the Indian leader failed to recognize him. "Can you prove to me," the chief asked, "that you are Strong Arm's son?" "Seven years ago, when you were hidden in my father's house to get away from the Shoshones, I led you and your young wife with her baby boy through the cedars and along the secret trail to the Northern road; and I had to run all the way back to the ranch, for the Shoshones might have cap- tured me." In answer to other questions by the chief, Sol gave significant de- tails of the journey — details that only those who made it could ac- curately relate: how they had stopped only once at a tiny spring to drink and rest a few minutes before running on again; what the chief had said as they parted that day; the token that the chief had given him as a mark of his grati- tude— a grizzly's tooth, which the boy had strung upon his leather- woven watch chain, and which he now asked the chief to look at. 1 HE chief had closely watched the youth during this testimony, his features changing and his face lighting up as he re- membered the race through the cedars; and now, in the clearer light of the dawn, he recognized in the youth the boy who had stood by him in his hour of need. "Unbind him," the chief com- manded his men; and they untied the rawhide thongs they had wound about him. Sol rubbed his wrists and ankles, then faced the chief. "Would you know your fath- er's animals if you saw them?" asked Arrowpine, this time in a friendly and considerate voice. "I could pick them out any- where," young Hale answered. "Then follow me," said the chief, striding off toward a large enclosure where the animals se- cured during the raid were being guarded by watchers. The chief spoke to his men, who straightway proceeded to drive the animals one by one past a sort of gate where stood the chief and young Hale. When one of his father's stock would pass, Hale would say, "That's ours," and the guards would turn it out of the enclosure. One after an- other he picked out his father's animals till he felt that he had nearly all of them. Just then a handsome mare came trotting up to the gate, her eyes shining, nostrils blown, head erect, and tail held high, as she pranced and plunged, showing that the blood of her Arabian ancestry had lost none of its fire by her transfer from the deserts of Asia to those of America. She did not belong to the Hales; she had been imported for breeding purposes by a hear friend and neighbor. As young Hale saw her come forward, he began to think of the loss the whole community would suffer if he did not claim her and take Jier homfc to his father's friend; and a battle as fierce as those waged on fields of carnage began to rage in his brain. The horse was not his father's, to be sure; but these Indian thieves had no right to her, so why should he not deceive them and recover her to the people? — especially, he ar- gued to himself, since the redskins would probably make little good use of her, and by abuse and ne- glect would soon destroy her ex- traordinary value. On the other hand there arose in his mind the words of his father, "Never lie to an Indian;" and after a brief hes- itation, the Indians eyeing him closely, he shook his head, saying. "She is not ours." Ti HE chief immediate- ly called for a guard to escort young Hale and his stock back to the vicinity of the Hale ranch. A murmur of disapproval, amount- ing almost to mutiny, rose in words and gestures of increasing excitement from the assembled braves. For they had understood little of the English conversation between Arrowpine and young Hale; and they now perceived that they were to be cheated of both their intended human victim and of many of the animals they had rounded up in the raid. In words of fervor and elo- quence, Arrowpine now addressed his men, relating how the life of their chief and of his wife and young son had been saved by this son of their famous friend, the well known Strong Arm. The braves, after talking it over, accepted the chief's decision. A select guard forthwith escorted young Hale and the livestock back to the vicinity of the ranch. As Sol drove in the stock, he found a large company in a high state of nervous tension awaiting news of

<!-- page:265 -->

The Improvement Era for February, 1930 265 him. By this time they believed him to be killed or captured. There had been little sleep at the ranch through the night. Sol's mother had paced the floor of her room; his father with scouting parties had scoured the country in all directions in search of him, but had not been numerous enough to invade the Indian camp. That morning the Indians moved off with their plunder. The young Mexican forgot his promise of the silver spurs; but an old hunter gave Sol a fine saddle, while the people voiced their admiration in many ways. Last and not least, a maiden, lovely as any wild flower of the desert looked into his eyes — into his very soul. With two of the small children, the girl, resting on a pile of hay in a corner of the large barn, had passed an almost sleep- less night. The one quilt was suf- ficent for warmth, but sleep for her was out of the question, not from fear, but from anxiety for the youth Sol. Towards dawn she fell into a dreamy slumber, in which it seemed that she and the bronzed youth were once more climbing the steep ravine to the little spring with its sparkling water. And when the hiding squirrel's nest They sought far up the hills, They bathed their reeking fore- heads cool Among the mountain rills. "By manly mind," writes Scott, "not even in sleep is will resigned," meaning that strong natures con- trol the course of their dreams; and just when the sleep of the young dreamer deepened, a canyon wren, alighting on the tip of the high- pointing pole of the immense hay-derrick, poured down a shower of tinkling, silvery melo- dies, which, lute-like, came rip- pling to her consciousness. The desert air, laden with ozone and fragrant with the smell of earth and aromatic shrubs, breathed fresh across landscapes vividly painted in the glowing dawn. From cot- tonwoods along the creek bed sighed a mourning dove's faint fluting. All at once the notes of a violin mingled with the bird mel- odies. Fogelberg, the Norwegian master of music, had intercepted Edna, the marvelous soprano, as she returned with a pitcher of water from the spring, and here in the open they were rehearsing again for the approaching Confer- ence. Blending gloriously, this ex- quisite harmony of singing violin The Desert Nightingale, the Sage Thrasher, was throwing his softly bril- liant notes into the bird chorus. and soprano voice sobbed forth in ecstasy Schubert's serenade. "And the nightingale is singing — bid it, Love, be still." For the desert nightingale was singing, — the sage thrasher, cousin to the mocking- bird, had thrown his softly bril- liant notes into the bird chorus. The sweet, the olden strains, with the delirious bird whistling, had calmed the sleeper; her limbs were relaxed, her mind at peace; a mur- mur of happiness stole through her rest. Others joining in the re- hearsal, the music changed; and she seemed to be practicing with the village choir, which arose and sang, "Bright o'er the hills shines the day-star of gladness," followed by the triumphant paean, "Daugh- ter of Zion, awake from thy sad- ness." As the first sunbeam gleamed through an opening in the boards, she awoke and rose quickly. A faint whinny from a hill top saluted her ears; it was the voice of Tiny Tim, her gray pet colt, which she had given up as lost when the Indians had gathered it in during the raid of the day be- fore. Hurrying outside, she saw a band of stock coming down the slope, the gray colt leading. With a call she summoned the animal, which came trotting, then play- fully rubbed its nose against her arm. The girl lifted her eyes; Sol was approaching. She ran towards him, barely able to keep from throwing her arms about his neck, as he looked laughing into her eyes already brimming with tears. "Your mother has missed you and longed for you!" she ex- claimed. "And did you?" he asked eagerly. "Oh, Sol!" was all she could answer. For a brief moment he caught her in his arms. Soon she was running back past the others, who by this time, with cheers and exclamations, were swarming out from the ranch. On to his mother she sped with the- good news, while the neighbors were almost carrying the youth to the house. Was ever a home-coming better than this? Y EARS passed, and Hale, visiting in Southern Utah, met the aged chief Arrowpine. "Do you remember me, Arrowpine?" asked Hale. "Yes," answered the chief, "you are the son of Strong Arm." "Can you recollect the morning I claimed my father's stock?" "Yes," said Arrowpine, "I sometimes think of it." "Do you recall the fine mare that belonged to my father's friend, the mare that I wanted to claim, but did not?" "I do," said Arrowpine; "I was watching you." "Tell me, big chief, what would have happened had I claimed the mare?" "You should have had her," the chief answered; "but you never could have got home again." "Why not?" asked Hale. "You saw," said Arrowpine, "the difficulty I had in restrain- ing my young men. They knew whose animal the mare was, and in spite of all that I could have done, they would have waylaid you and filled your body with their arrows had you attempted to de- ceive them by claiming an animal that they considered their own by right of conquest." And so it has become a motto handed down among the Hale families to this day — "Don't lie to an Indian," nor to anyone else.