Herbert's Weekly from Hiawatha, Kansas • 2

HERBERT'S WEEKLY. A LETTER FROM J. P. IM HOWE, who is out in California, recently met tuhI talked to "Ishi," said to be the only genuine wild man ever captured in the United States. Ishi, cama from Ishi.

lived on fish and game and wild, fruits. This may be of interest to Ed Jackson and Jim Challiss: Ishi did all his hunting with a bow and arrow. And the professors say he is some crack shot. Ishi can kill a rabbit on the run. Ishi has been, studied and examined by scientists from allparts of the world.

The former denizen of caves and hollows now makes his home in the museum of the Affilliated colleges in San Francisco. He sleeps in a bed, does odd jobs about the museum such as dusting exhibits, is given $2.50 in five-cent pieces at the end of each week, and in the evening smokes a pipe as contentedly as any white man after a hard day's labor. Ishi works slowly and deliberately, but he does everything he is shown to do very willingly. The writer talked to Ishi recently. And Ishi talked to him, too.

But neither understood the other, so the would-be conversation did not amount to much. The writer carried an unlighted cigar in one hand. Smoking is prohibited in the museum. Ishi thought this a great joke on the paleface and had a hearty laugh. "Ishi" is the word for man in the Yana language.

Following the custom of his tribe he has never revealed his name to the professors. So from the first they called him Ishi. The brown-skined man weighed about 115 pounds when caught. Now-Jie tips the scales at 190 evidence that civilization agrees -with him. Having been born and raised in the hills like an animal one might imagine that Ishi would appear more like a huge gorilla or monkey.

But Ishi resembles an ordinary Indian. His hair is black and long and straight and coarse. Altho living in a more civilized community today surrounded by college professors and students Ishi refuses to shave. He prefers, to half cut, half pull the hairs from his face with an old jack-knife. When Ishi's wife died, he burned most of the hair from his head, this being one of the customs among the Indians when a buck really and truly loves his squaw.

Ishi has the curiosity of a six-year-old boy. He wants to know how things arc worked the telephone, street cars. etc. The museum professors and guards are always explaining, by motions and signs, as well as they can. Islii is now able to speak a few words of English.

One- of the university professors who has make a study of Indian languages, is able to carry on quite a conversation with the ex-wild man. One of the guards took Ishi to a circus rccentlj It was difficult to get him away from the elephants and the monkeys. The red man is particularly fond of going to moving picture shows. He eats most everything except ham and salt fish. For months Ishi has been endeavoring to explain to the students how his tribe lived to tell the queer customs and habits of a race that will be no.

more when Ishi cashes in. Scores of books full of notes pn Ishi and his kind have been made, and thousands of words have been written. Ishi learned to smoke when a boy when he played about the mouth of a cave with other little Yanas. They gathered wild tobacco that grew on the hills among the wild berries. Ishi can take two pieces of wood and make fire friction.

Now and then he appears before a class of students at the university and shows them how he used to make things. He can take a rock and a stick and make an arrow head of stone or glass that is perfect in every particular. He never goes out alone except to the grocery a few blocks away. They take Ishi over to Golden Gate Park, which is nearby, every week or two, and allow him to wander through the trees and watch the deer "Ishi," however, can hardly he classified as a wild man, but rather as a last member of the timid tribe of Indians who have always avoided civilization, The story is as follows: Ever hear of Ishi, the wild 'man? When captured, Ishi was the wildest human being in America one of the most uncivilized creatures on the face of the earth. Today Ishi wears clothing, cooks his meals on a gas stove, enjoys steam heat when the weather is cold, rides on street cars and goes to see moving pictures.

And he sleeps in a bed and wears shoes. But my, how he detests modern footwear! He didn't object so much to trousers at first, but when it came to shoes Ishi rebelled. After a while, however, he got to wearing them. But even now, living in a. city, a year after he was taken away from his haunts in the hills, Ishi shows his contempt for leather for the feet, by kicking off the shoes when he gets real good and mad.

Ishi is an Indian the last of the Southern Yana tribe. These Indians formerly lived in the vicinity of Deer creek, Butte, county, Cal. Years ago the tribe began to diminish in numbers. Ishi's friends went one by one old age and disease. The race lived in hiding in one of the wildest ranges of moun-tains on the Pacific coast.

Ishi and his kind were thought extinct. Several years ago his wife died. All of the Indians had gone to the "happy hunting grounds." And then Ishi was alone absolutely alone' in the world as far as his tribe is concerned. Ishi continued wandering around the hills mostly at night like a deer in search of food. Now and then he caught a glimpse of a white man, but he dodged them as successfully as some people dodge a bill collector in the city.

A year ago last summer, a report reached Orvillc, Cab, that a wild man had been seen. Later this was. confirmed by a party of surveyors. One day news came to the sheriff at Orville that something suspciously resembling a man without clothing had been seen prowling around a slaughter house. The sheriff went after the wild man, hunting with dogs.

And the wild man gave the dogs one good run, but they finally put him up a tree. The sheriff was the first white man to get a good look at the wild man. He finally pursuaded the wild man to come down off his perch and took the brown-skin-ed individual to town. Instead of a fig leaf, Ishi wore a piece of fur about the size of a rabbit. Ishi was frightened of course.

He was like a wild animal that had been put in a cage for the first time. But 'finally the captive became subdued from hunger and he became almost tame. The sheriff gave him a banana. Ishi ate skin and all. The sheriff presented his prize with an orange.

He consumed the peel first. The sheriff got busy with the wise professors of Anthropology, of the university of California and the first thing Ishi knew he was being whirled away from his wild canyons and wooded hills, riding on red plush cushions and being drawn by a big black thing that made queer noises and sputtered nasty smelling smoke. And on each side of Ishi, were grizzled professors, happy and excited over the capture of their prize one of the greatest catches of the age. Ishi is 58 years old. All of these years he and his tribe remained away from the curious eyes of the white man.

Think what wonderful wild country that must be in the mountains where.