There is a singular monotony about camp life which, in the end, becomes wearisome. There is an abundance of the "far niente," but precious little of the "dolce." It has come to that pass that there are five events to each day, to-wit: Getting up, breakfast, dinner, supper and going to bed. No, I was going too fast. We had the pleasure--a few of us who were personally acquainted--of attending an Arapahoe dancing party, and spending one of those happy evenings which will linger, &c., &c. It was my belief that after the labors of the day, that is, after the women have worked and the men had lazied, all hands went quietly to bed, as is the fashion in Eastern communities, or was at least, before the introduction of late hours. But that's an error. After the day is done, and night sinks upon the prairie, they went by each other's firesides, and after a little preliminary conversation about the events of the day, the last flirtation, &c., the music strikes up, and there is bliss.

    There were certain slight differences between this party which we attended and those customary elsewhere. We squeezed in through the narrow slit in the lodge which served for a door. In the centre thereof blazed a most infernally hot fire. Around the very verge of the tent were seated a number of braves and squaws who, greeting us amicably, made room as we entered. The band consisted of an old drum and a string of bells. The advantages which this arrangement possesses over any brass or string band yet constructed will strike the most heedless observer. Simplicity, economy and a mixture of melody are happily realized. The economical side of the case is more strongly made out when it is stated that the host heats the drum, and host, junior, shakes the bells.
    But though some might think that there was a deficiency in instrumental melody, yet it was amply made up by the abundance of the vocal article. In short, every guest brought some music of his own. The women took back seats and joined in, in a mild, submissive way, as is their fashion.
    As I said, we were warmly received; the master of ceremonies observing, in the brief but laconic verse of the Arrapahoe poet--a verse more quoted on the plains than that of any poet from the days of old down--"How!"--and, replying in the same words, we shook hands and hugged and sat down. It was rather warm, since both the night and the fire were hot, and so we perspired freely.
    They informed us that we had come a little late, and that the party was already ended. It was indeed 8 o'clock. But so deep was our regret, and so manifest, that they kindly consented to stand up once more. Thereupon the band struck up, our own voices swelling the rhythmic chorus. When the song or tune had arrived at that stage where drum beats redouble, and short, shrill ululations replace long drawn howls, we all sprang to our feet, and, around the high blazing fire, yielded to the inspiring influences of the mazy occasion. We yielded with our overcoats on, not daring to lay them down for fear of something, and hence discomfort in the future.
    The style of dancing at first adopted, was very like that in the puppet-show, but very simple and easily learned. The arms hang stiffly by the body; the legs are stiff from the knee, and the rest of the body is as still as possible. Thus accoutred, one jumps up and down in a mild way, with an or the pleasure, but none of the intensity, of a Shaker. In thus bobbing up and down, and in exchanging conversational nothings with our masculine partners--the women being tired, did not indulge--we spent a few truly enjoyable minutes. Then, when the second set began, we thought that there had been enough of deference to their way of doing things. Some in a modest, decorous way began kicking up our heels across the fire. Example is contagious, like some things about an Indian, and in a minute our partners, laughing and shouting, were doing likewise, while the sitting squaws laughed and applauded. It was a truly joyful season, with the perspiration rolling down us in streams. Pulling and blowing, we kicked at one another's heels across the fire until the music ended and we sank to rest.
    Nor has this been our only relaxation from the five events of the day. At irregular intervals, J. D. Howland, artist, &c., starts the circus, wherein he is sole performer. First comes the twirling of soup plates and wash-basins, and then eccentric vaulting. Indians, traders, interpreters and Commissioners attend these platonic performances, and do it with the more zest since they are gratuitous. Satanta comes in with his bugle and plays Roderick Dhu. A great talker, Satanta, but a most outrageous liar, and assiduous lifter of white men's hair. He has a boy of whom he is exceedingly proud, and a variety of squaws whom he occasionally larrups. For here, as at the East, women are not perfect--

For women free from faults
Have beds below the willow.

    Now, after all these letters of irrelevant matter, it may not be amiss to say something of the Indian question. The great difficulty here is not in getting facts. There's no trouble about that. The trouble is that there are at least eight sets of facts relative to any given occurrence, and, of eight men, each one has his set and is honestly prepared to swear to its correctness. I don't know but that the best way is to abandon everything that goes by the name of a fact, and reason out the truth of the case from one's own interior. But this much may be safely said:
    The salary of $1,500 a year now given an Indian agent is not sufficient. It does not enable a man to support himself here and his family elsewhere. Hence he must get money elsewhere. The first thing to do is to trade, directly or indirectly. The next thing is to deliberately defraud. The first or both of these are the necessary sequence of underpay. Thus the agent, interested in trading operations, to whose prosecution war is fatal, endeavors to keep matters quiet even when hostilities are flagrant. Other Indians may be on the war-path; his are not. He wants no interference of the military arm; he wants no active campaigning. He is for peace, since it is profitable.
    But with many of the military officers commanding departments, districts or posts in this country, the case is quite different. The man who can punish, is frequently too ready to punish. To his ears are immediately carried all the reports, true or false, of Indian outrages or depredations. Men go to him, because they know the view agents are apt to take of such statements; and because they know whence alone relief can come. The officer, too, is frequently utterly disinclined to associate at all with the savages. His only communication with them is through a post interpreter, whose enmities the officer enters into. If the interpreter dislikes so and so, he naturally becomes odious to the officer, for nowhere else can he get information. This was peculiarly noticeable up the Missouri. Remove every officer on these lines, clear out everyone who is in any way compromised, and order others in their place, and but little is gained. If Major A took such a view of the case, Major B who succeeded him, and who knows A to be upright, fair-minded, and a fellow officer, follows in his footsteps. Nothing is more natural.
    The turning over of the Indian Bureau to the War Department would be impolitic. The object is to keep the Indians at peace, and a purely war government would hardly jibe with it. Nor is the regular army just now exactly fitted for that responsibility. The present agent system is also comparatively worthless; no doubt of that. For my part, I do not see why, if possible, all politics should be thrown out of sight, and the agent be selected for his fitness. As in the East India appointments, a man is required to know the language of the country, so each agent should speak the language of the tribe which he controls. His salary, too, should be remunerative. An agent, thus qualified, mixing with his Indians, exerts an amount of control now utterly out of his reach. At present, he is the slave of an interpreter.
    Putting all past difficulties out of sight, leaving the dead past to bury its dead, and looking only at the means of settling this difficulty, there appears one point of agreement between all parties--things can not go on as they have done. Humanitarians, moderates and exterminators all coincide there. Since the spring of 1863 there have been many depredations and much war. The settlement of the border has been retarded, and the border states hold now the language of the border towns of Massachusetts Bay Colony two hundred years ago. Stock has been driven off and men and women murdered, with attending circumstances of the most peculiar atrocity. There are white men here whose losses hove been such that the man who speaks to them of peace with Indians insults them. If peace were made to-day on any uli possidetis basis there is so much soreness here that it would be violated in a fortnight.
    Nearly all, excepting the exterminationists, who cost too much, agree in the plan of placing the Indians upon reservations. This I believe is in general the idea of the Commission. It is very much out of the question to leave Sioux, Cheyenne and Kiowa rampaging around the country, as of old, moving across lines of travel which must be kept open, and continually coming in contact with white men. The game must ultimately so far decrease as to barely give them the means of support, and then they must seek those means elsewhere. Even were things better than they now are, and the humor of both sides more amiable, collisions would be inevitable. A tribe has its desperadoes, as have white communities. Some of them steal a mule or scalp a man, and then the report is that their tribe is at war. As well argue the condition of Kansas from the proceedings of the Ellsworth regulators.
    So almost all assent to the advisability of placing the Indians upon reservations. Thus, in the north, the narrow bottom lands of the Sheyenne and White Earth rivers have been, or will be, designated for the Sioux. It is proposed to thus locate them to keep off white men and to teach them the acts of civilized life. Military posts are to be located around these reserves to keep whites out and Indians in. Those who hope much from this plan, point to the land-tilling Sioux and the tribes of the Indian territories, as well as to the semi-civilized tribes on the west coast. They were conquered, and located on a reserve where there were three military posts, commanded by C. C. Augur, P. H. Sheridan and David Russell. In ten years from the time or their defeat, they were living solely by tilling the ground and raising stock.
    I have no doubt that the Indians are susceptible of that degree of civilization which will enable them to dispense with hunting. I have no doubt that this plan is the one best calculated to insure peace. Not that, if carried out, there would be eternal quiet on the frontier. There are white and red desperadoes, and there would be occasional outrages, occasional thefts, diminishing, however, year by year.
    There is one trouble with this plan, that is, to catch your Indians--to induce them to go on reserves. It is an easy thing to take the relics of broken tribes and order them about. It is no easy thing to get Kiowas and Comanches off the plains where they have roamed. There's the rub. If the Commission can do it, well and good. They have done their utmost in the right direction. If they fail, war will continue. Whether they succeed or not will appear from the council. If they cannot induce the Kiowas and Cheyennes to leave this country and the country north of it, war will recommence when grass grows in the spring, if not sooner. There will be an effectual peace while the presents are being distributed, and the young men are here no longer.
    Of the details of the proposed method of managing Indians on reserves, I at present will say nothing.

Source:

Unknown, "The Indians, Conference of the Indian Commission with the Southwestern Tribes, First Day of the Council," Chicago Tribune, Chicago, Illinois, Saturday, 26 October, 1867, Page 2.