“Hunhunhe!” replied the old chief, placing the palm of his hand over his mouth agap in astonishment.  “All this is unbelievable!”

The policeman took hold of the pony’s bridle and turned the reluctant little beast around.  They led it back with them and the old chieftain set unresisting in the saddle.  High Flier was taken before the superintendent, who charged him with setting fires to destroy government buildings and found him guilty.  Thus Chief High Flier was sent to jail.  He had already suffered much during his life.  He was the voiceless man of America.  And now in his old age he was cast into prison.  The chagrin of it all, together with his utter helplessness to defend his own or his people’s human rights, weighed heavily upon his spirit.

The foul air of the dingy cell nauseated him who loved the open.  He sat wearily down upon the tattered mattress, which lay on the rough board floor.  He drew his robe closely about his tall figure, holding it partially over his face, his hands covered within the folds.  In profound gloom the gray-haired prisoner sat there, without a stir for long hours and knew not when the day ended and night began.  He sat buried in his desperation.  His eyes were closed, but he could not sleep.  Bread and water in tin receptacles set upon the floor beside him untouched.  He was not hungry.  Venturesome mice crept out upon the floor and scampered in the dim starlight streaming through the iron bars of the cell window.  They squeaked as they dared each other to run across his moccasined feet, but the chieftain neither saw nor heard them.

A terrific struggle was waged within his being.  He fought as he never fought before.  Tenaciously he hung upon hope for the day of salvation—­that hope hoary with age.  Defying all odds against him, he refused to surrender faith in good people.

Underneath his blanket, wrapped so closely about him, stole a luminous light.  Before his stricken consciousness appeared a vision.  Lo, his good friend, the American woman to whom he had sent his messages by fire, now stood there a legion!  A vast multitude of women, with uplifted hands, gazed upon a huge stone image.  Their upturned faces were eager and very earnest.  The stone figure was that of a woman upon the brink of the Great Waters, facing eastward.  The myriad living hands remained uplifted till the stone woman began to show signs of life.  Very majestically she turned around, and, lo, she smiled upon this great galaxy of American women.  She was the Statue of Liberty!  It was she, who, though representing human liberty, formerly turned her back upon the American aborigine.  Her face was aglow with compassion.  Her eyes swept across the outspread continent of America, the home of the red man.

At this moment her torch flamed brighter and whiter till its radiance reached into the obscure and remote places of the land.  Her light of liberty penetrated Indian reservations.  A loud shout of joy rose up from the Indians of the earth, everywhere!