115

A very pretty accident gave an unexpected
American tinge to the climax of the interesting
ceremonies. Cody's Indians were permitted
to go upon the highest balcony of the
administration building where they might see
the flags run up. By an unintentional
gauge of time that seemed strategic
just as the machinery began to roar, the
whistles blow and the magnificent chorus in
tone "My Country, 'Tis of Thee," these Indians
in their resplendent war-paint, gorgeous necklets
and representative American savagery appeared
on the north abutment of
the building, a blazing line of character
moving along with high, flaunting
crests of feathers and flaming blankets which
stood out against the gleaming white of the
staff dome like a rainbow cleft into remembrances
of a lost, primitive glory. Nothing in
the day's occurrences appealed to sympathetic
patriotism so much as this fallen majesty
slowly filing out of sight as the flags of all nations
swept satin kisses through the air, waving
congratulation to cultured achievement and
submissive admiration to a new world.