EXHIBIT B.

SABOBA.

Saboba is the name of a village of Indians of the Serrano tribe, one hundred and fifty-seven in number, living in the San Jacinto Valley, at the base of the San Jacinto Mountains, in San Diego County. The village is within the boundaries of a Mexican grant, patented to the heirs of J. Estudillo, January 17th, 1880. The greater part of the grant has been sold to a company which, in dividing up its lands, allotted the tract where the Saboba village lies to one M. R. Byrnes, of San Bernardino, who proposes to eject the Indians unless the United States Government will buy his whole tract of seven hundred acres at an exorbitant price. The Saboba village occupies about two hundred acres, the best part of Mr. Byrnes's tract. The Indians have lived in the place for over a hundred years. They have adobe houses, fenced fields and orchards, and irrigating ditches. There is in the village a never-failing spring, with a flow of about twenty-five miner's inches. It is claimed by the Indians that the first surveys did not take in their village. This is probably true; the resurveying of grants and "floating" their lines so as to take in lands newly discovered to be of value, and leave out others discovered to be worthless, being a common practice in California. In a country where water is gold, such a spring as these Saboba Indians owned could not long escape notice or be left long in the undisturbed possession of Indians. These Indians support themselves now, and have always done so, by farming, and by going out in organized bands as sheep-shearers and vintagers. They are industrious and peaceable, and make in good seasons a fairly comfortable living. They formerly kept stock, but since the new occupancy, allotting and fencing of the valley, have been obliged to give it up. There is a Government school in this village, numbering from thirty to forty pupils, who have made remarkable progress in their studies. The school is taught by a Pennsylvania lady, formerly a teacher of the freedmen. Her gentleness and refinement have exerted an influence all through the village, and her self-denying labors among the people in times of sickness and suffering have been the work of a missionary rather than of a teacher. The following letters were written by two of the children in this school, both under fourteen years of age. They were written without the teacher's knowledge or aid, and brought to her with the request that she would send them. The handwritings are clear and good:

To the President of the United States:

MR. PRESIDENT: DEAR SIR,-I wish to write a letter for you, and I will try to tell you some things. The white people call San Jacinto rancho their land,

and I don't want them to do it. We think it is ours, for God gave it to us first. Now I think you will tell me what is right, for you have been so good to us, giving us a school and helping us. Will you not come to San Jacinto some time to see us, the school, and the people of Saboba village? Many of the people are sick, and some have died. We are so poor that we have not enough good food for the sick, and sometimes I am afraid that we are all going to die. Will you please tell what is good about our ranches, and come soon to see us?

Mrs. Jackson:

Your friend,

RAMON CAVAVI.

MY DEAR FRIEND,-I wish to write you a letter about the American people that want to drive us away from our own village of Saboba. I don't know what they can be about. I don't know why they do so My teacher told me she was very sorry about the town, and then my teacher said, I think they will find a good place for you if you have to go; but I do hope they will not drive you away. Then it will be very good for all the people of Saboba. It is a very good town for the people. They have all the work done on their gardens, and they are very sorry about the work that is done. My work is very nicely done also. The people are making one big fence to keep the cows and the horses off their garden.

Your true friend,

ANTONIO LEON.

These Saboba Indians are greatly dispirited and disheartened at the prospect of being driven out of their homes, and feel that the Government ought to protect them. The captain of the village, a very sensible and clear-headed man, said, "If the Government says we must go, we must; but we would rather die right here than move." The right of these Indians to the tract they have so long occupied and cultivated is beyond question. That this right could be successfully maintained in the courts is the opinion of the law firm of Brunson & Wells, whose admirable paper covering all cases of this kind is given herewith. (See exhibit.)

We found three miles from this village on Government land a narrow cañon called Indian Cañon, in which half a dozen Indian families were living. The cañon is but five or six miles long and very narrow; but it has a small, never-failing brook in it, and some good bottom land, on which the Indians had excellent wheat crops growing. The sides of it are moderately well wooded. It was surprising that so desirable a nook had been overlooked or omitted by the surveyors of the San Jacinto Ranch. We wrote to the Department immediately, recommending its being set aside for Indians' use. In another beautiful cañon, also with a never-failing stream running through it, we found living the old chief, Victoriano, nearly one hundred years old. The spot was an oasis of green, oak and willow trees, a wheat field, and apricot orchard and vineyard, the latter planted by Victoriano's father.

This place has been given by Victoriano to his grandson, who we were told is taking steps to secure it to himself under the Indian Homestead Act.

EXHIBIT C.

THE CAHUILLA RESERVATION.

The Cahuilla Valley is about forty miles from Saboba, high up among the peaks and spurs of the San Jacinto Mountains; a wild, barren, inaccessible spot. The Cahuilla village, situated here, was one of the most interesting that we visited, and the Indians seemed a clear-headed, more individual and independent people than any other we saw. This is partly due to their native qualities, the tribe having been originally one of the most warlike and powerful in the country, as is indicated by their name, which signifies "master." The isolation of this village has also tended to keep these Indians self-respecting and independent. There is no white settlement within ten miles, there being comparatively little to tempt white men into these mountainfastnesses. The population of the village numbers from one hundred and fifty to two hundred. The houses are of adobe, thatched with reeds; three of the houses have shingled roofs, and one has the luxury of a floor. These Indians make the greater part of their living by stock-raising. They also send out a sheep-shearing band each year. They have sixteen fields, large and small, under cultivation, and said they would have had many more except for the lack of ploughs, there being but one plough for the whole village. They raise wheat, barley, corn, squashes, and watermelons. Sometimes the frost kills the corn, and occasionally the grasshoppers descend on the valley, but aside from these accidents their crops do well. All through the village were to be seen their curious outdoor granaries-huge baskets made of twisted and woven twigs and set up on poles. The women were neatly dressed, the children especially so, and the faces of all, men, women, and children, had an animation and look of intellectual keenness very uncommon among the Southern California Indians. On the outskirts of the village is a never-failing hot spring. In this water the Indians, old and young, are said to be continually bathing. It was the Indians' impression that the lines of their reservation ran directly through the centre of this hot spring. They had been told so by some white men, but they know nothing certainly. The lines had never been shown to them. On subsequent examination at the surveyorgeneral's office in San Francisco we discovered that this spring and the village itself are entirely outside the reservation lines; also that another Indian settlement called Duasno, a few miles distant, and

intended to have been included in the reservation, is outside the lines. The Cahuilla Reservation stands recorded as containing twenty-six sections of land; so far as we could judge of the region, it seemed to us a generous estimate to say that there might be possibly five hundred acres of cultivatable land in it. In good years there would be considerable pasturage on the sides of the mountains; but far the greater part of the tract is absolutely worthless, being bare and stony mountains. The Cahuillas, however, are satisfied with it. They love the country, and would not exchange it for fertile valleys below. They said that they would be perfectly contented if the Government would only mark their land off for them, and set up boundaries so that they could know where they might keep their own stock and keep the white men's stock out. All they asked for in addition to this was some harnesses, wagons, and agricultural implements, especially ploughs. Of these last the captain reiterated, and was not satisfied till he saw the figures written down, that ten was the smallest number that would be sufficient for the village.

A few rods from the hot spring there stood a good adobe house, shut up, unoccupied. The history of this house is worth telling, as an illustration of the sort of troubles to which Indians in these remote regions, unprotected by the Government, and unable to protect themselves, are exposed. Some eight years ago the Cahuillas rented a tract of their land as pasture to two Mexicans named Machado. These Machados, by permission of the Indians, built this adobe house, and lived in it when looking after their stock. At the expiration of the lease the house was to be the property of the Indians. When the Machados left they said to the Cahuilla captain, "Here is your house." The next year another man named Thomas rented a pasture tract from the Indians and also rented this house, paying for the use of it for two years six bulls, and putting into it a man named Cushman, who was his overseer. At the end of the two years Thomas said to the Cahuillas, "Here is your house; I now take my cattle away." But the man Cushman refused to move out of the house; said it was on railroad land which he had bought of the railroad company. In spite of the Indians' remonstrances he lived on there for three or four years. Finally he died. After his death his old employer, Thomas, who had once rented this very house from the Indians, came forward, claimed it as his own, and has now sold it to a man named Parks. Through all this time the Indians committed no violence on the trespassers. They journeyed to Los Angeles to find out from the railroad company whether Cushman owned the land as he said, and were told that he did not. They laid the matter before their agent, but he was unable to do anything about it. It would seem of the greatest importance in the case of this reservation, and of all others similarly placed, that the odd section claimed or owned by the railroad companies should be

secured and added to the permanent reservation. Much further trouble will in this way be saved.

An incident which had occurred on the boundaries of the Cahuilla Reservation a few weeks before our arrival there is of importance as an illustration of the need of some legal protection for the Indians in Southern California. A Cahuilla Indian named Juan Diego had built for himself a house and cultivated a small patch of ground on a high mountain ledge a few miles north of the village. Here he lived alone with his wife and baby. He had been for some years what the Indians call a “locoed” Indian, being at times crazy; never dangerous, but yet certainly insane for longer or shorter periods. His condition was known to the agent, who told us that he had feared he would be obliged to shut Juan up if he did not get better. It was also well known throughout the neighboring country, as we found on repeated inquiry. Everybody knew that Juan Diego was "locoed." (This expression comes from the effect a weed of that name has upon horses, making them wild and unmanageable.) Juan Diego had been off to find work at sheep-shearing. He came home at night riding a strange horse. His wife exclaimed, "Why, whose horse is that?" Juan looked at the horse, and replied confusedly, "Where is my horse, then?" The woman, much frightened, said, “ You must take that horse right back; they will say you stole it." Juan replied that he would as soon as he had rested; threw himself down and fell asleep. From this sleep he was awakened by the barking of the dogs, and ran out of the house to see what it meant. The woman followed, and was the only witness of what then occurred. A white man, named Temple, the owner of the horse which Juan had ridden home, rode up, and on seeing Juan poured out a volley of oaths, levelled his gun and shot him dead. After Juan had fallen on the ground Temple rode closer and fired three more shots in the body, one in the forehead, one in the cheek, and one in the wrist, the woman looking on. He then took his horse, which was standing tied in front of the house, and rode away. The woman, with her baby on her back, ran to the Cahuilla village and told what had happened. This was in the night. At dawn the Indians went over to the place, brought the murdered man's body to the village, and buried it. The excitement was intense. The teacher, in giving us an account of the affair, said that for a few days she feared she would be obliged to close her school and leave the village. The murderer went to the nearest justice of the peace and gave himself up, saying that he had in self-defence shot an Indian. He swore that the Indian ran towards him with a knife. A jury of twelve men was summoned, who visited the spot, listened to Temple's story, pronounced him guiltless, and the judge so decided. The woman's testimony was not taken. It would have been worthless if it had been, so far as influencing that jury's minds was concerned. Her statement was positive that Juan had no