The People: And Other Uncollected Fiction by Bernard Malamud Read Free Book Online Page B

speak to him the truth.”
    The Indian Commissioner smiled thinly. “Why didn’t he come here to this nation’s capital and say it himself?”
    “He is now an old man. It is not easy to walk if you got arthritis.”
    “But I understand he speaks English?”
    Yozip’s face turned red. “I told you his words.”
    “Be that as it may, eventually our entire Indian population will be placed on reservations. That will be just, as well as the best possible thing for them.”
    “If you will podden me,” Yozip said, “the chief and also my brothers do not like to change our reservation. He likes, and also the tribe likes, our valley, which they wish to stay there. The chief told me to say that our people don’t attack white people. He told me to say, with respect, if you will kindly let us live where our ancestors lived, and do not force us to go to another reservation, for this we will be thankful to you and also to the Great Spirit.”
    Yozip had memorized this speech.
    “When you refer to ‘ancestors,’” said the Commissioner, “do you refer to American Indians or to Hebrews?”
    Yozip considered the question slowly. “I mean any kind ancestors that they lived before us and believed in the Great Spirit Chief in the sky.”
    “Considering all things,” said the Commissioner, “I will tell you we would be happy to assist your tribe if we possibly can. However, you must understand that the United States of America is an expanding nation. We grow in great haste because our opportunities are manifold. We would like to set aside this valley you have so much affection for, but we must ask you to understand that our country’s foremost need, far into the future, will be land. And more land. We are a great nation with an important future. Therefore, we have to ask you not to make requests we can’t possibly fulfill, and which ultimately embarrass us.”
    “We do not wish to embarrass anybody,” said Yozip. “We wish you to consider what is our need. We wish to live in peace with you.”
    “What did you say your name was?” the Commissioner asked, playing with an ivory letter opener on his desk.

    “Yozip Bloom.”
    The Commissioner laughed as he removed and thoroughly cleaned his pince-nez. “That’s what I thought. Still another Joseph to deal with. I’m sure you know your chief is called Joseph?”
    Yozip blushed. “Now I know,” he admitted. “He is also Tuk-Eka-Kas.”
    “In any case, I must advise you and your fellow ‘tribesmen’ not to interfere in the legitimate aims and aspirations of the United States government. The Commissioner stood up.”I regret I am pressed for time and therefore must conclude this interview.”
    Yozip rose, anguished. “Please, Mr. Indian Commissioner, don’t say to the Indians no. The United States of America is a very big country that it takes a week to go anyplace. We are a small tribe. Please give me a letter to take back to my chief which will make him be happy. He is an old man. This is my request to you.”
    The Commissioner rang a melodious little silver bell on his desk.
    “Mr. Cluett,” he told the young man with wavy hair who entered, “will you kindly tell this half-ass Hebrew Indian that the quicker he leaves these premises, the better it will be for him and his fellow tribesmen.”
    The door opened and the young redheaded woman Yozip had seen in the hall stepped up to the desk and presented the recently initiated Indian with a shasta daisy.
    “Foh,” said the Commissioner to his daughter. “Lucinda, why the hell don’t you stay out of government business?”
    Yozip and his white daisy chugged back to the West on the iron horse.
    He had meant to stop in Chicago to have a look at his citizenship papers at his cousin Plotnick’s, but he forgot.

SIX
    Chief of the Tribe
    THE KEROSENE LAMP on the locomotive cab flickered on the rails. The train, clackity-clacking, rattled into the space across the wide prairies. Yozip, unable to sleep with eyes shut,