The Sacred Buffalo Vision by Robert J. Juneau and Robert C. Juneau pg.98

The Postmaster, I.T. Whistler of Browning, Mont., while on duty in the post office January, 1913, was crazy drunk and he wondered out in a severe blizzard about nine o’clock that night, and a searching party found him in an Indian hut about six miles east of Browning, in a semi-stupid condition. He was raving, crying, swearing, and calling for strychnine and McFatridge addressed him, said, “Ike, don’t you know me, I am McFatridge,” whereupon said I.T. Whistler replied, “McFatridge, God damn you, go to hell,” and that all efforts to compose Whistler were fruitless; that he continued raving, crying, swearing, and calling for strychnine. Most post office patrons do not consider him to be a good man for Postmaster because he allows other people access to the mails, who are not post office employees, and that he intercepts the Indian’s mail for the Supt., who removes their checks and cashes same without the permission or authority of the Indians. I.T. Whistler is a very immoral man in his relations with women.

Robert Hamilton brought an example of the winter rations issued by the Indian Office, which consisted of 1,500 navy beans, one fourth pound of salt, one pound of sugar, one pound of coffee, and one half pound of tea per month. Meat is issued infrequently once a week at one half pound per day, when they have it and they frequently don’t have it. The navy beans amount to 75 beans per day or 25 beans per meal, with no salt pork or bacon to flavor them, which makes them unpalatable. The cold this winter has reached 40 degrees below zero, with blizzards.
-The Sacred Buffalo Vision by Robert J. Juneau and Robert C. Juneau  
pg.98