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JUDGE GEO. W. RIDDLE 
 
 (The Author) 
 
 IJuLKa 
 
— — 
 

 For many years I have been solic- 
 ited by friends and some members of 
 my family to write my recollections 
 of incidents relating to crossing the 
 plains and the early settlement of 
 Southern Oregon. 
 
 I have been reluctant to under- 
 take such a work, feeling that I lack- 
 ed the ability to do the subjects jus- 
 tice in a literary sense. However, I 
 have concluded to write a series of 
 sketches, but must warn my readers 
 not to expect anything but the plain 
 story of the recollections of 65 years 
 ago, written in the plain language 
 of one whose school education would 
 not amount to a fourth grade in our 
 public schools of today. It may not 
 be amiss to say that I was born near 
 Springfield, Illinois, Dec. 14, 1839. 
 My father, William H. Riddle, was 
 born in Bourbon county, Kentucky, 
 at a place then known as Riddle sta- 
 tion, and his father, William Riddle, 
 was a native of Michlin county, Penn- 
 sylvania. My mother was Maximilia 
 Bouseman. Her parents were of 
 German blood, but were born in the 
 United States, and her father was 
 in the U. S. service during the war 
 of 1812. I have in my possession a 
 copy of a newspaper about half the 
 size of the Enterprise, dated 1818 
 (just about a hundred years ago), 
 
 giving an account of a baptist asso- 
 ciation of which my mother's father 
 was a member. 
 
 My father emigrated from Ohio 
 to Illinois in the year 1838, and set- 
 tled upon some prairie land across 
 the Sangamon river and about ten 
 miles from Springfield. My father 
 was a blacksmith and had a shop and 
 plied his trade on the farm. My 
 mother being the better farmer, had 
 much to do with the conduct of the 
 farm, while we boys were put to 
 work as soon as we were able to pull 
 weeds. Corn was our principal crop, 
 an don the virgin soil of Illion,si if 
 my memory is correct, 100 bushels 
 to the acre was only considered a 
 good crop. Our farm consisted of 
 160 acres, laying in a square, every 
 foot of it arable land, and what we 
 would call level in Oregon. When I 
 revisited this farm a few years ago, 
 after an absence of 65 years, and 
 viewing the splendid crop of corn, I 
 could but exclaim, "What was my 
 father thinking of to leave a farm 
 like this and to brave the hardships 
 and dangers of the plains in search 
 of a better!" 
 
 But when I look back over the 
 many stirring events covering the 67 
 years since we hitched up our ox 
 teams and started for Oregon, I can 
 
but be pleased that I have been per 
 mitted to take part in the develop- 
 ment of a state like our beloved Ore- 
 gon. 
 
 I feel that I am taxing the pa- 
 tience of my readers with the fore- 
 going, but everything has to have a 
 beginning, even the "fiddler" at a 
 country dance (it appeared to me), 
 used t otake a long time to tune his 
 fiddle, but that was soon forgotten 
 when the music began, so I hope this 
 beginning may not seem out of the 
 way when the more interesting ev- 
 ents of my story are written. 
 
 In the fall of 1850, Isaac Con- 
 stant, a near nieghbor, whose farm 
 joined ours, returned from Oregon. 
 He had crossed the plains with ox 
 teams in 1848 and returned with sad- 
 dle and pack horses. It is needless 
 to say that Mr. Constant was the cen- 
 ter of interest for the neighborhood. 
 The glowing accounts he gave of the 
 beauty of the country, of the mild- 
 ness of the climate, the fertility of 
 the soil, and the fact that a man and 
 wife were entitled to a half section 
 of land to be selected by themselves 
 in a new country where the hand of 
 the white man had not yet made his 
 mark. Mr. Constant also brought 
 some gold dust which I remember 
 was shown in a glass dish, which ex- 
 cited and fired the imagination. Mr. 
 Constant was a man that command- 
 ed the confidence of his neighbors. 
 He was a well to do farmer, was the 
 owners of one of the finest farms in 
 the best part of Illinois. His trip to 
 Oregon was to spy out the land. But 
 unlike the Israelites that were sent 
 
 JB airly Days in Oregon ,^Q 
 
 by Moses to spy out their promised 
 land and brought back a conflicting 
 account of the country, one bunch of 
 grapes, some pomegranites and a few 
 dried figs, Mr. Constant brought gold 
 dust and a truthful account of the 
 fertile valleys, clear running streams, 
 the wonderful forests and mountains 
 of Oregon. 
 
 It is needless to say that in our 
 neighborhood there was great plan- 
 ning to come to Oregon. Farms were 
 offered for sale, but there were few 
 buyers. My father alone succeeded 
 in selling his farm, and no doubt at 
 a great sacrifice. As I remember, 
 my father received about $3000 for 
 160 acres of finest farming land and 
 40 acres of timber land in the San- 
 gamon river bottom. " 
 
 Mr. Constant failed to sell his 
 farm, remained another year, and 
 finally selling out, crossed the plains 
 inl852 and settled in Jackson county, 
 the town of Central Point being a 
 part of his donation claim. 
 
 During the winter of 1850-51 our 
 family was busy preparing for the 
 long trip across the plains. My fath- 
 er no doubt was aided greatly by 
 Mr. Constant's advice. Oxen must 
 be purchased. This was difficult, 
 there being few broken oxen to be 
 had suitable for. so long a trip. Tliey 
 must be young, clean steers^ prefer- 
 ably four years old, and of the si* 
 yoke of oxen we started with only 
 one pair was well broken. "Bill and 
 John" were a pair of big red steers 
 that never failed us in crossing the 
 plains, and did us good service for 
 several years after, in plowing the 
 
JBfiirly Days in Oregon 
 
 
 "hew so'l and improving our new 
 home. 
 
 I During that winter my parents 
 ^worked out every detail of the teams 
 and wagons necessary; what supplies 
 of food and clothing to provide, and 
 how they should be packed; and as 
 many head of young cows and heif- 
 ers to be purchased as there was mon- 
 ey to buy. Firearms were not for- 
 gotten. My father purchased two 
 rifles, «ne for my brother, William, 
 who was two years older than I, and 
 one for me. Mine was a small cali- 
 ber squirrel gun with full dark curly 
 maple stock, elaborately ornamented 
 with inlaid German silver, tallow 
 box, etc. It is needless to say that 
 I was about the proudest ten year 
 old boy in the state of Illinois, and 
 I was soon shooting at prairie chick- 
 ens and rabbits. I can well remem- 
 ber my first hit. It was in a hazel 
 thicket bordering the Sangamon riv- 
 or bottom. I succeeded in disabling 
 my rabbit, so dropped my gun, and 
 after a long chase, caught the rabbit 
 but was unable to find my rifle, so 
 went home with my rabbit but minus 
 the gun. I was sent back with a 
 search party and the gun was soon 
 found, and I am sure, in all my hunt- 
 fnsr experience since, I have never 
 lost my gun. 
 
 It was the fore part of April, 1851. 
 that everything was in readiness for 
 our start to Oregon. Of the many 
 of our neighbors who had planned to 
 come, only the following were ready 
 to make the start: Stephen Hussv 
 and family, Samuel Yokum and fam- 
 ily, and "Sandy" Yokum, a bachelor. 
 
 They were all well to do farmers 
 who rented their farms and were 
 ready for the great adventure. When 
 ready to make the start our family 
 consisted of my father and mother, 
 sisters and brothers as follow: Arti- 
 necia Chapman, a sister whose hus- 
 band had died a few months before, 
 and her infant son, John Chapman; 
 Isabella, aged 18; William H., aged 
 13 (died in 1857); myself, aged 11, 
 Abner, aged 9; John Bouseman, 
 aged 7; Anna M., aged 4; F. Stilley, 
 aged 2. In addition to the above my 
 mother's half-sister, Lucinda McGill, 
 aged about 45 years, had made her 
 home with us for several years. She 
 was a maiden lady, but after arriv- 
 ing in Oregon she married Campbell 
 Chrismas, at one time the wealthiest 
 man in Lane county. Also Anna Hall 
 a cousin, aged 11 years. She is a 
 sister of John Hall of Myrtle Creek, 
 and now Mrs. Thos. Bealle of Cen- 
 tral Point, Oregon. 
 
 It will be seen that our immediate 
 family consisted of thirteen, in ad- 
 dition to the family three young men 
 were employed to drive the ox teams. 
 They were Newt, and George Bram- 
 son, brothers, and Jack Middleton., 
 I think they worked their way for 
 their board. Our outfit consisted of 
 three wagons, each drawn by three 
 yoke of oxen; one large carriage, or 
 "omnibus", for the family, to be 
 drawn by four horses, and about, 
 forty head of loose cattle, cows and 
 heifers. One of the wagons and 
 teams was the property of my sister, 
 Mrs. Chapman. 
 
 Your readers may think it takes 
 
G 
 
 1$ airly Days in Oregon 
 
 mo a long time to get started across 
 the plains, but I am trying to give 
 them an idea of what preparations 
 were required to make a six months 
 journey across the plains in the early 
 fifties. Also the experiences of our 
 family were typical of all others that 
 crossed the plains as we did. 
 
 I would also say that these writ- 
 ings are not intended for a history 
 of the Riddle family, but the events 
 hlch I shall write are so interre- 
 lated with members of our family 
 that it in part shows the relations 
 members of our family had in the 
 early settlement of Southern Oregon 
 New that I am through with intro- 
 ductory matter (tuning the fiddle), 
 in my next we will make a start 
 across the plains and give an ac- 
 count of more interesting events. 
 
 Article II. 
 
 It was about the 10th of April, 
 1851, that we made our start for 
 Oregon. Many of our neighbors were 
 on hand to bid us a last goodbye and 
 witness the start, and quite an array 
 it was. Three ox teams hitched to 
 covered wagons. The great covered 
 carriage for the family followed by 
 the loose cattle driven by the young- 
 er members of the family. I can at 
 this time only imagine the emotions 
 of our parents and older members of 
 family at leaving their home and 
 b'dding goodbye to friends to brave 
 the dangers of the plains. We young- 
 er ones no doubt felt proud and hap- 
 py that we were so distinguished. We 
 were going to Oregon. 
 
 Our first objective was a school 
 
 house about five miles from our 
 start, near the home of Stephen 
 Hussy (one of the parties who was 
 to make the trip ) , and where all were 
 to meet to make the final start. 
 
 This first day was beset with many 
 difficulties. Our oxen had been train- 
 ed during the winter but were 
 thoroughly broken, but we had skill- 
 ful drivers and made the first day's 
 journey without serious accident. 
 
 Not so with other members of the 
 party, I remember when we reached 
 the home of "Sandy" Yokum, the 
 batchelor, who had been awaiting 
 our arrival and had his green oxen 
 hitched to his wagon (no doubt as 
 sisted by friends) ; when our teams 
 had passed "Sandy" had his barn- 
 yard gate thrown open and started 
 his team for Oregon. The oxen made 
 through the gateway, but the wagon 
 brought the gate and one gatepost 
 along. Result, a general mixup in 
 the lane. I do not remember how 
 "Sandy" managed to reach the first 
 camp. 
 
 The second day no move was made. 
 The train was organized by electing 
 Stephen Hussy captain. The other 
 members of the train were Samuel 
 and "Sandy" Yokum (Mrs. Hussy 
 was a sister of the Yokums). These 
 Yokiims were not related to. the pio- 
 neer family that now reside at Rid- 
 dle. The third morning my oldest 
 sister /and her husband, Thomas 
 Wilson, came to bid us a final fare- 
 well. 
 
 I remember few incidents worth 
 
 relating , until we reached Council 
 
 •;, at the Missouri river, excep* 
 
JSariy Days in Oregon 
 
 that I remember more rainy days 
 than there was sunshine. We crossed 
 the Illinois river at Beardstown and 
 Mississippi .river near Warsaw, 
 thus passing through a part of the 
 state of Missouri, where we saw a 
 lot of negroes working in a field and 
 were told that they were slaves. This 
 was my only near view of slavery as 
 it then existed in the Southern 
 states. 
 
 When we arrived at Council Bluffs 
 we found the Missouri river at flood. 
 Much of the low ground on the Iowa 
 side was overflowed, making it im- 
 possible to proceed until the waters 
 should subside. Then we found other 
 emigrant trains, and during the sev- 
 eral days we were held up more ar- 
 rived, until every available camping 
 ground was occupied. Groups of 
 , covered wagons and teams, each rep- 
 resenting an emigrant train, gave 
 the appearance of a lot of villages. 
 Here many acquaintances were made 
 that lasted a life time. The trains 
 were 'generally known by the states 
 they were from, such as "Illinois 
 train", "Iowa train" or "Missouri 
 train". Many of them had inscrip- 
 tions on their wagon covers such as 
 "Oregon or Bust", and various other 
 slogans. 
 
 While waiting for the waters to 
 
 subside, with my father, I visited the 
 
 I little town of Kanesville (now Coun- 
 
 l ''! Bluffs). My father was looking 
 
 f for some additional supplies, and 
 
 I found that in a recent fire there was 
 
 a large lot of hams and shoulders 
 
 slightly damaged. Prom this lot he 
 
 iVyflected several hundred pounds at 
 
 a reduced price, and fortunate it was 
 that we took on this extra supply, 
 for some families were destitute by 
 the time they were half way across 
 the plains. One man who was after- 
 wards attached to our train had been 
 warned that his supplies were not 
 adequate for the journey, but had 
 said, "Well, I am not going to over- 
 load my team. There will be lots o: 
 people on the road and they will not 
 allow women and children to starve/ 
 He guessed right. They did not ai- 
 low them to suffer, but for the last 
 two months of the trip his family was 
 fed from the supplies of others with 
 out money or price from this man, as 
 he claimed to have no funds. I have 
 often heard it said that the plains 
 would test a man's character. If L - 
 had a mean streak in him it would 
 be sure to develop, and on the other 
 hand, if he were endowed with pa- 
 tience, benevolence and courage, he 
 would sure have the opportunity to 
 test these virtues. 
 
 After several days waiting the mud 
 dy waters of the Missouri subsided 
 and the ferry landing could be reach- 
 ed. My recollection is that the trains 
 moved out in the order of their ar- 
 rival. Our train was ferried across 
 about 12 o'clock, and when we land- 
 ed we were in the Indian country, 
 and we were made to realize that 
 fact before we slept. Our first camp 
 after crossing the river was about 
 five miles out. (The site of this camp 
 must now be within the limits of 
 the city of Omaha). At the front of 
 a draw or hollow that was surround- 
 ded on two sides by a ridge of long, 
 
s 
 
 JSarly- Days in Oregon 
 
 grassy ridges. When camp was made 
 the cattle and horses were turned up 
 the hollow to graze on the rich, ab- 
 undant grass. Fires were started, 
 supper prepared, and just as the light 
 of day began to fade and all were 
 seated for supper, the cry of "In- 
 dians! Indians!" was raised, and 
 there they were, mounted on ponies 
 and armed with long spears, coming 
 over a low ridge. They dashed among 
 our cattle, cutting out eight or ten 
 head, urging them along with their 
 spears, and soon disappeared over 
 the low hills. It is needless to say 
 there was excitement and confusion 
 in our camp. Horses were caught 
 and saddled and pursuit was made, 
 but before the Indians could be over- 
 taken darkness had set in and pur- 
 suit was useless. This raid was a 
 complete surprise. The elders of 
 our train were aware that there were 
 Pawnee villages opposite Kanesville 
 and the few we met with were elo- 
 quent with their own praise. "Me 
 Pawnee. Heap good Injun. Sioux 
 heap bad." 
 
 In after years, in thinking of this 
 cattle raid, I had my doubts about 
 the thieves being Indians, and think 
 they may have been white cattle rust- 
 lers dressed as Indians. This epi- 
 sode was no doubt a great lesson to 
 our train managers. Our stock were 
 always guarded afterwards. It was 
 a pioneer maxim that "when there 
 are no Indians in sight, be cautious." 
 
 The morning after, my father 
 with three other men mounted horses 
 and followed the trail of the thieves, 
 while the wagon train moved on. My 
 
 father, with his posse, overtook the 
 train at the end of the second day, 
 but without the lost cattle. They had 
 followed the trail for several miles 
 until they reached the timbered bot- 
 tom lands along the Missouri river. 
 There the tracks were mingled with 
 the tracks of many other cattle, so 
 after a day of fruitless search they 
 started to overtake the train, and 
 here I must record an accident to 
 the search party. In the night there 
 came on a heavy rain that swelled 
 the creek banks to overflowing and 
 the party found a temporary pole 
 bridge across "Pappio" creek almost 
 afloat; the party led their horses a- 
 cross and my father came last; his 
 mare, "Puss", tangled in the loose 
 poles, went under and was drowned; 
 he was not able to recover the sad- 
 dle. This was an irrepairable loss 
 to us youngsters. Puss was our sad- 
 dle animal that we took turns in rid- 
 ing, following the loose cattle, and 
 many a weary day we had, following 
 the cattle on foot; and later we were 
 obliged to abandon the family car- 
 riage, of which I will relate later. 
 
 Our losses on the first two days 
 were the only losses of stock on the 
 entire trip. 
 
 Our route laid on the north side 
 of the Platte river several hundred 
 miles,* part of the time along the 
 banks. During that part of our 
 journey we had little trouble with 
 the Indians. When about one hun- 
 dred miles out from Omaha — or 
 rather the site where that city now 
 stands — we met a long train of Paw- 
 nee Indians returning from a buffalo 
 
J3 ajrly Days in Oregon 
 
 hunt. Their ponies were loaded, with 
 dried buffalo meat and their manner 
 of loadng the ponies is worthy of 
 note. On each side of a pony a light 
 pole was fastened to a saddle, the 
 poles trailing on the ground. Six or 
 eight feet behind, the ends on the 
 ground spread out to give the pony 
 freedom of action. On these poles 
 cross pieces were lashed, making a 
 receptacle for all their equipment — 
 tepees, papooses and puppies. This 
 manner of transportation was com- 
 mon to all the plains Indians. They 
 also used these poles in erecting their 
 tepees or tents. 
 
 These Indians were very friendly, 
 but as usual told us that the Omahas 
 and Sioux were bad Indians. Fur- 
 ther along the Platte we had an ex- 
 perience with Indians that we' after- 
 ward learned was common to many 
 emigrant trains in 1851. We came 
 to a small creek or slough where 
 trains ahead of us constructed a pas- 
 sage way by spreading willows over 
 soft ground. Here a lot of Indians 
 demanded two head of cattle for 
 crossing. Our train was halted and 
 a parley ensued. There seemed to 
 be no way to evade crossing at this 
 place and some of our party were 
 in favor of acceeding to the demands 
 of the Indians, as some time must 
 /be spent in repairing the road and 
 more Indians were arriving, one of 
 whom made a great show of what 
 would become of us if we did not 
 pay, and to show us what a great In- 
 dian he was, exhibited a paper that 
 had been given him by a white man. 
 l[ read something like this: "The 
 
 bearer says he is an Omaha chief. 
 He is an old rascal and a bluffer. 
 Don't give him anything — go ahead." 
 So, after a delay of several hours, 
 our train was lined up, loose cattle 
 brought close up, and with a display 
 of arms the drive was made through 
 the Indians, who made little effort 
 to prevent our passage, which we 
 might have made in the first place 
 had our elders had more knowledge 
 of the Indian character. Our train 
 captain, Mr. Hussey, although an ex- 
 emplary man, had little knowledge 
 of the Indians and lacked that cour- 
 age and force that would command 
 the respect of the "untamed savage." 
 
 Article III 
 In the first of these articles I 
 gave an account of Mr. Isaac Con- 
 stant having returned to Illinois from 
 Oregon in 1850. In Mr. Constant's 
 company on the return trip was a 
 young man, Cornelius Hill, whose 
 home was in Iowa. They made the 
 trip with saddle and pack horses, fol- 
 lowing what was known as the 
 "Lassen Cut-off" trail. They passed 
 through the Umpqua and Rogue riv- 
 er valleys, leaving the Oregon-Calif- 
 ornia trail at Ashland, "crossing the 
 Klamath river about 15 miles below 
 where Klamath Falls is now situ- 
 ated, then by Rhett Lake, Goose 
 Lake, Surprise Valley and connect- 
 ing with the California trail on the 
 Humboldt river near where Winna- 
 mecca now stands. 
 
 Mr. Constant and Mr. Hill had ar- 
 ranged to recross the plains together 
 on this route in 1851 and when Mr. 
 
io 
 
 X$ni m ly Days in Ore iron 
 
 C. was unable to make the start he 
 advised my father to join with Mr. 
 Hill and come to Oregon by the 
 southern route. 
 
 About 200 miles out from the Mis- 
 souri river, on the banks of the 
 river Loup — a tributary of the 
 Platte river — we overtook the Hill 
 train. They were being ferried a- 
 cross the river and while engaged in 
 this work death claimed a member 
 of their party, a young man named 
 Welch who, from accounts, had been 
 very sick for several days. He was 
 well to do and had a splendid outfit, 
 an ox team with two young men to 
 care for that, a team of horses and 
 light wagon for himself and brother 
 John Welch. This death scene 
 comes very vividly to my mind to- 
 day. The wagon covers were rolled 
 up showing the dieing man support- 
 ed by his brother, and with groups 
 of sympathizing friends standing a- 
 round, Welch passed to the beyond. 
 
 I have given a more particular ac- 
 count of this first meeting of the 
 Hill train for the reason that we 
 were in close touch and for the last 
 half of the journey were intimately 
 associated with them. With this 
 train was Samuel Briggs and family 
 who were the first settlers in Or- 
 chard Valley W. F. Briggs, his son, 
 was one time county surveyor of this 
 county, and his descendants are resi- 
 dents of Canyonville; also Chas. 
 Beckworth, whose donation land 
 claim is now owned by Alex Worth- 
 ington; Cornelius Hill, who settled 
 on the McKenzie, east of Eugene. 
 Mr. Hill was a son-in-law of Samuel 
 
 Briggs, and Mrs. Elzie Logsdon of 
 our town is a grand daughter of 
 Cornelius Hill. There was also 
 Elijah and Erastus Hill, younger 
 brothers of Cornelius. I have men- 
 tioned these names because they 
 were closely associated with and 
 active in the affairs of the early set- 
 tlement of Douglas county. 
 
 It was near the close of day when 
 the Hill train had crossed the river 
 and but one wagon of our train was 
 ferried over that day. The owner, 
 "Sandy" Yokum the bachelor, had 
 forethought enough to move his wag- 
 on to high ground, but out of sight 
 of camp. Turning his oxen loose, he 
 returned to camp, and it happened 
 that Sandy's wagon and team was 
 left to itself for several days. Dur- 
 ing the night there came a thunder 
 storm with a regular Nebraska 
 cloud burst; in a few hours the river 
 was at full flood and cutting the 
 banks away. Twice during the night 
 our wagons were moved back and 
 the following morning where our 
 camp had been the evening before, 
 was a raging torrent. The three 
 men who were operating the ferry 
 made every effort to save their boat 
 — they had carried the split planks 
 used for decking, to a place of safe- 
 ty, but during the night the banks 
 caved off on the boat and swamped 
 it and the current carried it away. 
 The ferrymen, on viewing the situ- 
 ation the next day, gave up the ferry- 
 ing business and returned to civili- 
 zation. Here was a situation — an 
 emigrant train on the wrong 
 a swollen river, or rather one wagr^i 
 
JSfiT'lv Davs in Oregon 
 
 11 
 
 and team on the right side and the 
 others on the wrong side. The only 
 thing to do was to construct a boat, 
 but how was the question. And here 
 I remember my father took the lead 
 he being the only mechanic in the 
 train. Some distance down the river 
 stood a grove of large cottonwood 
 trees; three of these were felled and 
 three large canoes were made. When 
 launched they were placed alongside 
 of each other and covered with the 
 planking saved from the old boat, 
 which made a safe but clumsy boar 
 which was all ready by the time the 
 river subsided, which was several 
 days on account of a succession of 
 those Platte river electrical storms 
 that are said not to be equalled any- 
 where else in the world. 
 
 One day during our delay in build- 
 ing the boat, a band of buffalo was 
 reported feeding a few miles from 
 our camp. At once all were excited; 
 horses were mounted and the hunt 
 was soon on. None of our crowd 
 seemed to have any knowledge of 
 how to approach a herd of buffalo. 
 Captain Hussey was mounted on the 
 fleetest horse and armed with a shot 
 gun. From accounts, there was a 
 promiscuous charge on the herd. 
 Captain Hussy succeeded in overtak- 
 ing an old bull and proceeded to fill 
 his hide with bird shot. It is need- 
 less to say that there was no buffalo 
 steak in our camp that night. 
 
 The water subsiding, our wagons 
 were safely ferried across the river, 
 the stock was made to swim, and 
 we were again on our way. 
 
 Some of our young men remained 
 
 and operated the ferry for several 
 days and then sold it, and by forced 
 marches overtook our train, and in 
 this way our boat was used through 
 that year. 
 
 After crossing the Loup river our 
 route lay along the Platte river; we 
 were seldom out of sight of other 
 trains. Several had passed us while 
 we were detained at the Loup river, 
 building a boat. These trains fol- 
 lowed up the river to gain a ford 
 that could be crossed when the river 
 was at moderate stage. In doing 
 this they must travel an extra day 
 to regain the main road. From the 
 records left along the road there were 
 trains 300 or 400 miles ahead of us. 
 These records were mostly written 
 on buffalo heads or bones that were 
 strewn everywhere, and bleached 
 white from the rain and sun. A great 
 deal of valuable information as to 
 distance, grass, or camping place, or 
 the date of a certain train passing, 
 was transmitted in this manner. 
 
 Speaking of buffalo, in 1851 there 
 were countless thousands along the 
 Platte river. At times emigrant 
 trains were in great danger if caught 
 in the route of a stampeding buffalo 
 herd. Loose cattle, if enveloped in 
 this rush, would be carried away. At 
 one time our train was in danger. 
 
 One day, looking across the Platte, 
 we saw a great herd of buffalo enter- 
 ing the river. At this point the riv- 
 er was about a half mile wide, but 
 shallow. The herd was entering the 
 river some hundred yards higher up 
 stream, but we might be directly in 
 its path by the time it reached the 
 
12 
 
 JBai-ly Days in Oregon 
 
 bank on our side. 
 
 Ox teams were unhitched and wag- 
 ons formed into a corral and the 
 loose stock herded inside. When the 
 bison reached our side they were 
 about a quarter of a mile in front — 
 great masses of them — a hundred or 
 more yards wide and miles long. 
 They were several hours in passing, 
 and were moving at a brisk gate, 
 but not stampeding. As I remember, 
 no attempt was made to kill any of 
 them; in fact it might have endang- 
 ered the train. The buffalo are said 
 to follow their leaders when on the 
 move, but when stampeded will 
 crowd into such irrisistable masses 
 that many of them are trampled to 
 death. It is said that Indians of 
 long ago had a plan of capturing 
 buffalo by directing a stampede to a 
 precipice. The leaders, by pressure, 
 were forced over and others would 
 follow to their destruction by the 
 thousands. But gone are buffalo, 
 when 60 years ago tens of thousands 
 of their dark forms could be seen 
 dotting the plains! Now they are 
 practically extinct qpd only to be 
 found in captivity. 
 
 Our travel up the North Platte 
 was uneventful. More rain than 
 dust. Grass and water plentiful, but 
 muddy. Our greatest annoyances 
 were mosquitos and buffalo gnats. 
 
 At a point opposite Fort Laramie 
 we met a band of several hundred 
 Sioux Indians who were crossing the 
 ferry. They spread out over the 
 road with their ponies and forbid us 
 to approach them. Their great fear 
 was small pox. After some delay 
 
 they cleared the way for us to pass 
 on. I can remember that the sight 
 of so many Indians created uneasi- 
 ness in the minds of the elders of 
 our train, but we saw no more of the 
 Sioux and were not molested by them. 
 
 After leaving the North Platte, our 
 road laid along the Sweetwater, a 
 cold stream about the size of 
 Cow Creek, » and, I believe, the first 
 clear, pure water we found on the 
 trip. On this creek are situated two 
 of the best known landmarks of the 
 emigrant trail — Independence Rock 
 and the Devil's Gate. 
 
 It was a coincidence that we ar- 
 rived at Independence Rock early 
 on the day of July 4th. We struck 
 camp and celebrated the 4th with a 
 rest and in viewing one of nature's 
 phenomenon. The rock is situated 
 on a plain and covers 25 or 30 acres 
 It is from 100 to 200 feet high and 
 the top can only be reached in a 
 few places. 
 
 Another notable thing about this 
 rock was that it marked the halfway 
 point of the emigrant journey. 
 
 The Devil's Gate is about 6 miles 
 from Independence Rock in what we 
 would call a box canyon, with the 
 precipitate rock walls several hun- 
 dred feet high and the rocks having 
 the appearance of having been split 
 apart. The Sweetwater river rushes 
 through the opening in a straight 
 line. This split rock is less than a 
 quarter mile through with a clear 
 view from either end. I would say 
 that although my recollection of In- 
 dependence Rock and the Devil's; 
 Gate is very distinct, I have been; 
 
 
JBariy Days in Oregon 
 
 13 
 
 aided in the description by that giv- , would say that a frightened ox team 
 en by Ezra Meeker, when on his trip i is about the most uncontrolable 
 locating and marking the Oregon thing in the whole world, 
 trail. At another time we came near 
 
 losing control of the ox teams, 
 
 Article IV 
 
 though not from fright. 
 
 ox 
 The camp 
 
 When I commenced writing my j before reaching Green river was a 
 
 recollections of pioneer days it was 
 not my intention to give a circum- 
 stantial account of crossing the 
 plains, but as my mind reaches back 
 over a vista of fifty-seven years, there 
 are so many incidents of our trip 
 across the plains that crowd upon 
 my memory that I have thought their 
 relation would be interesting to 
 those who have not had the exper- 
 ience and of the few survivors who 
 crossed the plains in the early fifties 
 it may recall to their memories some 
 of their experiences. 
 
 Many people have witnessed the 
 wild flight of a runaway horse team, 
 but it has been the lot of few to see 
 the stampede of ox teams. We liad 
 passed the Devil's Gap but a few 
 miles when the loose cattle that we 
 were driving close up behind the wag- 
 ons except when allowed to spread 
 out to feed, became frightened and 
 dashed up among the teams and im- 
 mediately the whole train was in a 
 wild stampede and general mix up. 
 Fortunate it was for us that we were 
 on a perfectly level plain. The re- 
 sult was that one wagon was over- 
 turned, several teams tangled up 
 with oxen down, and wagons and 
 teams scattered over the prairies. 
 Fortunately there was no one injur- 
 ed, although there were women and 
 children in almost every wagon. I 
 
 dry camp and it was some time after 
 noon that we approached the river, 
 and the oxen and stock were almost 
 famished for water. When we were 
 on the slope and about a quarter of 
 a mile from the river, the loose cat- 
 tle, no doubt smelling the water, 
 commenced crowding up along the 
 side of the teams and the drivers 
 would soon have lost control had 
 not a halt been called and the oxen 
 unhooked from the wagons and un- 
 yoked, whereupon they made a wild 
 rush for the river. At the foot of 
 the hill, at the river bank, there was 
 a ferry slip at the foot of which was 
 very deep water. Here it required 
 the efforts of the ferry men to turn 
 the cattle aside to where they could 
 reach where the -water was shallow. 
 But just imagine what a catastrophe 
 it would have been had control been 
 lost of the teams and they had 
 plunged over that bank into deep 
 water with women and children, 
 wagons and all. 
 
 I have omitted to say that before 
 the occurences just related we had 
 joined the Hill train, and I have no 
 doubt that it was Cornelius Hill who 
 by his knowledge of conditions at 
 the river bank and quick action sav- 
 ed our train from irreparable disas- 
 ter. In a former article I stated that 
 Mr. Hill had the year before passed 
 
14 
 
 IB airly Days in Oregon 
 
 over the trail we were traveling, and 
 for the remainder of the trip we had 
 the benefit of his knowledge and ex- 
 perience, and of which we had the 
 immediate benefit at the Green Riv- 
 er crossing. Some men who oper- 
 ated a ferry demanded an exhorbit- 
 ant price for ferrying our wagons 
 across the river and there appeared 
 no other means of crossing. Mr. Hill 
 remembered that his party had cross- 
 ed with saddle horses the year be- 
 fore at a deep ford about a mile 
 down stream. Upon investigation it 
 was decided to attempt the ford. 
 
 Wagon boxes were raised by plac- 
 ing blocks of wood inside the stand- 
 ards to raise the boxes above water 
 and all lashed to the running gear 
 of the wagon to prevent the current 
 carrying them away. A trial trip 
 with horse team crossed in safety, 
 but it was decided that oxen would 
 be swept down with the current, so 
 horse teams were substituted, mak- 
 ing several trips, and all were land- 
 ed safely across. The oxen and loose 
 cattle were made to swim. I rem- 
 ember that many of the cattle were 
 swept down by the current and land- 
 ed on a little island and someone 
 swam in to drive them off. The a- 
 bove shows only a few of the hard- 
 ships incident to the journey across 
 the plains. 
 
 At the Soda Springs on the Bear 
 river came the parting of the ways. 
 Near that point the California and 
 Oregon trails separated. Here all 
 our friends who started with us from 
 Illinois took the Oregon trail by the 
 way of the Snake river and the Col- 
 
 umbia river — the Hussy's, Yokums 
 and Bransom brothers settling in 
 Yamhill county. 
 
 Our family joined with the Hill 
 train and came into Oregon by the 
 Southern route, following the Calif- 
 ornia trail until we reached a point 
 on the Humbolt river near where 
 Winnanheca now stands. 
 
 On this part of the trail we had 
 trouble with the Indians, which I 
 will relate in my next. 
 
 Article V. 
 
 After separating from our Illinois 
 friends and taking the California 
 trail our train consisted of twelve 
 wagons and about twenty men, and 
 during the remainder of our trip I 
 do not remember meeting or seeing 
 other trains, though there were many 
 ahead of us and no doubt many be- 
 hind us. 
 
 By common consent Cornelius Hill 
 was 'accepted as leader or captain. 
 
 He had crossed the plains twice 
 before, was then about thirty years 
 old and had been married a short 
 time before starting across the 
 plains to Safrona Briggs. In ad- 
 dition to an ox team that was shared 
 with two younger brothers, he had 
 a light wagon fitted up for himself 
 and wife and drawn by horses. 
 
 The most interesting natural phe- 
 nomenon encountered on the trip 
 were the Soda Springs on the Bear 
 river, the point where we parted 
 from our Illinois friends. 
 
 The soda springs were numerous, 
 scattered along a narrow creek bot- 
 tom near Bear river. Around each 
 
Early Days in Oregon 
 
 spring there had formed a mineral 
 deposit, building up a cone several 
 feet high, from the center of which 
 the water bubbled. 
 
 A short distance from the coda 
 Bprings, in the bed of the river, the 
 steamboat spring was spouting as 
 regular as a clock, sending up a 
 column of water ten to twenty feet 
 high. The steamboat spring ceased 
 its spouting some years ago, but the 
 soda springs are said to be a great 
 place of resort. 
 
 Upon taking the California trail 
 we traveled in a westerly direction 
 and about fifty miles north of Salt 
 Lake. The Mormon settlement at 
 Salt Lake City, first established 
 there in 1846-7, was about one hun- 
 dred miles distant from our line of 
 travel and we met no Mormons. 
 
 At about our third ramp after tak- 
 ing the California trail, just after 
 daylight, a small band of Indians- 
 six or eight in number — approached 
 our camp on horseback. They were 
 immediately signed to stop. They 
 greated us with "How! How!", but 
 were not allowed to approach camp. 
 It was said to be a trick of the In- 
 dians for a few to approach in a 
 friendly manner. If they found the 
 emigrants weak in numbers or care- 
 less other Indians would straggle in 
 until they would take the emigrants 
 at a disadvantage. 
 
 The Indians we met up with in 
 Idaho and Nevada are said to have 
 been of the Utes tribe and appeared 
 to have been divided up in small 
 bands. Although armed with rifles 
 /they appeared to be of a poor quality. 
 
 While Mr. Hill was ever watchful 
 for the safety of the train he would 
 take chances for himself. 
 
 It was his custom to drive ahead 
 to select camping places, or during 
 the day he would go out ahead until 
 he would find grass, then stop and 
 let his horses graze. 
 
 One day, when the road lay over 
 a level plain with a range of low 
 rocky hills close to our right, we 
 passed Mr. and Mrs. Hill, where 
 they had stopped to allow their hor- 
 ses to graze near a small creek that 
 flowed from a rocky gulch about 
 two hundred yards from their wag- 
 gon. After the train had passed Mr. 
 Hill about three-fourths of a mile, I 
 being with the loose cattle, heard 
 some shots, and looking back, saw 
 Mrs. Hill coming on horseback 
 screaming "Indians" and lashing her 
 horse to its utmst speed. Some dis- 
 tance before reached where I was 
 she fell from her horse, but the 
 alarm was given. 
 
 Nearly every man seized a gun and 
 rushed back to the rescue, leaving 
 the teams just as they were, with 
 women and children practically un- 
 protected. 
 
 They found Mr. Hill sheltered by 
 his wagon, exchanging shots with 
 the Indians that appeared upon the 
 top of a rocky hill out of range of 
 rifle fire. 
 
 It seems that after the train had 
 passed three Indians appeared about 
 fifty yards from Mr. Hill's wagon. 
 When they found they were discov 
 ered they called out "How! How!" 
 
 Mr. Hill, not to be fooled by this 
 
16 
 
 Early Days in Oregon 
 
 show of friendship, covered them 
 with his rifle and motioned them 
 back. 
 
 Mr. Hill was not to be caught by 
 any "howdy-do" talk, but kept his 
 gun pointed first at one and then an- 
 other. The Indians gave back by 
 falling in the grass and firing as 
 they ran. 
 
 Mr. Hill reserved his fire until 
 they were about to enter the rockj 
 canyon. Then he fired but was not 
 sure that his shot had reached the 
 mark. Soon after a bunch of In- 
 dians appeared on a rocky butte, and 
 the reinforcements reaching Mr. Hill 
 there was a battle at long range in 
 which there was more noise than 
 bloodshed. 
 
 Mrs. Hill was not seriously injured 
 by the fall from the horse and im- 
 mediately ran back to join her hus- 
 band. I, with other boys, caught the 
 horse and went back to join the 
 war. By the time I arrived at the 
 battlefield the Indians had disappear- 
 ed behind the rocks. Evidently 
 some of our rifle bullets were com- 
 ing too close. 
 
 About this time it was found that 
 the train had been left unprotected. 
 Almost all our fighting men had rush- 
 ed to the rescue of Mr. Hill. The 
 horses were hurriedly hitched to the 
 wagon and all started to join the 
 train. At this the Indians jumped 
 out upon the rocks dancing and wav- 
 ing their arms, no doubt claiming a 
 great victory. 
 
 Mr. Hill, no doubt, had by his 
 courage and forethought, saved hie 
 life. If he had fired when the In- 
 
 dians were close to him they would 
 have rushed him before he could re- 
 load his muzzle loading rifle, and by 
 1 taking shelter behind his wagon he 
 kept the three Indians guessing 
 which one would receive his fire. 
 The Indian is an expert at dodging, 
 so one can imagine these Indians 
 running, falling, and rolling in mak- 
 ing their getaway, at the same time 
 firing at Mr. Hill, several of their 
 bullets striking the wagon. 
 
 As a result of this scrap with the 
 Indians a conference was held with 
 the elders of our train in which Mr. 
 Hill explained that in the future the 
 train should not be left unprotected 
 in any case and a better understand- 
 ing was had of what should be done 
 in case we were attacked. 
 
 Article VI. 
 
 A few days after olr adventlre 
 with the Indians we were overtaken 
 late in the afternoon by two men 
 on horseback and a man and woman 
 in a light wagon with horse team. 
 They had been attacked by Indians 
 early in the morning, bdt had suc- 
 ceeded in standing them off and 
 made an all day run to overtake our 
 train. 
 
 The driver of the team professed 
 to be an old plainsman and was a 
 great talker. He claimed to be the 
 bearer of dispatches from the Mor- 
 mon settlement at Salt Lane City to 
 California. From his loud talk and 
 appearance we spoke of him after- 
 wards as the "wild man". It was 
 certainly a hazardous undertaking 
 for three men, encumbered with a 
 
23 airly Days in Oregon 
 
 £7 
 
 
 wagon and team, through a country- 
 infested with Indians. After travel- 
 ing with us for one day to rest their 
 horses, they passed on to overtake 
 a train somewhere ahead, and these 
 mysterious people were seen no more 
 by us. 
 
 Our next Indian trouble was near 
 the Humboldt river. It was the 
 custom for each wagon to take their 
 turn to lead the train on account of 
 the dust. John Welch (an unmar- 
 ried man, whose brother had died 
 at Loup river as heretofore related) 
 was fastidious about dust and went 
 ahead out of his turn. He said he 
 would keep clear out ahead — that 
 he preferred to take chances of the 
 Indians than the dust. 
 
 He found the Indians the first day. 
 He was perhaps half a mile ahead 
 and in plain sight of the train with 
 his two wagons, one with horse team 
 and with the Rhinehardt brothers as 
 helpers, when he was fired upon by 
 Indians at close range. One of me 
 shots shattered the bone of his left 
 arm above the elbow, but he succeed- 
 ed in managing his team with one 
 hand and to make his escape while 
 the two Germans left the ox team 
 
 d fell back to the main army. The 
 
 dians shot one of the wheel oxen 
 hich tangled up the team and then 
 
 oted the wagon of things they 
 ould easily carry and made their 
 escape across the river into the wil- 
 lows. The train coming up, Elijah 
 Hill with some others, made a search 
 but the Indians had made their get- 
 away. 
 
 Mr. Welch had a great hole thru 
 
 his arm and the bone badly shat- 
 tered. No one with the train hav- 
 ing any surgical skill, my oldest sis- 
 ter (afterwards Mrs. Merriman) was 
 called on to dress the wound. Her 
 fingers being slender, she could feel 
 for and extract the shattered bones. 
 I witnessed the operation and it 
 made such an impression upon my 
 mind that at times I can visualize 
 the operation. My sister Aritnecia 
 was a brave girl. • 
 
 Mr. Welch made a good recovery. 
 
 I recall another incident, while 
 traveling along the Humboldt river, 
 that was a near tragedy. My bro- 
 there, J. B. (Bouse — then six years 
 old) fell from the front of a wagon 
 in such a manner that the fore wheel 
 passed over his body diagonally from 
 shoulder to hip. On the opposite 
 side the driver of the team fortun- 
 ately, snatched the boy from under 
 the wagon before the hind wheel 
 reached him. It was some time be- 
 fore the boy regained consciousness. 
 Fortunately no bones were broken, 
 but it was a miraculous escape. 
 
 At Black Rock desert, not far from 
 the sink of the Humbol'dt river in 
 Nevada, our train left the California 
 trail, turning northeast across the 
 desert, where we met with the most 
 trying experience of the whole trip. 
 
 Our teams had been rested by mak- 
 ing short drives, and before leaving 
 the river preparation was made for 
 the trying ordeal of crossing a fifty 
 mile desert with ox teams, and it 
 was fortunate for us that we had the 
 benefit of the knowledge and good 
 judgment of Cornelius Hill. 
 
18 
 
 Early Days in Oregon 
 
 At the point where we left the 
 Humboldt river the train was halted 
 while Mr. Hill with his light wagon 
 and horse team and with some men 
 and tools drove out on the desert 
 about ten miles where there were 
 some rush springs. These were 
 cleaned out so that they would fill 
 with water and would afford some 
 relief to the cattle. Every recept- 
 ical that would hold water was filled 
 from the river. Our family, and 
 others, had small kegs that they had 
 brought for just such emergencies. 
 
 Our first days drive was out to the 
 springs, reaching there in the after- 
 noon. The cattle found some grass 
 and some water. At about midnight 
 a start was made across the desert. 
 
 I might say that long before this 
 time I had been promoted to driver 
 of an ox team. I heretofore stated 
 we started across the plains with a 
 heavy carriage for the family. This, 
 on account of the loss of a horse, 
 was abandoned before we left the 
 Platte river. My father picked up a 
 light wagon to which was hitched 
 our best yoke of oxen, two very 
 large steers, Bill and John, and I, 
 an eleven year old boy, was installed 
 as driver, and I brought that outfit 
 through without a mishap of any 
 kind, but the credit should be given 
 to Bill and John, the oxen. 
 
 Our night drive across the desert 
 was without incident. Our road lay 
 across a perefctly level plain with- 
 out growth of any kind, a sandy 
 desert. 
 
 Upon the coming of daylight we 
 began to see evidence of disaster that 
 
 had befell trains in former years. 
 We were seldom out of sight of the 
 carcasses of dead cattle. All appear- 
 ed to be of a dun color, caused by 
 alkali dust, and in the hot dry air 
 of the desert the carcasses had simp- 
 ly dried up. Most of them had lain 
 there for five years. 
 
 It was in the year 1846, just five 
 years previous to our crossing, that 
 the first emigrant train had crossed 
 this desert over the route which we 
 came. They were a large train, con- 
 sisting of sixty or more wagons. I 
 afterward personally knew some of 
 the men who were with this train: 
 Greenbery Smith, afterward a very 
 wealthy resident of Benton county, 
 and Hon. Tolbert Carter also of Ben- 
 ton county. These men related some 
 of their experiences to me. 
 
 All alon gthe road were abandon- 
 ed wagons, household goods of ev- 
 ery description. Here would be a 
 cogk stove, further on a plow, then 
 the remains of a feather bed. It 
 was remarked that one could find 
 anything they wanted from this ab- 
 andoned property and it was sur- 
 prising to see what absurd things 
 some would bring with them across 
 the plains. On this desert we fosnd 
 a cast iron machine that would 
 weigh almost a ton — evidently some 
 kind of a gold saving machine that 
 some inventive genius had construc- 
 ted and imagined that if he could 
 reach a gold field he would make his 
 fortune, but if the poor man had 
 succeeded in bringing his machine 
 through he would only have met with 
 disappointment, for no such machin- 
 
JBrnrly Days in Oregon 
 
 19 
 
 ery ever proved a sudless. 
 
 After the heat of the day rame on 
 our little train of ox teams were 
 srattered along the road. Often 
 some of the oxen would berome so 
 exhausted the team would be stopped 
 and as long as the water lasted their 
 tongues would be sponged. It is 
 characteristic of oxen when they are 
 very hot and thirsty that their 
 tongues hang from their mouths. 
 Many of the incidents of this day 
 on the desert come before my mem- 
 ory at the present time, one of which 
 I will relate. 
 
 Crossing the plains was said to 
 be a test of a man's character. If 
 he was of an overbearing or quarrel- 
 some disposition, a day like that 
 would develop these traits. 
 
 In our train was a man that I 
 will call B — who had quite a family 
 of small children. With him was a 
 young man who had furnished a 
 part of the team and a share of the 
 expenses of the trip across the 
 plains. On this big good natured 
 boy B — imposed in every way. The 
 boy patiently endured the nagging 
 and abuse. B — was not popular and 
 the boy was advised to sever his 
 partnership with him, but this he 
 would not do on account of B's fam- 
 ily being left stranded. Other young 
 men advised him to give B a thresh- 
 ing. 
 
 This advice he did not take until 
 that day o nthe desert. The heat 
 and thirst had no doubt made B 
 mere abusive than usual. It also 
 had its effect on the boy, who had 
 
 endured all he could, and when B, 
 in addition to his abusive language, 
 struck him with his whip stock "the 
 worm turned" and promptly knocked 
 B down and proceeded to wipe the 
 desert sand with him. B called for 
 mercy an dwhen released said: 
 "Darn it, you know I am no figth- 
 ing man". 
 
 This incident caused a great deal 
 of satisfaction to everyone except B 
 perhaps, and made a more amiable 
 man of him for the balance of the 
 trip. 
 
 By noon that day all the water 
 we had brught in our wagons was 
 exhausted, and those teams that 
 were able pushed ahead until our 
 train was stretched out for several 
 miles. About this time we could see 
 Black Rock looming up in the dis- 
 tance and that point meant water 
 and rest. 
 
 Some of our teams reached the 
 rock late :n the afternoon. Mr. K.'ll 
 villi his hcrse team returned t~> 
 meet the delayed teams with water 
 for the thirsty people. I recall that 
 the water was strongly impregnated 
 with mineral and was very unpleas- 
 ant to the taste, but it was wet and 
 appeased the thirst and there were 
 no unpleasant results from its use. 
 
 At the close of the day all of the 
 teams had reached camp in safety 
 without the loss of a head of stock. 
 This, judging from the wreckage 
 strewn across the desert, was more 
 than former imigrants had done. We 
 were the pnly train following this 
 rente in 1851. 
 
20 
 
 J^ariy Days in Or&gon 
 
 Article VII 
 
 In my last article I gave an ac- 
 count of crossing the Black desort 
 The desert no doubt derived its name 
 from a high rock or head land that 
 appeared to he the termination of a 
 range of hills. Near this rock we 
 found several deep pools of water, as 
 I remember them, about twenty feet 
 across and perfectly round. 
 
 The spring nearest the rock was 
 scalding hot. A crust of some sub- 
 stance had formed around the edge 
 of the pool on which we were warn- 
 ed not to venture. There were sev- 
 eral of these pools, perhaps two hun- 
 dred feet apart, the temperature 
 lower in each until the last one was 
 just right for bathing. 
 
 We were obliged to guard our 
 stock away from these pools, but 
 there was other water for it. The 
 water from these hot springs wa n 
 very disagreebale to the taste. Black 
 Rock and the hot springs remain in 
 my mind as the greatest of nature's 
 phenomena met with on our trip 
 across the plains. 
 
 Several days after passing Black 
 Rock we passed through what was 
 then known as High Rock canyon — 
 another marvel of nature. The road 
 followed a small creek for fifteen or 
 twenty miles. There were at places 
 over-hanging rocks on both sides 
 with scant room for wagons to pass. 
 In other places there would be small 
 openings. In one of these we camp- 
 ed about noon, in a narrow valley 
 about a fourth of a mile Jong. Our 
 camp was at the upper end of the 
 valley and our stock was turned to 
 
 graze down the creek. I am giving 
 a more particular description of this 
 camp on account of a discovery that 
 was made that caused trouble in our 
 train during the remainder of the 
 trip. 
 
 After lunch some of our party 
 started out to scale a high rocky 
 point on the west side of the valley. 
 Another quartet were engaged in a 
 game of cards with the only pack 
 of cards in camp, while the stock 
 were feeding peacefully down the 
 creek. 
 
 Some one of the men went down 
 the valley to look at some wagons 
 that had been abandoned and discov- 
 ered what he at first supposed to be 
 a grave that the Indians had dug 
 into, as was their custom. On closer 
 examination he discovered two bar- 
 rels which the Indians had chopped 
 into which he found contained whis- 
 key. 
 
 There was soon great excitement 
 in camp. The mountain climbers 
 came racing down; the card players 
 dropped their cards (I mention this 
 because the cards disappeared and 
 it was thought that they had found 
 their way into my mother's stove) ; 
 and soon most of the camp was a- 
 "<nind the cache. When further ex- N 
 cavation was made, two more fifty 
 gallon barrels were found to be in- 
 tact — one of whiskey and one of 
 brandy. From the fact that a hea- 
 vy government wagon had been left 
 standing over the cache, the conclu- 
 sion was reached that it had been . 
 abandoned by a government train 
 several years before. 
 
JSar/y Days in Oregon 
 
 Over this find occured the only 
 real dissention that marred the har- 
 mony of the train. Mr. Hill insisted 
 that the stuff should be left, but this 
 advice was not followed by all and 
 there was a search for receptacles 
 to carry the booze and water kegs 
 were in demand. The only (near) 
 preacher we had even filled the fam- 
 ily churn. He did not want to damn 
 his own soul by drinking, but said 
 it would sell for so much money 
 when he arrived in Oregon, and no 
 doubt the party who would buy it 
 was a hardened sinner anyway. For- 
 
 - n -<•'"-]' -t 
 empty bottles and the teams were 
 too weak to haul a barrel of the 
 stuff so most of it was left behind, 
 but there was some animosity caused 
 by the liquor that lasted the remain- 
 der of the trip. 
 
 After passing through High Rock 
 canyon our route laid through what 
 is now known as Surprise valley. S 
 remember, in this valley, in lookirn 
 on what appeared to be the bed ot 
 a dried up lake, we saw what ap 
 peared to be the most marvelous of 
 monsters — larger than elephan'- 
 Some of our men ventured out to 
 investigate and when they approach 
 ed, the monsters flew up into the an 
 and turned into a flock of crows 
 The effect of the sun's rays on th> 
 
 mirage that had made a common 
 crow appear as grotesque monsters 
 Prom Surprise valley we crossed 
 a spur of the Siamavada mountains, 
 then called Plum creek mountain 
 and camped near what is now knowr 
 
 as Fandango creek, said to have tak- 
 en its name from some imigrants 
 having a dance when they were fired 
 on by Indians. 
 
 At this point we found an aband- 
 oned wagon that had been loaded 
 with books which had evidently been 
 a law library. The books were, scat- 
 tered in every direction and had been 
 ,here for several years. , 
 
 From Fandango creek to Goose 
 lake was a comparatively level coun- 
 try. At times the country was so 
 rocky that it was difficult to follow 
 the road, and at other times the only 
 evidence that we were right were 
 the marks on the boulders made by 
 •■'•■ tr ns. Qui 
 route laid around the east end of 
 Goose lake, thence west to "Tule" 
 lake. We had seen no Indians since 
 leaving the California trail on the 
 Humboldt river. 
 
 We approached Tule lake from tntr 
 east, coming over a hill about a mile 
 from the lake, a level plain covered 
 with sage brush intervening. From 
 the south — the direction of the lava 
 beds — we saw a band of Indians ap- 
 proaching at right angles to our 
 road. 
 
 The train was stopped and all fire 
 arms were inspected. Those thai 
 had been loaded for some time wer< 
 discharged and reloaded and every- 
 thing was made ready for trouble. 
 
 Our train at the time, as I recall, 
 consisted of twelve wagons, about 
 sixty head of loose cattle, sixteen 
 men, not fully armed, and four boys 
 with guns, of whom I was one. 
 
 Before we had reached the slope 
 
22 
 
 ISarly Days in Oregon 
 
 leading to the lake's level the In- 
 
 ans had approached within a hun- 
 dred yards of the train. We halted 
 and motioned for the Indians to stop. 
 My father, with two other men, went 
 out to meet them. The parley wa< 
 by signs. 
 
 The Indians pointed down to a 
 clear space on the level of the !ai e 
 that was covered with what appear- 
 ed to be small hay cocks which v. p 
 understood they did not want d'tS- 
 turbed. These apparent hay cccks 
 no doubt contained' the seeds of a 
 water : ily one of their chuc articles 
 of focd, which, in after yaar> I saw 
 the- Klamath Indians gathering in 
 groat quantities. 
 
 The Indians were motioned to keep 
 back away from the train. Mr. Mill 
 had given Mrs. Hill charge of the 
 horses. The teams moved up "lose 
 together with the loose cattle herded 
 in close to the wagons. Every man 
 that could be spared from managing 1 
 the teams were placed at vantage 
 points, when the train started down 
 the rocky slope. Before we had 
 moved far the Indians appeared on 
 both sides, close up to the wagons. 
 At that time the Modock Indians 
 were over a hundred warriors strong 
 and they must have all been there. 
 
 They were armed with bows and 
 arrows with one exception. One buck 
 made a great display with a rifle, 
 but on nearer approach it was dis- 
 covered that it lacked a lock. 
 
 The fact that these Indians were 
 rll buck's was an indication that they 
 meant m'schief, but the only dem- 
 on st rat : on they made was one of 
 
 them rushed up to one of our men 
 who was driving a team and grabbed 
 hold of a revolver and tried to take 
 it. Mr. Hill, who was near, called 
 to the man not to shoot and the In- 
 dian soon gave up the attempt to be 
 the possessor of a "pepper box" as 
 the Allen six shooter of that day 
 was called. 
 
 After passing through this band 
 of warriors and reaching the level 
 of the lake our road laid between a 
 tule marsh that surrounded the lake 
 at this point, and an over-hanging 
 bluff of rocks, for almost a half mile. 
 At places there was barely room for 
 the wagons to pass- between the 
 marsh and the rocks. At oner* of 
 these points a lot of squaws were 
 sitting in a row across the road. 
 
 Our teams were in the lead that 
 day and a young man named "Jack" 
 Middleton was driving the lead and 
 my team was next. The squaws 
 were motioned to move, which they 
 refused to do, and the whole train 
 was halted until Jack stepped to the 
 front with his ox whip and com- 
 menced rapidly cracking it close to 
 their faces. The explosions must 
 have sounded to the squaws like ar- 
 tillery fire and they soon scattered 
 into the tules. I might say here that 
 the tules, or rushes, were from four 
 to ten feet high and extended a mile 
 or more from the lake at the season 
 of the year that we were there — its 
 low stage — so that the Indians had 
 an excellent hiding place. 
 
 We could see their heads, looking 
 like so many blackbirds. 
 
 We reached open ground without 
 
Early Days in Oregon 
 
 be*r.g attacked. We had passed what 
 is now known as Bloody Point in 
 safety which, from a knowledge of 
 events of later years, seems a mar- 
 velous escape. 
 
 The Indians evidently had intend- 
 ed to attack us when they surround- 
 ed us as we approached the lake. 
 The absence of squaws was evidence 
 of this design, but our show of pre- 
 paredness held them in check. No 
 doubt the sight of our men with rifles 
 at "ready" restrained them. The 
 Modocks at that time numbered over 
 a hundred warriors and they must 
 have all been there. It seems at 
 this time, that if they had known 
 their power, they could have stam- 
 peded our teams* and with their ar- 
 rows and numbers, could have sent 
 twenty arrows to one shot from our 
 guns. At this time I can visualize 
 our teams stampeded, wagons over- 
 turned and confusion generally. But 
 the Indians did not know their pow- 
 er and they overrated our strength 
 and then the Indian seldom attacks 
 in the open. His tactics are to fire 
 from ambush, or a surprise. 
 
 In 1852, the year following our 
 passing under Bloody Point, there 
 was a large imigration by this route 
 and all trains not strongly guarded 
 were attacked at this point, some of 
 them being totally anihilated. 
 
 When the news reached Yreka that 
 many trains with women and chil- 
 dren were on the road, and their 
 danger, two companies were hastily 
 »organized and sent to the rescue. 
 Also a company under Col. John 
 Ross from Jacksonville, Oregon. 
 
 When these companies arrived at 
 Bloody Point they found a train sur- 
 rounded under the rocky bluffs with 
 ammunition about exhausted and two 
 men wounded. These they rescued 
 and in addition they found and bur- 
 ied fifty mutilated bodies, including 
 women and children. 
 
 I relate these facts to show how 
 narrow was our escape the year be- 
 l re. 
 
 Article'VIII 
 
 After our experience with the Mo- 
 doc Indians and passing Bloody 
 Point, our route lay on the east 
 bank of Lost river near which camp 
 was struck and every precaution to 
 resist a night attack was made. 
 
 Every available man did guard 
 duty at some time during the- night. 
 Several times our sentries would hear 
 Indians approaching through the 
 high dry grass, but upon the crack 
 of a rifle the Indian would jump to 
 his feet and run. No doubt the In- 
 dians object was to pick off a sentry 
 or to fire arrows into our cattle. 
 
 However, morning dawned without 
 any casualties on our part and we 
 were soon on the move. 
 
 At about ten o'clock that day a- 
 bout twenty Indians were discovered 
 approaching us from a hillside on 
 horseback, their horses on the run. 
 This created great excitement with 
 us and we commenced forming a cor- 
 ral with our wagons. 
 
 When the Indians were within a- 
 bout two hundred yards of us and 
 discovered our preparations, they all 
 except two, stopped. These took off 
 their head coverings, made signs of 
 
24 
 
 ISaurly Days in Oregon 
 
 peace and rode into camp. They 
 proved to be a band of Warm Springs 
 Indians, perhaps Umatillas. They 
 could speak enough English to be 
 understood, and when we told them 
 about the Modocs, they said they 
 were looking for them and would see 
 that we were not molested further. 
 These Indians were very friendly and 
 gave us youngsters dried venison. 
 
 I might say here that these In- 
 dians were several hundred miles 
 from their own country, and I af- 
 terwards learned that it was their 
 custom to make forays into the Mo- 
 doc tribes to capture young boys and 
 girls and adopt them into their tribe. 
 
 At the time of which I write the 
 Modocs had neither horses nor guns 
 and their greatest protection was to 
 hide in the tules or small islands in 
 the lake, and the lava beds which 
 are a labyrinth of caves almost in- 
 accessible and easily defended. It 
 was in these lava beds that they 
 made their last stand in 1872, and 
 although only numbering thirty or 
 forty warriors, they held at bay six 
 or seven hundred regular soldiers 
 and volunteers for several months, 
 until they were starved out. 
 
 At one time a detachment of 36 
 men (regulars) entered the lava 
 beds in search of Capt. Jack and his 
 men. All were killed except one who 
 escaped by feigning death. 
 
 I relate the above to show the 
 desperate character of these Indians. 
 It is a part of the history of the In- 
 dian wars of Oregon. 
 
 After parting with the friendly 
 Warm Springs Indians we continued 
 
 our journey, crossing the Lost river 
 at the natural bridge. This so-called 
 bridge was merely a ledge of rocks 
 shoaling the water where it passed 
 over it. Lost river at this point is 
 a deep sluggish, narrow stream with 
 high banks and no trees or brush 
 along its banks. It was at this 
 point that "Ben" Wright inflicted a 
 terrible punishment upon the Modoc 
 tribe. I trust my readers will par- 
 don my giving a synopsis of the 
 event, as related in Vitor's History 
 of Indian Wars of Oregon: 
 
 Ben Wright was captain of a com- 
 pany of miners volunteered to pro- 
 tect imigrants passing through the 
 Modoc country, in which they ren- 
 dered splendid service, but were not 
 able to inflict what Wright thought 
 adequate punishment. 
 
 Wright was what might be termod 
 an Indian killer. When the season's 
 travel of imigrants of 1852 had pass- 
 ed, Wright returned to Yreka, se- 
 cured a boat, and with eighteen men 
 well outfitted, returned to the Mo- 
 doc country. It was rumored and 
 believed that there were two white 
 women held as prisoners by the In- 
 dians. Wright, with his boat, was 
 able to reach the islands in Tule 
 lake where the Indians made their 
 homes. In these raids they captured 
 four Modocs, whom they held an 
 hostages. Wright hoped to find the 
 white prisoners on these islands, but 
 was disappointed. As to what he did 
 find, history relates as follows: 
 
 "That which Wright did find wer*- 
 the proofs that many, very many per- 
 sons, including, women and children 
 
JB airly Days in Oregon 
 
 25 
 
 had been cruelly tortured and butch- 
 ered. Here again the men of his 
 company, some of whom had families 
 two or three thousand miles away, 
 burst forth into tears of rage at the 
 sight of women's dresses and babies 
 socks among the property plundered 
 from the owners. Where now were 
 the men and women who had toiled' 
 over these thousands of miles to 
 meet their fate at this place? Where 
 the prattling babies whose innocent 
 feet fitted the tiny socks? Even their 
 bones were undiscovered, but the 
 proofs that they had lived and died 
 were heaped up in the wickiups of 
 these cruel slayers." 
 
 Wright, with his eighteen men, af- 
 ter raiding the islands, camped on 
 the high bank of Lost river near 
 the natural bridge. He had held lis 
 four prisoners. With these he com- 
 municated, using an Indian boy who 
 was part Modoc and spoke their lan- 
 guage, as interpreter. (I might say 
 here that Ben Wright had a squaw 
 wife, and the boy was a part of his 
 family. ) 
 
 One of the prisoners was released 
 and instructed to tell the tribe that 
 if they would bring the white pris- 
 oners and all property they had taken 
 from the imigrants Wright and his 
 men would depart and leave their 
 country alone. 
 
 The result was that forty-five war- 
 riors appeared with a few old broken 
 (i w n horses. The Indians were in- 
 dolent and told Wright "You have 
 •G Indian prisoners. We outnum- 
 ber you and can hold your men pris- 
 oners". 
 
 The Indians camped upon the 
 lower bank between Wright's camp 
 and the river. Wright's position was 
 critical. He felt that a net was 
 spread for him and that only des- 
 perate measures would extricate him 
 from his perilous situation. He re- 
 ^olyed upon a surprise attack on the 
 Indians at night. 
 
 He sent six men, by way of the 
 stone bridge, to the opposite side of 
 the river to await his direct attack 
 at daylight. This arrangement was 
 faithfully carried out and at daylight 
 next morning Wright himself walk- 
 ed down among the Indians and shot 
 a young warrior dead and in twenty 
 minutes the battle was over and 42 
 Indians lay dead. 
 
 Another story was that the beef 
 given the Indians to feast upon had 
 been impregnated with strychnine 
 and that many of them were dead 
 or paralyzed from the effects of the 
 poison before they were shot. This 
 version was vehemently denied by 
 Wright's men, but these stories great- 
 ly dimmed the fame of Ben Wright. 
 To my mind it seems incredible that 
 eighteen men, armed with the old 
 muzzle loading rifle, could kill 42 
 out of 50 Indians in so short a time, 
 knowing as I do what an expert run- 
 ner and dodger the Indian was. 
 
 However this greatly weakened 
 the Modoc tribe and they did not 
 trouble white men for many years. 
 
 I again met up with these Modocs 
 in 1864 in this way. It was when I 
 was a soldier during the Civil war 
 and was stationed at Port Klamath. 
 The state superintendent of Indian 
 
2G 
 
 Early Days in Oregon 
 
 affairs, J. W. P. Huntington (the 
 grandfather of Ben Huntington one 
 time school supervisor residing here 
 in Riddle) came to Fort Klamath 
 to arrange for a gerat meeting of 
 the Klamath, Modoc, Piutes and Pitt 
 river Indians. I was well known to 
 T£r. Huntington, and at his request, 
 I was detailed to accompany him and 
 to select another man of our com- 
 pany. I selected James Weaver, a 
 brother of Ed Weaver our present 
 county commissioner, and with Lieut. 
 P. C. Underwood, a party of four 
 went to meet the Modocs. With us 
 was a party of Klamath Indians 
 headed by LaLake, the head chief. 
 
 We met the Modocs on Link river 
 near where Klamath Falls is now 
 situated. At this meeting were the 
 leading braves of the entire Modoc 
 band. Chief Sconchin, a very old 
 (Indian, was the only one I learned 
 the name of, but no doubt Captain 
 Jack and Shagnasty Jim, made fa- 
 mous in their outbreak in 1872 were 
 there. I was there as interpreter for 
 the superintendent and the Klamath 
 Indian for the Modocs. 
 
 I would say here that the Klamath 
 Indians and Modocs were inter-re- 
 lated to some extent, but were her- 
 editory enemies. 
 
 At this meeting the Modocs were 
 surly and defiant, but arrangements 
 were made ofr a general meeting of 
 the tribes two months later near 
 Fort Klamath for the purpose of 
 making a general treaty as well be- 
 tween the Indians themselves as be- 
 tween the whites and the Indians, to 
 which the Modocs faithfully com- 
 
 plied and the treaty of 1864 was the 
 result and the Klamath Indian res- 
 ervation was established, on which 
 Klamath, Modocs and a few of the 
 Pitt rivers and Piutes were estab- 
 lished and remained until 1 the Modoc 
 outbreak in 1872 in which the lava 
 beds and the Modocs were made fa- 
 mous and are part of the history of 
 the Indian wars of Oregon. 
 Article IX 
 
 After leaving Lost river at the 
 stone bridge our route lay around 
 the south end of lower Klamath 
 lake, crossing Klamath river about 
 six miles below where the town of 
 Keno is now situated. The ford was 
 rocky and deep, with a swift current 
 and I, by the advice of someone, 
 crawled on the back of Bill, my big 
 near ox, and rode across the river. 
 I did that for the reason that the 
 current might catch the light wagon 
 and turn it over. I always remem- 
 bered that ford for one reason — I 
 broke my whipstock and lost my lash. 
 In later years, in looking at this 
 ford, I wondered how ox teams could 
 safely cross it. 
 
 From Klamath river our route lay 
 over Green Spring mountain about 
 where the road is now located from 
 Ashland to Klamath Falls. This 
 range of mountains we crossed with- 
 out incident except that in approach- 
 ing Jenny creek we had to descend 
 a long steep hill so steep no kind of 
 lock (wagon brakes were unknown 
 those days) would hold the wagons, 
 so drags were made from tree tops 
 to hold the wagons from crowding 
 the teams. It ,was quite dark before 
 
JSnr-ly Days in Oregon 
 
 7 
 
 all the wagons reached camp. Near 
 Ashland we connected with the main 
 road or trail from Oregon to Calif- 
 ornia. Here we met pack trains car- 
 rying supplies to the mines at Yreka 
 and northern California. My father 
 bought a side of bacon of the pack- 
 ers at 75 cents a pound. We had 
 started across the plains with more 
 than ample supplies but other fam- 
 ilies in our train were destitute by 
 the time they were half way and had 
 to be supplied from the stores of 
 others. 
 
 Speaking of pack trains, I would 
 say here that all the supplies for the 
 mines in the early fifties were trans- 
 ported by pack train. These trains 
 as they were called, consisted of from 
 ten to sometimes more than a hun- 
 dred mules and the average load per 
 mule would be 250 pounds. Many 
 of the larger trains were Mexican 
 and they were the best equipped. 
 Their mules were small but well 
 trained. 
 
 When camp was made for the 
 night each mule's load was placed to 
 itself and the aparajo (pack saddle) 
 placed in front of th^ load. When 
 driven in for reloading the "bull 
 mare" was led to the head of the 
 line and each mule lined up J ire ;tly 
 in front of its own pack. All mule 
 trains had one horse called the "bull 
 mare that was ridden by a boy in 
 the lead of the train. The mules 
 would follow the bell. When strung 
 out on the mountain trails they 
 seemed to keep step or step in the 
 same places until the earth on hill 
 trails was pressed down or dug out 
 
 to resemble stairs. 
 
 We met several pack trams as we 
 continued our journey through the 
 beautiful Rogue river valley. At that 
 time its primitive beauty had not 
 been marred by the hand of the 
 white man. Our home seekers must 
 have regretted that they could not 
 at that time settle upon the fertile 
 soil of Bear creek valley, but we 
 were in the Indian country. 
 
 At the time we passed through the 
 Rogue river valley there were no 
 settlements of any kind and we met 
 no prospectors, but later in the fall 
 of 1851 gold was discovered at Jack- 
 sonville, which caused that country 
 to settle up rapidly in 1852. We met 
 with very few Indians in the Rogue 
 river country and those we met were 
 friendly. I recall that at our camp 
 on Rogue river, directly opposite 
 Gold Hill (when I give the name of 
 places in this story, it is the present 
 name), we were visited by Indians 
 that brought some splendid salmon 
 for trade and we all had a feast of 
 that king of fish. 
 
 We forded the Rogue river some- 
 where above Grants Pass and our 
 passage over the Grave creek, Wolf 
 creek and Cow creek hills were un- 
 eventful. I remember that it was 
 almost dark when we made camp at 
 Grave creek. There we saw the 
 grave where a Miss Leland had been 
 burried. I mention this because this 
 grave will be alluded to later in my 
 story. 
 
 A Miss Leland with the first emi- 
 grant train passing over this road, 
 in 1846, had died at this point and 
 
*J& 
 
 JBetT-ly Days in Oregon 
 
 
 the emigrants, knowing the habits of 
 the Indians to desecrate graves, had 
 tried to conceal the place, but the 
 Indians had found the grave and ex- 
 humed the body, leaving a wide deep 
 hole. 
 
 When we arrived at the south end 
 of the canyon we camped by the 
 small creek just south of the Johns' 
 place. Here we met I. B. Nichols 
 for the first time. He was on his 
 way south with his pack train with 
 supplies for the mines at Yreka, 
 California. One of his party had 
 killed a fat buck and we were gen- 
 erously supplied with venison. I re- 
 member that "Nick" brought the 
 head to our camp to show us the 
 antlers, and to the head was an 
 ample share of neck. This found 
 its way into my mother's pot, and to 
 us hungry emigrants was a feast in- 
 deed. 
 
 In my next I will relate our ex- 
 periences in passing through the Can- 
 yon, which will be a story in itself. 
 Article X. 
 
 With our train was a man whose 
 excentricities afterwards made him 
 well known to the early settlers of 
 southern Douglas county. When in- 
 troducing himself he would say "I 
 am Charles W. Beckwith of York 
 state." His vernacular was of the 
 down east yankee. No one was ever 
 known to tell a story or make a 
 statement so extraordinary that 
 Beckwith could not exceed it by 
 something that had come under his 
 personal observation, mostly "back 
 in York state". 
 
 Beckwith settled upon the land 
 
 that is now owned by J. A. Worth- 
 ington. east of Canyonville and many 
 of the Baron Munchausen Beckwith 
 stories are still current in that neigh- 
 borhood. 
 
 Beckwith was nervous or energet- 
 ic in his movements and had a pe- 
 culiar manner of driving his ox 
 team. His near wheel ox was named 
 Colonel — an old brindle ox that seem- 
 ed to be discouraged with life in 
 this world and was in no hurry to 
 arrive at his destination in Oregon. 
 Beckwith would walk up to the lead- 
 ers of his team, then turn around 
 and walk rapidly back and give- Col- 
 onel a cut of the whip in the flank 
 saying "Gee up Camel behind here. 
 What you about?" This he would 
 repeat hundreds of times a day and 
 in doing so walked about one and 
 a half times across the plains. 
 
 He became noted for his yankee 
 tricks in securing advantages, so on 
 the morning we started through the 
 canyon he was off in the lead, out 
 of his turn, saying that the rood 
 would be so narrow that other teams 
 could not pass him, so would be 
 obliged to help him through. At that 
 time the road or trail followed the 
 creek from the south end to the sum- 
 mit, crossing small streams many 
 times, through heavy timber. 
 
 Our train had not advanced f?r 
 until we came upon Beckwith with 
 his team stuck in the mud. "Carnel" 
 was hopelessly mired and refused to 
 make an effort. There was a lot of 
 unprintable language) indulged in, 
 not complimentary to Mr. Beckwith. 
 "Carnel" was pulled out of the mud 
 
JSstx*ly Days in Oregon 
 
 'JO 
 
 and the train got around Beckwitb 
 some way and made him take his 
 proper place among the hindmost 
 teams. I would say here that by 
 arrangement, in our train, each fam- 
 ily took their turn in leading. The 
 last I remember of the poor old 
 "Camel" he was laying beside the 
 trail. A yoke of oxen was no doubt 
 supplied from other teams to help 
 the Beckwith family through. 
 
 Our train made fair progress until 
 we arrived at a point where the 
 south end of the Hildebrand grade 
 connects with the old road. There we 
 passed over a ridge on the north 
 side of the creek, then down a steep 
 hill in the bed of the creek. At thi^ 
 hill ropes were attached to the wag 
 ons, with men holding, to prevent 
 the wagons running onto teams or 
 overturning. On reaching the creek 
 bed our route lay right in the bed 
 for one and a half miles, the slope 
 of the mountains coming right down 
 to the water on both sides. Now, do 
 not imagine that that creek bed was 
 a smooth pebbly bottom. On the 
 contrary it was covered with boul- 
 ders from the size of a pumpkin to 
 a haycock. I recall that the lead 
 teams, on being let down into the 
 creek, moved. right on without ref- 
 erence to those behind. 
 
 It was about four o'clock in the 
 afternoon that our teams left the 
 creek's bed. We had then made a- 
 bout five miles. At this point we 
 met some men who had come up 
 from "Knott's" station near Canyon- 
 ville, to help us through the canyon. 
 
 I might say that somewhere on 
 
 Rogue river an Indian boy about my 
 age had joined our train and had 
 attached himself to me and that dur- 
 ing the day one wheel of my light 
 wagon had passed over his foot and 
 I had him ride in my wagon. One 
 of the men, seeing me, a boy, driv- 
 ing a yoke of oxen, thought it a 
 chance to help, took my whip and 
 started Bill and John at a faster gait 
 than usual. The result was the wag- 
 on was overturned before he had 
 made a hundred yards and my In- 
 dian boy friend was rolled into the 
 creek. 
 
 At this point I was sent ahead 
 with the loose stock, arriving at the 
 north end of the canyon after dark. 
 A part of the train had come through 
 and were camped just across the 
 bridge south from Canyonville. 
 
 I don't remember /where I slept, 
 that night, but I am sure I was sup- 
 perless, but found friends next morn- 
 ing who gave me breakfast. 
 
 By noon of the second day our 
 teams had arrived at camp after 
 passing the worst ten miles of road 
 between the Missouri river and civil- 
 ization in Oregon, for here we found 
 the first house in Oregon. 
 Article XI 
 
 Some of my readers know of the 
 conditions of this canyon road for 
 the last fifty years— changes that 
 have been made costing hundreds of 
 thousands of dollars. Many of you 
 know of the improvements that are 
 being made at this time that will be 
 completed within the year, costing 
 over two hundred thousand dollars. 
 When paved it will only be a thirty 
 
3D 
 
 JSarly Days in Oregon 
 
 - 
 
 ery 
 
 minute drive with an automobile 
 over one of the finest scenic roads 
 in the world. 
 
 We arrived at Canyonville Sep- 
 tember 20. We had made our start 
 from Illinois near the first of April. 
 We had had five months and two 
 weeks continuous travel. We had 
 encountered floods and deserts. We 
 had endured heat, dust, thirst and 
 hunger. We had run the gauntlet 
 (as you might say) of hostile In- 
 dians, but we had arrived at our 
 destination without loss of any of 
 our family or suffering any serious 
 illness. 
 
 When I read the accounts of other 
 imigrants crossing the plains and 
 their sufferings, my story seems 
 tame indeed. But my readers must 
 be impressed with the difference in 
 the manner of traveling across the 
 country from the Missouri river to 
 Oregon then and now. The average 
 time for the emigrant with ox teams 
 was six months. Now, for the tour- 
 ist traveling in a palace car requires 
 four days; or if by airplane in 20 
 hours. 
 
 It has been estimated that up to 
 1860 three hundred thousand people 
 had crossed the plains to Oregon and 
 that the route was lined by twenty 
 thousand graves. 
 
 As I approach the end of my story 
 of crossing the plains I look back 
 over the 69 years since we started 
 on that memorable journey and many 
 incidents come back to my mind 
 that happened to me personally 
 which I have omitted. 
 
 One of my adventures I will re- 
 
 late. I was the owner of a ve 
 highly ornamented rifle. Its effec- 
 tive range was about thirty yards, 
 but I, boyilke, thought that all I 
 lacked to bag big game was the op- 
 portunity. On the Sweetwater we 
 had made an early camp, so here 
 was my opportunity for adventure. 
 I managed to slip away from camp 
 with my squirrel gun and a mile or 
 more from camp, from the top of a 
 rock I fired at some antelope at 
 easy range for our modern guns un- 
 til my ammunition was exhausted 
 without any effect on the antelope 
 except that some of the herd came 
 closer to me. The shots from the 
 high rock prevented them from lo- 
 cating the sound of the shots. When 
 I told my story I was forbidden to 
 wander from camp in the future. 
 
 This ends my story of crossing the 
 plains. I hope I have not taxed my 
 readers' patience too far. 
 
 In my next I will relate incidents 
 in connection with the early settle- 
 ment of Douglas county. 
 
 In my last I stated that on our 
 arrival at where Canyonville is now 
 situated we had reached our desti- 
 nation. By that I meant to say we 
 had found the first settler in Oregon. 
 
 At this point we parted company 
 with the other families and young 
 men that we had traveled with for 
 five months, and with one exception 
 there had been no friction or dissat- 
 isfaction of any kind and the part- 
 ing was with mutual friendship and 
 esteem. Toward Cornelius Hill all 
 must have felt a deep sense of grati- 
 tude. Without his experience and 
 
JBaLi'ly Days in Oregon 
 
 31 
 
 knowledge of the route we could ing my father the country and 
 never have some through without brought him to Cow creek valley. 
 great loss o flives and property. I My father was impressed with the 
 know that in our family the name beauty of the valley and selected 
 of Cornelius Hill was always held ! what is now Glenbrook farm. 
 
 in the greatest esteem. 
 
 When our train arrived at Can- 
 yonville, provisions were abut ex- 
 hausted. * 
 
 The Hills and Briggs family and 
 in fact all our friends hurried on to 
 the Willamette valley. Mr. Hill set- 
 tled on the McKenzie east of Eugene 
 where he spent a long and usefull 
 life. The Briggs family returned 
 early the next year and located in 
 Orchard Valley, their donation claim 
 covering both sides of the river, and 
 Charles W. Beckwith (of York 
 state) located the land where J. A 
 Worthington now lives. 
 
 Our family remained at Canyon- 
 ville two or three days while my 
 father looked the country over for 
 a location. In this he was greatly 
 assisted by Joseph Knott woh had 
 settled on the land where Canyon- 
 ville now stands during the summer 
 of 1851. 
 
 Knott was a man of intelligence 
 and energy but of domineering dis- 
 position. He sold out the Canyon 
 location in 1852, settling upon a do- 
 nation claim near Sutherlin after- 
 wards moving to Portland where he 
 and his sons owned the first steam 
 ferry on the Willamette river. 1 
 give this account of Mr. Knott for 
 the reason of his prominence in the 
 early history of Douglas county and 
 Oregon. 
 
 Mr. Knott was very kind in show- 
 
 The black soil, the two mountain 
 branches crossing the little valley, 
 the nearness of the mountains fur- 
 nishing a splendid out range for cat- 
 tle, all impressed him. 
 
 My father returned the following 
 day, felled some small pine trees 
 and formed the (foundation \of a 
 house exactly where the Glenbrook 
 farm house now stands. At that 
 time four logs laid in the shape of 
 a house would hold a claim. The* 
 whole country was open to settle- 
 ment and jumping a claim was an 
 unpardonable act. 
 
 After my father had located his 
 claim we resumed our journey, in- 
 tending tOj go Ito the Willamette 
 valley for the winter and return the 
 next spring. North of Canyonville 
 we forded the Umpqua river three 
 times within one mile. On reaching 
 the point near where J. J. Johns 
 now lives my mother, on looking 
 over the beautiful valley land, ex- 
 claimed, "Oh, here is the place for 
 us to settle." On rounding the hill 
 we came upon a little log house oc- 
 cupied by William Weaver (known 
 as "Uncle Billy), father of the late 
 John Weaver whose family now oc- 
 cupy the farm. 
 
 The next house was that of John 
 and Henry Adams who were bach- 
 elors at the time, and I think their 
 aged father and one sister were with 
 them. 
 
32 
 
 Hnrly Days in .-Oregon 
 
 Our first camp ' after leaving Can- 
 yonville was on \ the bank of the 
 South Umpqua near Round Prairie. 
 I remember follfwing my father over 
 this beautiful little valley, closely 
 examinirig the soil by turning it up 
 with a mattox. 
 
 Our next days drive we passed over 
 Roberts mountain, the road then lay- 
 ing up the small creek as you ap- 
 proach the foot of the mountain 
 from the south, passing over near 
 the residence of the late Plinn Coop- 
 er, to Roberts creek. Here we 
 found the fourth settler in Oregon — 
 Jesse Roberts. 
 
 I hope my readers will pardon me 
 for giving brief mention of pioneers 
 as I progress with my story — they 
 were the empire builders. 
 
 Jesse Roberts was a man of great 
 energy and natural ability, but with- 
 out education. He moved from Polk 
 county, Oregon, early in the spring 
 of 1851, settling where we found 
 him, at Roberts creek. He had 
 brought with him five hundred head 
 of Spanish cattle. These cattle were 
 very wild and fierce — so much so that 
 it was very dangerous for a foot 
 man to appear among them, though 
 they were easily managed on horse- 
 back, as they seemed to be trained 
 to go the corral when started from 
 the range. There appeared to be 
 an old cow that would take the lead. 
 I have seen Roberts two sons, George 
 and Nels, aged about twelve and fif- 
 teen, on their cow ponies, start sev- 
 eral hundred head of these cattle 
 from their range around Greens sta- 
 tion, head them for their corral two 
 
 miles up Roberts creek, all going on 
 the run fairly making 1jhq( earth 
 shake. 
 
 When we arrived at the Roberts 
 place we were treated with the great- 
 est kindness by Mr. Roberts. We 
 were furnished with all the fresh 
 and dried beef we could use, free of 
 cost. This was a gfe&t treat to 
 hungry emigrants, especially the 
 dried beef to us boys. The dried 
 beef was cured by cutting the meat 
 in strips, salted, then hung on ropes 
 and dried in the sun, perhaps aided 
 by fire and smoke. 
 
 Mr. Roberts persuaded my father 
 to abandon his plans of going to the 
 Willamette valley for the winter, but 
 to leave the family in camp near his 
 place and go on with the ox teams 
 for supplies, which he did, and on 
 returning, we returned to what was 
 afterward our home at Glenbrook 
 farm — the first donation claim lo- 
 cated in the Cow creek valley. 
 
 Before closing this number of my 
 story I would say that Jesse Roberts, 
 a few years after our arrival, be- 
 came interested in Canyonville, 
 built the flouring mill now standing 
 there, and engaged in other busi- 
 ness. His ehrds of cattle and dona- 
 tion claim were disposed of, and per- 
 haps for the reason that he was not 
 able to keep accounts, trusting to 
 Tom, Dick and Harry, his fortune 
 was soon dissipated. 
 
 Jesse Roberts was a man of fine 
 appearance — generous and likeable, 
 and as a stockman was a peer. He 
 had a large family. George Roberts 
 of Canyonville }s a son, Mrs. Cyrus 
 
JSfirly Days in Oregon 
 
 3 :; 
 
 Russell is a daughter, and John Arz- ' come from every direction. This 
 
 ner a grandson. 
 
 In my next will be an account of 
 our first meeting with Mi-wu-leta, 
 chief of the Cow creek Indians. 
 Article XII 
 
 In writing a sketch of my recollec- 
 tions of Miwaleta, chief of the Cow 
 Creek Indians, I must necessarily 
 include many of the incidents of the 
 early settlement of Southern Oregon. 
 Our first meeting with the Cow Creek 
 Indians was in, the latter part of Ost- 
 ober, 1851, when my father with his 
 family moved onto his donation 
 rlaim, or what is now known as 
 Glenbrook Farms. At that time the 
 nearest house was the Wm. Weaver 
 hiouse, eight miles netejr^r Myrtle 
 Creek, and Canyonville, where Joe 
 Knott was lohated, and which was 
 the frontier house in Southern Ore- 
 gon, not a house south of that in 
 the territory. 
 
 At that time my father's family 
 ronsisted of my father and mother, 
 three daughters, one a widow with a 
 child two years old, and four sons, 
 one older and two younger than my- 
 self, a sister of my mother, a spin- 
 ster, and an orphaned dousin, a girl 
 eleven years old at that time; and 
 in addition, two young men who 
 drove the ox teams. I was not quite 
 twelve years old then. I remember 
 that we arrived at our destination at 
 about 3 o'rlock in the afternoon and 
 camped under the oak tree that now 
 stands in the yard immediately north 
 of the Glenbrook farm house. In a 
 ve'y short time our camp was sur- 
 ro -nded by Indians who seemed to 
 
 caused u sno alarm. They came from 
 curiosity— old Indians, squaws, pa- 
 pooses and all came to the number 
 of a hundred or more. They were 
 curious about everything — the child- 
 ren were objects of interest, many of 
 them never having seen a white 
 child. A cook stove was set up and 
 a fire started in it, which excited 
 their wonder and curiosity. One 
 young buck came in contact with the 
 hot stove pipe on his naked shoulder, 
 which caused a leap and yell from 
 the buck, but uproarious laughter on 
 the part of the crowd. The Indians, 
 although friendly and good natured, 
 were crowding so clsely about the 
 camp that my mother and sisters 
 were unable to prepare the evening 
 meal, and this situation was becom- 
 ing embarrassing. At that time we 
 heard the word, "Miwaleta, Miwal- 
 eta," a hush fell upon the crowd, and 
 an Indian appeared whose presence 
 and appearance showed that he was 
 one in authority. He was a man be- 
 tween sixty and seventy vears old, 
 about six feet tall, ci he" 75; build, 
 wivij full, round fac% at leant as I 
 renunber him, \»fth none of the 
 narl ed features of the moving pic- 
 ture Indian. The Indians seemed to 
 regard him with reverence, more 
 than fear. My father advanced lo 
 meet him, and by signs made him 
 understand that he wanted the In- 
 dians to stand back out of the way, 
 which they did, forming a circle 
 around our camp where they seated 
 themselves upon the ground or 
 squatted upon their heels. My mother 
 
34 
 
 Early Days in Oregon 
 
 offered the chief a chair, which he 
 declined, but seated himself upon his 
 blanket on the ground. My father 
 proceeded to tell him by signs that 
 we had come to live there, that he 
 would build a house. Neither of them 
 could speak a word that the other 
 could understand, but they seemed 
 to arrive at a mutual understanding 
 and liking that endured during the 
 lifetime of Miwaleta. 
 
 During the sign language confer- 
 ence, an incident occured which in 
 a way will illustrate the character of 
 Miwaleta, and greatly impressed my 
 mother. A very handsome Indian 
 boy about 11 years old detached 
 himself from th$ crowd and came 
 near the chief, stretching himself at 
 full length on his stomach near the 
 chief. (This boy, I afterwards learn- j 
 ed, was a son of Miwaleta's son, who 
 was dead). The old man's hand went | 
 out and rested on the boy's head. ; 
 My mother said she knew from that 
 that he was a good Indian. At the! 
 close of the sign interview, my I 
 father offered the chief food, which 
 he accepted, giving a portion to the 
 boy. The boy, who was named Sam, 
 and myself were afterwards boor 
 companions, and in a few month? 
 had learned the Chinook jargon, Sam 
 learning a great many English words 
 while I learned the native Indian: 
 and through this medium, with Sam 
 and myself as interpreters, a perfect 
 understanding was had between the 
 chief and my father, it being under- 
 stood that any overt act of the In 
 dians should be referred to the chief 
 but so far as our family was con 
 
 cerned, there never was any trouble 
 of any consequence. 
 
 At the time of which I write, Mi 
 waleta was the chief of five bands ot 
 Indians, all of whom comprised a- 
 bout two hundred souls, by far the 
 strongest tribe of the Umpqua Val- 
 ley. They spoke the same language 
 as the Rogue River Indians, or In- 
 dians as far south as the Siskiyous 
 But the f Rogue River Indians were 
 the hereditary enemies of the Mi- 
 waletas, and they termed all the 
 southern Indians "Shastas". 
 
 The bands were divided about as 
 follows, and each band and chief has 
 the name of the locality where they 
 made their home: All the north side 
 of the creek in Cow Creek Valley 
 was Miwaleta's, and the Indians num- 
 bered about 75. The south side ol 
 the creek was Quintiousa, the head 
 man took the same name, and was 
 sometimes called Augunsah, the 
 name of the country of the South 
 Umpqua east of Canyonville; the 
 Quintiousas were about fifty strong. 
 The Targunsans were about twenty- 
 five. Their head man was called 
 "Little Old Man." And in the Cow 
 Creek country east of Glendale was 
 a band of twenty-five or thirty whose 
 head man was named "Warta-hoo." 
 In addition to the above there was 
 a band known as the Myrtle Creek 
 Indians, about forty in number, but 
 who their chief was I never knew 
 There wree three of their numbe 
 who were always making trouble 
 Curley, who was a large, powerfi 
 young Indian, Big Ike and I^ttje 
 Jim. > T w 
 
si,nrly Days in Oregon 
 
 All the Indians north of Myrtle 
 Creek spoke a different language, 
 and were considered a different peo- 
 ple, although they had more or less 
 intercourse. 
 
 Over the Myrtle Creek, Targun- 
 saw, Warta-hoo and Quintiousa 
 hands, Miwaleta was head chief, and 
 although there was often trouble be- 
 tween these bands, they held to- 
 gether against the Shastas and Rogue 
 River Indians. 
 
 Sam related to me some of the 
 battles and the mighty deeds of his 
 grandfather, Miwaleta, and at one 
 time the chief showed my father his 
 war dress when I was present. The 
 dress was made of two large elk's 
 skins dressed soft, but left as thick 
 as possible, then laced down the 
 sides so as to hang loose about the 
 body and leave the legs and arms 
 free, the thickest part of the skins 
 were back and front and were im- 
 penetrable for arrows. The elk skin 
 armor was ornamented with Indian 
 paints forming figures and designs 
 of which I do not remember the 
 meaning. I do not remember seeing 
 the chief wearing a head dress, but 
 have seen the younger Indians wear 
 head dresses that seemed more for 
 ornament than protection. In war 
 times they wore a single white feath- 
 tr from the tail of the bald or white 
 headed eagle that was snow white. 
 
 Miwaleta's war dress showed evi- 
 dence that it had been of practical 
 use, being pitted all over, where ar- 
 row points had struck it, and the 
 chief's arms, face and head showed 
 many scars, whihc they claimed were 
 
 made in the wars with the Shastas. 
 
 It has always been a question in 
 my mind whether Miwaleta had a 
 genuine friendship for the white man 
 or was wise enough to know the 
 hopelessness of opposition. That he 
 always counseled peace and was able 
 to restrain his people from going to 
 war with the whites, we had ample 
 evidence. In the fall of 1852 there 
 were runners from the Rogue River 
 tribes who came to induce the Cow 
 Creek Indians to join them in a war 
 against the whites, and a great coun- 
 cil was held. At this council I wit- 
 nessed a sample of Indian oratory. 
 When I arrived at the scene the 
 Rogue River Indians had evidently 
 submitted their petition and Miwal- 
 eta was making a reply. The older 
 Indians were seated in a large circle, 
 squaws and Indian boys forming the 
 outer circle. The chief was also 
 seated and talked without gesture in 
 a moderate but oratorical tone. The 
 Rogue River Indians sitting in per- 
 fect silence, and the elder of Mi- 
 waleta's people occasionally giving 
 grunts of assent or approval. I in 
 company with Indian boys of my 
 age, listened to the chief for some 
 time the day he commenced to talk. 
 I was there on the day following, the 
 chief was still talking, and I was in- 
 formed by the boys that he continued 
 to talk until he fell asleep, just what 
 the chief could find to say in such a 
 long talk was explained to me by the 
 Indian boys. It appears that the his- 
 tory and legends are committed to 
 memory and handed down from 
 father to son through their chiefs, 
 
»><> 
 
 ISiurly JJnys in Oregon 
 
 In this case the chief was reciting to 
 the delegates the history of their 
 tribal wars and remonstrating with 
 some of his own people who were in- 
 clined to listen to the Rogue Rivers 
 and join them in a war on the whites. 
 The counsel of Miwaleta prevailed, 
 and when the Rogue River Indians 
 went on the war path, Miwaleta's 
 Indians encamped near our house 
 and remained at peace. 
 
 There were many things happened 
 to irritate the Indians and to threat- 
 en the peace. There was a class of 
 white men in the country who acted 
 upon the principal that the Indian 
 had no rights that a white man 
 should respect. In the fall of 1852 
 a young man, a mere boy, wantonly 
 stabbed an Indian boy, who lingered 
 a few weeks and died. The white 
 boy was hastily gotten out of the 
 country and the Indians conciliated. 
 The settlers' hogs rooted up the Ka- 
 mas, a bulb upon which the Indians 
 depended largely for food. In set- 
 tlement of any kind of trouble there 
 would be a "pow wow" in which 
 Miwaleta, John Catching and my 
 father would be the mediators. I re- 
 member a young Indian, a kind of a 
 runabout- among the Indians, broke 
 into the cabin of a settler named 
 Chapin at Round Prairie and stole a 
 lot of clothing. Capt. R. A. Cowles 
 came to Miwaleta's camp and report- 
 ed the theft. The thief was apre- 
 kended with some of the clothing, 
 kis arms tied behind a tree, and was 
 given a thorough whipping by the 
 Indians. 
 
 At another time an Indian whose 
 
 home was near Galesville, stole a 
 horse and log chain from a traveler, 
 came through the mountains, hid the 
 horse and chain in the timber and 
 chowed up in Quentiousau's camp, 
 the white man coming to our house 
 in search of his horse. My father 
 reported the matterto Chief Miwal- 
 eta, who immediately sent his young 
 men out, who soon struck the trail 
 and found the horse and chain, the 
 Indian making his escape to his own 
 band. 
 
 At this time no treaty had been 
 made with these Indians. General 
 Palmer, superintendent of Indian af- 
 fairs for the Territory of Oregon, at 
 the solicitation of the settlers, had 
 paid them a visit and promised to 
 return, but before he ddi so an epi- 
 demic, a kind of slow fever, broke 
 out in Miwaleta's camp and the old 
 chief was among the first to suc- 
 cumb. I well remeuber nry chum 
 Sam and several other Indians wh 
 came to our house and said the In 
 dians would soon all be gone, tha 
 Chief Miwaleta was dead. They ha 
 lost all hope, in fact they were dyin 
 so fast that they were unable to bury 
 their dead, but plaed them upon 
 drift wood and burned them. 
 
 After the death o fthe chief, the 
 Indians who were not affected with 
 the fever scattered into the moun- 
 tains, leaving some of the sick who 
 were not able to follow to shift for 
 themselves. More than half of Mi- 
 waleta's band died, and of his im- 
 mediate family I can now recall but 
 three young Indians that escaped the 
 plague, Jackson and Jim, sons of the 
 
JBaWy Days in Oregon 
 
 37 
 
 chief, and John, a grandson of the in their preliminary arrangements 
 
 chief. Sam, my chum, contracted the for a treaty at the close of the war. 
 
 sickness and attempted to follow, but After the treaty of 1856 the rem- 
 
 was unable to do so and was left to nant of the Cow Creek Indians were 
 
 die alone, when his condition was located on the Siletz reservation. 
 
 reported to me and I prevailed upon 
 my mother to allow me to bring him 
 to our house, and although my par- 
 ents were afraid of infection, they 
 allowed me to do so. We gave him 
 the best care we could, but after lin- 
 gering about two months, he died. 
 He was uncomplaining and grateful 
 but seemed to have no hope of re- 
 covery. It is said to be characteris- 
 tic of the Indian that if he makes up 
 his min dthat he is going to die that 
 he is pretty sure to do it. 
 
 In the fall of 1853 General Joel 
 P !mer made a treaty with the rem- 
 nants of Miwaleta's band of Indians, 
 established a reservation and allowed 
 the Indians to elect their own chief. 
 They chose Quentiousau head chief 
 and his son, Tom, as second chief, 
 thus passing over Jackson, the son 
 of Miwaleta, and hereditory chief, 
 much to the dissatisfaction of the 
 remnant of their band. 
 
 When the Rogue River Indians 
 went upon the war path against the 
 whites in the fall of 1855, the wise 
 counsel of Miwaleta was forgotten 
 and the young chief, Tom, carried 
 his people into the war, joining their 
 hereditary enemies, the Rogue Riv- 
 ers, against the whites. From this 
 war of 1855 and 1856 there was not 
 a full grown Indian man survived 
 the war. One, a boy, John, a grand- 
 con of Chief Miwaleta, is said to have 
 ac* * ps messenger between whites 
 
 Article XIII 
 
 It was near the firts of November 
 1851 that we settled upon the land 
 now known as Glenbrook Farms. 
 Our tents were pitched under the 
 oak tree now standing just north of 
 the Glenbrook farm house. 
 
 At that time Cow Creek valley 
 looked like a great wheat field. The 
 Indians, according to their custom, 
 had burned the grass during the sum- 
 mer, and early rains had caused a 
 luxuriant crop of grass on which our 
 imigrant cattle were fat by Christ- 
 ma stime. 
 
 We had finally, after six months 
 of travel, reached the prmised land, 
 and although we had settled in one 
 of the most beautiful' little valleys 
 in the world, our nearest neighbor 
 was eight miles away, and only four 
 homes within twenty-five miles. 
 
 This seemed out of the world to 
 my two older sisters and I remember 
 there were tears and wailings that 
 we had left Illinois and endured all 
 the hardships of the plains to settle 
 down in a place where they would 
 never see anyone and never have 
 any neighbors. 
 
 However, the homesickness was 
 soon forgotten and all were busy in 
 arranging a camp for the winter. 
 
 One large tent and one small one 
 were set up and two of the wagon 
 boxes were arranged on the ground 
 which with the covers made a sleep- 
 
 1 
 
38 
 
 Early Days in Oregon 
 
 ing place, and canvas was spread to 
 shelter the cook stove. I would say 
 here that that stove was brought 
 from Illinois with us. There was a 
 compartment arranged in the back 
 part of one of our wagons for the 
 stove and it was lifted out and set 
 up at every camp. This stove muts 
 have been a wonder — our family at 
 that time, with two extra men, were 
 fifteen in number and all with out- 
 door apetites. 
 
 Immediately after our camp was 
 arranged the work of preparing a 
 home was begun. A house must be 
 built, fields must be fenced, and all 
 material must be hewn or split from 
 the primitive forest. 
 
 Fortuneately in our case the land 
 was ready for the plow. There was 
 no grubbing to do. In all the low 
 valleys of the Umpqua there was 
 very little undergrowth, the annual 
 fires set by the Indians preventing 
 young growth of timber, and fortune- 
 ately there was plenty of material 
 at hand for house and fencing. 
 
 On the bench land north of the 
 Glenbrook Farms, was a grove of 
 pines from which logs were hewn for 
 a house. We boys, with the ox 
 teams hauled the hewed logs to the 
 site for the house. 
 
 I think I might he*e, for the 
 benefit of sme of the younger read- 
 ers, explain in what manner and 
 what kind of houses the pioneers 
 
 built. 
 
 The first thing the imigrant did 
 on arriving in Oregon was to select 
 a claim, The next was to build a 
 house. The only material for the 
 
 house was logs, for at time of which 
 I write there was not a saw mill in 
 Southern Oregon. Many^of the hous- 
 es were built of round logs sufficient 
 to shelter the family. Floors were 
 made of split boards and called 
 "puncheon floor". 
 
 In the course of time as the set- 
 tler required more house room, he 
 would build a second house the 
 same dimensions as the first, sixteen 
 or more feet form the first. This 
 was always called "the other house." 
 The space between the two houses 
 was roofed and was used for various 
 purposes. This style of house was 
 called a Missouri house. It was 
 characteristic of this house, as well 
 as all pioneer houses, for the latch- 
 string to always be out. That is to 
 say that the pioneer was noted for 
 his hospitality. 
 
 My father was more ambitious 
 than the average pioneer. Our house 
 was made of "hewed" logs, was a- 
 bout 18 x 30 and a story and a half 
 high with a shed on one side enclosed 
 with shakes full length for a kitchen 
 and dining room, with a great stack 
 of a stone chimney built on the out- 
 side at the east end, with a double 
 fireplace, one inside and one outside. 
 The outside fireplace was built with 
 the intention of adding an addition 
 to the house. 
 
 It was well along in the spring of 
 1852 that our house was ready for 
 occupancy. Fortuneately for us the 
 winter had been a mild one. Snow 
 had hardly covered the ground, and 
 I remember my mother commenting 
 on winter with* no ice thicker tf^ 
 
THE OLD RIDDLE HOME AT GLENBROOK. 
 The first "white" habitation to be 
 erected in this valley. Built in 
 1852. Photo taken about ten years 
 ago. 
 
JBmrly Days in Oregon 
 
 39 
 
 a window pane, so though we had 
 
 lived the winter through in tents we 
 
 were comparatively comfortable. 
 
 The Indians had been friendly, 
 
 bringing us fish and venison which 
 
 they would exchange for any old 
 
 thing. Game was in abundance, es- 
 pecially wild fowl, such as geese, 
 ducks, swans and sandhill cranes. 
 All seemed to make the valley their 
 feeding ground during the winter 
 and later during the spring blue 
 grouse were in abundance. 
 
 We were all too busy that first 
 winter to do much hunting. The house 
 must be built, rails must be split and 
 hauled to fence fields. Plowing must 
 be done and crops planted, and we 
 boys had that work to do. Ox teams 
 we had in plenty, but plows had to 
 be provided and "Fortunately my 
 father was a blacksmith and plow 
 maker, but had neither iron nor 
 steel 1 with which to make a plow, but 
 had the iron for what was called a 
 "Carey" plow, no doubt picked up on 
 the plains. A Carey plow consisted 
 of a small V shaped share or point 
 welded to a short bar land side. All 
 other parts of the plow mold board 
 and all was wood. The steel point 
 would root up the ground, but most 
 of the dirt would stick to the mold 
 board. This "Carey" plow and a 
 wooden toothed harrow comprised 
 the farming implements of the early 
 pioneers but the rich virgin soils of 
 our valleys only needed scratching to 
 produce abundant crops. 
 
 Late in the f%ll of 1851 gold was 
 discovered in Jackson county and in 
 the spring of 18g2 there was a great 
 rush to the mines and the valleys of 
 the Umpqua and Rogue rivers were 
 rapidly settled up. 
 
 In my next I will give an account 
 of the first settlers of our little val- 
 ley, after some Indian stories. 
 Article GIV 
 
 Early in the spring of 1852 home- 
 seekers began to arrive in Cow 
 Creek valley. The first was John 
 
 Catching and family, who located on 
 what is now known as the A. L. 
 King place. 
 
 Son after they were followed by 
 James Catching, a brother of John, 
 and W. L. Wilson, a brother of Mrs. 
 John Catching, both bachelors. 
 James Catching located and his 
 house was built where Otto Logsdon 
 now lives and W. L. Wilson where 
 the Henslee farms are now located. 
 
 Mrs. Mary F. Riddle is a daugh- 
 ter of the late John Catching and 
 was the first white child born in 
 Southern Oregon, south of Roseburg, 
 and P. A. Wilson is a son of W. L. 
 Wilson. 
 
 The farm where Samuel Ball now 
 lives was first located by Green 
 Hearn, a bachelor, who afterward 
 resided on Myrtle Creek and was 
 never married. 
 
 I. B. Nichols located where B. F. 
 Nichols now resides. My sister, Isa- 
 bel, and I. B. Nichols were married 
 in July, 1852. I. B. Nichols had 
 come from Iowa to California in 
 1848, had later engaged in trans- 
 porting supplies from Oregon to the 
 mines in northern California by mule 
 train, had been attacked by Indians 
 on the Rogue river in the spring of 
 1851, and had met with heavy loss 
 in mules and goods. He had then 
 joined with Gen. Phil Kearney in his 
 attack upon the Indians near Table 
 Rock and in one of these engage- 
 ments Capt. Stuart was killed. Nat- 
 urally Nichols did not have a friend- 
 ly feeling for the Indians and the In- 
 dians were quick to discover this un- 
 friendly feeling for them. This 
 caused some trouble that will appear 
 in this story later. 
 
 It is not my purpose to give a de- 
 tailed account of the time and place 
 and name of each steeler. Suffice it 
 that during the summer of 1852 lo- 
 cations were made on about all the 
 open lands of Cow Creek valley. 
 These locations were mere "squat- 
 ter" claims. The country had not 
 been surveyed and a donation land 
 
AO 
 
 JS, airly Days in Oregon 
 
 claim for a man and wife was 320 
 arres. When surveys were made 
 ealh donation land claimant could 
 lay his claim to suit himself, but 
 lines must be run north, south, east 
 and west, but was not confined to 
 legal subdivisions. Now, it dould 
 seem that where all the desirable 
 land was squatted upon berore sur- 
 vey was made that there would be 
 controversies over the final locations 
 but I do not remember that there 
 were any contests and in some cases 
 final locations were arranged to let a 
 later comer have a better claim. 
 Such was the generous spirit of the 
 early pioneers — they were ready to 
 help a neighbor. 
 
 The great need of the first settlers 
 was agricultural implements. Early 
 in the year 1852 my father, with two 
 ox teams, made a trip to Oregon City 
 for iron steel to manufacture plows 
 and so great was the demand for 
 plows that our ox teams were kept 
 busy hauling material and we boys 
 were the teamsters. Sometimes we 
 were accompanied by other teams, 
 but I recall that my brother, Abner, 
 12, and myself, 14, made a trip to 
 Portland with two ox teams with our 
 mother alone. In these trips we al- 
 ways camped out, turning the oxen 
 loose to graze on the abundant 
 grass. This freighting was kept up 
 through the summers 1852-3-4. We 
 became known along the road as the 
 boy teamsters. 
 
 I have often been asked about the 
 privations suffered by the early set- 
 tlers. I do not remember that we 
 ever went hungry, but our manner 
 of living could not be improved upon 
 by Herbert Hoover, and old H. C. L. 
 would never have made his appear- 
 ance if the manner of living common 
 among pioneers had continued. 
 
 Our first year's crop consisted of 
 wheat, some corn of the flint or hom- 
 iny variety, and an abundance of po- 
 tatoes. Our one principal dish was 
 boiled wheat and milk. Good! Of 
 course, it was good. We had veni- 
 son, fish and wild fowl in abundance, 
 
 and with side bacon brought from 
 the Willamette for seasoning. 
 
 For fruit, berries were in abund- 
 ance. Strawberries were so plenti- 
 ful that in their season white horses 
 or cattle were changed to a straw- 
 berry color by rolling on the ripe 
 fruit. Wild raspberries and huckle- 
 berries were plentiful in their sea- 
 son, and elderberry pie used to 
 taste pretty good. 
 
 But it was in clothing that we con- 
 served our resources and old H.C.L. 
 never showed his head. Buckskin 
 suits — the deer skins dressed and 
 smoked to the fashionable tint — 
 were the mode. Each year we boys 
 had a new suit — coat and pants with 
 fringe two inches long or more along 
 the outside seams. These suits were 
 very durable and at the present time 
 Would attract a great deal of atten- 
 tion. There was one trouble about 
 the buckskin pants. We often got 
 them wet hunting in the rain and if 
 we sat by the fire to dry them they 
 would draw up and harden in shape 
 to our knees. However, buckskin 
 pants were worn by all the men and 
 boys while buckskin moccasins were 
 worn by both sexes. 
 
 While writing this my mind goes 
 back to those good old days when I 
 would be off to the mountains with 
 my rifle and followed by a half dozen 
 Indian boys. I was the chief. I had 
 the only gun. Sometimes I would 
 allow an Indian boy to shoot a 
 grouse which would fill him With 
 pride and joy. The boys were a 
 great help. Their keen eyes would 
 spy out the grouse. Their blue color 
 harmonized so well with the green 
 foliage of the fir trees it made them 
 difficult to find and when shot they 
 would flutter -down the steep moun- 
 tain sides, but my boys would re- 
 trieve the game in short notice and 
 would carry all the game which 
 would be from ten to twenty birds 
 for a full day's hunt. When we re- 
 turned home my mother would give 
 the boys some bread and sometimes 
 
IB airly Days in Oregon 
 
 41 
 
 some of the game. Those were hap- 
 py days for both white and red boys. 
 
 ARTICLE XV 
 
 The winter of 1852-3 was a very 
 severe one for Oregon. The snow 
 was two feet deep in the valley and 
 remained for a month or more. 
 Pack trains were held up and miners 
 and settlers in Jackson county were 
 soon without supplies, especially 
 bread stuff. Beef, without salt, was 
 the principal food — salt was said to 
 have been exchanged for its weight 
 in gold duts, while flour was any 
 price that might be demanded. I 
 remember that "Mike" Hanley 
 (father of "Bill" Hanley the Harney 
 county cattle fking) came to our 
 house soon after the snow blockade 
 was over saying he had lived on poor 
 beef without salt so long that he 
 could not look a cow in the face. 
 
 I might say here that during the 
 summer of 1852 a road had been 
 opened over the mountains to where 
 Glendale is now situated and was 
 used by pack trains in preference to 
 the canyon road for several years 
 and during this snow blockade star- 
 ved out miners drifted making their 
 way to the Willamette valley and 
 many of them made our house a 
 stopping place. Most of these men 
 were without money but they were 
 all fed and made as comfortable as 
 possible. Some of these men were so 
 exhausted that it was necessary for 
 them to stay with us for several 
 days. Some of them had homes in 
 the Willamette valley and after- 
 wards amply paid for their enter- 
 tainment. 
 
 Fortunately we had ample sup- 
 plies of food stuffs. During the fall 
 before we had traded some of our 
 oxen and an extra wagon for a ton 
 
 of flour and a lot of bacon and this 
 was in addition to supplies already 
 provided for the winter. 
 
 It was the custom of farmers in 
 the Willamette to haul their produce 
 as near to the mines as possible and 
 there dispose of their flour and ba- 
 con to the packers. This trade of 
 my father's was very fortunate for 
 our neighborhood. Many of our 
 neighbors had not provided sufficient 
 supplies to carry them through so 
 long a freight blockade. Flour was 
 rated at $1 per pound but so far 
 as I remember no one took advan- 
 tage of the opportunity to profiteer 
 to that extent. - My father loaned 
 our surplus to neighbors. 
 
 By the summer of 1853 the coun- 
 try began to present the appearance 
 of permanent homes. Fields were 
 fenced, all with split rails laid up 
 in worm fashion; two flouring mills 
 had been established, one at Rose- 
 burg and one at Winchester, which 
 were patronized by settlers from for- 
 ty miles away; also two saw mills, 
 one at Myrtle Creek owned by 
 Moses Dyer, and one at Canyonville 
 owned by David # Ransom. These 
 mills weer of the up and down saw 
 variety but were able to cut enough 
 lumber for flooring for cabins. They 
 filled some of the great needs of the 
 settlers. 
 
 Has it occurred to some of my 
 readers what was done by pioneer* 
 for schools at the time of which I 
 am writing? There was not a school 
 houes in Douglas county. The first 
 school taught in this valley was by 
 Mrs. J. Q. C. Vandenbosch. Her 
 father, John Smith, had located n 
 donation claim first where William 
 Mayes lives but later changed to 
 land that embraces the town of Rid- 
 
42 
 
 JBariy Days in Oregon 
 
 : : — 
 
 water power with the Studebaker 
 company. One of the Vandenbosch 
 daughters married a Studebaker. 
 
 yAbout 1890 Mr. and Mrs. Van- 
 denbosch visited us at Glenbrook 
 farm. One object was to investigate 
 the falls of Cow Creek with a view 
 of manufacturing paper pulp, but it 
 was found that pulp wood could not 
 be obtained near enough to the 
 power. 
 
 Several years after that one of the 
 Vandenbosch daughters was here 
 and visited the site of their first 
 home on the banks of Cow Creek. 
 
 I have given this particular ac- 
 count of the Vandenbosch family for 
 the reason they were the first owners 
 of the townsite of Riddle, and the 
 name will appear on all abstracts of 
 title to Riddle town property as long 
 as time lasts. 
 
 Article XVI 
 
 I have now arrived in my story 
 where a relation of incidents .in 
 which the Indians that we found in 
 possession of the country will bear 
 a large part. There are many things 
 of which the history of the Indian 
 wars make no mention at all and 
 others of importance that have the 
 slightest mention. There has also 
 been a disposition on the part o{ 
 historians, especially "Vitor's" His- 
 tory of the Early Indian Wars of 
 Oregon, eo eragerate and also to 
 excuse the wrongs perpetrated upon 
 the Indians by the whites. 
 
 The Indians that we found in the 
 Cow Creek valley had not come in 
 contact with the whites, living as 
 the:/, did remote from the line of 
 travel between California and Ore- 
 gon. Some of them had not seen a 
 white man and a white child was an 
 object of great interest. They po- 
 sessed few guns and no horses and 
 
 die and the Abner Riddle farm. 
 Smith returned to his home at South 
 Bend, Indiana, and sent his son-in- 
 law, ^Vandenbosch, out to take the 
 claim: Their house, weatherboarded 
 with shakes, was built on the bank 
 of the river at the lower end of the 
 Aunt Mary Riddle orchard. In this 
 house Mrs. Vandenbosch taught all 
 the children that would come to her. 
 Among the pupils attending this 
 school, now living, are Mrs. Judge 
 Crockett of Grants Pass and my sis- 
 ter, Mrs. R. V. Bealle of Central 
 Point. 
 
 I trust my readers will pardon me 
 for gviing a brief account of the 
 Vandonbosch family. Mr. "Van" was 
 a highly educated Hollander, very 
 fastidious in his habits, and was not 
 suited to the rough life of a pioneer. 
 Mrs. Van was of a wealthy Indiana 
 family. Greenbury Smith, at one 
 time the wealthiest man of Benton 
 county, Oregon, was her uncle. She 
 was an accomplished, brave, helpful 
 pioneer woman and continued to 
 teach for several years at her home. 
 Vandenbosch could not farm. He ap- 
 parently could not do manual labor. 
 He was county clerk for a time and 
 afterwards conducted a store busi- 
 ness at Canyonville. Abner and J. 
 B. Riddle purchased their donation 
 claim and about 1866 they moved 
 to California where Mr. Van's know- 
 ledge of metalurgy helped him to 
 formulate a process for the reduc- 
 tion of refractory ores from which 
 he cleared over one hundred thous- 
 and dollars. 
 
 They then returned to South Bend, 
 Indiana, where they engaged in fur- 
 niture manufacturing and later a 
 son, Walter, engaged in the manu- 
 facture of paper pulp using the same 
 
J^ni'ly Days in Oregon 
 
 43 
 
 a vv of tlio implements or cloth- 
 used by civilized peoples, and 
 
 [■•'•<; they possessed had been traded 
 to them by the Klikitat Indians who 
 had made ocassional visits .to the 
 Cmpqua valleys. The Klickitats 
 wore a roving tribe whose home was 
 jjsoinewliere north of the Columbia 
 river. They were traders and some- 
 times called the "Jews of the Indian 
 tribes". The Klickitats had also 
 taught the natives a few words of 
 Chinook jargon which was soon im- 
 proved upon by the aid of a Chinook 
 dictionary. 
 
 The Indians as we found them 
 wore dressed in the skins of wild 
 animals, principally in dressed deer 
 skins, in the tanning of which they 
 were experts. Their process in treat- 
 ing skins so that they would remain 
 soft and pliable may be interetsing. 
 The brains of the deer was the only 
 thing used. The brains, when taken 
 i'rcm the deer were mixed with oak 
 tree moss which was formed into 
 balls and hung overhead in their 
 huts to be smoked and dried to be 
 used at any thne. The grain and 
 liar of the deer skin was removed 
 with a sharp edge of a split bone 
 end afterward soaked in a solution 
 of brains and warm water for twen- 
 ty-four hours or more. The skins 
 were then wrung out and rubbed un- 
 til thoroughly dry, then smoked un- 
 til the yellow color desired was ob- 
 tained. The smoke also prevented 
 the skins from becoming hard when 
 wet. Furs and deer skins were 
 treated with the hair on in much 
 the same manner. 
 
 A relation of what the Indians of 
 this country subsisted upon — how 
 they obtained their food and how 
 they prepared it may be interesting. 
 Nature seems to have furnished the 
 Indians with a great variety of foods 
 
 s"uch as game fish, Kamas, acorns, 
 seeds of various kinds. The deer 
 was the principal game, which, be- 
 fore they had guns, were taken with 
 snares. To capture a deer in this 
 manner they must have ropes and 
 good ones. These were made from 
 a fibre taken from a plant — a kind 
 of flag— growing in the mountains. 
 From each edge of the long flat 
 leaves of the flag a fine thread of 
 fibre was obtained by the squaws, 
 stripping it with their thumb nails. 
 This was a slow process and would 
 require the labor of one squaw a 
 year to make a rope five-eighths of 
 an inch thick and fifteen feet long, 
 but the rope was a good one and 
 highly prized by its owner. In order 
 to snare a deer miles of brush fences 
 were made across the heads of can- 
 yons. The ropes were set at open- 
 ings where experience had taught 
 the Indians that the deer would 
 likely go. Then a great drive was 
 organized with Indians strung along 
 the sides of the canyon. Those mak- 
 ing the drive, with dogs, making a 
 great racket crying "ahootch, a- 
 hootch", and those stationed on the 
 ridges were making the same sound, 
 while their wolf dogs kept up their 
 howling. All the noise was made to 
 direct the deer to where the ropes 
 were located. I never participated 
 in one of these drives, but I have 
 seen their fences and the manner of 
 making the drives was explained to 
 me by the Indian boys. They also 
 set their snare ropes around salt 
 licks and watering places.. I rem- 
 ember at one time a great antlered 
 buck came across the field with a 
 rope around his neck with a piece 
 of root on the end. The deer in 
 plunging through the brush at the 
 river's edge entangled the rope and 
 being in swimming water was unable 
 
44 
 
 Marly Days in Oregon 
 
 to pull loose. An Indian soon came 
 running on the track and was great- 
 ly pleased at the capture of the 
 buck and recovery of his valuable 
 snare rope. 
 
 Grouse and water fowl were also 
 snared by twine made from the same 
 fibre as the ropes. 
 
 The Indians had another method 
 of hunting the deer — with bows and 
 arrows — and in order to approach 
 the deer to make the arrows effect- 
 five they dressed themselves to re- 
 semble the deer by rovering them- 
 selves with a deer skin with the 
 head and neck mounted to look nat- 
 ural, keeping the deer to the wind- 
 ward and going through the motions 
 of a deer feeding. At fifty yards 
 the Indian arrow was as deadly as 
 a bullet. 
 
 On our arrival most of the In- 
 dians were armed with bows and 
 arrows. The bows were made of 
 yew-wood, the backs covered by the 
 sinews of the deer held by some kind 
 of glue. The bows were about thirty 
 inches long and very elastic. They 
 could be bent until the ends mould 
 almost meet. The quifver holding 
 the bow and arrows, was made of 
 the whole skin of the otter or fox 
 and swung across the back so that 
 the feather end of the arrow could 
 be reached over the shoulder. They 
 were so expert in reaching the ar- 
 rows and adjusting to the bow that 
 they could keep an arrow in the air 
 all the time. 
 
 I have written the foregoing think- 
 ing that the Indian manner of hdnt- 
 ing yame miyht at least interest my 
 young readers. Their primitive 
 methods soon dissappeared when the 
 rifle took the place of snare and the 
 bow and arrow. 
 
 ARTICLE XVII 
 
 Th Indians manner of fishing was 
 
 more simple than snaring deer. The 
 silver salmon came in such multi- 
 tudes in the fall, runs that they were 
 easily taken at the falls of ( 
 creek. Dams of sticks were made 
 across the small channels through 
 the rocks and traps with hazel rods 
 woven together with withes forming 
 a basket about ten feet long and 
 about three feet in diameter at the 
 upper or open end and coming to a 
 point at the closed or lower end. 
 This trap was fastened in the rapid 
 water in the narrow channel with 
 twisted hazel withes fastened to the 
 poles of the dam. The salmon in 
 great numbers would pass up by the 
 side of the trap and, failing to get 
 above the dam, would be carried 
 back into the open end of the trap 
 and the weight of the water would 
 hold them. The Indians would work 
 two such traps and when the river 
 began to raise in the fall they 'would 
 take several hundred of a night. 
 When the fall rains came sufficient 
 to raise the river two or three feet 
 the great run of salmon would come 
 day and night. Crowding up ui 
 the falls hundreds of them being in 
 sight at one time. 
 
 The successful fishing season of 
 the Indians depended upon the 
 raise of the water. When the river 
 raised above a certain stage the 
 salmon passed over the falls to their 
 spawning grounds. Very few of 
 them ever return to the salt water 
 alive. The only salmon returning 
 are those carried by the currents of 
 winter freshets after they become 
 too weak to resist. The salmon takes 
 no food after leaving salt water. 
 
 The foregoing may appear to be 
 something of a fish story. Commer- 
 cial fishing is carried on at the pres- 
 ent day to such an extent that few 
 if any salmon reach the upper wat- 
 
JBarly Days in Oregon 
 
 45 
 
 ers of our river. 
 
 Lamprey Eels were highly prized 
 by the Indians. They were a scale- 
 less, snake-like fish which would 
 hold to the rocks with their sucker 
 mouth and the Indians would dive 
 in the icy water, seize the eel with 
 both hands and, coming to the top 
 of the water, kill the squirming thing 
 by thrusting it shead in their' mouth 
 and crushing it with their teeth. 
 
 Hunting and fishing was the only 
 work that I ever knew an Indian 
 man to do, especially in providing 
 food. The squaws were the workers. 
 The greatest part of their winter 
 food was the "kamass" — a small 
 onion shaped bulb about one inch 
 in diameter and were plentiful in 
 the low lands of the valley. In the 
 early morning thfe squaws would be 
 out in the kamass field provided 
 with a basket — a cone shaped affair 
 wide open at the top, swung on the 
 back and carried with a strap across 
 the forehead — a manner in which 
 the Indians carried all their burdens 
 and which left both arms free. Each 
 squaw would be armed with a kam- 
 ass stick made of Indian arrow wood 
 fashioned to a point at one end by 
 burning and rubbing the charred 
 wood off leaving the point as hard 
 as steel. At the top end was fitted 
 a curved handle, generally a piece 
 of deer horn. Locating the bulb by 
 the seed top above ground they 
 would insert the stick under the root 
 with the weight of the body, prying 
 up the kamass, which they would 
 leftly throw over the shoulder into 
 the basket. In this manner if the 
 expert squaw worked all day she 
 could bring home about one bushel. 
 If she was the mother of a papoose 
 she carried it along strapped on a 
 board. 
 
 The kamass was cooked by exca- 
 
 vating a pit, filling it with wood 
 with rocks on top. After the rocks 
 were sufficiently heated they were 
 covered with dry grass and then a 
 great lot of kamass, covering them 
 up with earth for several days when 
 they came out they would be of a 
 reddish brown color and were sweet 
 and really good to eat. 
 
 The "soap tart", a large bulb with 
 layers of coarse fibre all through, 
 was treated in the same manner as 
 the kamass, but was poor food. 
 
 The white oak acorn was used as 
 food, but I do not think relished, 
 and perhaps only used to appease 
 hunger. The acorns were pounded 
 in a mortor, the hulls separated, and 
 meat pounded into a meal. It was 
 then spread out on clean sand and 
 water poured over to take out the 
 bitter taste. It was then boiled in 
 a mush or porridge. Some of my 
 readers may wonder how the Indians 
 would boil food when they had 
 neither pot nor kettle made of metal, 
 yet they did boil much of their food. 
 
 They had vessels or baskets made 
 of hazel twigs closely woven and 
 lined with a blue clay, making them 
 water tight. The boiling was by 
 dropping hot rocks in the water. The 
 squaws were experts at picking the 
 heated rock from the fires, blowing 
 the ashes from it into the mush pot. 
 The cooled rock were renewed with 
 hot ones until the mess was cooked. 
 
 During the summer months the 
 squaws would gather various kinds 
 of seeds of which the tar weed seed 
 was the most prized. The tar weed 
 was a plant about thirty inches high 
 and was very abundant on the 
 bench lands of the valley, and was a 
 great nuisance at maturity. It would 
 be covered with globules of clear 
 tarry substance that would coat the 
 head and legs of stock as if tliey 
 
4(5 
 
 JB a rly Days in Oregon 
 
 had been coated with tar. When 
 the seeds were ripe the country was 
 burned off. This left the plant stand- 
 ing with the tar burned off and the 
 seeds left in the pods. Immediately 
 after the fire there would be an 
 army of squaws armed with an im- 
 plement made of twigs shaped like 
 a tennis racket with their basket 
 swung in front they would beat the 
 seeds from the pods into the basket. 
 This seed gathering would only last 
 a few days and every squaw in the 
 tribe seemed to be doing her level 
 best to make all 1 the noise she could, 
 beating her racket against the top 
 of her basket. All seeds were 
 ground into meal with a mortar and 
 pestle. The mortar was formed by 
 forming a round hollow in the face 
 of flat boulders, over which was 
 placed a basket with a hole in the 
 bottom to fit the depression in the 
 rock, forming a kind of hopper to 
 hold the seeds, then with a stone 
 fashioned about two inches in diam- 
 eter at lower end and tapering to 
 the other end to a size easily grasp- 
 ed with the hand the operator would 
 sit upon the ground with the mortar 
 between her knees and would pound 
 the seeds, using the pestle which 
 was usually about ten inches long, 
 and weighing five or six pounds, 
 with one hand and stirring the seeds 
 with the other, often changing hands 
 using right or left hand for pound- 
 ing or stirring the seeds with equal 
 skill. 
 
 For the Indian to fashion one of 
 those pestles must have required 
 time and patience. They were 
 formed as round, straight and true 
 as if they had been turned in a 
 lathe. 
 
 Article XVIII 
 In my last two papers I have given 
 
 an account of the Indians' manner 
 of hunting, fishing and of their foods 
 and how prepared. We found them 
 living in their primitive manner in 
 the midst of plenty. They were di- 
 vided up into groups or families and 
 each had their head men or chiefs, 
 but all seemed to acknowledge Miwa- 
 letau as the head chief. His band 
 occupied the north bank of Cow 
 creek with winter quarters at the 
 falls of Cow creek and that part of 
 the valley was called "Mi-wa-letia", 
 the chiefs always taking the name 
 of the locality. 
 
 The second most numerous band 
 made their homes on Council creek 
 near where Mr. Phillips now lives, 
 and their head man was Quentiousau 
 who also claimed control of the In- 
 dians at Canyonville and South Ump- 
 qua. They were called "Tara-gun- 
 sau". (All these Indian names were 
 trongly accented on the last syllable) 
 
 A small band that we called Myr- 
 tle creek Indians were closely related 
 to the Quentiousaus. These bands 
 would stand together against out- 
 side enemies, yet they had feuds 
 among themselves. Minor offenses 
 were often settled by payment of 
 damages. 
 
 Revenge appears to be character- 
 istic of all Indians. If an Indian was 
 killed by another it was incumbent 
 upon the near relative of the dead 
 to avenge his death. 
 
 Early in the spring of 1852 there 
 were three Myrtle Creek bucks made 
 themselves notorious. They were 
 named Curley, Big Ike and Little 
 
Early Day's ip Oregon 
 
 47 
 
 Jim. Curly wore long wavy hair 
 and was a large powerful buck and 
 the leader. They would stalk into 
 a settler's cabin and demand food. 
 
 Curly wantonly killed a squaw, 
 cut off her head placed it on a 
 stake near the body in the grove on 
 the Gazley place near the Umpqua 
 river. The squaw was a- sister of a 
 young Indian we called Charley — a 
 member of the Miwaletau band. 
 
 Charley was undersized and weak 
 physically, but it was up to him to 
 kill the big Curley. We often loaned 
 Charley a gun to hunt deer, for 
 which he would bring a share of the 
 venison, but for arms he* carried a 
 bow and arrows, while Curley car- 
 ried a good gun and had often 
 threatened Charley, making fun of 
 his bow and arrows. Charley relat- 
 ed his troubles to us and had arous- 
 ed my mother's sympathy, but we 
 would not loan him a gun with which 
 to kill Curley. 
 
 This Indian Curley, with his two 
 companions, Big Ike and Little Jim, 
 had come to our house at one time 
 when the men were away, and, as 
 was their custom, stalked into the 
 house and demanded food. I was 
 at home with a broken arm caused 
 by jumping from a wagon load of 
 poles to urge my ox team up a steep 
 bank. In jumping my foot has slip- 
 ped and in falling I had struck my 
 left arm across a rock breaking the 
 bones above the wrist. 
 
 Seeing my arm in splints the Cur- 
 ly brave seized hold of me pretend- 
 ing he would break my arm again, 
 
 and hurting me cruelly. I rushed 
 into the kitchen and grabbed a 
 butcher knife with which to do bat- 
 tle with the big brute, but my mo- 
 ther stopped me. I was then twelve 
 years old, but I suppose I thought 
 that armed with a dull butcher knife 
 I could fight a whole tribe. So it 
 can be seen that the white settlers 
 did not discourage Charley when he 
 declared that some time he would 
 kill Curley. 
 
 Late that summer Charley, with 
 a small family, including two boys, 
 Sam and John, who were grandsons 
 of the old Chief Miwaletau, were 
 camped on the south bank of Cow 
 creek near the south approach of 
 the steel bridge at the town of Rid- 
 dle. The camp was enclosed with 
 willows, leaving an opening for en- 
 trance. Ourley, coming along alone 
 and in a spirit of bravado, walked 
 into the hut leaving his gun at the 
 entrance, seated himself and ordered 
 food to be brought him. The two 
 boys were out hunting and Charley 
 was alone except for squaws and 
 children of the family, Curley no 
 doubt holding his weakness in con- 
 tempt. Charley, burning with his 
 wrongs and the insults that had been 
 heaped upon him for .months, suc- 
 ceeded in reaching Curley's gun first 
 and shot him dead. Charley, think- 
 ing that Big Ike and Jim, Curley's 
 friends, would be near, ran for his 
 tribe for protection. He reached our 
 house, five miles away, almost ex- 
 hausted and rushed into the house 
 saying: "Nika mimaluse Curley 
 
48 
 
 Early Days in Oregon 
 
 Kloshe mika pot-latch shirt" (I have 
 
 killed Curley. Give me a shirt). My 
 
 mother, from kindness or thinking 
 
 he had earned a calico (trade) shirt, 
 
 promptly gave him one. I mention 
 
 this circumstance, for we afterward 
 joked our mother that she had hired 
 
 Charley to kill Curley. 
 
 Within a few hours after the kill- 
 ing runners had reached all the 
 friends on both sides of the quarrel. 
 Quentiousau's band espoused the 
 cause of the Myrtle Creeks and we 
 
 were soon in the midst of a genuine 
 Indian war with Cow creek dividing 
 the two hostile bands. 
 
 The Miwaleta's were soon organ- 
 ized under the young Chief Jackson. 
 Their first effort was to find the 
 boys, Sam and John, who would re- 
 turn from their hunt on Ash creek 
 unsuspecting and would fall into the 
 hands of the enemy. Sam was my 
 chum among the Indian boys and we 
 were very anxious on their account. 
 Night had come on. We could hear 
 the war cries of the Indians with 
 occasional gun shots. It was about 
 eleven o'clock at night that Jackson, 
 with his party, returned with the 
 boys safe, Sam giving his eagle yell 
 to assure me of his safety. 
 
 In my next I will conclude the 
 story of the killing of Curley. 
 Article XIX 
 
 At the conclusion of my last ar- 
 ticle we were in the midst of a gen- 
 uine Indian war. That is it was 
 Indian against Indian with the sym- 
 pathy of the whites strongly in fa- 
 vor of the slayer of Curley. 
 
 Yells of defiance could be heard 
 frm both sides all night long. Early 
 
 next morning the Mawauletas were 
 assembled on the river bank in front 
 of our house and Quinteausaus on 
 the high ground on the opposite 
 side of the river. About two hun- 
 dred yards distant on our side of 
 the river were two round log build- 
 ings near the river bank. In one 
 of these I had my gun, ready to en- 
 gage in the war. Our Indians were 
 in their war paint, with one white 
 eagle feather as a head ornament. 
 
 The stage setting appeared to be 
 for a pitched battle, with the river 
 for a "no man's land". The bands 
 appeared about equally divided, for- 
 ty on a side. A brave on one side 
 would advance in front of his party 
 go through a war dance challenging 
 the other side to combat individ- 
 ually or collectively and wind up 
 with a war whoop. The challenge 
 would be accepted by a young brave 
 on the opposite side so far as speech 
 and war dance was concerned. 
 
 At one stage of the proceedings 
 "Tom", a young chief of the Curley 
 faction, left his band on the hill, 
 rushed down to the river bank 
 which brought him within gun shot 
 frpm our side, and yelled his chal- 
 lenge, which was accepted by my 
 chum Sam, who rushed to the bank 
 dropped on his knee and proceeded 
 to rest his gun on a stick that all 
 Indian boys carried to steady their 
 guns. Sam shouted in English: 
 
 "G d you Tom, I kill you 
 
 now." Tom, seeing he was about 
 to be shot dodged behind some 
 brush and ran for it. This was ac- 
 cepted as a great victory for our 
 side and the whole hand danced and 
 yelled. (I trust my readers will not 
 think I have copied some of the 
 proceedings of the late Democratic 
 cnvention.) 
 
 At about this stage of the war 
 
JSar'ly Days in Oregon 
 
 49 
 
 Chief Miwauleta took the platform 
 (bank) and delivered an oration, 
 no doubt advising peace, and was 
 answered by the old chief from the 
 other side, and a kind of armed 
 neutrality seemed to be patched up 
 and in a few days afterward, Charlie 
 the slayer of Curley, died suddenly 
 from hemorage of the lungs, brought 
 on, no doubt, by his five mile run 
 after shooting Curley. 
 Article XX 
 The Story of "Tipsu Bill" 
 
 During the summer of 1851 it was 
 rumored that there was a white 
 child among the Cow Creek Indians. 
 
 Captain Remick A. Cowles with 
 a party of men visited Quentiousau's 
 camp on Council creek to investigate 
 and on making the object of their 
 visit known Tipsu, armed with a rifle 
 and followed by his squaw wife and 
 a girl about eight years old present- 
 ed themselves and by sign language 
 stated that the squaw was his wife 
 and that the little girl was their 
 child and, on examination, the white 
 party were satisfied that the little 
 girl, although lighter than the aver- 
 age Indian, was unmistakably In- 
 dian. 
 
 Tipsu Bill was not a native of the 
 Cow Creekband, but was adopted by 
 the tribe. His native home was 
 somewhere near Butte Falls in 
 Jackson county and he wts likely 
 of the Molalla tribe, and on account 
 of tribal wars had migrated to the 
 Umpqua country. With him had 
 come besides his squaw and papooses 
 a younger brother about fifteen 
 years old that we named "Jack, an 
 old man that we n med "Skunk" 
 and a family, about ten in all. I 
 might explain here, nearly all the 
 Indians were given a name, and they 
 were always pleased to have a 
 white man's name. It dtd not mat- 
 
 ter how ludricous the name might 
 be. One prominent Indian was nam- 
 ed "Hairpin." One of my sisters 
 had dropped a hairpin which the 
 Indian had picked up and inserted 
 through the hole in his nose and 
 wore as an ornament, so he bore 
 the name of "Hairpin" after that. 
 
 "Tipsu Bill" derived his name 
 from having a slight whisker on his 
 chin. The name "Tipsu" should not 
 be confused with that of "Tipsu 
 Tyee," mentioned in the history of 
 the Rogue River Indian wars. 
 
 Tipsu was a very striking appear- 
 ing Indian — tall,, straight, powerful. 
 Captain Cowles relating the inci- 
 dent of the white child examination 
 said that Tipsu was the personifi- 
 cation of courtesy, coolness and cour- 
 age, giving the whites the opportu- 
 nity to look at the child, but giving 
 the impression that "I am here with 
 my gun todefen d my family with 
 my life." Tipsu made his home 
 with the Miwaleta band and during 
 the Rogue River war of 1853 was 
 encamped near our house. I relate 
 this fact to show further on how 
 Tipsu lost hit life in connection with 
 the massacre of the Grave Creek 
 Indians, of which Waiting's history 
 gives an account. It appears that 
 after the treaty had been signed by 
 General Lane and his officers with 
 the Rogue River chiefs, Joe and Sam 
 there developed a class of white men 
 that we may as well call extermin- 
 ators that generally wreaked their 
 vengeance upon some helpless band 
 of Indians that had no connection 
 with the late war. Waiting's his- 
 tory says: "We have the evidence 
 of no less an authority than Judge 
 Deady to prove that a fearful out- 
 rage was perpetrated at Grave 
 Creek after the armistice was agreed 
 upon. He writes: 
 
30 
 
 JBai'ly Days in Oregon 
 
 "At Grave Creek I stopped feed 
 my horse and get something to eat. 
 There was a house there called the 
 Bates House, after the man who 
 
 kept it Bates and some others 
 
 had induced a small party of peace- 
 able Indians who belonged in that 
 vicinity to enter into an engagment 
 to remain at peace with the whites 
 dnring the war which was going on 
 at some distance from them and by 
 way of ratification of this treaty 
 invited them to partake of a feast 
 in an unoccupied log house just 
 across the road from the Bates 
 House, and while they were partak- 
 ing unarmed of this proffered hos- 
 iptality the door was suddenly fas- 
 tened upon them and they were de- 
 liberately shot down through the 
 cracks between the logs by their 
 treacherous 1 hosts. Nearby, and 
 probably a quarter of a mile this 
 side I was shown a large round hole 
 into which the bodies of those mur- 
 dered Indians had been unceremoni- 
 ously tumbled. I did not see them 
 for they were covered with fresh 
 earth." 
 
 The above account agrees in most 
 partculars with the account I had 
 from Jack, the brother of Tipsu and 
 two Grave creek Indian boys who 
 made their escape and made their 
 home with our Indians for two years 
 afterward. 
 
 It appears that after the Grave 
 creek Indians were rounded up in 
 the log house as related by Judge 
 Deady they were informed that their 
 lives would be spared on condition 
 that they would bring in the head of 
 Tipsu Bill who was encamped on 
 Grave creek a few miles below the 
 Bates house with his small band, and 
 engaged in hunting deer, Tipsu being 
 the only able bodied man of the par- 
 ty. The Grave creek Indians think- 
 
 ing to save their own lives detailed 
 part of their band to bring in Tipsu's 
 head. 
 
 They found Tipsu in his camp, 
 who being at peace and unsuspic- 
 ious of his visitors, they treacherous- 
 ly shot and carried his head to their 
 white captors, supposing they would 
 soon be released, but in this they 
 were soon undeceived, for they were 
 all shot down as related by Judge 
 Deady. 
 
 The two Indian boys came in sight 
 while the shooting was going on and 
 sensing whot was going on ran for 
 it. The exterminators turned their 
 guns oh the boys and hit one of 
 them in the heel, but they made 
 their escape. 
 
 The number of Indians killed in 
 the log house was nine and was all 
 the able bodied men of the tribe. 
 Their chief, Taylor, with two others 
 had been hung at Vannoy's ferry 
 in December 1852 on a trumped up 
 charge of having murdered seven 
 prospectors on lower Rogue river. 
 No evidence of the men being mur- 
 dered was ever found and the rea- 
 sonable supposition is that the pros- 
 pectors had simply moved on to 
 some other locality, It was claimed 
 that Chief Taylor had in his poses- 
 sion a small amount of gold dust 
 and that when he saw that he was 
 about to be executed confessed to 
 the killing which was not in keep- 
 ing with Indian character. 
 
 The family of Tipsu, after the kill- 
 ing returned to Cow creek and made 
 their homes with Miwaleta's band 
 until the beginning of the war of 
 1855-56. 
 
 The supposed white child was 
 named Nellie and was sent to the 
 Grand Rond reservation in Yamhill 
 county with a lot of squaws and old 
 Indians that Were found hid away 
 
JB airly Days in % Or*egoi2 
 
 31 
 
 in the mountains on the head of 
 Rice creek. Nellie grew up to be a 
 famous beauty and many stories 
 came back about her connection, with 
 prominent men. Jack, the young 
 brother, lived with our family for 
 over a year doing all kinds of farm 
 work. I have been out hunting with 
 him in the mountains for a week at 
 a time. He seemed to have no ani- 
 mosity against the whites for the 
 death of his brother, but many times 
 said he would have to kill the two 
 Grave creek boys when he quit work 
 for uh, he wanted my father to give 
 him a rifle that he had used hunting 
 while with us. (And by the way the 
 rifle he wanted is now in the poses- 
 sion of my brother, Abner,. It was 
 carried by my brother, William, 
 through the war of 1855-56, and also 
 is the rifle that brother Abner and I 
 each killed our first deer with.) 
 
 My father refused to give Jack a 
 gun, but gave him a horse instead. 
 I have given this particular account 
 of Jack because he afterwards be- 
 came the most deadly enemy of the 
 whites of which more anon. 
 Article XXI. 
 
 In my last I gave an account of 
 the massacre of the Grave Creek In- 
 dians and the treacherous slaying of 
 Tipsu Bill. Other events of like na- 
 ture followed. 
 
 The writers of history of the In- 
 dian wars of Southern Oregon were 
 too ready to find excuses for the 
 outrages committed upon the In- 
 dians. The writer of Walling's his- 
 tory was disposed to be fair, but was 
 often misled into making false state- 
 ments. Here is a sample: 
 
 "Throughout the spring and first 
 part of the summer of 1853 little 
 was heard of the depredations of the 
 savages. Only one incident seemed 
 to mar the ordinary relations of 
 
 white man and native. 
 
 "The event referred to was the 
 murder of two miners, one an Am- 
 erican, the other a Mexican, in their 
 cabin on Cow Creek, and the rob- 
 bery of their domicile, and as a 
 matter of course the deed was laid 
 to Indians and probably justly, for 
 the Indians along that creek had a 
 very bad reputation." 
 
 Now I will undertake to say that 
 the killing of the two men as stated 
 above is absolutely false, especially 
 as to being on Cow creek. Such 
 •an event would have been indelibly 
 impressed upon my mind. Another 
 curious circumstance is that the 
 names of the miners were not given. 
 
 It seems strange that stories so 
 vague would be written into history. 
 The history further' states, referring 
 to the Cow Creek Indians: 
 
 "They were of the Umpqua fam- 
 ily but had independent chiefs and 
 were far more fierce and formidable 
 than the humble natives of the Ump- 
 qua valley proper. They had com- 
 mitted several small act sof depre- 
 dation on the settlers in that vicin- 
 ity, such as attempting to burn 
 grain fields, out buildings, etc., but 
 had not, it appears, entered upon 
 any more dangerous work until the 
 killing referred to. The unfortunate 
 Grave Creek band allowed them- 
 selves to be mixed up in the affair 
 and suffered ill consequences." 
 
 Further on the history states: 
 "The total number of Grave Creek 
 Indians who were killed in conse- 
 quence of their supposed complicity 
 in the acts and in the so-called mur- 
 der on Galice Creek previously spok- 
 en of was eleven. *** The Grave 
 Creek tribe was rapidly becoming 
 extinct." 
 
 And as a matter of fact they were 
 extinct so far as able bodied males 
 
o2 
 
 Marly I^ays in Oregon 
 
 were concerned except the two boys 
 as I related before., that took ref- 
 uge with our Indians. 
 
 It was perhaps about a month af- 
 ter the massacre of the Grave Creek 
 band that a party of men professing 
 to be prospectors, fourteen in num- 
 ber, visited our valley, making their 
 camp across the small creek and a- 
 bout one hundred yards from where 
 the Glenbrook farm house now 
 stands. These men were from Jos- 
 ephine county and no doubt were 
 some of the same persons who par- 
 ticipated in the slaughter of the 
 Grave Creeks and other Indians. The 
 day following there arrived a part 
 of their company went up Cow 
 creek on the south bank of the 
 stream about four miles from our 
 house. They found a small camp of 
 Indians — one very old rheumatic In- 
 dian, a brother of the old Chief Mi- 
 waleta, one squaw and one little girl 
 about three years old. The old In- 
 dian and the squaw were shot down. 
 A sick Indian that was some distance 
 from the camp hid and witnessed 
 the murders. There was also a boy 
 we called John out hunting, return- 
 ing a short time after the white men 
 had departed and finding his family 
 murdered and their camp burned, 
 made his way to the Indians main 
 camp on Wilson creek near where 
 Mr. Henslee now lives. The little 
 girl papoose was brought down alive 
 of which my mother immediately 
 took charge. The men had found 
 the childs beaded buckskin suit that 
 they insisted on keeping, but were 
 prevailed upon to give up. 
 
 These men acknowledged the kill- 
 ing, throwing off all disguise and 
 said they were Indian exterminators 
 from Rogue uiver, and immediately 
 assumed to take charge of affairs of 
 our valley. They placed a guard at 
 
 the mouth of the canyon, where they 
 met one of our neighbors, Green 
 Hearn, who with Chief Jackson, at- 
 tempted to go to the scene of the 
 murder, driving them back, eveling 
 their guns on Hearn as well as the 
 Indian. This killing caused a great 
 deal of indignation and apprehension 
 among the whites. What would the 
 Indians do? Would they retaliate 
 by wreaking vengeance on the set- 
 tlers during the afternoon? All were 
 notified of the killing and during 
 the night Indian runners had noti- 
 fied all the scattering bands, Myrtle 
 Myrtle Creeks, Canyonville and the 
 South Umpquas were all assembled. 
 Early next morning the whole 
 band of Indians, about forty or fifty, 
 in number, appeared on the opposite 
 side of the river from our house, 
 with our neighbor, John Catching, 
 among them. The white murdtrers 
 seized their guns and rushed to the 
 bank of the river. My father got 
 ahead of the white men to prevent 
 them firing while John Catching was 
 in front of the Indians, who were 
 wading the river. The white men 
 retired to their camp at the foot of 
 a large pine tree about sixty yards 
 from the river bank. The Indians 
 came straight on and soon complete- 
 ly surrounded the white men, form- 
 ing a circle within twenty feet of 
 the tree, with John Catching and 
 my father inside the circle. The 
 white men did not seem to have any 
 desire for a pitched battle with so 
 many Indians, who seemed to want 
 to make showing of force, and to 
 demand reparation for the wanton 
 killing of their people. During the 
 "pow-wow" there were tense mom- 
 ents. Young Chief Tom was prin- 
 cipal spokesman for the Indians and 
 used every invective at his command 
 in English, Jargon, or his native 
 
JBarly Days in Oregon 
 
 33 
 
 >nge in denouncing the cowardly 
 acts of the white men. He told 
 them they were cowards — that they 
 could kill an old man and a squaw, 
 j but would not fight a warrior. One 
 I of thewhite men retorted: You can 
 talk brave — you are four to our 
 one." At this Tom called out an 
 equal number of Indians, saying: 
 "Come on, we will fight you man for 
 man." 
 
 The Indians held those men from 
 early morning until noon. During 
 the six hours neither side relaxed 
 their hostile attitude for a moment. 
 
 The white men, although not cow- 
 ards, Knew that their lives would 
 pay i'or f.ny hostile move, and the 
 Indians also knew that battle with 
 white men would be disastrous to 
 them. The white men agreed to 
 leave the < ountry and not return, 
 and Mr. Catching and my father pre- 
 vailed i.pon the Indians to submit 
 their grievances to Indian Ager;t 
 General Palmer, who was due tc ar- 
 rive in a few weeks to treat with 
 the Indians, which was accomplish- 
 ed during that fall. 
 
 The recital of this story will -now 
 some of the problems that the early 
 lettUrs had to meet in t>onnection 
 with their relations with the In- 
 dians generally. The settlors could 
 maintam amicable relations wt'b 
 them, but irresponsible outsiders 
 would commit outrages upon the In- 
 dians, and then leave the settlers 
 at themercy of the savages, whose 
 dominating characteristic was re- 
 venge. 
 
 Article XXII. 
 
 Late in the afternoon after the 
 Indians had dispersed, the white 
 band of murderers struck camp and 
 departed, going up Cow Creek. The 
 following morning I was allowed to 
 go with Chief Jackson to the scene 
 
 of the killing. Following the trail 
 of the white men at "Copper Flat" 
 we came to their camp-fire still burn- 
 ing. If we Lad met with the whites 
 there was no doubt but that my 
 Indian companion would have been 
 in real danger. 
 
 We were on foot and I had an 
 opportunity to witness the cautin 
 with which an Indian approaches 
 danger. When we saw the smoke 
 of the camp-fire we took advantage 
 of every clump of brush, scanning 
 every inch of ground ahead of us. 
 Finally we discovered a coyote 
 (wolf) near the camp. Jackson at 
 once straightened up, taking the 
 trail, trusting to the sagasity of teh 
 coyote not to be in proximity of the 
 white man. 
 
 On arriving at the destroyed In- 
 dian camp a gruesome sight pre- 
 sented itself. The dead squaw had 
 been thrown upon a drift heap of 
 logs and was half burned up. The 
 old Indian had made his way into 
 the river before they had finished 
 him and he lay partly out of water 
 on some rocks. I was at this time 
 thirteen years old and looked upon 
 these Indians as our friends. My 
 boyish emotions were expressed in 
 tears. My Indian companion, with 
 the stoicism of his race, viewed the 
 scene without a word, and although 
 this murder was one of the causes 
 of the Cow Creek Indians taking the 
 war path two years later, they never 
 held the settlers accountable. 
 
 In September 1853 General Joel 
 Palmer negotiated a treaty with the 
 Indians, meeting them on Council 
 creek, exactly where Mr. Johnson 
 now lives. The Indians had de- 
 creased rapidly in the two years pre- 
 vious. Of the Miwahleta band there 
 was only a remnant left. An epi- 
 demic of some kind of fever during 
 
54 
 
 Early Days in Oregon 
 
 the winter or 1852-3 swept away two- 
 thirds of the band, Chief Miwahleta 
 being one of the first vicitms. I re- 
 member my Chum Sam with other 
 Indian boys coming to our house and 
 saying "The Chief is dead, the In- 
 dians will soon all be gone." 
 
 At the treaty all the Indians were 
 assembled from Canyonville, Myrtle 
 Creek and Galesville and to organize 
 them Gen. Palmer asked them to 
 elect a head chief and a sub chief 
 at this election Quentiosa was chosen 
 head chief and his son, Tom, sub 
 chief, passing over Jackson, the son 
 of Miwahleta, much to the dissatis- 
 faction of the remnant of that band. 
 
 In the treaty the land laying west 
 of Council creek and south of Cow 
 creek, extending some distance back 
 in the mountains wes set apart as a 
 reservation. 
 
 Three log houses were built in the 
 grove where the council was held. 
 These houses were about eighteen 
 feet square of unpeeled fir logs with 
 flue through the center of the roof 
 so that the Indians could live in 
 their primitive style by making a 
 fire in the center. These cabins 
 were only occupied by Quentiosa's 
 band, the others preferring their 
 huts at their old homes. 
 
 A field of about twenty acres was 
 fenced that fall and planted to wheat 
 which the Indians harvested the fol- 
 lowing summer. The next fall they 
 were furnished oxen and plowed and 
 seeded the field themselves and for 
 two years after the treaty there was 
 nothing occurred to seriously dis- 
 turb the peace although there were 
 many small grievances. 
 
 The settlers' hogs multiplied rap- 
 idly and rooted up the "Kansas" 
 fields. The Indians' dogs which fol- 
 lowed the squaws, worried the hogs 
 and the settlers shot the dogs and 
 
 as is always the case — even among 
 civilized neighbors — the hogs and 
 the dogs were a source of trouble. 
 
 Article XXIII. 
 
 In looking back over the time be- 
 tween our arrival in Cow Creek val- 
 ley, late in October, 1851, and the 
 date of the beginning of the Rogue 
 River Indian Wars of 1855-56, seems 
 a longer period of time than four 
 years, and I trust my readers will 
 pardon me for relating some of my 
 "boy" experiences of that time. 
 
 On our arrival, we boys were soon 
 on good terms with the Indian boys 
 of our age, of which there weer about 
 a dozen, and every minute of our 
 spare time we were engaged play- 
 ing ball, swimming, hunting or fish- 
 ing. The Indian boy was an enthu- 
 siastic ball player. They had a ball 
 game played something like "La- 
 crosse." In this game they used a 
 wooden ball about one and one-half 
 inches in diameter and played with 
 a stick flattened and crooked at one 
 end to drive the ball. The point in 
 the game was to drive the ball past 
 and between goal posts at opposite 
 ends of the field. The ball was put 
 in play in the center of the field by 
 tossing the ball in the air, and then 
 it could only be played upon with 
 the crooked sticks. This game was 
 mostly played by the older Indians, 
 one tribe or band against another, 
 and on these games they would 
 stake all their worldly possessions 
 and when the ball was put in play, 
 Oh boy! but there was action for 
 you. Talk about foot ball or basket 
 ball — both combined would not com- 
 pare with this Indian game with 
 about twenty young bucks on a side, 
 stripped to the breech clout and 
 scattered over the field to intercept 
 the ball and drive it through their 
 
JSartfy Days in Oregon 
 
 do 
 
 opponents goal. At times the inter- 
 ference would be terrific and the 
 young bucks' skins would glisten 
 with perspiration. I think I can 
 leave a further description of this 
 game to the immaginations of my 
 readers. It was in the summer of 
 1852 that the Indians engaged in 
 this game for several days, in which 
 contest the Miwaletas were opposed 
 by the other small bands. 
 
 Among the Indian boys was a 
 grandson of Chief Miwaleta, a boy 
 about my age. We were great 
 chums. Sam was my constant com- 
 panion in my grouse hunts and he 
 soon learned to handle my rifle and 
 was proud of the accomplishment. 
 On one of our trips to Portland with 
 ox teams Sam went with us. Port- 
 land at that time was a small town, 
 and we camped on the river bank 
 near Morrison street, turning our 
 oxen out to graze among the stumps 
 and timber. During the evening we 
 discovered a small steam boat com- 
 ing down from Oregon City. The 
 boat's engine was high pressure kind 
 and was like one of the kind that 
 Lincoln told about that operated on 
 the Sangamon river that had a ten 
 horse power whistle and a six horse 
 power boiler. We, including Sam, 
 went to the water's edge to see the 
 boat come down, which with its 
 loud exhaust and shower of sparks 
 presented a terrifying sight to Sam. 
 On its nearer approach he grasped 
 me by the arm trying to get me 
 away. About that time the boat's 
 engineer turned all steam on the si- 
 ren. This was too much for Sam 
 and heran for it. We found him in 
 one of the wagons, a badly scared 
 little Indian. After we had explain- 
 ed to him what it was, he wanted to 
 forget it. On his return he had 
 many things to relate to his tribe. 
 
 Early in the spring of 1853 the 
 remnants of Miwaleta's band scat- 
 tered to the hills. More than one 
 half of them had perished of the 
 fever during the winter. We boys 
 were not allowed to go near the In- 
 dian camp at the falls of Cow Creek 
 for fear of contagion. It appeared 
 that Sam had contracted the fever 
 before the Indians left their winter 
 quarters and had tried to follow, 
 but was too weak and had been left 
 to his fate. When this was reported 
 to me I obtained permission to go 
 in search of him. I found him on 
 Wilson Creek near where Mr. Hen- 
 slee now lives, lying by a log and 
 alone. When I reported this to my 
 mother she consented for me to 
 bring him to our home, where we 
 gave him every care, and for atime 
 we thought he might recover, bat 
 after lingering about three months 
 he died. Sam during his illness was 
 patient and grateful, but like all his 
 race was a fatalist. He had made 
 up his mind that he would not get 
 well, and it is said that when an In- 
 dian loses hope of recovery he is 
 sure to die. 
 
 After Sam got so weak and emac- 
 iated I would carry him out under 
 the shade of the trees where he 
 could look at the mountains. At 
 one time he said: "We will never 
 hunt up there (pointing to Old Pin- 
 ey mountain) any more. Iwill soon 
 be gone." During Sam' ssickness I 
 was nurse, and when he died I was 
 chief mourner; also undertaker and 
 sexton. I buried him under some 
 young pines on the banks of Cow 
 Creek. 
 
 Sam was a bright, handsome lad 
 and learned to speak English quick- 
 ly. While on our hunts we would 
 each give the English and the Indian 
 name for every bird or animal that 
 
30 
 
 Early Days in Oregon 
 
 we saw. I hope my readers will pra- 
 don me for giving this sketch of Sam 
 but his death was my greatest boy- 
 hood grief. 
 
 I think I have previously men- 
 tioned how pleased all Indians were 
 to have "Boston" (American) names 
 no matter how ludricous. One old 
 Indian we gave the name of "Pill 
 Shirt" (red shirt) who was named 
 in this way: When our new house 
 was far enough completed for occu- 
 pancy the upstairs was used in part 
 for storage and was reached by a 
 narrow stairway leading up from one 
 side of the fire place. One day our 
 Aunt Lucinda was coming down the 
 stairs with a great bowl of flour and 
 slipped and fell, landing on the old 
 Indian, who was sitting on the low- 
 er stair. The aged lady was not 
 seriously hurt, the Indian breaking 
 her fall and receiving the flour all 
 over him. The old fellow was fond 
 of "sapolil" (bread) but was not 
 pleased to have it spread over him in 
 that way. He immediately demanded 
 payment, claiming that if Aunt Lu- 
 cinda had not fell on him she would 
 have been badly hurt. The matter 
 was settled by giving the Indian a 
 red flannel shirt and also the name 
 "Pill Shirt", by which he was known 
 afterwards. 
 
 The Indians also conferred names 
 of their own on the white people. 
 My father was known throughout the 
 country as Lom-tu (old man), my 
 mother was Mulagolan (mother), 
 my brother in law, W. H. Merriman 
 was given the name of Shindonah, 
 which was the Indian for "Long 
 Nose" and my brother, J. B., 
 (Bouse) was called "Ta-pou-hah" 
 (white eyebrows) while I was called 
 "Jode." This was not Indian, but 
 was my boy nickname. My next will 
 treat of more serious matters. 
 
 Article XXIV 
 
 After the treaty with the Cow 
 Creek Indians in the fall of 1853 
 there was no serious trouble with 
 them until the final outbreak in Oc- 
 tober, 1855, when our Indians joined 
 with thier hereditary enemies, the 
 Rogue River Indians. Many causes 
 led up to this. One authority gives 
 as the cause of the war as the "En- 
 croachment of a superior upon an 
 inferior race. 
 
 Take the Indians of southern 
 Douglas county. In the four years 
 after 1851 their numbers had dimin- 
 ished over one half. The sources 
 of their food supply had been great- 
 ly diminished by the settlers' fields 
 and livestock, especially hogs, that 
 ravaged their kammas fields. Many 
 of their race had been ruthlessly 
 killed. In 1852 a young Indian, a 
 son of Chief " Wartahoo", was hung 
 at the William Weaver place. It 
 was claimed that he had insulted a 
 young white woman by an indecent 
 gesture. Within four hours he was 
 hung. This might have been con- 
 sidered justifiable from the white 
 man's point of view at the time, but 
 to the Indians, the bey's fault would 
 not compare with the treatment their 
 women had received from drunken 
 white men. 
 
 At another time a boy that was 
 with some miners at the Bollenbaugh 
 mines was engaged in wrestling with 
 an Indian boy, and became angered 
 and stabbed him with a knife and 
 killed him. At another time one of 
 our young Indians went south with 
 a pack train anl leaving the train 
 was on his way home, when he was 
 stopped by some white men that were 
 at a trading post. on Wolf Creek. It 
 is probable that the men were drink- 
 ing, as there was always plenty of 
 whiskey at these houses along the 
 
JB ariy Days in Oregon 
 
 57 
 
 >ad. At any rate there was a chance 
 have same fun by hanging an In- 
 tan, so theboy was placed upon a 
 >rse, a rope was put around his 
 >ck and attache! to a limb of a 
 ree. At this point in the proceed- 
 ings the proprietor of the house, 
 
 Dr. , rushed out, crying: 
 
 "Hold on, that Indian owes me six 
 bits." The hanging was delayed 
 until the Indian produced the mon- 
 *ey and paid his debt, and finding he 
 had a dollar left asked that it be 
 sent to "Lomptu" (oM man) Riddle. 
 When these business matters were 
 
 7 
 
 concluded the horse was driven from 
 under the boy and the hanging was 
 completed. When the facts of this 
 affair hecame known that trading 
 post was given the name of the "Six 
 Bit House" by which it was known 
 afterwards. 
 
 These hangings and killings to- 
 gether with the treacherous slaugh- 
 ter of the Grave Creek Indians and 
 the murder of "Tip-su" Bill by the 
 Grave Creeks at the instigation of 
 the whites, also the murder of the 
 old Indian and squaw near our 
 home, and numerous other slaugh- 
 ters of Indians in Josephine county 
 at a time of peace and of Indians 
 not involved in the short war of 
 1853 — all these outrages were 
 known to our Indians and made them 
 ripe to enter into the hostilities 
 against the whites when the general 
 outbreak of the Rogue Rivers came 
 in 1855. 
 
 Some of my readers may conclude 
 that my sympathies were with the 
 Indians and in so far as the unjus- 
 tifiable outrages committed upon a 
 helpless, ignorant people are con- 
 cerned, I am content to be termed 
 an Indian sypathizer, and I am safe 
 in saying that ninety out of one 
 hundred of the actual settlers — the 
 
 home builders of the early days in 
 Oregon were disposed to treat the 
 Indians fairly. There were numer- 
 ous other persons, especially in the 
 mining districts that looked upon 
 the Indian as having NO rights that 
 a white man need respect. These 
 men called themselves "Extermina- 
 tors." Right minded people called 
 them "desperadoes." 
 
 To quote from Walling's History 
 of Southern Oregon, speaking of the 
 outrages committed against the In- 
 dians, it says: 
 
 "Public sentiment today admits 
 the truth of the strongest general 
 charges of this nature and the ven- 
 erable pioneer perhaps on the edge 
 of the grave says sadly: "The In- 
 dians suffered many a grievous 
 wrong at our hands, unmentionable 
 wrongs they were, of which no man 
 shall ever bear more." 
 
 It is said to be characteristic of 
 the Indian to wreak vengeance in- 
 discriminately upon the white .race 
 when he goes upon the warpath, but 
 to that trait our Cow Creek Indians 
 must have been an exception. Fol- 
 lowing the outbreak of the Rogue 
 Rivers in September, 1855, they 
 publicly declared their intention of 
 joining in the war, yet they made 
 no attempt to injure any of the set- 
 tlers of Cow Creek Valley, and with 
 one exception they expressed no 
 animosity towards any of our neigh- 
 bors. 
 
 ARTICLE XXV. 
 
 During the winter 1854-55 I at- 
 tended school at Wilbur, Oregon. 
 This school was founded by Rev. J. 
 H. Wilbur, who had solicited sub- 
 scriptions all over Southern Oregon. 
 It was a modest frame building of 
 one large room, but to me it seemed 
 a magnificent structure. I mention 
 this for the reason that some writers 
 
58 
 
 JBafly Days in Oregon 
 
 - 
 
 have stated that the school of 1854 
 that came into history as the Ump- 
 qua Academy was a "rough log 
 structure" when in fact it should 
 have the credit of being the first 
 frame school house in Southern Ore- 
 gon. I attended this school three 
 months and worked for my board 
 in the family of a Mr. Clinkenbeard. 
 My duties were to chop wood for two 
 fireplaces and a cook stove. The 
 manner of getting v/ood wrs to fell 
 oak trees, trim up the limbs, and 
 drag them with oxen to a convenient, 
 distance from the house, where the 
 wood was chopped for use. Also 
 water had to be carried about 150 
 yards for the household. These and 
 other duties kept a fifteen year old 
 boy busy. 
 
 Miss Sarah Tibbets, a sister of 
 Mrs. Binger Hermann, was also 
 working for her board. We were 
 up of mornings long before the other 
 members of the household, me to 
 start the fires, and Sarah to cook 
 the breakfast, and strange to say, 
 we would find time to study while 
 the other siudents slept. 
 
 At this school in three months I 
 acquired about all the "book learn- 
 ing" I ever had, and that consisted 
 of the three R's — "Reading, 'Riting 
 and 'Rithmetic, and a simple form 
 of book-keeping. At school I have 
 never studied grammar; but after 
 I was married and to some extent 
 had entered upon public business, a 
 friend presented me with a textbook, 
 "Quackenbush's Composition and 
 Rhetoric" — a study of which has no 
 doubt been a grer.t help to me; but 
 when I have been called Upon to 
 make short addresses before educa- 
 ted people, the fear of making gram- 
 matical errors was always in mv 
 mind. 
 
 I hope my readers will pardon me 
 
 for this personal history, but it wil 
 illustrate the conditions of the pio- 
 neer days. 
 
 Early in the summer of 1854 my 
 father removed his plow making 
 and blacksmith business from the 
 farm to Roseburg, where he was as- 
 sociated with one John D. Bowen 
 in the plow making business. Their 
 shop was situated on the corner 
 where the Van Houten House now 
 stands. Their business was quite 
 extensive, with two forges engaged 
 in plow making and one for general 
 blacksmithing. In all six men were 
 employed. After my three months 
 school at Wilbur my father installed 
 me as cook in a small house almost 
 adjoining the shop, on Main street, 
 
 and I was also bookkeeper for the 
 business. I was a great deal better 
 cook than I was bookkeeper. My 
 father had little knowledge of how 
 books should be kept, and John D. 
 Bowen had less. I do not remem- 
 ber any complaints of my work as 
 bookkeeper — perhaps my mistakes 
 were more of omission than they 
 were of commission, and if I failed 
 to charge a customer for work done 
 the chances were that he never would 
 have paid anyway. 
 
 But as cook for six men and all 
 the customers that might be in the 
 shop at meal time, I must have been 
 a busy boy. My father was very 
 hospitable, and at times I was called 
 upon to prepare meals for notable 
 people. At one time Governor 
 Gains, who was making a speaking 
 canvass of the state, was our guest 
 over night, sleeping in a bunk us- 
 ually occupied by a blacksmith hand. 
 I was called upon to prepare meals 
 for many other guests not so dis- 
 tinguished or welcome as Governor 
 Gains. 
 
 I 
 
JBai'ly Days in 
 
 Oreg-on 
 
 59 
 
 My fathers partner, J. D. Bowen, 
 was a good mechanic but would go 
 on periodical sprees and the periods 
 were not far apart and- generally 
 he was very disagreeable and irreg- 
 ular in coming to meals. One day 
 he came in with another man about 
 as drunk as himself with two boys 
 and ordered me to prepare dinner 
 this was after I had just washed up 
 after the noon meal and I would 
 have to commence all over again, 
 which I proceeded to do, but Mr. 
 Bowen became impatient and abu- 
 sive. I had endured much of his 
 durnken abuse before and I could 
 stand no more, so then and there 
 I went for John D. Bowen with a 
 stick of stove wood. I soon cleared 
 the kitchen of the whole outfit. The 
 result was my father and Mr. Bowen 
 dissolved partnership, my father con- 
 tinuing the business. Mr. Bowen 
 afterwards reformed, at least his 
 sprees were not continuous. He mar- 
 ried and settled down, plying his 
 trade in Roseburg for many years 
 and was quite a useful citizen. 
 
 At the time of the above happen- 
 nings I was a tall boy fifteen years 
 old. 
 
 I now approach a time in my 
 story, the fall of 1855. The begin- 
 ning of the Rogue river Indian war 
 of 1855-6, the most bloody of all the 
 Indian wars of the northwest coast. 
 With our Indians but one incident 
 had occurred within the last two 
 years to cause any friction between 
 the reds and the whites. The In- 
 dians had cultivated their field on 
 their small reservation and to some 
 extent had worked for settlers in 
 their fields. One young Indian that 
 we called "Ed", a son of Chief Quen- 
 tiousau, had worked for I. B. Nich- 
 ols. Some misunderstanding arose 
 and Nick (as we called him) pro- 
 
 ceeded to give the boy a thumping. 
 Chief Quentiousau interfered to stop 
 the fight, when Wm. Russell, a hired 
 man, seized a club and struck the 
 chief on the head. No one was se- 
 riously hurt, but the chiefs dignity 
 was wounded and he demanded a 
 horse in payment which Nick re- 
 fused to give him. This left an un- 
 settled fued which came near pre- 
 cipitating a disaster later. 
 Article XXVI. 
 
 The Rogue river Indian war of 
 1855-6 was caused by the indis- 
 criminate slaughter of a band of 
 helpless Indians on Butte creek near 
 the banks of Rogue river. 
 
 These Indians were a part of 
 Chiefs Sam and Joes band who by 
 a treaty with General Joseph Lane 
 in 1853 had- been settled upon a res- 
 ervation on the north bank of Rogue 
 river, around Table Rock, and dur- 
 ing the two years after the treaty 
 there had been no authentic char- 
 ges of wrong doing on the part of 
 the treaty Indians. But there had 
 been trouble with non-treaty In- 
 dians, most of which originated be- 
 tween the miners and Indians in 
 Siskiyou county, California, and 
 3mall bands of Indians inhabiting 
 the mountains west of Ashland. 
 
 On the 7th of October, 1855 a 
 company? of white men from the 
 mines around Jacksonville and led 
 by one "Major" Lupton ' (who had 
 not derived his title from any mil- 
 itary service) surprised a helpless 
 band of squaws, old men and chil- 
 dren, killing, them all. The num- 
 ber killed has been variously stated 
 
 Captain ' Smith of the regular 
 army stationed at Fort Lane visited 
 the scene of the slaughter on the 
 day of its occurrance and reported 
 to the war department that there 
 were eighty old men, squaws and 
 
GO 
 
 IS airly Days in Oregon 
 
 children. Others fixed the number 
 at thirty. 
 
 Of the whites engaged in tihs 
 business — about forty — Lupton was 
 mortally wounded by an arrow that 
 penetrated his lungs from which he 
 died, and one other man slightly 
 wounded. 
 
 It will seem strange to my read- 
 ers that forty white men could be 
 so lost to all sense of justice and 
 humanity as to engage in a slaugh- 
 ter of helpless old men, squaws and 
 children. 
 
 It is not my purpose to analyze 
 public sentiment at the time of 
 which I write. There was a feeling 
 of insecurity among the white peo- 
 ple of the Rogue river valley and a 
 desire that the Indians might be 
 removed and a fear that the In- 
 dians might be aroused to avenge 
 their own wrongs. There was some 
 outspoken sentiment against the 
 outrages committed against the In- 
 dians, but when the Indians retal- 
 iated within two days by a general 
 slaughter of whites, the Indian sym- 
 pathizers were very unpopula'r. One 
 man was compelled to leave his 
 home. 
 
 I would say that in relating the 
 foregoing I am indebted to Wait- 
 ing's History of Southern Oregon. 
 The incidnts are fresh in my mem- 
 ory. We had many acquaintances 
 residing in Jackson county at the 
 time and I have heard the stories 
 over and over from living witnesses. 
 
 The massacre of the Indians on 
 Butte creek occurred on teh morn- 
 ing of the 7th of October, 1855. On 
 the 9th and 10th the country be- 
 tween Gold Hill and Galesville on 
 upper Cow creek, a distance of fifty 
 miles, was in a blaze. Only a few 
 houses, where settlors hastily as- 
 sembled and defended were left 
 
 standing. Over thirty white people 
 were killed on the 9th, among 
 whom was the Wagner family. The 
 Indians had selected the sparsely 
 settled districts on which to re- 
 venge the Butte creek massacre. At 
 the time of these happenings our 
 family was in deep distress at the 
 sickness of my little sister, Clara, 
 the youngest of the family. I was 
 called horn efrom Roseburg. 
 
 I am not sure at this date that 
 we had heard of the Indian out- 
 break at Rogue river. At that time 
 there was no telegraph of phone 
 lines. Not even a daily mail. But 
 on the forenoon of the 10th a mes- 
 senger, Henry Yokum, arrived with 
 nformation that the Indians were 
 sweeping north, killing and burning 
 and had killed two men at Gales- 
 ville and at that time had that 
 place surrounded. Galesville is only 
 about ten miles on an air line from 
 our house. At once it occurred to 
 us that nothing had been seen of 
 our Indians for the last two days. 
 It is an old axiom that when you 
 don't see Indians, look out for dan- 
 ger. I was sent on Yokum's horse 
 to the Indian camp to ascertain 
 what they wejre doing. I found 
 their old camp on Council creek 
 abandoned, but continuing on up 
 the creek to where Mr. Bucking- 
 ham's house now is, I was met by 
 some Indian boys of my own age. 
 1 had not seen the boys for several 
 months and I was really glad to 
 see them and they appeared to be 
 be pleased to see me. 
 
 The Indians were camped closo 
 to the creek further up in the tim- 
 ber. They evidently were holding a 
 council. I could hear that one of 
 them was making a speech and they 
 no doubt at that time were conferr- 
 ing with "runners" from the Rogue 
 
JBai'ly Days in Oregon 
 
 Gl 
 
 Rivers 
 
 In a very short time some of the 
 older Indians came out to where I 
 was talking to the boys and I could 
 see that they were not in a friend- 
 ly mood. Their first question was 
 whose horse is that. My answer — 
 Henry Yokum. Then "What do you 
 want?" I was prepared for an er- 
 cuse for being there. I told them 
 my sister, Mrs. Nichols, wanted a 
 squaw to come and do some wash- 
 ing. They then told me to "kl'at-a- 
 wa ' (go). 
 
 This was unusual The.y had al- 
 ways shown the greatest friendli- 
 ness to our family at their camps 
 They repeated their demand for me 
 to "hy-ak klat-a-wa" (quick go) 
 
 Well, I klat-a-wad. When I re- 
 ported my experience to my par- 
 ents there were several of our neigh- 
 bors at our house, and it was con- 
 cluded that the neighborhood was 
 in iminent danger of an attack by 
 the Indians. 
 
 It was certin that there were hos- 
 tile Rogue rivers at that time in the 
 valley. 
 
 Early in the afternoon my little 
 sister passed away. Immediate!-' 
 a iter wards the neighbors who were 
 at our house went hastily to t\i y *' 
 homes and all loaded what they 
 could of their effects into wagons, 
 abandoned their homes and drove 
 to the Weaver place that afternoon. 
 Article XXVII. 
 
 It would be difficult to picture the 
 state of alarm that prevailed when 
 the detail? of the massacres between 
 Gold Hill and Cow creek were made 
 known, and as to what action the 
 Cow Creek Indians would take was 
 a problem. That there were hostile 
 Rogue River Indians with them was 
 certain. The fact that they would 
 not allow me to enter their camp 
 
 was proof that they were at that 
 time holding a "pow wow" with 
 the runners of the hostiles was cer- 
 tain. The settlers of Cow Creek 
 valley acted upon the principal that 
 "self preservation is the first law 
 of nature in deserting their homes. 
 The alarm spread all over Southern 
 and Western Oregon. The people 
 of the Willamette caught the infec- 
 tion, alarmists at Salem and Port- 
 land were devising means of de- 
 fense and in Washington county the 
 Methodists placed a stockade around 
 their church. 
 
 In a history of Indian wars of 
 Southern Oregon appears the fol- 
 lowing: "A safety meeting was held 
 at Corvallis because three hundred 
 Cow Creek Indians were said to 
 bave cfcme north of the Calapooia 
 mountains and threatened the lives 
 of all." This shows how alarms will 
 spread and how the numbers of In- 
 dians were magnified at that time. 
 The Cow Creek Indians (warriors) 
 would not have exceeded twenty-five 
 and perhaps not one of them had 
 been north of the Calapooia moun- 
 tains in their lives. 
 
 But to get back to my story. As 
 I stated before, all the settlers of 
 Cow Creek valley left their homes 
 on the afternoon of the 10th of Oc- 
 tober and assembled at the Wm. 
 Weaver place. On the day follow- 
 ing I was sent on to Roseburg to 
 look after affairs there while the 
 family returned to the valley to bury 
 the child. With them went a well 
 armed escort, among whom was 
 Capt. R. A. Cowles, John and James 
 Weaver. The burial was at Riddle 
 cemetery and was the second grave 
 made there. 
 
 After the burial the party went on 
 up to our house at Glenbrook. There 
 they found everything as it had been 
 
62 
 
 Early Days in Oregon 
 
 left the day before, hut no Indians 
 in sight. 
 
 It seems to have been the pre- 
 vailing opinion of the neighborhood 
 that there should be an attempt to 
 have a talk with the Indians to pre- 
 vail upon them not to go into the 
 war, but to come in and camp near 
 our house and under our protection. 
 My mother insisted on this being 
 done. She volunteered to go to the 
 Indian camp to induce them to come 
 to our house for a conference. She 
 told the neighbors that she was sure 
 the Indians would not harm her. 
 
 She went on horse back across 
 the river to the camp where I had 
 seen the Indians the day before and 
 found the camp deserted. On her 
 return home, coming out of the tim- 
 ber and crossing Council creek some 
 Indians, seeing who it was, showed 
 themselves on the side of the moun- 
 tain toward "Hackler flat. My mo- 
 ther rode up to them and inquired 
 for the old Chief Miwahleta. They 
 told her that the chief was "sick 
 tumtum" (heart sick) and did not 
 want to see a white man. (He had 
 been struck with a club by a white 
 man.) 
 
 My mother told them that we 
 wanted to be friends with them and 
 she wanted them to come over and 
 talk with my father and the neigh- 
 bors, telling them who was there. 
 The Indians, had great confidence in 
 Capt. Cowles. They inquired for I. 
 B. Nichols and asked that he come 
 over and talk to them. 
 
 I would state here that I. B. Nich- 
 ols was the only settler that the In- 
 dians harbored a grudge against. 
 This was on account of his hired 
 man striking the chief with a club 
 for which he (the chief) demanded 
 a horse which Nichols refused to 
 give, thus leaving the wound to his 
 
 dignity unhealed — the wound to his 
 head was slight, but to his pride it 
 was immense. 
 
 My mother obtained a promise 
 from young Chief Tom to come for 
 a talk and a short time afterward 
 Tom, followed by about a dozen of 
 his young braves in full war regalia 
 and armed, appeared on our side of 
 the river, halting just across the 
 small creek near the stone spring 
 house at Glenbrook, where my fa- 
 ther met them. Capt. Cowles, with 
 some of the men, were posted in a 
 log smoke house and others of the 
 men in our hewed log dwelling that 
 was a fortress in itself and com- 
 manding a view of the council and 
 sixty yards distance. I. B. Nichols 
 was requested to keep out of sight 
 on account of his unsettled difficulty 
 with the old chief and his son, Ed. 
 
 I have always regretted that I 
 was not present to hear the Indians 
 state their grievances and fears. 
 
 The relation of this last confer- 
 ence with the Indians impressed it- 
 self indelibly upon my mind and 
 memory and I can visualize the meet- 
 ing and the participants: My fa- 
 ther stating the desire of the white 
 settlers for the Indians to remain 
 at peace and l to camp near our house 
 until the troubles in the Rogue river 
 valley were over, and offering pro- 
 tection. Chief Tom, a young Indian 
 and son of Chief Miwahleta, was 
 spokesman for the Indians. He did 
 not question the sincerity of my 
 father and admitted that he had 
 always been fair and just with them 
 but questioned his ability to protect 
 tehm. That they had been prom- 
 ised an agent to protect them but 
 he had never appeared. That they 
 had remained at peace during the 
 Rogue river war (1853), but me-sah- 
 chee (malicious) white men had kill- 
 
JBaifly Days in Oreg-on 
 
 63 
 
 eel one of their old men and a sqdaw 
 when they were at peace. In fact 
 Tom, in a qhite eloqhent manner, re- 
 cited their grievances since the com- 
 ing of the white man. The dowardly 
 massacre of the Grave Creek In- 
 dians; the killing of "Tipsu Bill"; 
 and many other outrages. He ad- 
 mitted that the Rogue River In- 
 dians had been among them and in- 
 formed them of the massacre of the 
 Rogue River Indians at Butte creek 
 four days previous and that the In- 
 dians believed that the white people 
 meant to exterminate them whether 
 they remained at peace or not; and 
 that they were going to join the hos- 
 tile Rogue Rivers and die fighting. 
 
 Tom did not express animosity to- 
 wards anyone in the neighborhood 
 but throughout the conference ex- 
 pressed the conviction that the In- 
 dians were doomed to be extermina- 
 ted, but that they would die fighting. 
 In this he was correct so far as the 
 fighting men were concerned. 
 
 Tom himself was killed at the 
 Ollalla battle and it was reported 
 that out of all the able bodied young 
 men of the Cow Creek Indians, but 
 one boy, about my age, survived the 
 war. That was John, one of my 
 hunting companions. He was after- 
 wards known on the reservation as 
 Citizen John and lived until a few 
 years ago. 
 
 Article XXVIII. 
 
 While the conference was pro- 
 ceeding between Chief Tom and my 
 father, I. B. Nichols, although warn- 
 ed not to appear, approached the 
 Bcene of the "powow". When a 
 short distance from the Indians he 
 
 is discovered by young Ed, who 
 
 ediately dropped upon his knees 
 
 ing aim at Nichols. Before he 
 
 Id fire Chief Tom seized his gun 
 
 commanded him to desist. There 
 
 is no doubt that Nichols escaped 
 death by a hair's breadth. He saw 
 Ed's attempt to shoot, but did not 
 falter. I. B. Nichols had met with 
 heavy losses at the hands of the In- 
 dians — had lost an entire pack train 
 and their loads by the Rogue Rivers 
 and had narrowly escaped with his 
 life. He had never had any trouble 
 with our Indians until the episode 
 with Ed and his going to the coun- 
 cil at the time was to show the In- 
 dians that he was not afraid to meet 
 them. ; 
 
 When Tom and his band retired 
 with the avowed intention of joining 
 the hostiles they were never seen a- 
 gain in the Cow Creek valley. 
 
 Within a few days after the oc- 
 curences narrated above, two com- 
 panies of volunteers were raised in 
 what now comprises Douglas county. 
 Capt. Samuel Gordon's company 
 mustered in at Roseburg, in which 
 I. B. Nichols and my brother, Wil- 
 liam H. enlisted, and in about ten 
 days after the Indians had disap- 
 peared, I. B. Nichols, with a few 
 men, were quartered in our house, 
 and soon after that a stockade was 
 built around a house where Mr. 
 Peter Didtel now lives. For at least 
 ten days the homes in the valley 
 were deserted and property entirely 
 at the mercy of the Indians, yet not 
 one thing was disturbed. This goes 
 to show that they had no desire to 
 harm anyone of the white people 
 who had lived here in contact with 
 them thru four years. 
 
 During the winter of 1855-6 our 
 family lived at Roseburg, my father 
 caring for his blacksmith business 
 and my mother kept boarders, with 
 myself for assistant. 
 
 During the winter there were stir- 
 ring times. Volunteer companies 
 were passing through Roseburg to 
 
ez 
 
 Early Days in Oregon 
 
 the Rogue River country. Col. Wil- 
 liam J. Martin made his headquar- 
 ters at Roseburg. It was here that 
 he issued his ceelbrated order to 
 "take ho prisoners" yet he soon had 
 a lot of prisoners, but not if Indian 
 warriors. 
 
 It appears that when our Indians 
 went on the war path their aid men, 
 squaws and children were hidden 
 away in the canyons of the moun- 
 tains. One band of these — between 
 thirty and forty in number — were 
 hidden on the head of Rice creek 
 near Dillard. These refugees would 
 steal out to pilfer food from aban- 
 doned homes. Finally a few of the 
 settlers assembled and calling Laz- 
 arous Wright of Myrtle Creek, a cele- 
 brated grizzly bear hunter, to their 
 assistance, tracked the prowlers to 
 their camp. They were so securely 
 hidden that they were in the midst 
 of the camp before they discovered 
 them, and to their surprise they 
 found more Indians than they ex- 
 pected and of a different band from 
 what they expected to find, but 
 found that the Indians were Cow 
 Creeks and quite willing to surren- 
 der. These Indians were turned 
 over to Col. Martin who had them 
 brought to Roseburg, where I rec- 
 ognized our old friends. I was then 
 employed as interpreter and instruc- 
 ted to ascertain where the warriors 
 of the tribe were, but they, if they 
 knew, would not tell. 
 
 The Indians were housed in an 
 annex to a carpenter shop. I was 
 instructed to spend the night under 
 a work bench where I could listen 
 to their conversation. I could hear 
 the names of absent warriors men- 
 tioned, but no locality that I could 
 understand. 
 
 I would say here that I had learn- 
 ed a great deal of the Indian lan- 
 
 guage. It was easy to learn and un- 
 like most Indian language their 
 words were pronouncible. As a spy 
 I was not able to learn anything o 
 value. 
 
 On the following day Col. Martin 
 had two of the Indian girls aged 
 twelve or fourteen years, brought 
 to a room in the hotel. Among the 
 men presetn was Capt. Daniel Barnes 
 aid to Col. Martin. One of these 
 girls was Nellie, daughter of the 
 "Tipsu Bill" murdered by the Grave 
 Creek Indians in the futile attempt 
 to save their own lives and the sup- 
 posed white child mentioned hereto- 
 fore. I was directed to ask them 
 where the Indians were, but could 
 get no answer but "wake-kum-tux" 
 (don't know). The girls could 
 speak jargon and could understand 
 English. Capt. Barflies undertook 
 to put them thru the third degree, 
 but could get no information from 
 them. 
 
 Col. Martin had with him a sword 
 — the property of Gen. Joseph Lane, 
 one that had been surrendered to 
 him by the Mexican general Santa 
 Anna in the Mexican war. This I 
 remember was a beautiful sword, 
 gold hilt, scabbard elaborately en- 
 glfaved — -finally Caipt. Barnes pre- 
 tended to become enraged, seized 
 the little squaw, Nellie, thrust her 
 into the corner of the room, drew 
 the historical sword, assumed his 
 fiercest look (he was a large be- 
 whiskered man), enough to strike 
 terror td the hea^t of the little 
 savage, and addressed her in jar- 
 gon, "Kah mika kon a wa tilicum" 
 (Where are your men folks.) 
 
 No answer. 
 
 Drawing the sword and rushing 
 at the girl as though to thrust it 
 through her he said "Al-ta-mi-ka 
 wa-wa pe-mi^ka mam-ook mem-a- 
 
JSmrly Days in Oregon 
 
 65 
 
 loose mika" (Now talk or I will kill 
 you.) 
 
 The little squaw, isolated in a 
 rjoom with a half dozen of what to 
 ' her must have looked like fierce 
 white men, with the point of the 
 sword at her breast, did not show 
 fear by the batting of an eye or a 
 quivver of the lips. The well staged 
 attempt to frighten these girls to 
 tell of the whereabouts of the war- 
 riors was an utter failure. 
 
 I have related the above story 
 partly to show the stoical character 
 of the Indians. They can be demor- 
 alized by a surprise attack, but as a 
 prisoner they cannot be intimidated 
 to confess anything. 
 
 The band of old men, squaws and 
 children were finally placed on the 
 Grand Ronde. reservation in Yam 
 hill county. 
 
 Stories came back to us that Nellie 
 was the belle of the reservation and 
 her beauty was talked of all over 
 Oregon. My readers will pardon me 
 for relating a true incident that oc- 
 curred while these Indians were held 
 near Dillard and Roseburg. A bach- 
 eolr, Mr. McL., became infatuated 
 with the little squaw Nellie and 
 begged with tears to be allowed to 
 adopt or keep her and have her edu- 
 cated, to which Col. Martin turned 
 a deef ear. McL. made no secret in 
 expressing his grief and genuine at- 
 tachment for the little squaw, al- 
 though ridiculed by his associates. 
 Article XXIX. 
 
 After the battle of "Hungry Hill" 
 Capt. Gordon's company of Douglas 
 county volunteers was stationed 
 near the falls of Cow Creek and 
 Ehe settlers gradually gained confi- 
 dence that they would not be mo- 
 lested by the Indians and began to 
 move freely about the valley to look 
 after homes and stock, but most of 
 
 them remained forted up at our 
 home or at the Flmt (Didtel) place- 
 Tracks of Indians had been dis- 
 covered — evidently of squaws who 
 had come in at night to get wheat 
 and food that they had cached be- 
 fore leaving. 
 
 At one time some Indians appear- 
 ed near the home of — Russell, who 
 with two sons, Joseph and Curns, 
 w re at their cabin on 'Shoestring, 
 low the Blundell place. When the 
 Russells discovered the Indians they 
 left their cabin and ran f or it. /he 
 Indians fired their guns and set up 
 a yelling, as they said afterward, to 
 <>ee them run. The elder Russell 
 v v as a man about seventy years old 
 and very corpulent and was unable 
 to run at any great speed and it 
 was quite evident the In.lians had 
 no desire to injure them. They did 
 not molest the house. T/ie Russells 
 had to run about two miles to safety. 
 The Indians could have easi'v over- 
 taken the old man, but made no 
 attempt to do so. 
 
 Some time in December a band of 
 Indians composed of Gov; Creeks 
 and Rogue Rivers made an attack 
 upon the Rice family near Dllard, 
 that was followed by a battle (fight) 
 wii the Olalla near the Wells place. 
 Of this Indian raid Victor's history 
 gives the meager account After 
 narrating the disposition of the vol- 
 unteer forces, it says: 
 
 "But the companies were not per- 
 mitted to remain *n quarters. Dur- 
 ing the absence of the volunteers 
 early in December some roving 
 bands of Indians were devastating 
 the settlements on the west side of 
 the South Umpqua, destroying fif- 
 teen houses whose inmates had been 
 compelled to refuge in the forts.." 
 Here is a sample of what will 
 pass on down to future generations 
 
6'6* 
 
 JSariy Days in Oregon 
 
 as history. Not a word of the at- 
 tack upon the Rices and severe 
 wounding of Harrison Rice, and the 
 battle of Olalla in which Chief Tom 
 waf : killed. But Mrs. Victor says 
 "destroying fifteen houses", and as 
 a matter of fact no houses were des- 
 troyed. At no time did it appear 
 to be the policy of the Cow Creek 
 Indians to burn houses. 
 
 The true story of this Olalla raid 
 is as follows: 
 
 A man named "Yell" who had 
 some cattle grazing in the Boomer 
 Hill district, went out one day alone 
 to look after his stock, going over 
 the mountain by way of "section 
 four," following the trail around by 
 what was then known as "Pole Cor- 
 ral" (now known as Boomer Hill). 
 On top of the ridge west of the 
 Ledgerwood place, Yell discovered a 
 band of Indians in a grove of small 
 oak trees about three hundred 
 yards away. The discovery was mu- 
 tual. Yell turned to right and dash- 
 ed across a steep gulch, while the 
 Indians rushed to head him off. Yell 
 thanks to his sure footed horse, 
 reached the top of the ridge leading 
 to the valley ahead of the Indians, 
 who were firing at long range. Yell, 
 urging his horse down a rocky ridge 
 his saddle slipped onto his horse's 
 withers, no time to stop to aljust 
 his saddle he got behind the saddle 
 and losing no time he rode to the 
 stockade (Didtel place) a very much 
 demoralized man. It appeared there 
 were none of Capt. Gordon's com- 
 pany available to go in pursuit, so 
 I. B. Nichols immediately organized 
 about eight men to join in the pur- 
 suit and was on the Indians' trail 
 next forenoon. In the meantime 
 the Indians had passed over the 
 mountains and camped on Rice 
 creek within one-half mile of the 
 
 Rice family residence. On the fol- 
 lowing morning, discovering smoke 
 evidently from the Indians camp- 
 fire. The Rice fam'ly consisted of 
 Harrison Rice and wife (who was a 
 sister of our townsman, O. L. Wil- 
 lis), one son and five daughters. 
 The oldest was about sixteen years 
 ard the son, Sylvester, two years 
 younger, and a brother of the head 
 of the family, Austin Rce. There 
 was also an Indian boy with them 
 about sixteen years old. 
 
 On seeing the smok-3 the Rices 
 were apprehensive of Indians and 
 started the boy, Sylvester, to in- 
 form some bachelor . neighbors, 
 Robert Phipps, and others residing 
 across the Umpqua river above Pil- 
 lard. At the same time Austin Rice 
 vent to higher ground ti get a Det- 
 ter view of the smoke. He was fired 
 upon by the Indians, receiving a 
 rifle bullet in his arm, shattering the 
 b:>ne. At the same time the In- 
 dians were firing at the boy who 
 was running, the bullei.s whizzing 
 all around him After b.3 had got- 
 ten well away, he dropped to the 
 ground and removed his shoes that 
 hf might run the faster. Austin 
 Pice managed to get into the house, 
 which was a small weather boarded 
 aifair situated near the bank of a 
 creek with lower ground between 
 and the main bank about fifty feet 
 v it.h timber down to the creek on 
 the opposite side from the house. 
 
 The Indians soon surrounde 1 the 
 house, firing into it from all sides 
 Father Rice, aided by tb,3 Indian 
 bcy r returned the fire and managed 
 to keep the Indians from approach- 
 ing the house. Several times In- 
 dians with torches would rush from 
 the creek sid?, of the house, but 
 veuld be met with gun firo that sent 
 them back. The Indians had fired 
 
23 arly Days in Oregon 
 
 07 
 
 barn, carpenter saop and all out 
 Lu'ldings, and the house was rid- 
 dled with bullets. .That none of the 
 iarnily was hit was on account of 
 th- forethought of the Indian boy. 
 All the children were made to lie 
 fiown and bedding was placed be- 
 tween them and the walls 
 
 After the fhst fusilade the In 
 Sians slackened their firing i>ut re- 
 mained around the house for sev- 
 ers! hours, firing occasional shots 
 and attempting to fire the house. 
 Bf. lore noon the Indians disappeared. 
 No doubt their look outs discovered 
 the approach of the Nichols party, 
 wlic on reaching the Willis farm, 
 Here informed of the attack. 
 
 The Rice family always expressed 
 a deep sense of gratitude to the In- 
 dian hoy, believing that his help 
 sav >d their lives. What was re- 
 iffinrkable abo r this boy was that 
 only few wet.l< : '. before h - whole 
 family and .iDe had been <.n<l]y 
 murdered by a surprise attack of a 
 band of white men. The boy's fam- 
 ily was of the Umpqua or Olalla 
 tribe, had no connection with the 
 hostiles, and did not speak the same 
 language. They had assembled 
 near the home of Mr. Arrington and 
 had put themselves under his pro- 
 action, and their slaughter was bit- 
 terly denounced by everyone in the 
 vicinity. The boy was one of the 
 four that had escaped the massacre 
 and remembering that iho. Indians 
 Lad been kindly treated by the 
 Rices, went to them for protection. 
 
 I have given this particular ac- 
 count of the attack upon the Rice 
 family on account of my connection 
 with them. Anna M., the second 
 daughter, was my first wife, and the 
 third daughter, Alice C, was the 
 Wife of my brother Abner, therefore 
 the circumstances are very vivid in 
 
 my memory. 
 
 Article XXX 
 
 Since writing my last article I 
 have consulted Mr. O. L. Willis who 
 has given me some additional facts 
 with reference to the attack upon the 
 Rice family. It appears that the 
 boy, Sylvester Rice, who went for 
 help, on arriving at the Umpqua 
 river about one and a half miles 
 from their home, found the canoe 
 was on the opposite side of the river 
 and failing to secure help from that 
 quarter, turned and ran to the home 
 of his grand father Willis. The Rice 
 and Willis homes were both situated 
 in narrow valleys with a high steep 
 ridge between and about one mile 
 apart on a direct line, but over three 
 miles around by wagon road. After 
 the Willis family had made their 
 preparations for defense one of the 
 sons, Albert Willis, went on horse 
 back to see what the result of the 
 attack had been. Coming in sight 
 of the Rice home from an open hill- 
 side he was warned by the Rices to 
 go back, that some of the Indians 
 might still be lurking in the vicinity. 
 Young Willis in returning home by 
 the wagon road was fired upon by 
 the Indians, but rode through a hail 
 of bullets without a scratch. 
 
 Reports of the attack upon the 
 Rices soon reached Roseburg and 
 caused some excitement. The set- 
 tlers in the Brockway and Olalla dis- 
 tricts deserted their homes and con- 
 centrated for mutual protection. The 
 sheriff of the county, "Pat" Day, 
 hastily organized a few men and 
 went to the rescue. At Olalla they 
 were joined with the Nichols party 
 and late at night the Indians were 
 located, encamped on the west bank 
 of Olalla creek. 
 
 They had swung around from the 
 Rice-Willis settlement, following a- 
 
68 
 
 Early Days in Oregon 
 
 bout the same route that the road 
 now runs from Dillard to Cam^s 
 valley. Finding all houses deserted 
 they had helped themselves to their 
 contents and had secured a lot of 
 horses on which to pack their loot. 
 They evidently did not expect to 
 meet with opposition. Their raid 
 seemed to be for the purpose of for- 
 aging more than to kill or destroy. 
 They had chosen a place for their 
 camp between a large fallen tree and 
 the creek, the log lieing paralel with 
 and about fifty feet from the creek. 
 
 Sheriff Day assumed command of 
 the minute men, about twenty in all, 
 and in the vicinity were about the 
 same number of volunteer members 
 
 of Captain Buoys' company. 
 
 During the night a consultation was 
 had and a plan of attack was agreed 
 apon. Capt. Buoys men were to 
 cross the creek on a foot log and 
 take a position on the opposite side 
 of the creek from the Indian camp 
 and await the attack by the sheriffs 
 men. The plan was a good one, and 
 if it had been carried out to the let- 
 ter they would have had the Indians 
 between two fires. 
 
 Day's men took their position on 
 the hill-side in a fringe of young 
 oaks, about two hundred yards from 
 the Indians with open ground be- 
 tween, where they lay for an hour or 
 more awaiting the coming of day- 
 light to make their surprise attack. 
 
 The Indians seemed to be having 
 a jolly time— had big fires and were 
 baking bread by wholesale — their 
 laughter reaching the waiting men 
 on the hillside. 
 
 Before it was fairly daylight 
 some of the horses the Indians had 
 rounded up came up near the men. 
 A couple of Indians came up after 
 the horses, one of them coming near 
 Sheriff Day who became excited on 
 
 thinking that they would be discov- 
 ered, fired, missing the Indian and 
 spoiling all their plans. 
 
 I. B. Nichols, sizing up the situ- 
 ation, called on the men to come on 
 and charge, which the men hesita- 
 tingly did. "Nicks" voice was rec- 
 ognized by the Indians and they 
 shouted back "G — D — I. B. Nich- 
 ols." The white men charged down 
 the slope reserving their fire until 
 they reached the log. The Indians 
 had fired upon the charging whites 
 without reserve which gave the 
 white men the advantage when the 
 fighting was over the top of the log. 
 One man, Fred Castleman, was 
 wounded in the stomach while run- 
 ning in a stooping position, making 
 an ugly wound, but not penetrating 
 far under the skin. 
 
 The Indians fell back to the creek 
 bank, but made several desperate 
 charges to gain the log. The whites 
 did not dare to show their heads a- 
 bove the log and most of their fir- 
 ing was at random. 
 
 There were two boys about my 
 age with the whites, Eugene Flint 
 and Benton Kent. These boys per- 
 sisted in exposing themselves in or- 
 der to get a shot at the warriors, 
 but they were pulled down by older 
 men. 
 
 This battle continued for over 
 thirty minutes. But where were 
 Capt. Buoys' men? They should 
 have been on the opposite bank of 
 the creek, firing into the Indians' 
 backs, but not a rifle cracked from 
 that direction. Finally the Indians 
 gave way, wading the creek, which 
 was at flood and came up to their 
 arm pits. One white man had 
 reached the opposite bank of the 
 creek just as the Indians made their 
 dash across, but said there were too 
 many Indians for him to tackle a- 
 
Early Days in Oregon 
 
 69 
 
 •e, so he flattened himself out in 
 le brush while they passed on ev- 
 ery side of him. 
 
 Capt. Buoys' men did not arrive 
 until the Indians had all made their 
 escape except one, Chief Tom, who 
 was found dead in the edge of the 
 creek, and no doubt there were sev- 
 eral wounded Indians. 
 
 During the summer following, I 
 found rags tied on bushes where 
 trails parted that we believed to be 
 to inform stragglers what direction 
 to take. This would be for wound- 
 ed Rogue river Indians not familiar 
 with the country. 
 
 The hasty firing of Sheriff Day 
 before it was light enough to shoot 
 accurately, and the failure of Capt. 
 Buoys' men to reach the designated 
 point in time, saved the Indians 
 from almost total annihilation. 
 
 During the day of the Olalla bat- 
 tle the Indians fired upon "Burb" 
 and "Doc" Brockway at their cabin 
 on Thompson creek, but did not per- 
 sist in the attac*k. They were mak- 
 ing their way to their main camp in 
 the big bend of Cow creek, where 
 they were discovered a few months 
 later. 
 
 Article XXXI 
 
 Among the efficient organizations 
 of 1855-6 was Capt. James Burns' 
 Infantry company. 
 
 This was a small company. Capt. 
 Burns was employed scouting thru 
 the mountains usually with four or 
 five men. Their business was to lo- 
 cate the Indian camps that were hid 
 away in the mountains. 
 
 About six weeks after the battle 
 of Olalla Capt. Burns,- with three or 
 four men, located the Indian camp 
 at a point now known as "Camp B" 
 in Cow creek canyon. At that time 
 Cow creek canyon was almost an un- 
 iexplored country, yet there was a 
 
 well defined Indian trail from Cow 
 creek valley over the mountain to 
 Middle creek and over another to 
 the Indian camp. 
 
 When Capt. Burns discovered the 
 Indians early in the morning, a 
 dense fog covered the canyon. He 
 was so close to them that he could 
 hear their voices and smell the 
 smoke from their fires. 
 
 When Capt. Burns made his re- 
 port Col. Martin imemdiately assem- 
 bled all the available forces at 
 Glenbrook — in all about four hun- 
 dred men, composed of Capt. Gor- 
 don's, Capt. W. W. Chapman's, Capt. 
 Jos. Barley's and some detachments 
 of other companies. Something over 
 three weeks was spent in assembling 
 this small army, and much of this 
 time was spent in drilling the men, 
 which was, to say the least, highly 
 absurd. With his own old "nose" 
 loading gun and the manual of 
 arms was no benefit to him. 
 
 During the assembling of this 
 army our family moved back from 
 Roseburg to our home, my father 
 remaining in Roseburg to conduct 
 his blacksmith business. 
 
 I would say here that a stockade 
 had been placed on two sides of our 
 log house, the stockade projecting 
 past a corner on each side so as to 
 have a clear view on every side and 
 holes were made between the logs 
 upstairs, from which to fire our 
 rifles. 
 
 From the preparations made by 
 Col. Martin he must have thought 
 that he was going out to attack the 
 whole hostile tribes and their num- 
 bers were always greatly exagerated 
 The Indians at the camp at Camp 
 B at that time might have numbered 
 forty, judging from the number of 
 huts left by them. (I spent the 
 summer of 1857 at the same place 
 
70 
 
 JS airly Days in Oregon 
 
 and used some of the material from 
 their camp to prepare me a camp or 
 store house in supplying Chinese 
 miners.) 
 
 When Col. Martin's preparations 
 were finally made his army was 
 marched over the mountains to Mid- 
 dle creek, the first day about eight 
 miles, and on the next day they 
 marched over the mountains from 
 Middle creek to the Indian camp. 
 They found the camp, hut no In- 
 dians. With all the preparations 
 and noise of two days march, the In- 
 dians were fully advised of their ap- 
 proach and simply faded away into 
 the many timbered rocky gulches of 
 the mountains. 
 
 Col. Martin had marched his 
 army down the mountain to the de- 
 serted Indian camp and there was 
 nothing left to be done but to march 
 his army back up the mountain the 
 way he had come. But the volun- 
 teers were not to get out of the 
 mountains without casualties. 
 
 About one mile from the Indian 
 encampment there is a beautiful lit- 
 tle prairie of a few acres, almost lev- 
 el land on the side of the mountain 
 and with convenient water. Capt. 
 Bailey obtained permission to en- 
 camp there during the night and 
 pitched his camp under some pine 
 trees, the ground dropping off into 
 a steep timbered gulch immediately 
 from the camp. 
 
 Capt. Bailey took no precautions 
 but allowed his men to build up bon- 
 fires around which they were engag- 
 ed in wrestling and having a good 
 time. The Indians approached the 
 camp from the timbered side of the 
 bluff, fired into the crowd of men 
 assembled around the fire. John L. 
 Gardner was instantly killed and 
 Thomas S. Gage mortally wounded, 
 expiring the day following. 
 
 I well remember the return of the 
 expedition. The two dead boys were 
 carried upon litters and were left at 
 our house. Gardner was interred in 
 our cemetery. His was the third 
 grave made there and is now un- 
 marked. Young Gage's body was 
 taken to Brockway for interment. 
 His father was the first owner of the 
 land on which the town of Brock- 
 way is now situated. 
 
 During the evening after the re- 
 turn several of the officers were stop- 
 ping at our house, and discussing 
 the events, some of them suggested 
 that it was too dangerous for fam- 
 ilies to remain where we were. Some 
 of the officers were engaged" in po- 
 litical discussions. My mother lost 
 patience and addressed them about 
 as follows: "You gentlemen seem 
 to forget that those two boys back 
 there are laying dead through your 
 incompetence, and as to leaving my 
 home again, all I ask of you is to 
 leave my boys with me and we will 
 take care of ourselv*es." 
 
 A few days after the above oc- 
 curences Capt. Gordon's company 
 were discharged and a new company 
 was organized .with Edward Sheffield 
 as captain, in which my brother, 
 William H. Jr. and myself were en- 
 rolled. 
 
 The events narrated above have 
 no mention in either of the histories 
 that I have — Victors and Walings — 
 although the entire Northern Battal- 
 lions were engaged for nearly one 
 month. If they could only have ex- 
 changed a few shots with Indians 
 "Vitor's" history could have des- 
 cribed a great battle in which sev- 
 eral hundred Indians were engaged 
 and ncounted savaged killed etc. 
 Article XXXII 
 
 After the return of the expedi- 
 tion to the big bend of Cow Creek 
 
JBftT"ly Days in Oregon 
 
 72 
 
 le volunteers were mostly sent to 
 
 te meadows on Rogue river. A- 
 bout twenty of Capt. Sheffiel's men 
 were assigned to Cow Creek valley 
 under command of Lieut. S. S. Bun- 
 ton. With this detachment were 
 my brother William and myself. 
 
 Lieut. Bunton pitched his camp 
 about two hundred yards northeast 
 of the present residence of Mr. A. 
 L. Aikins. Two very large oak trees 
 were felled and the limbs cut and 
 arranged to enclose the camp. This 
 camp is mentioned in the history of 
 the Indian Wars of Oregon as Port 
 Sheffield. 
 
 My brother William and I were 
 detailed to stay at home for the pro- 
 tection of the family and were al- 
 lowed to assist in planting crops, 
 but this arrangement did not last 
 long. 
 
 Indians were reported to be in 
 .the vicinity of Olalla. Lieut. Bun- 
 ton immediately called his scattered 
 army of twenty men to assemble at 
 Fort Sheffield and made his detail 
 for the expidition. From this de- 
 tail, much to my disgust, I was o- 
 mitted. We were not informed who 
 would be left at camp until a few 
 minutes before the start, then I was 
 informed that I would be left be- 
 hind because I had left my horse 
 at the farm. 
 
 When the party loft camp I re- 
 solved that I would not be left be- 
 hind, so I ran to the farm, about 
 two miles, and on arriving home I 
 found that the horse I expected to 
 get was in use by someone and away 
 from home, so, knowing the trail 
 the party would take, I started to 
 overtake them on foot, and knowing 
 the most direct route, I ran up 
 through Hannum gulch over Jerry 
 flat and on to the east end of 
 Nickel mountain. 
 
 I overtook the party just as they 
 approached the top of the mountain. 
 When I came in sight I was com- 
 pletely exhausted. When my bro- 
 ther saw me he came back and al- 
 lowed me to ride his horse to the 
 top of the mountain where Lieut. 
 Bunton had halted, and on my com- 
 ing up he proceeded to "bawl" me 
 out, which I refused to do. The 
 men pleaded for me and Bunton fi- 
 nally yielded and the men through- 
 out the trip gave me rides on their 
 horses. 
 
 I was then sixteen years old, very 
 tall for my age, and as a mountain- 
 eer I felt myself the equal of any 
 one in the volunteer service. 
 
 Our first camp was made on the 
 ranch of John Byron on the south 
 fork of Olalla creek. Here we 
 found the Indian signs which con- 
 sisted of some squaw tracks where 
 they had been digging some pota- 
 toes that had been left. 
 
 Our camp was under an open shed 
 That is, there was a roof, but no 
 side walls. In this shed a large fire 
 was built, while I was placed on 
 guard about one hundred yards 
 from camp. It was raining and half 
 snowing. I was thinly clad without 
 an overcoat and I envied the boys 
 around the fire. The horses were 
 grazing between me and the fire 
 and the night was very dark. The 
 horses were grazing near the creek 
 bank some distance from where I 
 was stationed, when all at once 
 there was a snort and a stampede. 
 The men around the fire went out 
 from the circle of light and threw 
 themselves on the ground thinking 
 there were Indians, and calling to 
 me to know what caused the stam- 
 pede. I had not seen anything, but 
 thought it might be Indians. At 
 any rate there was no more fire that 
 
72 
 
 Early Days 
 
 in Oregon 
 
 night. I was left on guard for sev- 
 eral hours, Bunton saying that he 
 would teach me to obey orders. 
 
 This Lieut. Bunton was an illit- 
 erate man, incompetent as an of- 
 ficer, a big bluffer, and there was 
 little discipline in his detachmetn. 
 
 On the following day we went 
 over some mountains to a point 
 south of Camas valley. We found 
 no Indians, but the hunting was ex- 
 cellent. Elk and deer were plenti- 
 ful. Here we camped several days, 
 killing plenty of deer, but no elk, 
 and if there were any Indians in 
 the vicinity they were kind enough 
 to not molest us, and if it had not 
 rained so continuously we would, 
 as the saying goes, "have had a very 
 pleasant trip." 
 
 On this trip my shoes entirely 
 gave out and I made me moccasins 
 out of fresh deer skins, hairside in. 
 I knew how to make moccasins and 
 they did fine except in walking on 
 hillsides in the wet grass the bot- 
 toms would turn to the top etc. 
 
 The expidition returned to Fort 
 Sheffield without casualties, for 
 which I have always thought we 
 were indebted to an old mule smell- 
 ing the Indians as they were sneak- 
 ing up to fire into the men that were 
 sitting around that big fire. At any 
 rate I will always think the old 
 mule "Lizzie" had more sense than 
 Lieut. Sam Bunton. (I was not 
 fond of Sam Bunton.) 
 
 ARTICLE XXXIII. 
 
 During the month of May, 1856, 
 the hostile Indians had concentrated 
 in the mountains on lower Rogue 
 River and after several days of 
 fighting with two companies of reg- 
 ular soldiers, in which the Indians 
 were getting the best of it, several 
 companies of Volunteers coming to 
 the relief of the beleaguered regu- 
 
 lars, the Indians finally agreed to 
 surrender. 
 
 At one of the preliminary meet- 
 ings, before the arrival of the Vol- 
 unteer forces, Chief John is re- 
 ported to have addressed the regular 
 officers as follows: 
 
 "You are a great chief," said John 
 to Colonel Buchanan. "So am I. 
 This is my country. I was in it 
 when those large trees were very 
 small — not higher than my head. 
 My heart is sick with fighting, but 
 I want to live in my country. If the 
 white people are willing, I will go 
 back to Deer Creek (Josephine coun- 
 ty) and live among them as I used 
 to do. They can visit my camp and 
 I will visit theirs but I will not lay 
 down my arms and go with you on 
 the Reserve. I will fight. Good- 
 bye." 
 
 Whereupon he took his departure 
 unrestrained as had been agreed 
 upon. 
 
 A few days afterward messengers 
 (squaws) came in saying the In- 
 dians would surrender, which they 
 did, stacking their rifles against a 
 rock, Chief John being the last one. 
 Thus ended the Rogue River Wars 
 of 1855-56. The result was that 
 all the Indians of Southern Ore- 
 gon were removed to the Siletz Res- 
 ervation, including the remnant of 
 our Cow Creek Indians. This war 
 a great relief to the white settlers. 
 There was always a feeling of inse- 
 curity and a fear that the Indians 
 would avenge their great wrongs. 
 Fair minded peoples must admit 
 that they were made the victims. I 
 have always thought that if the 
 Cow Creek Indians had been award- 
 ed fair treatment some of them 
 would have made useful citizens. 
 They went into the war with con- 
 viction that the Indian race was 
 
Majrly Days in Oregon 
 
 73 
 
 doomed to extinction. They ex- 
 pressed no animosity against the 
 whites that they had lived in peace 
 with for five years, but claimed that 
 they would be murdered by "me- 
 sah-chee" (bad) white men from 
 the south. They preferred to die 
 fighting and so far as I was able to 
 ascertain, all adult males of the Cow 
 Creek tribe perished during the 
 war. 
 
 During the Civil War I was a 
 soldier, a member of Co. C, First 
 Oregon Cavalry. During the sum- 
 mer of 1861 our company in pass- 
 ing through the Willamette Valley, 
 encamped on Mary's river, near Cor- 
 vallis. There was a camp of In- 
 dians nearby, and some boys came 
 to our camp. I soon discovered 
 that they spoke the language of the 
 Cow Creeks. When I addressed 
 them in their native tongue they 
 expressed surprise: "Kan-ta nan-ka 
 quita-gin-a-gut ? " 
 
 (Who are you, where come from?) 
 
 I told them I was "Jode" from 
 Miwaletah. They said they were 
 too young when they had left their 
 old home to remember me, but that 
 they knew about Miwaletah. They 
 darted away to their camp and soon 
 returned with some squaws that I 
 at once recognized as being of our 
 Cow Creek Indians. 
 
 One of them fell on her knees in 
 front of me, crying. This one prov- 
 ed to be the widow of Chief Tom 
 who was killed in the Olall'a battle 
 and one of the boys was Tom's son 
 who was about three years old when 
 they went into the war five years 
 before, and we had named him 
 "Shiner." 
 
 These squaws begged to be taken 
 back to Mi-wa-le-tah. I was in cav- 
 alry uniform and they seemed to 
 
 think I was a "Tyee" (officer) and 
 could have them returned to their 
 old home. They were human and 
 were homesick. 
 
 I questioned them about the In- 
 dian men. Their answer would be 
 "Mem-a-loos kon-a-way mem-a-loos." 
 (Dead, all dead). 
 
 That was the last I saw of the 
 Cow Creek Indians. 
 
 There were so many small bands 
 of Indians placed on the Siletz res- 
 ervation, that in the sixty-four years 
 of their residence there they have 
 lost knowledge of their former tri- 
 bal relations. 
 
 This concludes my story of the 
 early days. I have told the story 
 without exaggeration, and in the 
 ^me manner that I would f lf I 
 were conversing with my neighbors 
 around the fireside. If my story has 
 impressed upon the minds of my 
 readers the cojhdjtions and prob- 
 lems met by the pioneer settlers of 
 this country, then I will be repaid 
 for my efforts. In two months more 
 I will be eighty-one years old. 
 Sixty-nine of those years I have re- 
 sided in this small valley. During 
 that time I have witnessed the de- 
 velopment of Southern Oregon and 
 this great state of ours, and in some 
 measure had a part. It has been 
 my privilege to see this country in 
 its primitive beauty, before the hand 
 of the white man had made his 
 mark, but that is a part of the story. 
 In the beginning of these sketches 
 I had no thought that they would be 
 published in pamphlet form. They 
 were written for our local paper. 
 Afterwards the publisher asked the 
 privilege of publishing my writings 
 in pamphlet form. They have all 
 been written hastily, without any 
 revision whatever, the publisher 
 
74 
 
 JBarly Days in Oregon 
 
 using the same type that was used 
 in his newspaper, and my pencil 
 copy was not always legible. 
 
 "Alta nika kopet an-kutty papeh 
 wa-wa." 
 
 (Now I quit writing of l'ong ago.) 
 
 
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