USA > Oregon > The Oregon native son, 1900-1901 > Part 3
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awful strait in which the little Ameri- can colony in Oregon had found itself.
By taking the southern route, or Santa Fe trail, the Oregon governor and mar- shal arrived in California in February, 1849, and in Oregon on the 2d of March -- just in time for Lane to be proclaimed governor of the new territory before the expiration of Polk's term. They found the Indians in a state of armed tranquil- ity, waiting to see what the whites would do further to avenge the murders at WVailatpu. Lane demanded the princi- pal murderers from their tribe, and had them hanged, Meek officiating as exe- cutioner-a duty he performed with less reluctance since one of his own children had been among the victims.
When the territory became a state, offices passed into other hands, and the pioneers rarely conducted its affairs. Meek thenceforth lived quietly upon his farm near Hillsboro, laboring little, and finding occupation in riding about the country or visiting towns that he had seen grow up throughout the valley of the Willamette. Wherever he went, d crowd of curious listeners were wont to gather, eager to hear, over and over, the tales of mountain adventure, or stories of pioneer times, that he so well knew how to make interesting or diverting.
It has been said that he held the title of "colonel" by courtesy only. This may be true so far as it was bestowed up to 1854, but if one will take the trouble to look up the history of Oregon of that year it will be found that he was entitled to be so called thence forward. The ter- ritorial legislature of 1853-4 passed an act constituting Oregon a military dis- trict, and required the governor to di- vide it into what were termed council districts. Each council should have one colonel, lieutenant-colonel and a major, who shoud divide their council district into regimental districts. The governor was also required to commission all elective officers.
Washington county was one of these council districts and at the June election of 1854 elected Mr. Meek colonel of the sanie, and Governor Davis afterwards is-
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CAPE HANCOCK, MOUTH OF THE COLUMBIA RIVER.
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NAMES OF THE COLUMBIA RIVER.
sued to him his commission as the law required.
Twice he was the subject of paintings, "The Trapper's Last Shot," of which he is the central figure, being famous as il- lustrative of frontier life.
The colonel died on his farmi June 20, 1875.
Virginia Meek was always a favorite with early pioneer women and children, and she exercised a boundless charity to- ward the poor and needy. Her native
This great waterway has probably more names than any other river in the world. At least history has preserved a greater number than can be now said as having belonged to others. Early dis- coverers, as well as recent writers, state that it was known among the Indians by various names, each tribal family desig- nating it by a word or combination of them, suited to their own dialect. Among these names given are Spo-ka- tili-cum, Shock-a-tili-cum. Chuck-a-lil- um, Wik-a-itli Wam-a-kil, Pe-koo-un, Ka-kis-ne-ma, We-ya-ne-na, Nis-kot- sum and Ka-nix. These names were not applied to the river directly, but to the locality. It is the general belief that the Indians did not give the river, as a whole, a name.
Its mouth was first discovered by the whites when the Spanish navigator, Cap- tain Bruno Heceta cruised along the coast in 1775. On August 15, of that year his vessel lay off the bar. Whether he entered the river is doubtful. It is generally believed that he did not, and that observations were taken, from the deck of his ship some distance from the shore. He gave it the name, Ensenada de Asuncion, or Assumption Inlet. The north point he called Cape San Roque, and the southi, Cape Fronduso. It would, however, seem that the discovery was more than an inlet. for, on a chart published in Mexico not long subsquent to its discovery, the names Ensenada de Heceta, or Heceta Inlet. and Rio de San Roque, or River of San Roque, are giv- en. From this latter name it is quite
language she always used when she talked to herself in her favorite chair, but when spoken to she would reply in broken English very intelligibly. Her disposition was of the kindliest sort, and while age rendered her decrepit, she sat in her chair, humming a chant peculiar to the Nez Perces. Her son, Stephen A. D. Meek, who cared for her, is a promi- nent citizen of Hillsboro, and the atten- tion he gives her has won him golden opinions. She died March 5, 1900, at the age of eighty years.
evident that the presence of a river was at least suspected, or the information was borrowed upon hearing that other navigators had really discovered a river.
What others may have supposed, was found to be a certainty. And to Captain Robt. Gray, an American, belongs the honor of the discovery. On May 11th, 1792, he safely crossed the bar, anchor- ing several miles up the river from its mouth. On the 19th he went on shore, formally naming the river after his ship, the Columbia, raised the American flag, and took possession in the name of the United States. He named the conspic- uous headland on the north side of the entrance Cape Hancock, now called Cape Disappointment, and the low sand- spit on the south, Point Adams. While he was sure that he had discovered a riv- er, he did not know that it was the second in North America.
Reference has also been made to what was supposed to be such body of water by discoverers writing of the River Agui- lar, River Thegays, River of the West, and The Oregon. This latter name comes to us through the writings of Captain Johnathan Carver, but it is not believed that he ever traveled far enough west to find it, and that it would have possibly been forgotten had the poet, Bryant, not immortalized it in Thanatopsis.
All that tread
The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom .- Take the wings Of morning, traverse Barca's desert sands,
Or lose thyself in the continuons woods
Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound
Save his own dashings-yet the dead are there; And millions in those solitudes, since first The tiight of years began, have laid them down In their last sleep-the dead reign there alone.
BUCKSKIN'S FIGHT WITH THE WOLVES.
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(Copyright 1900, by G. A. Waggoner.)
What was known thirty years ago as Central Ferry was some eighteen or twenty miles above Farewell Bend; a camp so well remembered by those who crossed the plains to Oregon as one where they bid farewell to Snake river, down which the had been travelling sev- eral hundred miles, seeing no more of it after leaving this place until after its wat- ers were mingled with those of the great Columbia, west of the Blue mountains. At the time of which we write the Snake river valley was entirely unsettled, there being only a few stations scattered along the route to the Boise gold mines. The city of Weiser, ten miles below the ferry, and Payette, three and Ontario six miles above on the river, as seen now, had no existence, not even in imagination-the coyotes and jack rabbits there burrowed on the sites these thriving places now occupy. Central Ferry was owned by two brothers, John and Martin Parton. It was operated by Martin, or, as he was familiarly called, Mart, and Guy, John's eldest son. The great rush to the mines made the ferry a valuable property, but the deep snows which fell on the Blue mountains between the mines and the Columbia river almost closed the road to travel except during the summer and early fall months. Those who kept the stations and ferries alone and thrown en- tirely upon their own resources for amusement during the winter months. When the travel ceased for the winter of 1863 Mart and Guy remained to take care of the ferry. Mart was a well pre- served bachelor of 35 or 40 years of age and Guy was a handsome boy of 16. They had a little shanty made mostly of clap-boards, with the dirt piled up on the outside to keep out the cold winds. They were supplied with plenty of pro- visions to last them until the travel com-
menced again and looked forward to having a cosy time, the monotony of which could be broken at any time by shooting at jack rabbits or coyotes, with now and then a shot at an antelope or grey wolf.
As the winter hollidays approached there came a heavy fall of snow, cover- ing the ground to the depth of two feet or more. The weather became intense- ly cold but our bachelors did not mind that, they had an immense pile of sage brush stacked up in the front yard for fuel and easily kept warm. The only do- mestic animal near them was an old horse which had been turned out early in the fall by some packers. His back had become injured by his saddle and being old and worn out with labor they had turned him loose to live or die as it might happen. Before the snow fell he had found plenty of good grass and had grown strong and fat. He was on the opposite side of the river from the house and frequently came down to the ferry landing looking for company. At such times he would look across at the house and neigh, as much as to say. come and ferry me over, I am lonesome here all alone and winter coming on. Sometimes Guy, out of sympathy with his loneliness, would take the skiff and cross the river to see old Buckskin. as he was called, in compliment to his rich tan color. The old fellow showed al- most a human longing for society and would follow his visitor down to the water's edge and look at his frail skiff as much as to say, why did you not bring the big boat over, then I could have gone home with you. But he was on the side where the best grass was found and so was left alone. After the snow fell nothing was seen of him for many days, and it was feared he had fallen a
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BUCKSKIN'S FIGHT WITH THE WOLVES.
prey to the large number of grey wolves which were sometimes seen wading through the snow, having been driven by its greater depth in the hills to seek the river bottoms. Guy and his uncle spent much time looking with a glass for some trace of the missing pony. At last he was seen on the point of a hill about two miles distant. He was stand- ing up to his knees-in the snow digging away industriously for his dinner. With one fore-foot he would make about fif- teen or twenty strokes, making the snow fly in every direction; then he would rest that foot by using the other one. In this way he reached the grass and satis- fied his hunger. Of course, it was a cold diet-bunch grass mixed with snow- morning, noon and night, but he seemed to understand that this was his only chance to escape starvation. He could be seen the first and last light of morn- ing and evening, working away. He . Guy.
would ghnaw the grass from all the ground he had bare. of snow, then he would clear more. As time went on, and the deep snow continued, he became quite an object of interest. As the bachelors had nothing else to occupy their minds, they spent most of their time watching Buckskin dig for food. It was interesting to see an animal adapt himself so quickly and intelligently to the conditions surrounding him. He had been reared in the Willamette valley, and knew nothing about such deep snows as now confronted him, yet he soon discovered his broad hoofs could be used for other purposes than merely to walk upon. One day as Guy was standing in the yard with the glass in his hand, he cried;
"O Uncle Mart, come here quickly. there's a lot of wolves fighting old Buck- .kin! Look, look! a great band of them."
"How can I see him without the glass?" said Mart.
"Here, here! quick! They are try- t11g to pull him down. What can we ":" said the impulsive boy.
"I wish we had another glass. Don't 1 ... uneasy," said Mart. as he adjusted the Ela -- to his eye and leveled it on the
distant pony. "The wolves are getting the worst of it so far. Old Buck is a warrior. He is knocking and kicking them right and left. I believe he will whip them all. There are but four that I can see. He is holding them at bay. Now he turns this way, and is running. Moses! how he runs! I believe he is coming for help. He can outrun the wolves in the deep snow. It only comes to his knees, while it is side deep to them. O, but don't he run! Hurrah for Buck! He is coming down the hill now. Look, look! how he makes the snow fly."
"How do you expect me to look at him two miles off, while you have the glass?" said Guy.
"That's so, here it is. I do wish we had two glasses. Take it, quick. See how he is doing on the flat!"
"Bounding like an antelope," said
The wolves are away behind. Who would have thought the old fellow had so much mettle in him as that? He is a race-horse, sure.".
. Buckskin made straight for the ferry. and when he arrived at the landing the wolves were nowhere to be seen, though they came in sight a few minutes later. The beleagured horse neighed loudly to the ferrymen, who now realized they were powerless to help him in this hour of his sorest need. The river was frozen over, except a channel of about one hundred feet in the center; the skiff had accidentally become loosened from the bank and floated off, some time before the freeze came, and the ferry-boat was frozen fast in the ice at the bank. The river being too wide for the range of a rifle. Buckskin must bring his enemies within range by coming out on the ice near the channel. But he was doubtless afraid to do this, probably knowing that, should he fall. he would be at their mer- cy. Much sympathy was felt for him, but it looked as if he would have to fight the unequal battle alone. Neighing frequently for help, he selected his posi- tion near the bank of the river and wait- ed the attack. It was sharp and furious. The wolves were hungry and determined to waste as little time in combat as pos-
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OREGON NATIVE SON
sible. Two sprang at his throat and two tried to reach his haunches. Neither were successful. With his ears laid flat on his neck, his eyes flashing, and his teeth bared and gleaming white as snow, he struck down those in front, and be- fore the two behind could fasten on him, they were sent, by two well-directed kicks, rolling in the snow. So complete- ly were they cowed they did not dare to attack again, and, after maneuvering some time for advantage without suc- cess, they sneaked away. Guy's hat went high in the air when he saw the result of the battle. The horse remained two days about the river bank, when, being press- ed by hunger, he again sought the hills for grass. He remained unmolested for several days, and then he was again seen making for the ferry, with another pack of wolves on his heels. This time there were no less than a dozen, and it looked as if Buckskin's last moment was ap- proaching very fast. Mart ran out on the ice and fired at the wolves, which had surrounded their victm on the bank, but the distance was too great for him to hit them. the report of the gun, however, frightened them so they withdrew from the attack and sneaked around until it was dark, when the noise of snorting and snapping of teeth told Buck's friends that the battle was on again, and they could hear it raging with more or less fury through the night.
It was impossible for our bachelors to go to rest while the old horse was so bravely fighting for his life. A fire was built on the bank and guns fired at short intervals until morning. When it came, Old Buck was still defiant, yet his tire- less enemies still beset him.
"What shall we do?" said Guy. "It is awful to stay here and not aid the poor fellow, when he neighs so piteously. He . close in, but the courageous horse showed almost talks. I feel just like it is a hu- man being begging us to help him. Can't we cut a channel through the ice for the ferry-boat?"
"That would be impossible. The ice has drifted and lodged about it many feet thick," answered his uncle.
"Then let us make a raft."
"I have been thinking about that,"
said Mart, "but we have nothing with which to make it. Our whole house. if taken down and made into a raft, would scarcely float us, and we would freeze to death in this weather before we could build it up again."
"I'll tell you what," said Guy, "there are two large barrels in the house, and they would float one of us."
"Yes, but one of them is half full of old rye whickey, which cost four dollars a gallon, and there is nothing in which to empty it."
"Mart, let us pour it out," begged Guy. "We can put some of it in the water bucket and camp kettle, and then pour it back when we are done." prove of that," answered Mart.
prove o fthat," answered Mart.
"If he was here, he would. I know him too well to think he would ever let a horse die like that. None of us likes whiskey. What does he want with it, anyway?"
"It belongs to the man at Payette sta- tion, and is here because he has not vet come for it," answered Mart. "He will be after it when the snow melts a little, and would not like it if we threw it out."
Guy had again taken the glass and was looking intently at the battle, he could plainly see the old horse was being worried and punished to death. Blood showed on several parts of his body, where the wolves had torn him with their sharp teeth.
All at once a large one darted from the pack, and, missing the horse's throat. fastened on his shoulder. Buckskin seized the wolf in his teeth and tearing him loose he pressed him to the ground1. and struck him again and again with his fore feet so furiously that the wolf lay ap- parently lifeless. The rest attempted to such a determined and hostile front, they paused, afraid to invoke the fate of their comrade.
Guy could endure no more. He turn- ed to his uncle with his face streaming with tears, saying, "I can't stand it any longer. uncle. You and father promised me fifty dollars a month to help run the ferry. You owe me one hundred and
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BUCKSKIN'S FIGHT WITH THE WOLVES.
fifty dollars. I will pay for that whiskey. You can take it out of my wages, and I want that barrel. I am going over the river to help old Buck."
Mart was a noble-hearted, impulsive man, and his own heart was swelling up with pity for the brave old horse. He threw both arms around the boy, and blurted out:
"That's just like you, Guy. God bless you, I am with you. We will save old Buckskin if it costs all the ferry is worth to do it. Now, run and rip off them two planks fastened to the stanchions of the ferry-boat, while I get the barrels.
In a very few moments the two large barrels were rolled down on the ice, plac- ed about eight feet apart and lashed se- curely to the broad planks Guy had brought from the boat: Then they had a sled and boat combined. When it was ready Mart said, "Now bring both rifles, our pistols and plenty of amunition. The wolves may attack us. They are very hungry or they would not be so bold."
Mart had managed to save most of the whiskey in emptying the barrel, by filling the cooking utensils, including the fry- ing pans and coffee pot, and lastly, but by no means least, a pair of Mart's huge boots, which did good service in holding a couple of gallons of the fiery liquid.
When all was ready they pushed the raft ahead of them on the ice until they came to the channel. To prevent acci- dents, the guns were tied to the raft. The novel boat being launched, the barrels. being tightly corked, proved buoyant enough to bear the two men. With clap-boards for paddles they soon cross- ed the current and landed safely on the ice. The wolves having renewed the fight with greater vigor than ever, were pressing old Buckskin closer and closer. One would dart from the pack snapping at the horse as he passed. They appear- ed to be trying to get him to run, but were careful about getting in reach either of his heels or his teeth. More than once he was seen to seize a wolf and hurl him several vards. In his de- fense he had developed a kind of science of fighting, keeping near the bank, and never allowing his foes to get behind
him. When he found it necessary to charge upon them, he did it with such vigor as to drive everything before him, then, before they could rally, he returned to his place and again turned a solid front to them.
Never did a horse show more courage or sagacity, and seldom, if ever, was one more deeply sympathized with. The two rescuers crept up the bank to within twenty yards of the combatants.
"Take good aim and say 'ready' before you fire," said Mart, as he leveled his rifle. Both guns rang out with one re- port, and two of old Buck's foes fell. Then, with pistols, the battle was opened in earnest. Crack-crack-crack, and the wolves scampered off, leaving four of their number dead upon the field, while several that ran away were badly wounded, as was shown by the bloody trail they left behind in the snow.
Buckskin was nearly as much surpris- ed at his deliverance as were the wolves in their defeat. He was cruelly gashed in many places, nearly starved, and worn out with fatigue and the loss of blood; but he made a most gallant fight and was looked upon as quite a hero by his res- cuers. They led him out on the ice, but he who had fought so bravely was re- luctant to try a bath in the cold waters of the swift river. He was coaxed and pushed into the channel and led, swim- ming, across behind the raft, safely reaching the opposite shore. The next morning his two friends helped him break a trail through the snow to the hills, where the wind had blown the grass bare, and left him with plenty of food at his feet.
Soon after the snow disappeared and spring invited the wolves back to their native haunts in the mountains. When the flowers came again Buckskin was fat and sleek, coming every few days to the ferry to see his friends and look for . company of his own kind. He was quite a handsome pony, but ever after- wards, through his glossy coat, could be seen the scars of his many wounds, mute witnesses of the terrible conflict through which he had passed.
G. A. WAGGONER.
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THE CAYUSE WAR.
( Copyright 1900, by T. A. Wood )
Prior to the settlement of the Pacific Northwest by white men, it was the great throbbing life-center of the red man of North America.
In the seventeenth century, from Pu- get Sound on the North to the Sacra- mento river on the south, and from the Pacific ocean on the
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west to the Rocky mountains on the east, the Indian population was here numbered by millions. Two-thirds or three-fourths of the Indians of North America were inhabitants of this terri- tory. Along the coast, reaching interior to the Blue mountains, the Indian popu- lation was then three times as dense as in any other part of the territory of what is now the United States. Was this prophetic of the white population of the on-coming ages? Are we to have here on the Pacific coast the densest populat- ed portion of the United States? This was true in the past, and why may it not come true in the future?
In the beginning of the eighteenth cen- tury disease entered the Indian wigwam, and at five special periods, viz .. in 1818, 1829, 1836 and 1847, seventy- five . per cent of the Indian population was swept away. If this land was ever to be occupied by white men, this fact was certainly most providential.
Up to 1855, Oregon embraced all the territory on the North Pacific coast west of the summit of the Rocky mountains. containing about one thousand square miles. In the bounds of this territory (say in 1847) the Indian population num- bered three to four hundred thousand souls. At the same date, the entire white population west of the Missouri river and north of Mexico, including men. wo- men and children, did not number three thousand souls.
The peopling of this territory has no parallel in the annals of history. While
debating societies and politicians were saying: "We do not want Oregon; it is utterly worthless; the United States has already more territory than she will ever be able to occupy," immigrants were travelling westward. There was no gold then discovered to allure him to the shores of the Pacific, and there was no safe highway to welcome him; its long distance was one of the allurements; the dangers of the journey were his delight; the hardships were stimulating. The possibilities and probabilities of that "far-off land" were his dreams by night as he slept in the open air or kept his watch lest the Indians should slay his wife and little ones or stampede his stock. He dreamed of conquest, of em- pire, and of national expansion. And as we look back on this western march of two thousand miles of the immigrant with his ox-team, bearing his all, in- cluding his wife and babies, to the utter- most bounds of the continent, into the unknown country, across the desert, through an enemy's land and into an enemy's country, unprotected, we are astonished at his daring, and are led to exclaim. "Were ever men such fools?"
The people of this vast isolated terri- tory were forced, in 1847, to take up arms to save themselves from being wiped off the face of the earth by the In- dians. Outside of the Hudson's Bay Company, the Methodist mission, Pres- byterian mission and two or three mer- chants at Oregon City, there was not two hundred dollars in money in the eu- tire Oregon. Wheat, at fifty cents per bushel, was legal tender for all debts. How an army was to be equipped and maintained three hundred miles, away from the settlement was the most vexa- tious problem ever solved in the finances of any colony. The Provisional govern- ment was indebted, at this time, in the
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