USA > Oregon > The Oregon native son, 1900-1901 > Part 33
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"Splendid. He is worth a thousand dollars."
"Well, then, I make you a present of him, so you are worth a thousand dollars more than you were when you started."
Passionately fond of horses I was de- lighted with Bob's present. He was in- deed one to be proud of. and I had been planning to buy him ever since we start- ed.
"He is a thoroughbred," said Bob, "has been trained for the track, and it is doubtful if anything in Idaho can over- take him. If either of us is out-ridden by the Snakes it will not be you."
We were nearing Salmon Falls and could hear the dreadful roar of the river as it leaped from its granite bed to be dashed to pieces on the rocks 60 feet be- low. Here we turned north and traveled until midnight, when we camped in a little valley where the grass was kiee high. Before it was fairly light I could hear the splash of trout jumping in the water. I was soon dressed and after so- curing a bit of fresh beef, which we had brought with us, I baited a hook, took the first stick I found for a rod. and made my way through the tall grass un- til I came to a little streani, about six feet wide. Here the speckled beauties were making a breakfast of some early insects which were hovering about the water. Cautiously my hook was drop-
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ped below the swarm of flies. I did not wait for a bite. Never did I have such fishing. They fought for my bait like chickens for a pan of dough. In five minutes I had enough for breakfast. At this place on his last trip Bob had left some horses and here we left ours. I was afraid I would never see my beaut :- ful bay again, but Bob said we were much safer on foot, so we cached our camp outfit as securely as we could, hanging our provisions in the bushes ont of the reach of wolves, then we prepared to assume our disguise. With brown paint mixed with oil, we painted our bodies, rubbing thoroughly from head to heel, until not a vestige of white skin remained in sight. Beaded moccasins supplanted our boots and fringed buck- skin leggings, reaching to our .knees, took the place of our pants. while a cali- co shirt, descending to the waist, sup- plied our upper clothing. Bob's hair was long, reaching to his shoulders. He had worn it long, braided and fast- ened on top of his head. After he had loosened it he handed me a wig made in some ingenious manner out of the hair of a horse's tail. It fitted me nicely, and after a few stripes of vermillion paint were added to my face, Bob declared my costume was complete. I had been so occupied with my own dressing that I had not noticed Bob's progress. As he now stood before me I laughed so loud that he looked around with apprehen- sion lest I should be heard by some foe. When he handed me a small mirror and my eyes were turned upon myself. I roared with uncontrolled laughter. Talk of Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde! They could not hold a candle to Bob and me. It was really wonderful what a change we had made when we were transformed from a couple of good-looking young fellows into a couple of Snake Indians, and dev- lish ill-looking Indians at that. Bob's transformation especially was complete. His own mother could not possible have known him. His handsome features had undergone a complete re-arrangement and their combined effect was something truly appalling. When he looked at me,
I involuntarily reached for my gun and could scarcely escape from the impres- sion that he was about to scalp me the; and there.
"Now,". said he, raising his tomahawk hand impresively. " There are a thou- sand things you must learn before we are safe from detection. You are no longer a white man, you are an Indian. You look like one, and you must act like one. An Indian does not walk with his toes turned out. but points them straight ahead; he carries his gun mostly in his hand, resting his arm at his elbow, never on his shoulder; when in motion he is the very picture of stealth. He may be known from a white man when walking or riding a mile distant. He neither walks, rides, eats, drinks or sleeps like a white man; and when he dies, he seeks a secluded spot like a dog. Inferior to us in most respects, he nevertheless has his strong points. He is the shrewdest detective in the world; he will follow a trail for days which no eye but his can see. You cannot make a mark or slight scratch on the ground, over which he roams, but he will understand how, when and for what purpose it was made. Con- stant danger has rendered him acute. His eye searches for danger signals as a hawk for prey. He suspects everything, but nothing so much as a white man. He will glance over a deserted camp, tell when the fire was kindled, when they went ont, how many and what kind of people camped there and how they cook- ed: where they came from, where going and what was their business. He will know how they were mounted, armed, and how much provisions they carried. Once, when employed by the govern- ment. I scouted with a Warm Spring Indian. We came to a place near the head of the Malhuer river where some travelers had camped. I looked the spot over and said 'two Indians camped here to cook their dinner yesterday.' The Indian shook his head and said, 'Siwash wake mitilite citcum sun'-Indians don't stop at noon. Then he pointed to where a bucket of water had been thrown on the ground. The impression was plain
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to be seen, but the water had all sunk away and the ground was parched and dry. I corrected my remark by saying, 'Yes; it was day before yesterday, but I think it was Indians camped here. See they make a small fire.' He re- joined, 'Wake Siwash. Uckook Bos- -No Indians. They were white men who camped here. Then he stooped to pick up a small fine- cut shaving which had been cut from a willow stick, such an one as only could have been made with a sharp, fine-edged knife. by some one whittling carefully. As I still looked incredulous, he next plucked a blade of grass with a dark stain upon it and held it before my eyes in triumph. The stain was made by to- bacco juice. I yielded. Indians never carry pocket knives or keep a smooth edge on their butcher knives; they never chew tobacco and are seldom seen to whittle with any kind of a knife. I told the scout he was correct. They were probably a couple of prospectors. He went to a large rock and called my atten- tion to impressions made in the dust by the butts of two guns, such guns as are used in the army, not such rifles as pros- pectors carry. I was beaten again, but when the scout said, 'Uckook mysika tilicum clatawa nanitch siwash. Lacket sun nanitch copa Salmon Fall's'-they are scouts, our friends. In four days we shall see them at Salmon Falls-I was completely nonplussed, but concluded to say nothing but wait for developments. On the fourth day we camped at Salmon Falls and had the pleasure of meeting two of Uncle Sam's scouts who verified the Indian's predictions in every particu- lar. I tell you all this," said Bob, "that you may know something about the kind of people you have come to de- ceive. But I have learned many things since I made that trip and feel certain we will win. It will take you years to learn all these things. The best plan is for you to follow me and act as near like me as you can. We are going directly into the Snake country. I speak the language of every red scamp between here and the Missouri river. If we meet anyone, white or red, let me do the talking."
Our cartridges and provisions were 311 small buckskin pouches swung under our left arms. Neatly coiled in the bot- tom of these pouches lay our rietas. Lastly, throwing our blankets across our shoulders and taking our rifles in hand. we started. Bob talked but little. He stalked along with a dignified silence and stoical demeanor which would have delighted the renowned chief, Big Thun- der, himself. He seemed to scorn the earth and all upon it, not deigning to notice me except on rare occasions. I verily believe he was trying to imagine he was an Indian in order to more read- ily pass for one in case occasion required it. His whole demeanor was changed with his color.
This conduct annoyed me not a little. I could see no necessity for all those In- dian airs while we were alone in the mountains and supposed at the time they were intended to impress me with his importance as a scout. I come to know later Bob was a natural actor, and al- ways when playing a role, played it to perfection. He walked along perfectly at his ease; his straps, strings, mocca- sins and paint fiting him to perfection. As for myself, I was very uncomfortable. I had great difficulty in keeping my pieces of buckskin in place. Some string was constantly coming undone, then I would kneel or sit down on the ground and wrestle with them in a man- ner which must have resembled a squaw digging kous or picking strawberries, rather than a warrior adjusting his ap- parel. In spite of my annoyance I was forced to laugh many times at the utter ridiculousness of the whole proceeding. Bob's actions continued to remind me so forcibly of a blood-thirsty Indian that I sometimes fancied he might be at any rate a half-breed, bent on some kind of mischief towards me. I knew this was a foolish thought and tried to banish it, yet it would stay uppermost in my mind, sometimes varying its horror by whis- pering I was alone in the mountains with an armed lunatic. On the second day from camp, Bob asked me if I could not walk with my toes turned in a little more. This I endeavored to do but it
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HOW CAPTAIN DOBBINS WAS PROMOTED.
became very tiresome and gave me pain in the knees. Once, when we were going down hill covered with grass so we made no tracks, I threw my toes out nearly at right angles to the course I was going and walked along to get a rest. This was too much for my Indian, and he laughed for the first time in two days. After this I was more resigned to his company and went forward more cheerfully.
After four days' travel, we were about one hundred miles above Salmon Falls, well into the Snake country, but none had been seen. Bob became more call- tious every hour. He had a good field glass with which he scanned the sur- rounding country for dust, smoke or other signs of savages. Our camps were model Indian camps in every particular; the fire was small and built of sticks broken short and set on end; no scraps of food was left scattered about except some small pieces of dried venison, sal- mon and kous, which were brought along for that purpose. On starting in the morning, a feather from Bob's head- dress would fall near the fire where his moccasin tracks were plain to be seen. Had an Indian passed that way, he would have seen where a couple of his brethren had passed and nothing more. Had we left a biscuit, a piece of bacon, cigarette, quid of tobacco, toothpick, or anything to excite his suspicion, the alarm would have been given and we have been hunted to death or back to the settlements.
Deer and antelope were now plenty. We could have enjoyed a hunter's para- dise with our repeating guns had we dared to use them for such game. One day a deer ran past but a short distance ahead of us. Bob dropped in the snug grass and lay snug as a quail. I had learned to follow suit and dropped also without knowing what it meant. A mo- ment later, four Indians came following along the trail. After they had passed, and we were secreted in the timber near by, I asked Bob how he knew the Snakes were coming.
"Because that deer was wounded and Indians always follow their game closely
after it is crippled. That deer was badly wounded and cannot go but a short dis- tance. It will stop and turn at bay when it reaches that little stream over there. We will wait here until we see what hap- pens next."
In a few moments we heard a single shot.
"They have got it," said Bob.
"Maybe they missed it," I answered.
"If the first shot had not killed it there would have been more shooting done," he replied.
In about a quarter of an hour, we saw the Indians coming back, apparently in great glee, but without the deer. I look- ed at Bob in confirmation of my sugges- tion that it had escaped. He quietly re- marked:
"We are near an Indian camp. They are returning and will send their squaws for the game. They hunt in large par- ties in this section and at this time of the year their camp has just been pitched. Game is too plentiful and tame to have been hunted much lately. We are not far from camp, or these lazy fel- lows would have been on their ponies. I think they have just arrived and these hunters came out a short distance to look for signs of game. They will now go direct to camp and we will soon know how far it is to it."
We lay closely concealed for about an hour, when there appeared coming across the crest of the hill, walking briskly in single file, about a dozen squaws. They went directly towards the place where the shot had been fired, evi- dently going, as Bob had predicted, after. the deer. When they had passed out of sight Bob said:
"That tells the story. The camp, or very likely it is a large village, is about two miles from here, just beyond that bald hill you see yonder. Now, Dave, you have never been in as close a place in your life as you are right now; but you may be in a much closer one before morning. I noticed that you did not change color when those bucks passed so close to us, and I am better satisfied with you than ever. There are many
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brave men, but very few effective men in a fight. I mean that there are many men who will stand their ground and die before making a disgraceful retreat, but only a few who can become a terror to their enemies. But you are all right. You can run like a wolf or fight like a devil, which ever may be required."
After awhile the squaws came toiling along back, each carrying on her back
a portion of the venison. They did not appear to be as merry as the hunters had been. Poor women! Savage customs fall heaviest on those least able to bear them. They performed the drudgery. while their lords enjoyed what sport could be found in their mode of exist- ence. When the coast was clear again we left our hiding place and started to find the camp.
(To be continued.)
PIONEER MARRIAGES-WASCO COUNTY.
In the May 1900 number of the Native Son, the statement was made that the union of Dr. W. C. Mckay and Miss Margaret Campbell was the first mar- riage ceremony performed in Wasco county. This statement has since been found to be erroneous. The doctor's marriage is admitted to have been the first one placed on record, but two oth- ers are known to have ante-dated his by some considerable time.
The Dalles Chronicle made investiga- tion in the premises, and from its col- umns it is learned that the first marriage occurred September 18, 1853. This was the marriage of Mr. Geo. Snipes and
At this time Wasco county had not been organized, but was included within the limits of Clackamas county. The ceremony, however. was performed at The Dalles, and can for that reason be considered Wasco county. The nup- tial knot was tied by Rev. Gustavus Hines, and took place where the Uma- tilla House now stands. There was quite a romance connected with this epi- sode, as an elopement preceded the marriage. Love was just as strong in those pioneer times as it is at the present period. Locksmiths were laughed at and long journeys taken and difficulties braved with the same fervor. as mani- fested by succeeding generations.
The next couple to be united in wed- lock was Mr. M. M. Cushing and Miss Mary Pigott. The ceremony was sol-
emnized at the old quarters of Major Granville O. Haller, in old Fort Dalles. Nathan Olney performed the ceremony, and these were witnesses: Eliza Pigott. a sister of Mrs. Cushing, Major and Mrs. G. O. Haller, Captain and Mrs. M. Ma- loney, Lieut. Forsythe, Dr. Summers, the post surgeon, Mrs. Caleb-now Mrs. Schurtz-Sergeant James McAuliff. and Musician James Whitebread. The cer- tificate of marriage reads as follows: Territory of Oregon,
County of Wasco. SS.
I do hereby certify that on the 16th day of April, A. D., 1854, Mr. M. M. Cushing and Miss Mary Pigott, both of the county and precinct aforesaid, were by me joined to- gether, with their mutual consent, in the bonds of wedlock; and I did first ascertain that the said parties were of sufficient age to consent to the same.
Given under my hand this 16th day of April, A. D. 1854. NATHAN OLNEY,
Justice of Peace for Wasco Co.
The writing is on a piece of blue pa- per, discolored with age, but the words are perfectly legible. The marriage was put on record, but the record has either been misplaced or destroyed.
The marriage certificate of Dr. Mckay reads as follows:
Territory of Oregon, County of Wasco, ss .:
This is to certify that the undersigned, a justice of the peace, did on the 3rd day of October, 1856, join in lawful wedlock, Wil- liam C. Mckay and Miss M. Campbell, in the presence of Dr. Atkins, Dr. Bates, R. R. Thompson and many other witnesses. Oh! what a glorious time we had.
C. W. SHANG, Justice of the Peace.
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KATE'S MISTAKE.
BY ELLA HENNEBERRY.
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"When I get married I mean to tease my husband to death. I do like to tease those I love." Thus, with a gay laugh and toss of her head, spoke the pretty and piquant Kate Edgely, at the age of seventeen, as she sat one evening under the shade of the Spanish oaks on ner uncle's lawn at Forest Grove.
She said this to a young man of some three or four-and-twenty, with whom she had been gaily chatting for half an hour or more, in all the abandon of long friendship; for Carrol Avory had been her companion from childhood, their fathers were connected in ties of sympathy through long years-long be- fore either were married. Carrol was somewhat of a philosopher, or believed he was-which is pretty much the same thing, especially if he was able to make others believe it. He belonged partly to the stoics and partly to the cynics-or thought he did; and many said Carrol had been crossed in love. Perhaps he had. Nothing begets younger philoso- phy, or sterner, than disappointed affec- tion-except crushed ambition.
When Kate had spoken thus, and laughed, he smiled-cynically-and re- plied: "Giving you credit for all talent in the teasing line, there are at least two classes of men whom you could not suc- ceed with."
"Do tell me which they are."
"Certainly. First, there is a class whose love is too enduring to depend on their patience and whose faith is too strong to doubt their ability to bear, and their certainty of being rewarded; their only passions are love and grief. Then. there is another class-far more numer- ous-whose will is so firm, whose moral force is so great, whose character is so steeled by self-control, that they conquer the will of a weaker by an iron word, or look of command; or, if this fail, by a
system of tyranny far more terrible. With the first class you would cease from shame; with the latter from fear."
"Gracious! what a long speech!" ex- claimed the laughing girl. "You didn't think I was in earnest, surely?"
"I hoped you were not," replied the stoic youth, gravely.
And rising they entered the house.
Three years! And what are three years? An atom, an infinitesimal portion of the great desert of time whose count- less sands are dropping one by one, into the fathomless ocean of eternity. And yet each one bears the burden of a life and the mystery of a death. And how much, how very much, are three years to humanity! How much of joy and sor- row! How much of happiness and mis- ery! How much of crime and retribu- tion! How much of hunger and thirst, and blood, and tears, of cloud and sun- shine, of sleep and watching, of night and day! How much of being! How much of dust and ashes! Oh, how great and constant and terrible, are the chang- es of three years!
Three years since Kate Edgley and Carrol Avory talked together in the soft starlight, under the whispering foliage of the old Spanish oaks at Forest Grove.
Three years; and Carrol is a wanderer in distant lands, across stormy seas- seeking two mysteries, which, like the banquet of Tantalus, ever seem within his grasp, yet ever elude the extended arm; two phantoms, which, like the mir- age of the desert, spread their airy glories upon the weary traveller's vision, but melt into space at his eager ap- proach; two will-o'-the-wisps-health and forgetfulness. Alas, it was a fiend who fabled Lethe, for there is no Leathe but the grave!
Three years; and Kate is a widow!
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OREGON NATIVE SON.
Edmond Stanton was the only son of a physician near Forest Grove. His father was wealthy, but labored not the less on that account.
Edmond was twenty-five when he first saw Kate Edgely. His life had been passed of late in the studies of a distant university, preparing himself to follow in the footsteps of his father; and it was upon his final return to his father's home that he met the sparkling niece of old 'Squire Edgely. Although of a meek, timid nature, Edmond was poetical and romantic; and the wit, the beauty and the animation of gay Kate fascinated him. The unreserved intercourse of the country, the walks, the rides, the fishing, the sailing, the picnic parties, brought them constantly together; and three months sufficed to kindle a mutual affec- tion-or at least its semblance.
Edmond Stanton was handsome, though somewhat pale; gentlemanly and dignified; inwardly, a harvest, a fearful harvest, was slowly but surely falling before the pitiless reaper, Death.
They were married in the spring-time, with the love song of wooing birds for their epithalamium. The honey-moon was passed in travel, and they returned to settle down to domestic happiness in a charming spot near his father's home. For awhile all was sunshine; but, alas! Kate's fatal resolve began 'ere long to work, perhaps unconsciously to herself, for, by habit, it had become a second na- ture to her to tease, and she had not yet paid tlie penalty for its indulgence.
Many times, indeed, during the court- ship, she had exercised these powers up- on Edmond, but they were scarce ripples in the broad. steady current of his love, and it flashed over them and rolled on.
But now it was different: she was ever there, and the ripples became larger. more constant. deeper. till they merged into one strong. hissing eddy that bub- bled and foamed, and seethed up in his love stream, and troubled and made tur- bid all its waters.
Yet he never spoke of the inward wrestlings: lie was kind and gentle, and she felt that the barrenness of her tri-
umph was a defeat. So rolled a year and a half; and all this time of alternating shower, of sunshine, smiles and tears, the reaper was levelling fibre by fibre- the life-stalks of Edmond Stanton's existence. She saw not the day of in- gathering approaching; she would not see it; he felt it, but he would not tell her. Yet it came, unhastened by earth-pangs. Oh, hope and believe it was not thus hastened! Kate Stanton, for your soul's peace, hope and believe it!
It came slowly, silently, with nothing of strife, nothing of fear, nothing of long- ing. It came peacefully, solemnly; and the softened chimes of distant bells quav- ered through the still air of the Sabbath morn, faint and broken, as if with sobs, yet fragrant and with a holy harmony, until they gently, and as with a timid awe, yet lovingly, trembled through the half-closed lattice, and mingled their last strains with the faint sigh of Edmond Stanton's freed spirit.
And Kate Stanton was a widow!
In the sad, solitary storm-racked night that cast its first quickening rain upon the fresh sod of her husband's grave; in that night of moaning wind and rolling thunder, and shrieking forest, and the measured tapping of the rain-drops on the casements, with a sound as of a fune- real hammers; in that night of vigil and woe, as she was reclining on a couch near the bright fire-place, did there not creep across her heart the cold, ghastly shadow of self-reproach, like the clammy trail of the serpent over the warm breast of the sleeping savage, causing lier to shrink and -shudder, and leaving in its track the poisonous slime of remorse?
But the morning came, and the sun burst impetuously through the gloomy cloud-host, and the birds hymned their song of gratitude and the breeze whisper- ed its tuneful love-tale to the trembling leaflets; nature awoke and drank in re- newed life, and health. and joy from the glorious day fount.
Morning cante and peeped in, laugli- ing, at the window, where still lay the couched form and aching heart; and. with rosy smile and glad bird voices and
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gentle breeze-murmurs, the heart was cheered, and sung and lulled into a soft dream of hope:
What a glorious expression of elemen- tal power is the ocean in its wild war with the storm-king! With what a gusty malice the wind blares strike their keen edges through the spray shields, and bury their points in the bosom of the ocean! With what a stubborn strength the mighty waters rush up to close the chasm, and hurl their shouting foe afar off upon the foaming crests of their wrath billows!
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