JOTTINGS OF PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS OF A PIONEER OF 1850: By GEORGE E. COLE ********************************************************************************* USGENWEB ARCHIVES(tm) NOTICE: ************************************************ Copyright. All rights reserved. http://www.usgwarchives.net/copyright.htm http://www.usgwarchives.net/or/orfiles.htm ********************************************************************************* Transcribed for use in USGenWeb Archives by: W. David Samuelsen - July 2002 ************************************************************************ CHAPTER IV. Soon after the adjournment of the legislature I went out to Jackson county, and was told many hard-times tales of the hard winter now happily over. Provisions of all kinds had been scarce. To obtain flour was out of the question. Snow covered the ground everywhere. Salt and salt meats there was none. "Venison straight," as they termed it, only was plentiful. The crust on the snow would bear up a man, but the sharp feet of the deer would cut through it, impeding their progress to such an extent that they could not escape their pursuers, and were overtaken and killed by footmen with axes. This condition was fortunate for the miners, as they had no ammunition with which to shoot them, and venison without salt or bread or bacon or beans was in most instances their only food for several weeks. Just as I arrived at Jacksonville one mule load of salt arrived. It came from Scottsburg, most of the way through snow, a path being broken by the owner, Dr. Fisk, the mule following behind. Before reaching town Dan Kinney, partner of the Jacksonville house of Kinney & Appler, rode out of town and bought the load, at $8 per pound. There being 250 pounds of it, the packer was well paid for his hard trip of 150 or more miles. Hearing of this, the miners and citizens of Jacksonville held a meeting and passed a resolution, in other words a law, "regulating" the price of salt. It was decided that the merchant should be requested to sell this salt, in quantities of not more than one pound to each person, and at a price not exceeding one ounce of gold ($16) per pound. It is needless to say that no appeal from this action was taken. The men stood in line as at a post-office, and handed their dust to one of the partners to be weighed, and the other partner weighed out the salt and handed it to the purchaser. In many instances three or four persons would club together, and as soon as the salt was obtained they would reach out their hands for a portion of it and eat it as a child would sugar. Persons who have never tried a diet without salt, and not having any kind of food containing it, could hardly realize the situation of these people. Tobacco was very scarce for a time, yet the price of it was only $14 per pound. Early in May I returned to Marysville. Meantime General Lane had been nominated by the Democrats for Congress and A. A. Skinner, at that time Indian Agent to the Rogue river Indians, had been brought out by petition to run against him. That canvass was not political, but personal and sectional, as carried on by many of the supporters of each candidate. The principals, however, maintained throughout the campaign a gentlemanly bearing 'toward each other, and the amenities of civilized people were not ignored. I am tempted to write of the asperities of this contest, and of the continuance of this style for years, but I forbear. Elsewhere in other states any coarse vituperative expression appearing in public print was referred to as the "Oregon style," which phrase, happily for the good name of Oregon, has long since been discarded and passed out of use as a distinctive appellation of Oregon journalism. Lane was elected, having received about 1600 majority out of a total of about 7500. On the morning of the first Sunday in June, 1853, Major James A. Lupton and myself, while on our way to Jacksonville, via the Table Rock trail, leading over the mountains from Umpqua valley, with a drove of hogs which we were taking to the Rogue river valley to feed on camas, the feed for hogs at that season of the year we were also looking for a place to cut hay and having camped the night before on Trail creek, a tributary of Rogue river, rode into an Indian ambush on the north side of the river, a short distance above Thompson s Ferry. We had taken a trail leading to the river about two or three miles above the ferry, instead of the right one leading direct to it. On entering a clump of willows on the river s bank we found ourselves confronted by a band of about 40 Indians in war paint, armed in part with guns and pistols, others having bows and arrows, which in close quarters are more effective weapons in a fight than the guns used at that time. Major Lupton, as he was generally called, was not an army officer, but came to Oregon in 1849 as wagon master for the rifle regiment. He was at that time engaged in the business of packing. We were partners, and a more honorable, upright and energetic man it has never been my fortune to know. He was brave to rashness. He was just ahead of me on the trail, and as he halted I noticed he reached for his pistol in the holster of his saddle. I spurred my horse to his side, and putting my hand on his arm told him not to shoot, immediately addressing the chief, who was standing in front of us a few paces off, in Chinook, asking him what was the matter, and how far it was to the ferry. This, of course, after saying to him, "How do you do ?" To none of these inquiries did he reply, but stood sullen and motionless. Lupton still held his revolver in hand, ready for action, but not raising it, awaiting the outcome of my talk with the chief, who proved to be "Cutface Jack," chief of a wild band of upper Rogue river Indians. Knowing enough of Indians so feel certain that they were lying in wait for a larger party than two persons, and having heard that a raid was contemplated by a company of white men to their country to rescue a white woman who was supposed to be held a prisoner among them, I immediately decided that the proper thing to do was to assume that it was that party, not us, they desired to intercept. I kept close watch of the chief as he proceeded to question me in turn, knowing it was of the utmost importance to understand every word he uttered, as well as to make him understand me, which was a task not easily performed, as neither of us were proficient linguists in the Chinook jargon. He asked who we were, what we wanted, and where we were going. I told him we were from the Willamet valley, had come across the mountains the day before, and had camp ed for the night a few miles back, giving him the exact spot, which I divined that he well knew, as I did not think that we could approach so near a party of hostile Indians without their knowledge. He was satisfied with my answers, and immediately came forward and gave me his hand to shake. He did not offer it to the Major, as he regarded me as chief, for I had done the talking. This was well, as the Major told me afterwards that he would have refused it, as he expected at any moment to have use for his right hand in handling his pistol. Upon a sign made by the chief, the warriors all disappeared into the bushes, and we passed on to the ferry without further molestation. My companion, irritated by the occurrence, proposed going hack and taking a few shots at them, as he said, just to teach them better than to interfere with white men. When we arrived at the ferry, Thompson informed us that "Cutface Jack and his party were looking for a company of volunteers under Captain Lamerick, who a couple of days before had captured four of their party, and while holding them prisoners as hostages for the release of the supposed white woman, who was believed to be held a prisoner by their tribe, two of them in trying to escape in the night had been shot and killed, the other two escaping to the Indian camp with the news. Cutface Jack had rallied his band of warriors and was on the warpath, and he was trying to intercept Lamerick s party on their return from their trip up the river. Instead of this, he informed us, they had returned to Jacksonville by a more southerly route, and thus bad eluded the ambush of "Cutface Jack" which we fell into. We arranged with Thompson to send a man with some trusty Indians back to move our camp to his ferry. As he had a squaw for a wife, and was on good terms with the Indians we felt that the camp would be safe under his care. The next day was election day, Jacksonville polling a very large vote. I had cut and stacked a lot of hay and built a cabin across Bear creek from Jacksonville, about 12 miles distant, in what was conceded to he exclusively Indian country, as no settlers had located across the creek in that vicinity. Lupton had gone on the plains to buy cattle from the immigrants, and after I had completed the preparations he desired me to make, I started on horseback for Marysville, on what was to me most important business, seeing the person who later became the partner of my life. On arriving at Patrick s ranch, some eight or nine miles north of Jacksonville, I found him gathering up his horses to start for the Willamet valley, as he had just heard that Thomas Wills, a merchant of Jacksonville, had been killed by the Indians, and as he intended going soon after supplies, he thought it prudent to go at once. After feeding my horse and eating dinner, we started and made Rock creek, then Dr. Rose s ranch, at night. Early the following morning we started on, and arriving at Grave creek, found the people "forted up." They urged us to remain, saying that the Indians were uneasy, and had done some stealing, and they feared trouble. We, however, were deaf to their entreaties, and moving rapidly on to the crossing of Cow creek, some 10 miles distant, we found the cabin on the north side of the creek burned down, and discovered parts of the bodies of two men still burning in the ashes. We pushed on up the creek about four miles, and found the people "forted up" as at Grave creek. We were again urged to stop and remain with them. Making camp and cooking a meal, we seriously considered the situation. Large numbers of Indians were on the hills to the left of our road, yelling and howling like demons, and loudly calling out, and daring the whites to come up and fight them,, generally talking Chinook, but some of them using broken English. We were but a short distance from Hardy Elliffs at the south end of the canyon. fearing the loss of his horses if we remained, Patrick was anxious to go on. I was equally, perhaps more, anxious than he. We started about sundown. I was mounted on a strong, spirited horse, and, taking the bell from the bell mare, put it on him, and started ahead. Patrick, mounting his fastest horse, brought up the rear. On seeing us start the Indians started in the same direction we were going, expecting, no doubt, that they would be able to head us off by the time we reached the divide in the canyon, which was about three miles distant from the south end. Many of the Indians were on foot, some were mounted on ponies, but we were confident that we could beat them to the divide, as our path was free from brush and good, while theirs was through the brush. We made as fast time as good, strong horses could carry us, the loose horses following closely after the bell. On reaching the summit we felt sure that we had beaten them, but, as it was dark in the timber, were not certain. Going down the steep and tortuous trail to the bed of the creek, in which now lay our way, we followed it for two miles. It was walled in by perpendicular bluffs on both sides. The ride was a rough one, as the creek was filled with boulders, many of them of considerable size. I called out to Patrick, and he answered, "All right." At this moment the Indians had arrived at the summit and set up a hair-lifting yell of rage and disappointment. We lost no time, hut pushed on at full speed, and emerged from the creek. The road there crosses it 68 times, the crossings being usually made on a walk, but we slackened not our pace, and came out at the north end of the canyon (Canyonville) and warned the settlers, who until now knew nothing of the outbreak. They hastily "forted up" and put out a strong guard up the canyon. Shortly after reaching Marysville, 'the news came of a general outbreak. The first man through after us brought news of the killing of John R. Hardin, Dr. Rose and others. Hardin and Rose we knew well, and had seen them just before, having said good-bye to Hardin at Patrick s ranch, and having stopped with Rose our first night out. Before reaching Roseburg, I met James Kyle, a partner of Wills, with his pack train of goods from Scottsburg. Learning of his partner s death, he at once gave orders to his train men where to camp with the train and remain until further orders. He immediately started for Jacksonville, but was shot and killed by an Indian in ambush on Rogue river, about 20 miles before reaching his destination. I borrowed a good rifle of B. R. Biddle, and, having supplied myself with ammunition, retraced my steps toward the scene of hostilities, packing one horse lightly and riding another. On arriving at Myrtle creek, three or four well armed young men accompanied me. We arrived at Grave creek the first night the news that an armistice with the Indians had been made reached there. The next day I went on to headquarters at Thompson s Ferry, and reported to General Lane, who at the time of my arrival was lying down with his arm in a sling, having received a wound in his right shoulder during the battle at Evans creek with Indians. As there were rumors among the volunteers that some of them were not standing by the armistice they had agreed to with the Indians, General Lane requested me to go among the camps and see what I could learn. Many new companies had arrived since the battle of Evans creek, and they, having had no part in it, were "spoiling for a fight" and chaffed those who were in the fight for agreeing to an armistice, and declaring they would not abide by the agreement. This sentiment seemed to predominate. I reported to General Lane the information I had gathered. He called the volunteers together and gave them a strong talk, couched in the plainest English. He told them that the armistice had been agreed to on the part of the volunteers by their united vote, distinctly stating that he had exercised no influence in bringing about the decision, but that he would see that it was carried out in good faith, and that if others deserted him, he knew that his own, Douglas county company, and the regulars Captain A. J. Smith with his dragoons would stand by him, and that all honest men among all the companies would be found arrayed on his side. There never was a mutinous set of soldiers so completely silenced and squelched. The sight of that gray-haired commander, with one arm in a sling, still painful from the wound of- a bullet, with courage, not only sufficient to fight a savage foe, but also sufficient to meet boldly and resolutely an attempt to sully the character of his own command, was an inspiring spectacle. Supposing that my cabin and haystacks were burned, and the hogs that were left there to feed upon the Indian camas had been killed or run off, as there had been destruction of property all over the valley, I was greatly surprised on being accosted by the little chief near my camp, who informed me that I would find everything safe. Thereupon I rode on to the camp, a distance of about eight miles, and found the Indian s information was correct. I returned to headquarters, and, as there were grave doubts whether or not a treaty would be made with the Indians, I asked General Lane s advice. He told me to move the stock. I thereupon did so. A treaty was made and peace prevailed until 1865, when a general outbreak occurred. A description of what occurred at the making of the treaty is given by Senator Nesmith, then Captain Nesmith, as follows: "Early in the morning of the 10th of September, 1853, we mounted our horses and set out for the Indian encampment. Our party consisted of the following named persons: General Joseph Lane, Joel Palmer, Superintendent of Indian Affairs; Samuel H. Culver, Indian Agent; Captain A. J. Smith, First Dragoons; Captain L. F. Mosher, Adjutant; Colonel John E. Ross, Captain J. W. Nesmith, Lieutenant A. V. Kautz, R. B. Metcalf, J. D. Mason and T. T. Tierney. After riding a couple of miles across the level valley, we came to the foot of the mountain, where it was too steep for horses to ascend. We dismounted and hitched our horses, and scrambled up for half a mile over huge rocks and through brush, when we found ourselves in the Indian stronghold, just under the perpendicular cliff of Table Rock, surrounded by seven hundred fierce and hostile savages, arrayed in all their gorgeous war paint and feathers. "Captain Smith had drawn out his company of dragoons and left them in line on the plain below. It was a bright, beautiful morning, and the Rogue river valley lay like a panorama at our feet. The exact line of dragoons, sitting statue-like upon their horses, with their white belts and burnished scabbards and carbines, looked like they were engraved upon a picture, while a few paces in our rear the huge, perpendicular wall of Table Rock towered frowningly many hundred feet above us. "The business of the treaty commenced at once. Long speeches were made. by General Lane and Superintendent Palmer, which had to be translated twice. When an Indian spoke the Rogue river tongue it was translated by an Indian interpreter into Chinook, or jargon, to me, when I translated it into English. When Lane or Palmer spoke the process was reversed, I giving the speech to the interpreter in Chinook, and he translating it to the Indians in their own tongue. This double translation of long speeches made the labor tedious, and it was not until late in the afternoon that the treaty was completed and signed. "In the meantime an episode occurred which came near terminating the treaty, as well as the representation of one of the 'high contracting parties, in a sudden and tragic manner. About the middle of the afternoon a young Indian came running into camp stark naked, with the perspiration streaming from every pore. He made a brief harangue and threw himself upon the ground apparently exhausted. His speech had created a great tumult among his tribe. General Lane told me to inquire of the Indian interpreter the cause of the commotion. The Indian responded that a company of white men down on Applegate creek, under command of Captain Owens, had that morning captured an Indian known as Jim Taylor, tied him to a tree and shot him to death. The hubbub and confusion among the Indians at once became intense, and murder glared from each savage visage. The Indian interpreter told me that the Indians were threatening to tie us up to trees and serve us as Owens men had served Jim Taylor. I saw some Indians gathering up lasso ropes, while others drew the skin covers from their guns and the wiping sticks from the muzzles, There appeared to be a strong probability of our party being subjected to a sudden volley. I explained as briefly as I could what the interpreter had communicated to me; and, in order to keep our people from huddling together and thus making a better target for the savages, I used a few English words not likely to he understood by the Indian interpreter, such as 'disperse and 'segregate. In fact, we kept so close to the savages and separated from one another, that any general firing must have been nearly as fatal to the Indians as to the whites. While I admit I thought my time had come, and hurriedly thought of wife and children, I noticed nothing but coolness among my companions. General Lane sat on a log with his arm bandaged in a sling, the lines about his mouth rigidly compressing his lips, while his eyes flashed fire. He asked brief questions and gave me sententious answers to what little the Indians said to us. Captain A. J. Smith, who was prematurely gray haired, and was affected with a nervous snapping of the eyes, leaned upon his cavalry saber and looked anxiously down upon his well-formed line of dragoons in the valley below. His eyes snapped more vigorously than usual, while muttered words escaped from under the old dragoon s white mustache that did not sound like prayers. His squadron looked beautiful, but alas! they could render us no service. I sat down on a log close to old Chief Joe, and having a sharp hunting knife under my undershirt, kept one hand near its handle, determined that there would be one Indian made 'good about the time the firing commenced. "In a few moments General Lane stood up and commenced to speak slowly, but very distinctly. He said: 'Owens, who has violated the armistice and has killed Jim Taylor, is a bad man. He is not one of my soldiers. When I catch him he shall be punished. I promised in good faith to come into your camp with ten other unarmed men to secure peace. Myself and men are placed in your power. I do not believe that you are such cowardly dogs as to take advantage of our unarmed condition. I know that you have the power to murder us, and can do so as quickly as you please, but what good will our blood do you? Our murder will exasperate our friends, and your tribe will be hunted from the face of the earth. Let us proceed with the treaty, and, in place of war, have a lasting peace. Much more was said in this strain by the General, all rather defiant, but nothing of a begging character. The excitement gradually subsided after Lane had promised to give a fair compensation for the defunct Jim Taylor, in shirts and blankets. "As General Lane and party rode back across the valley, we looked up and saw the rays of the setting sun gilding the summit of Table Rock. I drew a long breath and remarked to the old General that the next time he wanted to go unarmed into a hostile camp he must hunt up some one besides myself to act as interpreter. With a benignant smile he responded, 'God bless you, luck is better than science. Lupton came in from the plains with a lot of stock and was surprised to find even the arrangements at the camp were not disturbed. Half a dozen pack covers, half a dozen lash ropes, a hatchet and some nails were taken, but were brought back by order of little Chief John. When locating on the place I made a treaty with this Indian, paying him for the use of the land from which to cut hay and for the stock to range, naming specifically that the hogs were to have right to camas and acorns. The hay was hauled to Jacksonville the following summer and sold, as the winter was mild and it was not needed from the stock. Lupton later became sole owner of this property, and, after living there two years, was killed by the Indians in a battle at the mouth of Butte creek. Je was leading a company of volunteers, and while charging in the brush was pierced through the body by an arrow from an Indian bow. The Indian was lying on his back and sprang his bow with his feet - a very effectual way, as great force can thus be given to the bow to speed the arrow. At the treaty the facts about the white woman were ascertained from the Indians, which were as follows: During a war between the Rogue river and Umpqua tribes the latter had captured some prisoners. Among them was a young squaw, whom the Umpquas sold to one Ben Allen, a white man, who was a courier riding between the Hudson Bay posts of Vancouver and Umpqua. He made her his wife, and took her to Vancouver. While making a trip through the Rogue river valley with this page 64 squaw and her child she, finding herself in her native country, escaped to her people and remained with them, so that, instead of there being a white woman and half-breed child, the fact was that it was an Indian woman and a half- breed child, living among her own people. Several raids had been projected for the purpose of rescuing a white woman, held prisoner among the Indians, one of whom, it was said, compelled her to become his wife and slave, Much valorous talk had, from time to time, been indulged in by the young white braves. Many other myths were explained, and a better understanding was had between the red and white races, A true history of the difficulties would disclose the act that most of them could have been avoided. The first knowledge Indians obtain of white men with whom they come in contact is not calculated to inspire them with much respect for, or confidence in, the white race. Better people, bringing families with them, came among them later, but the Indian judgment is made up, and it is hard to eradicate their first impressions. They change the statement that "all men are liars" by inserting the word white, but further acquaintance causes them to qualify this view, so as to admit that some white men tell the truth, and when they find such an one they trust him implicitly, and will take his word for any amount. In contrast with our management of Indians, instance the success of the Hudson Bay Company s management.