Chapter I: Savage Deeds of Savage Men

At Bean's Point, opposite Alki on Puget Sound, an Indian murdered, at night, a family of Indians who were camping there.

The Puyallups and Duwampsh came together in council at Bean's Point, held a trial and condemned and executed the murderer. Old Duwampsh Curley was among the members of this native court and likely Sealth and his counsellors.

One of the family escaped by wading out into the water where he might have become very cool, if not entirely cold, if it had not been that Captain Fay and George Martin, a Swedish sailor, were passing by in their boat and the Indian begged to be taken in, a request they readily granted and landed him in a place of safety.

Again at Bean's Point an Indian was shot by a white man, a Scandinavian; the charge was a liberal one of buckshot.

Some white men who went to inquire into the matter followed the Indian's trail, finding ample evidence that he had climbed the hill back of the house, where he may have been employed to work, and weak from his wounds had sat down on a log and then went back to the water; but his body was never found. It was supposed that the murderer enticed him back again and when he was dead, weighted and sunk him in the deep, cold waters of the Sound.

At one time there was quite a large camp of Indians where now runs Seneca Street, Seattle, near which was my home. It was my father's custom to hire the Indians to perform various kinds of hard labor, such as grubbing stumps, digging ditches, cutting wood, etc. For a while we employed a tall, strong, fine-looking Indian called Lachuse to cut wood; through a long summer day he industriously plied the ax and late in the twilight went down to a pool of water, near an old bridge, to bathe. As he passed by a clump of bushes, suddenly the flash and report of a gun shattered the still air and Lachuse fell heavily to the ground with his broad chest riddled with buckshot.

There was great excitement in the camp, running and crying of the women and debate by the men, who soon carried him into the large Indian house. He was laid down in the middle of the room and the medicine man, finding him alive, proceeded to suck the wounds while the tamanuse noise went on.

A distracted, grey-haired lum-e-i, his mother, came to our house to beg for a keeler of water, all the time crying, "Mame-loose Lachuse! Achada!"

Two of the little girls of our family, sleeping in an old-fashioned trundle bed, were so frightened at the commotion that they pulled the covers up over their heads so far that their feet protruded below.

The medicine man's treatment seems to have been effective, aided by the tamanuse music, as Lachuse finally recovered.

The revengeful deed was committed by a Port Washington Indian, in retaliation for the stealing of his "klootchman" (wife) by an Indian of the Duwampsh tribe, although it was not Lachuse, this sort of revenge being in accordance with their heathen custom.

"Jim Keokuk," an Indian, killed another Indian in the marsh near the gas works; he struck him on the head with a stone. Jim worked as deck hand on a steamer for a time, but he in turn was finally murdered by other Indians, wrapped with chains and thrown overboard, which was afterward revealed by some of the tribe.

There were many cases of retaliation, but the Indians were fairly peaceable until degraded by drink.

The beginning of hostilities against the white people on the Sound, by some historians is said to have been the killing of Leander Wallace at old Fort Nesqually. One of them gives this account:

"Prior to the Whitman massacre, Owhi and Kamiakin, the great
chiefs of the upper and lower Yakima nations, while on a visit to
Fort Nesqually, had observed to Dr. Tolmie that the Hudson Bay
Company's posts with their white employes were a great
convenience to the natives, but the American immigration had
excited alarm and was the constant theme of hostile conversation
among the interior tribes. The erection in 1848, at Fort
Nesqually, of a stockade and blockhouse had also been the subject
of angry criticism by the visiting northern tribes. So insolent
and defiant had been their conduct that upon one afternoon for
over an hour the officers and men of the post had guns pointed
through the loop-holes at a number of Skawhumpsh Indians, who,
with their weapons ready for assault, had posted themselves under
cover of adjacent stumps and trees.

"Shortly before the shooting of Wallace, rumors had reached the
fort that the Snoqualmies were coming in force to redress the
alleged cruel treatment of Why-it, the Snoqualmie wife of the
young Nesqually chief, Wyampch, a dissipated son of Lahalet.

"Dr. Tolmie treated such a pretext as a mere cloak for a
marauding expedition of the Snoqualmies.

"Sheep shearing had gathered numbers of extra hands, chiefly
Snohomish, who were occupying mat lodges close to the fort,
besides unemployed stragglers and camp followers.

"On Tuesday, May 1, 1849, about noon, numbers of Indian women and
children fled in great alarm from their lodges and sought refuge
within the fort. A Snoqualmie war party, led by Pat Kanem,
approached from the southwestern end of the American plains. Dr.
Tolmie having posted a party of Kanakas in the northwest bastion
went out to meet them.

"Tolmie induced Pat Kanem to return with him to the fort, closing
the gate after their entrance."

The following is said to be the account given by the Hudson Bay Company's officials:

"The gate nearest the mat lodges was guarded by a white man and
an Indian servant. While Dr. Tolmie was engaged in attending a
patient, he heard a single shot fired, speedily followed by two
or three others. He hastily rushed to the bastion, whence a
volley was being discharged at a number of retreating Indians who
had made a stand and found cover behind the sheep washing dam of
Segualitschu Creek. Through a loop-hole the bodies of an Indian
and a white man were discernible at a few yards distance from the
north gate where the firing had commenced.

"He hastened thither and found Wallace breathing his last, with a
full charge of buckshot in his stomach. The dying man was
immediately carried inside of the fort.

"The dead Indian was a young Skawhumpsh, who had accompanied the
Snoqualmies.

"The Snohomish workers, as also the stragglers, had been, with
the newly arrived Snoqualmies, in and out of the abandoned
lodges, chatting and exchanging news. A thoughtless act of the
Indian sentry posted at the water gate, in firing into the air,
had occasioned a general rush of the Snohomish, who had been cool
observers of all that had passed outside.

"Walter Ross, the clerk, came to the gate armed, and seeing
Kussass, a Snoqualmie, pointing his gun at him, fired but missed
him. Kussass then fired at Wallace. Lewis, an American, had a
narrow escape, one ball passing through his vest and trousers and
another grazing his left arm.

"Quallawowit, as soon as the firing began, shot through the
pickets and wounded Tziass, an Indian, in the muscles of his
shoulder, which soon after occasioned his death.

"The Snoqualmies as they retreated to the beach killed two Indian
ponies and then hastily departed in their canoes.

"At the commencement of the shooting, Pat Kanem, guided by
Wyampch, escaped from the fort, a fortunate occurrence, as, upon
his rejoining his party the retreat at once began.

"When Dr. Tolmie stooped to raise Wallace, and the Snoqualmies
levelled their guns to kill that old and revered friend, an
Indian called 'the Priest' pushed aside the guns, exclaiming
'Enough mischief has already been done.'

"The four Indians of the Snoqualmie party whose names were given
by Snohomish informers to Dr. Tolmie, together with Kussass and
Quallawowit, were afterward tried for the murder of Wallace."

Their names were Whyik, Quallawowit, Kussass, Stahowie, Tatetum and Quilthlimkyne; the last mentioned was a Duwampsh.

Eighty blankets were offered for the giving up of these Indians.

The Snoqualmies came to Steilacoom, where they were to be tried, in war paint and parade.

The officials came from far; down the Columbia; up the Cowlitz, and across to Puget Sound, about two hundred miles in primitive style, by canoe, oxcart or cayuse.

The trial occupied two days; on the third day, the two condemned, Kussass and Quallawowit, were executed.

One shot Wallace, _two_ Indians were hung; Leschi, a leader in the subsequent war of 1855, looked on and went away resenting the injustice of taking two lives for one. Other Indians no doubt felt the same, thus preparing the way for their deadly opposition to the white race.

It certainly seems likely that the "pretext" of the Snoqualmies was a valid one as Wyampch, the young Nesqually chief, was a drunkard, and Why-it, his Snoqualmie wife, was no doubt treated much as Indian wives generally in such a case, frequently beaten and kicked into insensibility.

The Snoqualmies had been quarreling with the Nesquallies before this and it is extremely probable that, as was currently reported among old settlers, the trouble was among the Indians themselves.

There are two stories also concerning Wallace; first, that he was outside quietly looking on, which he ought to have known better than to do; second, that he was warned not to go outside but persisted in going, boasting that he could settle the difficulty with a club, paying for his temerity with his life.

A well known historian has said that the "different tribes had been successfully treated with, but the Indians had acted treacherously inasmuch as it was well known that they had long been plotting against the white race to destroy it. This being true and they having entered upon a war without cause, however, he (Gov. Stevens) might sympathize with the restlessness of an inferior race who perceived that destiny was against them, he nevertheless had high duties toward his own."

Now all this was true, yet there were other things equally true. Not all the treachery, not all the revenge, not all the cruelty were on the side of the "inferior" race. Even all the inferiority was not on one side. The garbled translation by white interpreters, the lying, deceit, nameless and numberless impositions by lawless white men must have aroused and fostered intense resentment. That there were white savages here we have ample proof.

When Col. Wright received the conquered Spokane chiefs in council with some the pipe of peace was smoked. After it was over, Owhi presented himself and was placed in irons for breaking an agreement with Col. Wright, who bade him summon his son, Qualchin, on pain of death by hanging if his son refused to come.

The next day Qualchin appeared not knowing that the order had been given, and was seized and hung without trial. Evidently Kamiakin, the Yakima chief, had good reason to fear the white man's treachery when he refused to join in the council.

The same historian before mentioned tells how Col. Wright called together the Walla Wallas, informed them that he knew that they had taken part in recent battles and ordered those who had to stand up; thirty-five promptly rose. Four of these were selected and hung. Now these Indians fought for home and country and volunteered to be put to death for the sake of their people, as it is thought by some, those hung for the murder of Whitman and his companions, did, choosing to do so of their own free will, not having been the really guilty ones at all.

Quiemuth, an Indian, after the war, emerged from his hiding place, went to a white man on Yelm prairie requesting the latter to accompany him to Olympia that he might give himself up for trial. Several persons went with him; reached Olympia after midnight, the governor placed him in his office, locking the door. It was soon known that the Indian was in the town and several white men got in at the back door of the building. The guard may have been drowsy or their movements very quiet; a shot was fired and Quiemuth and the others made a rush for the door where a white man named Joe Brannan stabbed the Indian fatally, in revenge for the death of his brother who had been killed by Indians some time before.

Three of the Indian leaders in Western Washington were assassinated by white men for revenge. Leschi, the most noted of the hostile chiefs on the Sound, was betrayed by two of his own people, some have said.

I have good authority for saying that he gave himself up for fear of a similar fate.

He was tried three times before he was finally hung after having been kept in jail a long time. Evidently there were some obstructionists who agreed with the following just and truthful statement by Col. G. O. Haller, a well-known Indian fighter, first published in the Seattle Post-Intelligencer:

"The white man's aphorism 'The first blow is half the battle,' is
no secret among Indians, and they practice it upon entering a
war. Indeed, weak nations and Indian tribes, wrought to
desperation by real or fancied grievances, inflict while able to
do so horrible deeds when viewed by civilized and Christ-like
men. War is simply barbarism. And when was war refined and
reduced to rules and regulations that must control the Indian who
fights for all that is dear to him--his native land and the
graves of his sires--who finds the white man's donation claim
spread over his long cultivated potato patch, his hog a
trespasser on his old pasture ground and his old residence turned
into a stable for stock, etc.?

"Leschi, like many citizens during the struggle for secession,
appealed to his instincts--his attachment to his tribe--his
desire, at the same time to conform to the requirements of the
whites, which to many of his people were repulsive and
incompatible. He decided and struck heavy blows against us with
his warriors. Since then we have learned a lesson.

"Gen. Lee inflicted on the Union army heavy losses of life and
destruction of property belonging to individuals. When he
surrendered his sword agreeing to return to his home and become a
law-abiding citizen, Gen. Grant protected him and his paroled
army from the vengeance of men who sought to make treason
odious. This was in 1866 and but the repetition of the Indian war
of 1856.

"Col. Geo. Wright, commanding the department of the Columbia,
displayed such an overwhelming force in the Klickitat country
that it convinced the hostile Indians of the hopelessness of
pursuing war to a successful issue, and when they asked the terms
of peace, Col. Wright directed them to return to their former
homes, be peaceful and obey the orders of the Indian agents sent
by our government to take charge of them, and they would be
protected by the soldiers.

"The crimes of war cannot be atoned by crimes in cold blood after
the war. Two wrongs do not make a right.

"Leschi, though shrewd and daring in war, adopted Col. Wright's
directions, dropped hostilities, laid aside his rifle and
repaired to Puget Sound, his home.

"Like Lee, he was entitled to protection from the officers and
soldiers. But Leschi, on the Sound, feared the enmity of the
whites, and gave himself up to Dr. Tolmie, an old friend, at
Nesqually--not captured by two Indians of his own tribe and
delivered up. Then began a crusade against Leschi for all the
crimes of his people in war.

"On the testimony of a perjured man, whose testimony was
demonstrated, by a survey of the route claimed by the deponent,
to be a falsehood, he was found guilty by the jury, not of the
offense alleged against him, for it was physically impossible for
Leschi to be at the two points indicated in the time alleged;
hence he was a martyr to the vengeance of unforgiving white men."

I remember having seen the beautiful pioneer woman spoken of in the following account first published in a Seattle paper. The Castos were buried in the old burying ground in a corner next the road we traveled from our ranch to school.

This is the article, head-lines and all:

"John Bonser's Death Recalls an Indian Massacre.
Beautiful Abbie Casto's Fate.
How Death Came Upon Three Pioneers of Squak
Valley--Swift Vengeance on the Murderers.

"The death of John Bonser, one of the earliest pioneers of
Oregon, at Sauvie's Island, near Portland, recently, recalls one
of the bloodiest tragedies that ever occurred in King County and
one which will go down in history as the greatest example the
pioneers had of the evil effect of giving whisky to the Indians.
The event is memorable for another reason, and that is that the
daughter of John Bonser, wife of William Casto, and probably the
most beautiful woman in the territory, was a victim.

"'I don't take much stock in the handsome, charming women we read
about,' said C. B. Bagley yesterday, 'but Mrs. Casto, if placed
in Seattle today with face and form as when she came among us in
1864, would be among the handsomest women in the city, and I
shall never forget the sensation created in our little settlement
when messengers arrived from Squak valley, where the Castos
moved, with the news that Mrs. Casto, her husband and John
Holstead had been killed by Indians, and that a friendly
Klickitat had slain the murderers.

"The first impression was that there had been an uprising among
the treacherous natives and a force, consisting of nearly all the
able-bodied men in the community, started for the scene of the
massacre.

"It is a hard matter for the people of metropolitan Seattle to
carry themselves back, figuratively speaking, to 1864, and
imagine the village of that period with its thirty families.

"The boundaries were limited to a short and narrow line extending
along the water front not farther north than Pike Street. The few
houses were small and unpretentious and the business portion of
the town was confined to Commercial Street, between Main and
Yesler Avenue.

"At that time and even after the great fire in 1889, Yesler
Avenue was known as Mill Street, the name having originated from
the fact that Yesler's mill was located at its foot. Where the
magnificent Dexter Horton bank building now stands stood a small
wooden structure occupied by Dexter Horton as a store, and where
the National Bank of Commerce building, at the corner of Yesler
Avenue and Commercial Street, stood the mill store of the
Yesler-Denny Company. S. B. Hinds, a name forgotten in commercial
circles, kept store on Commercial Street, between Washington and
Main Streets. Charles Plummer was at the corner of Main and
Commercial, and J. R. Williamson was on the east side of
Commercial Street, a half block north. This comprised the entire
list of stores at that time. The forests were the only source to
which the settlers looked for commercial commodities, and these,
when put in salable shape, were often-times compelled to await
means of transportation to markets. Briefly summed up, spars,
piles, lumber and hop-poles were about all the sources of income.

"At that time there was no 'blue book,' and, in fact women were
scarce. It is not surprising then that the arrival of William
Casto, a man aged 38 years and a true representative of the
Kentucky colonel type, with his young wife, the daughter of John
Bonser, of Sauvies Island, Columbia River, near Portland, should
have been a memorable occasion. Mrs. Casto was a natural not an
artificial beauty--one of those women to whom all apparel adapts
itself and becomes a part of the wearer. Every movement was
graceful and her face one that an artist would have raved
about--not that dark, imperious beauty that some might expect,
but the exact opposite. Her eyes were large, blue and expressive,
while her complexion, clear as alabaster, was rendered more
attractive by a rosy hue. She was admired by all and fairly
worshipped by her husband. It was one of those rare cases where
disparity in ages did not prevent mutual devotion.

"In the spring of the year that Casto came to Seattle he took up
a ranch in the heart of Squak valley, where the Tibbetts farm now
lies. Here he built a small house, put in a garden and commenced
clearing. In order to create an income for himself and wife he
opened a small trading post and carried on the manufacture of
hoop poles. The valley was peculiarly adapted to this business,
owing to the dense growth of hazel bush, the very article most
desired.

"'Casto did most of his trading with San Francisco merchants and
frequently received as much as $1,500 for a single shipment. Such
a business might be laughed at in 1893, but at that time it meant
a great deal to a sparsely settled community where wealth was
largely prospective. It is a notable fact that, even in the early
days when North Seattle was a howling wilderness and large game
ran wild between the town limits and Lake Washington, the
advantages of that body of water were appreciated and a
successful effort was made by Henry L. Yesler, L. V. Wyckoff and
others to connect the one with the other by a wagon road. The
lake terminus was at a point called Fleaburg, now known as the
terminus of the Madison Street cable line. Fleaburg was a small
Indian settlement, and according to tradition derived its name
from innumerable insects that made life miserable for the
inhabitants and visitors. The many miles of travel this cut saved
was greatly appreciated by the Squak settlers, because it was not
only to their advantage in a commercial sense, but also made them
feel that they were much nearer to the mother settlement. Another
short cut was made by means of a foot path starting from Coal
Creek on the eastern shore of the lake. This was so rough that
only persons well acquainted with the country would have taken
advantage of it. While it was not practical, yet it furnished
means of reaching the settlement, in case of necessity, in one
day, whereas the water route took twice as long.

"'Even at that time the great fear of the settlers, who were few
in number, was the Indians. If a young man in Seattle went
hunting his mother cautioned him to 'be very careful of the
Indians.' Many people now living in or about the city will
remember that in the fall of 1864 there were fears of an Indian
uprising. How the rumors started or on what they were founded
would be hard to state, nevertheless the fact remains that there
was a general feeling of uneasiness. During the summer there had
been trouble on the Snohomish River between white men and
members of the Snohomish tribe. Three of the latter were killed,
and among them a chief. These facts alone would have led a person
well versed in the characteristics of the Washington Indian to
look for trouble of some kind, although to judge from what
direction and in what manner would have been difficult.

"'Casto at that time had several of the Snohomish Indians working
for him, but the thought of fear never entered his mind. He had
great influence over his workmen and was looked up to by them as
a sort of white 'tyee' or chief. Any one that knew Casto could
not but like him, he was so free-hearted, kind and considerate of
every person he met, whether as a friend and equal or as his
servant. He had one fault, however, which goes hand in hand the
world over with a free heart--he loved liquor and now and then
drank too much. He also got in the habit of giving it to the
Indians in his employ. On several occasions the true Indian
nature, under the influence of stimulants, came out, and it
required all his authority to avoid bloodshed. His neighbors, who
could be numbered on the fingers of both hands, with some to
spare, cautioned him not to give 'a redskin whisky and arouse the
devil,' but he laughed at them, and when they warned him of
treachery, thought they spoke nonsense. He would not believe that
the men whom he treated so kindly and befriended in every
conceivable manner would do him harm under any conditions. He
reasoned that his neighbors did not judge the character of the
native correctly and underestimated his influence. There was no
reason why he should not give his Indians liquor if he so
desired.

"'He acted on this decision on the afternoon of November 7, 1864,
and then went to his home for supper. The Indians got gloriously
drunk and then commenced to thirst for blood. In the crowd were
two of the Snohomish tribe, bloodthirsty brutes, and still
seeking revenge for the death of their tribesmen and chief on the
Snohomish river the summer previous. Their resolve was made.
Casto's life would atone for that of the chief, his wife and
friend, John Holstead, for the other two. They secretly took
their guns and went to Casto's house. The curtain of the room
wherein all three were seated at the supper table was up, and the
breast of Casto was in plain view of the assassins. There was no
hesitation on the part of the Indians. The first shot crashed
through the window and pierced Casto in a vital spot. He arose to
his feet, staggered and fell upon a lounge. His wife sprang to
his assistance, but the rifle spoke again and she fell to the
floor. The third shot hit Holstead, but not fatally, and the
Indians, determined to complete their bloody work, ran to the
front door. They were met by Holstead, who fought like a demon,
but at length fell, his body stabbed in more than twenty places.
Not content with the slaughter already done, the bloodthirsty
wretches drove their knives into the body of Casto's beautiful
wife in a manner most inhuman. Having finished their bloody work
of revenge they left the house, never for a moment thinking their
lives were in danger. In this particular they made a fatal error.

"The shots fired had attracted a Klickitat Indian named Aleck to
the scene. As fate had it, he was a true friend to the white man
and held Casto, his employer, in high regard. It took him but a
brief period to comprehend the situation, and he determined to
avenge the death of his master, wife and friend. He concealed
himself, and when the bloody brutes came out of the house he
crept up behind them. One shot was enough to end the earthly
career of one, but the other took to his heels. Aleck followed
him with a hatchet he had drawn from his belt, and, being fleeter
of foot, caught up. Then with one swift blow the skull of the
fleeing Indian was cleft, and as he fell headlong to the ground
Aleck jumped on him, and again and again the bloody hatchet drank
blood until the head that but a few minutes before had human
shape looked like a chipped pumpkin.

"While this series of bloody deeds was being enacted the few
neighbors became wild with alarm, and, thinking that an Indian
war had broken out, started for Seattle immediately. The band
was made up of a Mr. Bush and family and three or four single men
who had ranches in the valley.

"They reached Seattle the morning of the 9th and told the news,
stating their fears of an Indian uprising. A party consisting of
all the able-bodied men in the town immediately started for the
scene of the tragedy by the short cut, and arrived there in the
evening. The sight that met their eyes was horrible. In the
bushes was found the body of the Indian who had been shot, and
not far distant were the remains of the other, covered with blood
and dirt mixed. In the house the sight was even more horrible.
Holstead lay in the front room in a pool of clotted blood, his
body literally punctured with knife wounds, and in the adjoining
room, on a sofa, half reclining, was the body of Casto. On the
floor, almost in the middle of the room, was Mrs. Casto,
beautiful even in death, and lying in a pool of blood.

"The coroner at that time was Josiah Settle, and he, after
looking around and investigating, found that the only witnesses
he had were an old squaw, who claimed to have been an eye witness
to the tragedy, and Aleck, the Klickitat. The inquest was held
immediately, and the testimony agreed in substance with facts
previously stated. The jury then returned the following verdict:

"'Territory of Washington, County of King, before Josiah Settle,
Coroner.

"'We, the undersigned jurors summoned to appear before Josiah
Settle, the coroner of King county, at Squak, on the 9th day of
November, 1864, to inquire into the cause of death of William
Casto, Abbie Casto and John Holstead, having been duly sworn
according to law, and having made such inquisition after
inspecting the bodies and hearing the testimony adduced, upon our
oath each and all do say that we find that the deceased were
named William Casto, Abbie Casto and John Holstead; that William
Casto was a native of Kentucky, Abbie Casto was formerly a
resident of Sauvies Island, Columbia county, Ore., and John
Holstead was a native of Wheeling, Va., and that they came to
their deaths on the 7th of November, 1864, in this county, by
knives and pistols in the hands of Indians, the bodies of the
deceased having been found in the house of William Casto, at
Squak, and we further find that we believe John Taylor and
George, his brother, Indians of the Snoqualmie tribe, to have
been the persons by whose hands they came to their deaths.'

"The bodies were brought to Seattle and buried in what is now
known as the Denny Park, then a cemetery, North Seattle. Since
then they have been removed to the Masonic cemetery.

"The news of the murder was sent to John Bonser, in Oregon, and
he came to the town at once. For several weeks after the event
the columns of the Seattle _Gazette_ were devoted in part to a
discussion of the question of selling and giving liquor to the
Indians, the general conclusion being that it was not only
against the law but a dangerous practice.

"Out of the killing by Aleck of the two Snohomish Indians grew a
feud which resulted in the death of Aleck's son. The old man was
the one wanted, but he was too quick with the rifle and they
never got him. He died a few years ago, aged nearly ninety
years."

So we see that whisky caused the death of six persons in this case.

The Lower Sound Indians were, if anything, more fierce and wild than those toward the south.

George Martin, the Swedish sailor who accompanied Capt. Fay, in 1851, said that he saw Sklallam Indians dancing a war dance at which there appeared the head of one of their enemies, which they had roasted; small pieces of it were touched to their lips, but were not eaten.

In an early day when Ira W. Utter lived on Salmon Bay, or more properly _Shilshole_ Bay, he was much troubled by cougars killing his cattle, calves particularly. Thinking strychnine a good cure he put a dose in some lights of a beef, placed on a stick with the opposite end thrust in the ground. "Old Limpy," an Indian, spied the tempting morsel, took it to his home, roasted and ate the same and went to join his ancestors in the happy hunting grounds.

This Indian received his name from a limp occasioned by a gunshot wound inflicted by Lower Sound Indians on one of their raids. He was just recovering when the white people settled on Elliott Bay.

The very mention of these raids must have been terrifying to our Indians, as we called those who lived on the Upper Sound. On one occasion as a party of them were digging clams on the eastern shore of Admiralty Inlet, north of Meadow Point, they were attacked by their northern enemies, who shot two or three while the rest _klatawaw-ed_ with all the _hyak_ (hurry) possible and hid themselves.