Chapter IV

A MASSACRE AND A WAR; KATE MULHALL, DEPUTY SHERIFF; A RACE FOR A WIFE; THE WEDDING AND CHIVAREE; A DELAYED AND ADVENTUROUS HONEYMOON ON PUGET SOUND.

The great body of pioneers just arrived, like those who had preceded them, were honest and earnest Christian people, though as in all movements of large numbers of men and women, there were a few mere adventurers. Some left their former abodes for the good of the country and their own safety; others had fled from the consequences of unhappy marriages or acts of indiscretion, and though seldom criminals, preferred to let the past life fall into oblivion.

So a "Mr. Smith" one might meet in the new community may have been Mr. Jones before leaving his former place of residence. These were not necessarily bad men in the common meaning of that word, but were making a new start, generally with the firm purpose of leading upright lives in the future. The reason for referring to this phase of pioneer life will appear later.

Many thousands of Indians roamed through the country at the time of Mulhall's settlement in the new land of opportunity. A friendly feeling then prevailed between the races as such, and instances {104} of sincere friendship between individual Indians and whites were not uncommon. This ought never to have been disturbed.

The honorable policy of the Hudson's Bay Company had won the confidence of the Indians by always keeping promises and giving fair value in trading with them; and they were inclined to believe in the rectitude of white people in general. Unfortunately this good opinion was soon changed to one of distrust and hatred.

Agents of the American Government came into the country to make what may, by courtesy, be called "treaties" with the natives. The simple-minded and unsuspecting Indians were overreached, inveigled into surrendering their rights to practically their entire hunting grounds,[1] and otherwise outrageously wronged. Indeed, when the nature of these transactions became known at Washington, the Government made restitution so far as possible, but too late to avert a cruel conflict.

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That followed a massacre on October 28, 1855, by infuriated Indians of innocent pioneers--men, women and children--thirty miles away. A friendly native brought the appalling news to Mulhall during the night of the same day the tragedy occurred. Consternation reigned in the little village, the people not knowing to what extent the Indians might go in wreaking vengeance upon the white race.

Measures of defense were immediately taken by the villagers as best they could but they were not very effective. A log cabin that sheltered and protected many others besides the owner and his family was soon built; and is still preserved in the village where Mulhall dwelt, seventy years after the event.

A breach which at once occurred between the military authorities and the civil officials nearly came to a clash of arms; confusion reigned supreme, and conditions verged on anarchy. The military, though now obliged to wage war against the belligerent Indians, condemned various acts of the civilians which brought on an unnecessary conflict. Overnight Mulhall, it might be said by natural selection, became Sheriff.

By obeying orders from the military headquarters, which ran counter to those of the civil court, he was arrested for contempt, carried off to another county and confined. Before being taken away he slipped a paper into Kate's hand, saying in a low voice, "Conceal it quick," which she did.

After her father's departure, when immediate {106} danger of further interference had passed, she opened the letter; and to her surprise found it contained an appointment as Deputy Sheriff during his absence. It was a critical situation, in which she held the keys of the Court House and the jail, and possession of the premises.

Would the opposition use force? and carry her off as they had Sheriff Mulhall? The military commander said they should not, and sent a guard to protect her at the jail, while a number of citizens rallied to her support. Before morning the excitement quieted down, cooler counsels prevailed, and she was able to safely leave for her home.

Kate found the little sisters terrified, and their eyes reddened by weeping during most of the night for father and their "mamma." They did not go to school the next day, but accompanied her back to the jail where all had dinner together. By her tact and courage, Kate soon became the heroine of both the military and civil factions, as well as of the village; and conducted the office without opposition until the release of her father. This brief reference to a strange incident of the old frontier throws an additional light upon the character of Kate Mulhall, and is at the same time an interesting glimpse of pioneer life.

The jails of that day were without ventilation, sanitary conveniences or pretense of decency; all prisoners, civil and criminal alike, were usually huddled together in one room like sheep in a pen. Under {107} these conditions it is not strange that the Squire's incarceration soon began to tell upon his health and strength.

* * *

Kate and her father were about a thousand miles out on the Oregon Trail when Isaac Pelton, still in Missouri, adopted a definite plan of action. He had discreetly kept his own counsel, planted the crops as usual and pursued the even tenor of his way as if no changes were impending.

One Saturday evening he mounted Ned and left home without informing any one where he was going, or how long he would be gone; and traveled all night to the county seat of Harrison County, adjoining the State of Iowa on the North. His mission was to buy a few acres to give him legal standing as a landholder in that county; this done, he returned as mysteriously as he had gone.

In its next issue, the _Gazette_, the local county paper, published an item to the effect that Isaac Pelton had bought land in Harrison County, Missouri, and was about to remove to his new home. In the same issue appeared an advertisement offering for sale all his holdings of real or personal property, but not including his slaves and teams.

Midsummer had just passed and harvest begun when Pelton and his three negroes left La Fayette County, in which he had lived so long; there was no molestation, or even a faint suspicion of what had {108} prompted the move. Harrison County contained over ten thousand white inhabitants and only twenty-five slaves; upon arrival there, he filed his manumitting paper for record freeing the three, and came out of the Court House to receive congratulations wherever he went.

Andrew and Jennie were in blissful ignorance of their master's intention to liberate them; and Pelton had been very careful not to drop a hint of it, acting on the principle that the only sure way to keep a secret is to say nothing about it to any one. So now, when the long resolution was an accomplished fact, he felt a heavy burden lifted from his shoulders, and was in a mood of exultation for having performed a duty and accomplishing what he had so long contemplated.

The first thing to do, however, was to break the news to Andrew and Jennie. He was curious to see how they would take it, but was not prepared for the surprise that followed.

"My Gawd-amighty, Massa, what'll I do?" exclaimed Andrew. "You turn me out on the world to take care of myself and Jennie and Margie? I hain't got no sense; I hain't got no nothin. Jennie, honey, what'll we do? Massa, I love you; I dun want to go way."

Pelton had anticipated a joyous scene to follow the news of their freedom, but there was nothing but outcries and lamentations. That was an exceptional case, though one like it occurred in the present State {109} of Washington, where a slave refused to leave his master; after a lapse of years, during which the infamous law debarring the negro from holding land was repealed, he was finally rewarded by inheriting the property.

After the first outburst of grief, and upon Pelton's assurance that he could stay with him as long as he lived and that no one could take Jennie or Margie from him, Andrew shouted with joy and threw his arms around his old master to express his ecstasy. A new light had shone upon him.

Just before the falling of the leaves in the autumn after the departure of Squire Mulhall for Oregon, Isaac wrote to Kate a frank declaration of his love, and enclosed a certified copy of the court record confirming the manumission of the three slaves as stated in his letter. He was restless in the new environment, at best only temporary; and counted with impatience the days and weeks, and finally the months, awaiting a response from Kate.

None came. After investigating the reported wreck of a mail steamer, he became convinced that the letter had been lost; and late in the midwinter following her departure for Oregon, wrote a second one.

"Kate, come here," Squire Mulhall said one day soon after receiving mail by the semi-monthly steamer and pointing to an article in the local paper from his old neighborhood in Missouri, "Do you see that?" It read, "Isaac Pelton has set his three {110} slaves free and removed to Harrison County, near the border of Iowa."

Mulhall was surprised when his daughter at once left his presence without making any comment or showing interest in the item he had just read. Kate knew that she could not control her emotions, and in the solitude of her room gave way to self denunciation for her attitude when Isaac visited their cabin before they left for the Oregon Country.

During all the trials of the long journey over the Oregon Trail and the anxieties afterward in their new home, the thought of Pelton would become upper-most in her mind in spite of all efforts to banish it. Now that he was no longer a slaveholder, she could cherish a sentiment for him even though unaccompanied with hope that they would ever meet again.

Finally, after nearly a year from their parting in the Missouri cabin, Pelton's second letter arrived. Kate's emotions can better be imagined than described. Her hopes had been all but extinguished; and now to have them suddenly revived came almost as a shock of pain, though mingled with joy.

Kate did not answer at once; anyhow it would be nearly a fortnight before another mail would be dispatched to "the States." A momentous question involving the future of her own life was to be decided; and as the days passed the task became more difficult.

While in this state of mind, one of the little sisters fell seriously ill, calling for her almost undivided care; and she felt an increased responsibility for her {111} father and the two orphans. Finally the letter was written and dispatched; but Pelton left for Oregon before it was delivered in Missouri, and never received it. The contents remained a secret in her own breast, and as time passed brought regret that it had been written.

James Price was an undisguised admirer of Kate, but fearing rejection of his suit, had never made formal advances, although nothing had transpired to either encourage or discourage him. He was well aware that Kate would go to Oregon at all hazards if her father did, but rather shrank from the thought of accompanying them as a son-in-law in a subordinate position.

After the Mulhall outfit left, Price berated himself for being such a laggard and entertaining a false pride; and resolved that he would go to Oregon the following year. Price did not, like Pelton, disguise his intention to make the trip or his admiration for Kate; so it became common talk in the neighborhood that Price intended to go to Oregon to win her hand.

A year after the Squire had left his home in Missouri, the _Gazette_ published the information that James Price had started for Oregon with an ox-team, over the route followed by David Mulhall the previous year. It expressed the hope that he might succeed in securing a home in the new country; and the people of the neighborhood interpreted this by adding, in their own minds--"and what is of equal {112} importance, a wife." Pelton and in fact the whole neighborhood, knew of Price's admiration for Kate; and when the item appeared tongues were set to wagging that he was "going there to marry Kate."

Price was well out on the way before Pelton became aware of it, and the fact that his rival had gone considerably disturbed his peace of mind. He believed that the gossip as to what prompted Price to make the journey was true, but hardly thought he could have any assurance from Kate that would warrant the trip.

"But suppose Price arrived and should renew his suit, what then?" he asked himself. He knew that Kate respected Price, and when convinced that his first letter had been lost, was not sure that she would receive the second one. The more he thought of it, the more agitated he became.

"I'll go myself," he said one day; "I can go by the Isthmus and beat him there yet, and I'll do it."

That night he was troubled with the thought of an unexpected obstacle. When he freed Margie, Pelton had himself appointed as guardian to safeguard her liberty and prevent other parties from depriving her of it under the obnoxious law to which reference has been made. Who that he could trust would now accept the responsibility? Any number would be eager to secure her services while under age; but would shrink from the obloquy that would be attached to such a transaction.

Besides, there was real danger from the "night {113} riders" that infested the county. The slavery question was in the minds of everybody; only a small minority believed it was possible to abolish the system, and very few had the courage to freely express themselves. It was before the passage of the Fugitive Slave Law of 1850, but the "underground railroad" was in full operation. While not talking much openly, the Quakers usually supplied the "stations" for the escape of fugitive slaves.

Eli Sumner, a staunch "Friend" residing not far from the Iowa line, had a large and commodious barn, as was the Quaker custom, but lived in an unpretentious house. It was generally believed that he maintained an "underground station" on his premises, and that escaping slaves could trust him. Nothing had been proven, but he had the name of being a Free-soiler; and was therefore under suspicion by the slaveholding class.

Pelton realized how little time there was to spare if he would beat Price to Oregon; but he had fully made up his mind to undertake the long race. Price couldn't average more than fifteen miles a day with his oxen; and by estimating the distance, Isaac believed he had an advantage of about three weeks. But he might not make close connections; and furthermore, had a journey of nearly a thousand miles before reaching New York, a considerable part of it by stage-coach.

"I'll trust Sumner," Pelton said to himself and next morning started off to see him.

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"Yes, thee can bring them up here and I will do the best I can for them," the Quaker said after Isaac had explained his mission; "but I do not see why I should be appointed her guardian (referring to Margie), as Iowa is a free State."

"Yes, but suppose the night riders should once get her across the line; might she not be helpless?" Pelton responded.

"Well, just as thee thinks; they can have that little house, and I will give the man employment, or he can work where he wills."

A load was lifted from Isaac's mind when he saw Andrew and Jennie safely in their new temporary home, and Margie under the guardianship of the good Quaker. Depositing a considerable sum of money with Sumner for emergencies, and bidding farewell to them all, he left with a light heart, determined to send for them some day if he secured a home in the Oregon Country and won Kate for a wife.

As the weeks passed, the great race was progressing slowly and even painfully for both participants, Price continued steadily on with pleasant anticipations of a hearty greeting from his old-time acquaintance, Squire Mulhall, and at least a cordial reception by Kate. He knew nothing of Pelton's intentions or movements; if he had, it would not have hastened his arrival, for his average progress of two miles an hour could not be increased.

Price had met and overcome the usual difficulties {115} of a trip over the long trail. Unincumbered with dependents or loose stock, and with only one comrade selected from among his acquaintances for dependable character and aptitude for such an undertaking, the cares of the journey were much less than with those accompanied by their families.

He had a light-weight covered wagon, in which they could sleep, and did not a carry a tent. The team consisted of four trim five-year-old steers broken during the winter to work under the yoke, and two extras trained to be led behind the wagon. One day's experiences represented nearly all the trip across the Plains.

Camp was usually made early; one of them would at once take the oxen to water and grass, while the other would prepare the evening meal. Then one soon went to bed and the other out with the oxen; the next morning an early start was made with the night-watcher in the wagon asleep. Sound and refreshing sleep was possible under the circumstances and practiced by many, seldom disturbed by the slow movement of the ox-wagon.

Pelton did not find his journey to Oregon by the Isthmus route an agreeable one; quite the opposite, with some hardships and a great deal of discomfort. Three days were lost in New York waiting for a steamer, followed by nine or ten days on the water, which passed quite pleasantly, then a crossing of the Isthmus--a difficult matter in those days, with the ever-present risk of tropical fever. Emerging on the {116} Pacific side, a second wait of three days ensued before another--and inferior--steamer could be taken to San Francisco, where Isaac arrived after heavy seas had blown the ship two hundred miles out of its course and added considerably to the delay.

Five days were spent at the Golden Gate before an old and clumsy looking hulk left for the northern ports; the trip was slow and beset with dangers, and the boat narrowly escaped destruction while crossing the treacherous bar of the Columbia River. But at last Portland, then a little village of probably not more than a thousand inhabitants, was reached; and as there was then no regular service to the Puget Sound country, Pelton was obliged to take a steamer plying on the Columbia River to the Cowlitz River, where a stage line operated over wretchedly bad roads a considerable part of the way to Olympia, at the head of Puget Sound; and from Olympia he employed an Indian with a canoe to take him to the little village where the Mulhalls had established a residence.

Up to the last moment his mind was tormented with visions of Price. Had he arrived, and if so, how many weeks before? How had he been received by Kate? The time that Price could have arrived had passed by several weeks; and Pelton himself had been delayed long after the date he had expected to reach his destination.

He soon found the house and walked boldly up to it with mingled emotions. Kate was in the kitchen {117} preparing the evening meal with no thought that Pelton was any nearer than 2,000 miles; and when she opened the door in response to the knock outside, the two stood face to face. One word from each other sufficed, "Isaac!" "Kate!" They fell into each other's arms; the long suspense was over, the race won, the goal attained--and the prize at last secured.

James Price, whom Pelton had feared, was in reality no rival at all, so far as Kate was concerned. No matter what aspirations he may have entertained, she had never thought of being anything more to him than an old-time acquaintance. But the poor fellow never reached the end of the journey on which he started in the early spring.

While plodding slowly along with his ox-teams, he was overtaken on the sage-brush plains of the Snake River by cholera, the dread scourge that proved fatal to many emigrants in those days; and he was buried in the sands of that desert region. Both Pelton and Kate felt a genuine pang of grief at the untimely fate of the unfortunate young man.

* * *

Kate said, "Let's have a quiet wedding and invite three or four of the near-by neighbors."

"That will never do," Squire Mulhall replied; "let's go to the church where everybody that wants to can come." Isaac was neutral, only remarking, "you folks settle it between yourselves."

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Kate hesitated to differ with her father, but she wanted a quiet wedding; finally the argument ended and all agreed to go to the only church in the village, and one with a history. That was the first place of worship in the new Territory where now, more than seventy years after the events here recorded, stands a granite monument to perpetuate a part of its interesting record.

It was near the holidays when the eventful Sunday for the wedding arrived. The Indian conflict was over, but many of the settlers still remained near the fort; the village was full of people and the saloons were all open. The clouds hung low, patches of fog just lifting in sight. When the wedding party arrived, the church was so filled that the principals had difficulty in entering.

Squire Mulhall had insisted that Kate have a dress to suitably commemorate the occasion, which had been the principal subject of talk among the dames of the villages, and the church was crowded with them at an early hour. Many who had seen Kate as Deputy Sheriff booted and spurred, with pistol strapped to her person, could scarcely believe their eyes when they saw the happy, modest and well dressed young woman soon to become a bride.

All attending the ceremony had donned their best, and some had supplemented their wardrobe especially for the occasion. The church was profusely decorated with evergreens so abundant in the recesses of the forests, and numerous varieties of beautiful ferns, {119} to which were added many flowers still in bloom, although it was near midwinter.

Pelton had made one request of the clergyman--to omit the word "obey;" under existing law the phrase was not mere form, but literally interpreted. When, immediately after the ceremony, Pelton handed the bride a sealed envelope, no one in the assembly who saw the incident was more surprised than Kate herself. "Don't open it until tomorrow," he said in a low voice; and the incident remained a mystery.

The Peltons had planned a quiet evening at home with only a very few selected guests; father Mulhall had apparently acquiesced, but there were others with plans of their own. Mrs. Pelton--let us continue to call her Kate, which sounds so much better--wondered why her father had bought a barrel of apples and some candies, nuts and other delicacies she found in the pantry.

She suddenly clasped her husband's arm with a tight grip as an unearthly noise, such as she had never heard before, broke out nearby. It was no longer the Deputy Sheriff, but the timid bride looking for protection. Drums beating, horns tooting, guns firing, beating on tin pans--even the oldtime horse fiddle with its unearthly tones to make night hideous--to which was added yells and shouting, all combined to startle. Kate was off her guard for once, and fairly trembled with excitement until she realized that it meant a charivaree.

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"Come in, boys," the Squire said, as he opened the door.

"No, we want to see the bride and groom," the spokesman answered.

At first Kate shrank from going out, but after each parley the noise would resume, as it seemed automatically; and still the bride would not, as she afterwards said, show herself. Finally a torch-bearing party was seen approaching, and sweet singing voices were heard--as much of a surprise to the noisy party outside the residence as to those inside the house.

It was the church choir giving a serenade. The old Scotch tailor with his bagpipe was there; the glee club of the village rendered its best song; the violin and flute added to the music, and with it dancing began on the sod. "Let's go," said Pelton. "All right," answered the bride; and before they could realize it, they were dancing with the joyous crowd.

It was near midwinter; the falling of the leaves had stripped the deciduous timber growth of the valley bare, but the evergreens of the tablelands retained their color as in the summer time. The sheltered ferns in the deep recesses of the forests were preserved in all their delicate beauty, while here and there a modest flower peeped from a sheltered nook. Grass was green in favored places on the common and in the gardens of the village.

Pelton could scarcely believe his eyes as he viewed the scene, particularly when it included a ship {121} sailing by; the square rigged sails of the three-mast schooner was to him a thing of exquisite beauty, moved by some invisible power. Everything looked bright, and he was happy; the girl he had sought and won, now his beloved wife, never before looked so lovely to him.

Kate, no less happy than her husband, pictured to herself a quiet home where she could live as her mother had done amid the joys of a pioneer life. Now, more than ever, she realized her deep love for Isaac, and wondered what life would have been to her without him.

But there was one disturbing element; Bess and Sarah were unmistakably jealous of Pelton. They had been accustomed to the undivided love of "mamma," as they continued to call Kate, and were not easily reconciled to sharing that affection with another. Kate consulted with Isaac, then with her father, and finally all three conferred together as to how best to convince the little girls that her love for them was just as intense as ever.

The Squire suggested that he take the girls on a visit to Ben; they would enjoy it, and besides he wanted to see the "dear boy" himself. Pelton thought it would be better not to disturb them until the close of school, adding that he intended to make a trip to see the country and wanted Kate to go along if "father" would not be too much inconvenienced during their absence.

Mulhall cordially seconded the suggestion, saying {122} that he and the girls could get along splendidly; he would have Clara Laighton, Kate's dearest friend, come to prepare the dinners in the evening, while he and the girls could get breakfast, and they take their lunch to school. The Squire's evident sincerity, bordering on enthusiasm, relieved Pelton and Kate from any uneasiness regarding his willingness that the trip should be made, and how the little girls would get along while they were absent.

So the question came up as to where they should go, how and the length of time they would probably be gone. The conclusion was finally reached to take a cruise on Puget Sound; "We can always get plenty of clams," Kate said, "when the tide is out." She had utilized clams to feed prisoners in the jail, and knew their value; besides it would be jolly to dig them and bake them as the Indians did.

Pelton was in doubt whether to take a boat or canoe; Kate said by all means a canoe, and explained their pattern for speed and safety, as exemplified by the clipper ships[2] which carried the Stars and Stripes to all parts of the world. The marvel of shaping these canoes from the body of a large tree, guided by the eye alone, remains a mystery to this day; the Indians did so, but it is difficult to fully understand how.

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First, the exterior parts are cut down to a solid trunk of wood the size and shape of the finished canoe. Then follows the more intricate labor of removing the center, either by chipping off pieces with rude tools or burning out the excess. Coming down to what is left for the framework of the canoe, the problem is how deep to cut without penetrating the outside shell, which seems to be determined more by instinct than by measurement. They are made in various dimensions, from the one-man canoe up to a size in which thirty Indians go boldly out to sea on their fishing excursions.

Pelton secured the service of the native Steicca and his Indian "klootchman" (wife), who were recommended by the Chief Factor of the near-by Hudson's Bay Company fort; and hired their five-man size canoe. Steicca was a person of note among his people, and had gained the confidence of the men at the fort. He was above the average stature for his tribe, popularly designated as the "Fish" Indians, because they depended almost entirely upon sea food; his klootchman was a comely native from the over-mountain tribe known as the "Horse Indians."

She kept herself and clothing clean, in contrast with the carelessness or uncleanliness generally seen among the women of the tribe to which her husband belonged. Their four-year old boy was likewise always neat and tidy; and Kate thought he was one of the most likable urchins she had ever seen.

Pelton had procured a closed tent with complete {124} camping outfit, which included a mirror for Kate and a bootjack for himself. Nothing seemed to be overlooked to make her feel at home on their bridal trip--a honeymoon in a Garden of Eden to them.

They embarked in the early morning observed by many friends and acquaintances, both men and women, the latter representing nearly every household of the village. Children were there with handsful of rice to shower good will upon the heads of their departing friends; Sarah and Bess looked on, but could not understand what the throwing of rice meant.

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Just as Kate and Isaac were settled comfortably side by side in the capacious canoe, Mrs. Steicca--"Sally" let us call her, instead of _klootchman_, sat at the post of honor as both captain and pilot, with paddle in hand ready for the start whenever the word was given. This was the usual custom among the Indians, who skillfully guided the canoe in rough waters and boisterous winds, as well as in the placid waters usually prevailing on the bays of Puget Sound.

As Steicca pushed off the bow of the canoe both paddles were dipped vigorously into the water, and the handles struck the sides with resounding thumps, while each hummed in harmonious minor key an Indian ditty common to the tribe. The dull sound of the paddles knocking against the side of the canoe, and the voices in unison, could be heard long after the view of the slowly disappearing craft had {126} become dimmed to the assembled villagers, who then reluctantly returned to their homes.

Propelled by the combined strength of both experts, the canoe passed rapidly through the water, accelerated by the swift current of an ebb tide. The morning haze had not cleared away and the water was of a glassy smoothness--not a ripple on the surface near-by--though not far away there were slightly disturbed patches, when Kate caught sight of what appeared to be a human head rising out of the deep water in the wake of the rapidly passing canoe.

"What in the world is that?" she exclaimed as she gazed for a moment at the seeming apparition, which now quickly disappeared from sight, and excitedly grasped the arm of her husband. Pelton jocosely suggested it was a mermaid.

"Do you believe in that stuff?" Kate asked, to which Isaac replied that at least it looked like the picture of one; and she admitted it did. In her childhood Kate had read the old-time legends about mermaids; and knew that all down the ages, the belief in creatures half human and half fish had existed among thousands. And now, was it possible that she had a glimpse of one? Kate was not superstitious, but the sight startled and puzzled her; and the reader will doubtless also wonder what it could have been.

An old record describing the mermaid states that "they have a way of lifting their round heads and shoulders from the water with a queer look of almost {127} human intelligence upon their faces;" and that is exactly what Kate had seen. The head that had come above the surface only a few rods in the wake of the canoe, as if to investigate what had disturbed the repose of its abode, was about the size of a half-grown girl, with a suggestion of languid eyes and a plaintive countenance.

Only the face could be seen, and that but for a moment--long enough to indelibly fix the features in Kate's mind. It was the head of a hair-seal, common at that time in the waters of Puget Sound. The sudden appearance of these strange creatures has startled and puzzled many travelers; and led large numbers of people to believe in the existence of a real mermaid.

As the canoe sped on its way, the hills on the east shut off the sun, the channel became narrow and crooked, and the view of waters ahead vanished, leaving only the high elevations, covered with dense forests of evergreen fir, in sight on either side. The outlook ahead seemed as if the party had come to the end of the waters, with a bold elevation--almost a mountain--directly in front. Just then the canoe lurched to the eastward, and despite the utmost efforts of the Indians, shot off the line of travel; then it started as suddenly in the opposite direction, as if possessed by an evil spirit.

The shadows of the hills bordering the narrow passage and a fleeting cloud darkened the view as if night was approaching. A dull, subdued roar {128} comparable to an indistinct echo of a distant sound, reached the ears of the party. Just ahead, the waters apparently swelled up above the common level and then broke away to form again either to the right or left, or both to spread currents running in circles.

Now the sound became louder from the choppy sea of broken waves, forming small conical volumes of water mounting in the air and falling back to the surface. To make matters worse, the whirlpools drew in short bits of driftwood; and some of the larger pieces thumped against the sides of the canoe, interfering with the paddles. The canoe had encountered a tide-rip--water roughened by conflicting tides or currents, a phenomenon of which neither had ever heard.

Kate spoke first; "I wish we were landed, Isaac, don't you?" Pelton felt about the same, but made an effort to speak encouragingly.

It was a battle of the tides in a narrow channel of the Sound with a swift current due to the tide receding toward the sea. The whirling waters extended from shore to shore, while whirlpools of varying extent suddenly formed and as quickly vanished, all moving rapidly in one direction--a grand sight to the beholder from a safe point of vantage, but to Kate an object of terror.

"_Tenas alia copet_" (it will soon quiet) Sally said, more to herself than otherwise, perceiving Kate's perturbed state of mind; and pointed the canoe toward the eastern shore-line. A few minutes {129} sufficed to reach an eddy outside the disturbed waters, and to shove the nose of the canoe obliquely and gently over to a pebbly beach.

Sally's boy, named Pete after the great humanitarian, Peter Skene Ogden, a courageous and trusted Factor of the Hudson's Bay Company, was the first one out of the canoe. He jumped into the water, waist deep, and began his pranks in a salt water bath, while the mother laughingly scolded him for his rashness.

Kate and Pelton were glad of relief from their cramped position in the canoe, independent of the anxiety of their experience with the tide-rips. "_Tenas in-e-ti sitcum sum Skookum chuck copet_" (just after noon the current will quiet), Steicca said; and suggested that they remain where they were until the tide turned. Kate had learned enough of the mongrel Chinook jargon to understand what the Indians said; so she and Pelton readily assented.

A steep bluff prevented exploring the nearby woods, and there were no trees until near the top of the hill. Steicca at once began preparations for a brisk fire with the abundant material in sight. A great mass of driftwood obstructed the shore-line just above their landing, some half imbedded in the sand and gravel of the beach, and other debris evidently having been driven beyond the reach of the highest tide by storms of wind and wave. The dead limbs of these derelicts supplied excellent fuel to speedily make a roaring fire.

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Kate noticed the Indian gathering and piling small rocks on the fire while Sally dug a small pit, lined it with loose rock, and built another fire in preparation for a clambake. As it was near low tide, the clam beds were exposed and an abundance of the bivalves easily secured for a bounteous meal. Clams are found on the conveniently located sloping beaches, and in enormous quantities along the fifteen hundred miles of the shore-line of Puget Sound waters; so the saying, "dinner is always ready when the tide is out," was literally true.

Kate forgot the apparition of the head and the whirls of the tide-rips that had so startled and alarmed her when their attention was attracted to the picturesque beach, with its many shells and pebbles of various sizes, shapes and beautiful colors. She at once began to make a collection of them, without noticing that Pelton had withdrawn from sight. He had quietly taken his fowling piece and clambered along the beach to a nearby lagoon, where he soon bagged a couple of fat mallard ducks.

No one visiting that region now can have any adequate idea of the vast number of ducks there in the early days. The air was fairly black with these game birds; he could easily have taken a dozen, but hastened back with the two for dinner.

"_Nika mamook_," Sally said, when she saw the birds, meaning that she would cook them; Pelton readily assented and joined Kate in her search along the beach. The pit of hot rock was nearly ready for {131} the clams; and Sally soon had the ducks prepared for it. Now the rocks were smoothed off, the pit enlarged and the whole covered with a layer of small branches of fir twig ends.

The ducks were placed in the middle of the pit and the remaining space filled with clams. As a sudden dash of water produced an abundant supply of steam, the whole was quickly covered with boughs and ferns, upon which a thin layer of earth was laid and topped by hot rocks from the larger fire.

It was a clambake by experts. Before that time Kate and Pelton did not know what the term meant, but they lived to see it become synonymous with a feast. The "clambake" here supplanted the barbecue in Missouri, where the ox was roasted on a spit.

As years passed they also witnessed the gathering of a thousand or more people at the annual jubilee, all partaking of the luscious contents of an immense clam pit covered with wagon-loads of unhusked green corn. This institution, the clambake that was for many years the central attraction for social gatherings, political conventions and even religious meetings, is only but a memory.

As the time approached for the turn of the tide, Steicca became impatient to open the pit. There came an interim when the battle of the waters temporarily ceased, as the ebb tide spent its force and before the oncoming rush of the flood from the ocean. Steicca knew that when the flood regained mastery, it would be impossible to stem the force of the {132} current in the Narrows and round the point to the large bay ahead. But Sally was unwilling to interfere with her well-laid plans for the first dinner served to her new friends, the admired lady of the village they had left, and the gentleman who had traveled so far to win her.

Indian women, though occupying humble and inferior positions in the life of their tribes, are not devoid of imagination or true devotion to their husbands and children. An Indian mother never chastises her child, and will seldom run counter to the wishes of her husband.

But to open the pit before the contents were ready to serve would break her heart. In this dilemma, woman-like, she appealed to Kate, who had watched with interest the painstaking preparations for the feast and sympathized with Sally in her distress.

"Of course," Isaac said when the situation was explained by Kate, "I'm willing to stay if you are; it's just as jolly here as around the point in the big bay." And Sally was soon made happy by the word they would camp and stop over there until the next tide.

Pelton desired to make the camp leisurely to try his hand, and began to move the outfit from the canoe. Machinery seldom runs smooth on first trial, and so it is on a camping trip; several things had been overlooked or mislaid and a number of surplus articles were found. The folding cot, stools and the stove came out all right. While Sally was busy with {133} the clambake, Kate was arranging the details of the forthcoming meal, for which she had made ample provision before leaving home.

Steicca had erected their camp, consisting of mats fastened to a semi-circle of small poles driven obliquely into the ground; such was the usual temporary shelter of nomad Indians even in midwinter, affording protection from the wind but little from the rain. Sally seemed as proud of the camp as Kate was of their new tent and camp equipage.

While waiting the opening of the clam pit, Sally brought out her knitting for "Siwash" (Indian) socks, made of coarse thread from wool carded in her own camp and formed into yarn by manipulating the crude rolls with the palm of the hand. Indian women are always busy, and seem at a loss to pass the time without knitting or weaving mats, making baskets or moccasins, while the average Indian man is apparently ill at ease when he has something to do.

Sally had some plain shaped plates made from the inner bark of the cedar with a shallow rim on the outer edge, all water-proof; on these, as we shall see later, she served the clams and ducks. Having been busy with her camp work, Sally had forgotten to keep watch of her boy Pete; but now he must be called in, scrubbed and otherwise prepared for the meal. Frequent calls, Pete! Pete! brought no response.

Finally a track was found up a ravine, leading to the discovery of him perched on the limb of a {134} scraggy tree high above the reach of his mother. Boy-like, white or Indian, young or old, he had gone, in search of adventure, and while looking for bird's nests, had ventured too far to easily return.

Did his mother scold him? Not at all. Indian women do not scold their children or their men, but sometimes do each other to the point where words fail, and facial grimaces take their place.

The time had arrived to open the pit, and everything was in readiness; Sally beckoned to Kate, who came over to the spot with Pelton, whose curiosity was aroused. Steicca was on hand to see; and of course Pete was there, subdued and hungry. The outer covering of stone, earth and boughs were first carefully removed, revealing the inner covering through which the steam had percolated.

"_Closhe_" (all right), Sally said to herself as she lifted the inner covering and disclosed the contents cooked to perfection. Both ducks were handed to Kate (one of which was promptly returned by Pelton), and the plates piled high with clams. Kate divided her own supplies with Sally; and the banquet was on in both camps.

Such was the experience of Pelton and Kate in their first camp; her diary briefly tells the story in these words, "Tuesday ----185-, broke camp early; encountered tide-rips so strong as to spin the canoe in a dizzy whirl. Sally lost control for awhile, a little water spilled over into the canoe; somehow wasn't frightened much."

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A few hours sufficed to bring them into the calm waters of a large bay where numerous fishing parties, trolling for salmon, were in sight. Here and there glimpses were had of passing canoes, and the thump of paddles mingled with songs, loud laughter or talk to distant parties. The beach for miles was lined with Indian camps, where some of the men were lounging in listless idleness of mind and body, seemingly almost too indolent to breathe, while others--and particularly the women--were industriously drying the fish, or busily occupied with their crude handiwork.

The catch of salmon was of medium size; sixty-pound specimens were taken with nets in shallow waters, and there seemed to be no limit to the supply. Little did Pelton then realize the tremendous commercial value of this product of the sea, amounting afterwards to hundreds of millions of dollars annually.

In the far distance a white-topped dome reached above the clouds that hung upon the lower levels, all reflected in the placid waters of the bay. Steicca and Sally rested from their labors, and floated with the tide. A brief entry in Kate's diary describes the scene, "Beautiful beyond my powers of description--unbroken evergreen forests in every direction; snow-capped mountains about as far away as the eye can see; a thousand Indians in sight on the beach and in their canoes."

Pelton planned to go direct to the forty beautiful {136} islands he had been told could be visited within the waters of Puget Sound, and to more carefully examine the country on their return. The day's sailing, supplemented by four paddles, left the great mountain dimmed by increased distance, but brought into the far view another of almost equal grandeur, and opened to larger channels of waters than any left behind.

A council held in the morning decided that the course should lie to the dim outline of a headland discernible just above the horizon; wind and tide were favorable, and with the aid of the two Indians rapid progress could be made. An alternate course would be to follow the shore-line down to the objective point, considerably farther and no less dangerous; and so the direct route was chosen.

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Tons of furniture, trunks, provisions and other things were abandoned along the Trail, often with a sign like the one shown in this illustration; see pages 42 and 180.

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[1] Over nine hundred square miles of territory were ceded, reserving only six sections for about nine hundred Indians--and that high ground, heavily timbered and entirely unsuited to their needs. A more outrageous "treaty" was never made between the Government of the United States and its Indian wards; its terms would be unbelievable were they not preserved among the records of the Medicine Creek Treaty, December, 1864, in the Archives at Washington. In less than a year conflict broke out, and massacres followed, with losses of life to both the U.S. troops and the Indians. The latter were defeated in the field, as noted in the text; but they fared better in the subsequent negotiations, for as soon as the war ended and the Government was apprised of the wrong inflicted by that treaty, suitable reservations were provided.

[2] In 1849, after the discovery of gold in California, it is said that more than seven hundred cleared from Atlantic ports to San Francisco; many celebrated clippers made the trip from the East to the West in the years 1850-51, and very fast passages were common from 1850 on.

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