Chapter V: Pioneer Reminiscences (2)

"In 1851 there was a vacancy in the sheriff's office and I was appointed by the county commissioners to fill the vacancy. During my incumbency, in the discharge of my duty as sheriff, it fell to my lot to execute a death warrant by hanging a man by the name of Everman, who had committed a very foul murder. It was not a very pleasant duty to perform and most certainly one that I never wanted to be called on to repeat. This was the first execution for murder in Polk County, and I think the second in the territory, excepting the Indians that were hung at Oregon City for the murder of Doctor Whitman and others.

"There was another circumstance that grew out of the murder case that gave me the unenviable distinction of being the only man that ever put up a white man at auction and sold him to the highest bidder. The man in question was a brother of the above murderer. He was found guilty of being accessory to the murder after the fact, which would entitle him to a term in the penitentiary. There was no penitentiary in the territory at that time, and the judge in sentencing him to a term made the provision in the order that in default of there being a penitentiary he be sold to the highest bidder for the same term that he was sentenced to the penitentiary. Some of my lawyer friends tell me that the judge assumed a very doubtful right in so sentencing the culprit; but no legal move was made to invalidate the judge's order, so the matter rested.

"The above execution occurred on the 11th of May, 1852. That year my future wife crossed the plains and settled in the neighborhood where I lived. After a year's acquaintance we were married and moved onto a donation claim that I had three miles northwest of Dallas. At this time I was engaged in cattle raising.

"We lived here until 1859, when I became disgusted with the long, wet, dreary winters. That, coupled with the growing shortage of public pasturage, caused us to sell and seek a country with less winter rains and more public range. From what we could hear of the Walla Walla country we concluded that the winter weather and range were about what we wanted, so we at once decided to emigrate thither. In July I gathered up the cattle and started. The journey was somewhat tedious, a part of it being over dusty roads and the weather at times hot. I reached Dry Creek at Mr. Aldrich's place, early in August. I bought a man's claim just above the Aldrich place. I stayed some two weeks getting the cattle settled on the range. I started back for the family the first day of September, traveling with saddle-and pack-horse.

"On my way back I had the good fortune to fall in with an immigrant who had been in Oregon and knew the locality where my land was, to sell him my farm, and was thus relieved from being detained on that account.

"I reached home in twelve days after leaving Dry Creek and found the folks all well. We hurriedly made arrangements for our departure to the place that I had selected for our new home. We bundled our household goods into a wagon, bade good-bye to our friends and started. We drove over the country to Portland, where we put the wagon and team on the boat and got on ourselves, and finally landed at The Dalles. From there we took the wagon to Walla Walla, arriving at our new home the 23rd of October.

"There was nothing there in the shape of a house but a miserable hut that would neither protect us from the rain or cold. Therefore it was very important to build a house at the earliest possible time. I took a man with me into the mountains to assist me in getting out the timbers, and put another one to hauling them as fast as we got them cut; so it was but a few days till we had the material on the ground with which to build a cabin. We at once put it up and finished it so as to make it endurable for the winter.

"This was a tolerably severe winter, a great deal of snow and cold weather; but the stock got through in good shape for the reason that the grass was fine in the late fall, which put them in good shape to withstand bad weather; and the country was all open so that they could range on to the creeks and browse when the grass was covered with snow. As to ourselves, we got along fairly well in the line of provisions, but I can assure you we did not enjoy any delicacies. We had plenty of bread, meat and potatoes, but as to the bread I remember that at times I had to work for it. When the flour was low I had to take corn to a neighbor's who had a steel hand mill, and grind it into meal. I think any person who has ever had the experience of grinding on a hand mill, in the matter of recollection will be like myself, that is, he will remember it.

"When spring came, the first I did was to gather up the cattle that had got considerably scattered. When that was attended to we went to seeding and planting garden. The season being very favorable everything planted grew luxuriantly. I have never since seen such a crop of potatoes as we raised that year. We estimated the crop at 600 bushels per acre, and I am inclined to believe that it was over rather than under the estimate. I often hear people remark that it rains more now than when the country was first settled. I can confidently say that there has never been a season in which more rain fell in summer season, with possibly the exception of 1862, than fell this season of 1860. I heard remarked that had it not been for the peculiar nature of our soil that readily absorbed it the crops would have been generally drowned out. I look back upon this season as being one of the most enjoyable of my life. The summer was all that we could want it to be. I heartily enjoyed looking over the beautiful country, fresh from the hands of nature and unmarred by the hands of man; everything seemed to smile. The country became endeared to me and I have never seriously thought of making any other place my home.

"To give an idea of how little people then in the country knew of its value, when it was being surveyed it was talked among the people that it was a waste of Government money to survey it, for the reason that there was so little of it fit for settlement; and today you could not get an acre of that land for less than forty dollars. [At present date about a hundred and forty.] It was universally believed that all the country was worth anything for was its grazing qualities, excepting the low bottoms, which were known to be very productive. Everybody who came to the country then came with the intention of raising stock on the fine pasturage that the country afforded. Nobody came with the intention of farming, for the reason that it was thought that a very small part of the country would produce grain.

"In 1861 I was elected a member of the Territorial Legislature, which I have always thought was unfortunate for me, for the reason that the following winter was the hard winter and my presence at home would have been very desirable and beneficial to my interests. As soon as the legislature adjourned, although the severe weather was still in evidence, I started at once for home. We traveled in public conveyance as far as Monticello. We found the Columbia thoroughly frozen up and waited a few days, hoping that there might be a breakup, but as the bad weather continued and showed no signs of a change, Mr. Moore, a member of the Legislature, and I concluded to start on foot for The Dalles. It was one of the hardest trips I ever had. We traveled mostly on the ice, but at times would take to the land, where trails were beaten between neighbors in the snow who lived along the shore. We were fortunate enough to find lodging every night and to procure meals when we wanted them.

"After about a week of weary traveling we reached The Dalles, where we got saddle horses. A Wells, Fargo & Co. messenger fell in with us here, which swelled our company to three. We had traveled a couple of days when my two comrades became badly afflicted with snow blindness. The trail had been broken through the snow, but had later filled up with fresh snow. It took the practiced eye to follow it. My comrades being snowblinded it devolved on me to lead and break the way. The weather at times was intensely cold, but we found lodging every night except one; luckily for us, it happened to be one of the mildest nights we had, and with some blankets we passed the night fairly comfortably.

"We reached Walla Walla about the last of February. The war was raging then to such an extent and travel impeded that we brought news that was six weeks old.

"I found my folks all well and hearty, but the destruction of our stock was something frightful. When I looked them up later I found about ten per cent of them alive; but being in the prime of life and enjoying perfect health I was not discouraged.

"This season the Orofino and Florence mines poured wealth into the country to such an extent that money was very plentiful and produce very high. I succeeded in putting in a large lot of potatoes and vegetables and some grain. The season being highly favorable everything grew splendidly and produced abundantly and brought a very high price, potatoes selling at four and one-half cents per pound and other things in proportion; so at the end of the year I had to a large extent retrieved the losses that I had sustained by the severity of the winter.

"Ever since I had heard so much about Doctor Whitman from the immigrants who wintered with him in 1844, and especially after his tragic death, I had become interested in him and in the site of his mission, but had never visited it. In June this year I took a day for it and got on my horse and rode to the old site. Father Eells was occupying it then. I told him the object of my visit. He was very kind indeed and took a great deal of pains in showing me about the place and explaining things the best he could. He took me to the ruins of the old adobe building and explained the plan of it and showed me the spot where Doctor Whitman, according to reports, must have fallen. He then took me to where the victims of the massacre were buried, and while standing there one of us kicked the loose dirt and turned up the lower jaw bone of one of the victims. One of the teeth in the bone was filled with gold. We buried it as well as we could without tools and inferred from the circumstance that they had been buried in shallow graves or been dug up by badgers. I went home feeling that I had been well rewarded for my ride.

"The next year, 1863, I was elected sheriff. I have nothing to report that was unusual during my term, the usual routine of business incident to the office and no executions for murder or anything else worth speaking about. At the same time I was appointed deputy collector of internal revenue under Philip D. Moore. The duties of this position were simply collecting revenue that fell to the Government. The most unpleasant part of my duties was my responsibility for the considerable sums of money that I had in my possession.

"After the expiration of my term I returned to the farm and entered into the usual humdrum routine pertaining to farm life.

"In 1869, for the first time since leaving, I took a trip to Oregon. The election occurred the day before I started. The telegraph line had reached Umatilla. When the boat landed there the messenger went immediately to the telegraph office with the election news. This was my first contact with the telegraph, and it was hard for me to realize that while the operator was sending the dispatch at that very moment it was being received in Portland.

"At The Dalles we met the first tourist who had come on the newly completed transcontinental railroad to San Francisco and from thence by steamer to Portland and from Portland by river steamers to The Dalles.

"I went to Dallas, where most of my people lived. I had a very enjoyable visit, having been away ten years. In due time I returned home and found the folks all well.

"My reminiscences having come down to and partly including the year 1869, the year that the transcontinental railroad was completed, I think about this time they should lose their character as pioneer reminiscences and thus far their interest to the public; for I think the future historian will draw the line between those who came in an ox-team and those who came on the railroads. So I feel that my task is done, and when a person's work is finished it is a good time to quit."

From the reminiscences of Mr. Gilliam we turn to those of one of the honored builders, still living in Walla Walla, F. W. Paine. As one of the earliest business men of the region, Mr. Paine is peculiarly qualified to give a picture of the business men and conditions in Walla Walla in the early '60s. We feel ourselves fortunate to be able to present this article from his pen:

BUSINESS MEN OF THE '60s

"In approaching the subject I realize my utter inability to fitly handle even so small a quota of so large a class, which comprises men of the most eminent minds from among whom are found the financial geniuses to solve the most intricate problems of the world's commerce, from among whose ranks have been chosen by their fellow countrymen men to occupy and administer the highest offices of the nation, and the contingent which I am about to consider, the business men of Walla Walla, has afforded men of more than local fame, not only in their own calling, but men as well who have been chosen from their own sphere to fill places of honor from city councilman to United States senator; the achievements of this class impel the conclusion that the calling of general merchandising affords a training which adapts the mind to the handling of large affairs. To come to my subject, as I now recall the appearance of Main Street, the home of the business man in the spring of 1862, as I first beheld it, it might be described as a development of the old Indian trail along the natural elevation of the south bank of Mill Creek, forming a dry ridge much used by the Indians in horse racing before the whites appropriated it for the more advanced purposes of a business street, which, by the way, established its own azimuth which still maintains and which incidentally misses all the cardinal points of compass. Architecturally viewed it would seem that the earliest occupants of this street differed in their opinions as to the established width, for at that time there was gross irregularity in the building line, as well as ups and downs in the sidewalks, each owner apparently deeming it his own affair, that of fixing the line. When building his house, sidewalk, and frequently a board awning on scantling supports, to afford a show place for his merchandise, while in the matter of the building line 'the crooked have been made straight, the rough places have not all been made plain,' a few still remain perhaps to attest the tenacity of error. With this much for outside appearances let us now step inside where we are met by the subject of this sketch, a business man of Walla Walla, a man approaching middle life, of good presence, well informed on the country in general, its business prospects and opportunities, his stock of merchandise, and his patrons, who, if stockmen, ranged from the Cascades to the Rocky Mountains; if a packer his range was nearly as wide, or if a miner his field covered much the same vast territory, the magnitude of which seemed to be measurably reflected in the men who partook of its largess, for the merchants of early Walla Walla were of the stalwart type who rose to the occasion and occupied the field in a creditable manner, for few of the class known in California as 'Cheap Johns,' ever tarried long in Walla Walla. They came but soon recognized their betters and left for more congenial surroundings. As time sped on and the country settled up business grew to be more complex in its administering. Gold dust and gold and silver bars as important factors in the circulating medium, gave place to gold and silver coin, and greenbacks brought in by the immigrants of the middle '60s were tolerated at fifty to seventy-five cents on the dollar, but no lesser coin than a twenty-five cent piece was accepted in exchange for merchandise and even the saloons treated anything smaller with disdain; but the country was filling up with settlers, and as they became fixed and permanent citizens, credits were extended, some of the leading houses even in the early years, carrying heavy accounts with farmers and stockmen. This necessitated the merchants' assistance in marketing their products, thus these business houses became dealers in wool, wheat, barley, etc., which continued for many years and proved a substantial source of revenue which went far toward helping out the year's profits and also encouraged investments in other lines, such as transportation facilities, flouring mills and various manufactures, in which the business man frequently took the lead, as he did in most of the important doings of the day; for instance, in the matter of public spirit a record may be found in his generous subscriptions to induce the construction of railroads, for the building of hospitals, churches and educational institutions, and for their maintenance, and again in the voting of taxes for public schools and public buildings, both of the city and county. This matter of voting taxes brings to mind that even this early, politics was an institution to be reckoned with, but the business man seldom sought its honors. His political creed was, business before pleasure or politics. When election day came around he voted his party ticket and enjoyed the diversion, so it did not interfere with business. He seldom accepted office, and then only as a matter of duty, but when such responsibilities were undertaken they were discharged with fidelity to the trust imposed.

"Of his religion he took a less serious view, but his hand was ever open to the deserving in a good cause, it mattered not from whence the call. To illustrate, in the early days there came to this city a man most devout, a reserved and gentle mannered man, who, finding no church of his denomination, proceeded to build one near to the business district. He contributed largely of his own rather limited means and completed the building. Among the many brilliant sermons delivered from its pulpit were some very caustic and pointed, directly aimed at the shortcomings of the business world. He became noted for his good work, both in and out of the pulpit, but one day his church was accidentally burned, a total loss and no insurance. Whereupon a prominent business man (who for himself had little use for churches) seemingly prompted by his sense of justice, and as he said, 'a desire to see a good man get a square deal,' took prompt action and with a subscription list headed by a liberal sum, set against his own name, he proceeded to interview the business places, omitting none. Everything that was operated for money was in business to him, at least for that day, and was assessed and collection made at the same time. When he had made the round of Main Street, even before the ashes were cold, he had enough to build a new church. No one asked was the money tainted, but the church was built and much good resulted therefrom. One other instance I recall, when a preacher who had gathered many souls into his fold, somewhat on his merits as a good 'mixer' (this word belongs to politics, but if the good man could say even now he would approve its use here). After he had scheduled members enough to justify building a church he went among the brethren for subscriptions. Meeting two of his business acquaintances he made known his plans to which they readily subscribed a generous sum, only conditioned upon his steeple rising higher than that of the church across the street. To this he readily assented, and the spire stands today to attest his good works.

"Some historian has said, 'History is not written with a microscope,' nor should it be written with one's eye blinded to events that it were better had never occurred, but so long as man continues to indulge erroneous thoughts, those thoughts will be expressed in actions which, with their effects, will be recorded. So, notwithstanding the enviable record of the average business man of his day, there was the inevitable exception when someone went wrong, or, so to say, was swept off his feet by the lure of the open games of chance, presided over by the man with the starched shirt and polished nails. Such heaps of gold and silver, bags of dust even all so temptingly lay, just waiting the turn of a card, the jingling of coins, the hustle and murmur of the crowds, the glint and dazzle of the lights, the music and the song, the tinkle of the glasses, the odor of cocktails and champagne, a perfect riot of sensations, and over all that transport of abandon so free of all restraint, 'society' looked on complacently, law lacked an introduction, but 'twas all so sociable he took a hand or perchance bought a few chips and the better to celebrate his first winning, ordered a cocktail and cigar, and then was soon on the road that men of all callings frequented in the very early days. Little wonder that an occasional business man was found among the discard.

"Elsewhere I note that occasion was had to mention so many of the names of firms and men in business in the early days, that I will not attempt to repeat them, suffice to say that rare and potent conditions must have worked together to produce a force of men so fitting to the time and place as were these, to prosecute their chosen calling as a means to success; some, to be sure, looking only to a temporary stay which as time wore on, grew to be permanent, others, casting their lot with the county from the beginning, remained to amass fortunes of no mean proportions. Several having reached business limitations here, naturally gravitated to larger cities, to enjoy a wider field of operations, where they continued to court the Goddess of Fortune successfully. Of those who remained many have attained to places of honor, and of few indeed could it be said that the world was no better for their having lived in it, and taken as a whole, the history of the county would be sadly abbreviated were it to be deprived of a record of their doings."

One of the best known of the pioneer families of Walla Walla is that of the Ferrels. As a charming narrative of the typical events of a journey across the plains and settlement in Walla Walla in the early days, we incorporate here a paper by Mrs. Brewster Ferrel.

A WOMAN'S EXPERIENCE CROSSING THE PLAINS

May 1, 1864.

We started from Corydon, Wayne County, Iowa, to travel the wild and desolate plains and seek a home in Walla Walla, Wash. This is a true story, but before you get through reading it you will not wonder at the people out west calling us green immigrants.

My husband and I and our little boy, who was two years old, and my husband's brother, were all that came in our wagon. We had a good little mule team. I have had a kind regard for mules over since I took that trip. Did not know a mule could learn so much.

The first day was a sad one going past our relatives and old neighbors' homes and stopping to say good-bye. Our people gave us little presents, tokens of love, and lots of good advice, such as, "be careful and don't let the Indians get you," or, "be a good girl and come back some day." Well, we did come back twenty-four years after, but not with a mule team.

The first night we stayed at a house. Next morning the good woman said, "I will give you some pickled meat." So she went out in the meat house to get it, and there was a skunk drowned in the brine. We thanked her and got our meat at another place.

The next night we camped out, the first I ever slept out of a house, and when bedtime came our little boy cried, oh, so hard to go home, but we got him quiet and slept well; that was one thing we could do on that trip.

Woman-like, I was very much afraid of the bad roads. We had all of our belongings piled in that wagon, and among other things were our firearms. We came to a very bad place in the road. I took our little boy out of the wagon and we were walking behind when a shotgun that was lying in the wagon went off and the shot came very near us. Then I concluded in the wagon was the safest place and soon got so I was not afraid to ride over any kind of road.

We traveled alone till we got to the Missouri River. Then we came to a string of wagons about a mile and a half long. They were waiting to be ferried over the river. We came there in the forenoon, and took our place in line and moved up as the wagons went over. We stayed there all that day and camped there that night. Next morning we got over.

Then we traveled with a train and the Indians came around our wagons; some of them begged for food. One day when we sat down on the ground to eat our dinner about a dozen big red-faced fellows came and stood around with tomahawks in their hands. I did not want any dinner that day, but they went away peaceably, and we traveled on over good roads and through beautiful country up Platte River and on and on and soon got used to seeing Indians. Sometimes they would follow our wagons and some one would throw a piece of bread out to them and they would run after the wagon and pick it up; then throw another piece, till they would look like little chickens after an old hen.

Fuel was very scarce in that country. We had to burn sage brush, dead weeds, or anything we could get. Sometimes my husband would keep feeding the fire while I baked the flapjacks, as we called them.

The men folks were all the time looking out for good grass and water for the stock, which they would herd on the grass till late at night, and than tie them to the wagon wheels. In the morning they would take them out again and herd them until starting time, which was pretty early, as we wanted to hurry through to Walla Walla. We gave our mules all the scraps we had left from our meals and they relished it very much and would hunt in the wagon for the dinner box and look and wait for their lunch.

There were some mean people crossed the plains. There was a man and his wife and three grown daughters traveling in our train. One day when we lay over we heard a commotion, and looking toward a tent we saw a girl pitch out of it and a man's boot and foot up in the air. The girl said her papa kicked her out because she had forgotten to water the horses. One other time we had stopped to rest and I heard a woman cry and swear and pray, first one and then the other. I said to a friend, "Let us go and see if we can help her;" but she said "No; it is a woman with a very loathsome disease and the man that drives the team was kind to bring her out west." The man would cook a little food and hand it to her and then go away.

Well, the people were not all bad; we found some very dear friends on our trip. I never will forget them. It was a trying trip on us all. We had some dangerous streams to cross. We would come to some that looked impossible to cross. We would stop and plan and try the depth in every way possible, and then block up the wagon bed to the top of the standard, then tie them fast to the wagon, then cautiously drive in almost holding our breath. We had four mules and the leaders were small. Sometimes we could not see much of them but their heads. Our little boy would laugh and enjoy the excitement, but I took many a cry when I thought of where we were taking him. We had started and must get through. I had about forgotten to mention the weather, which was very stormy. It rained and snowed and blew our wagon sheet off and everything we had got wet. Our flour got musty; we had to eat it; we could get no other.

By this time we were getting pretty well up Platte River, and did not see many Indians, but were hearing a good deal about their committing depredations, and commenced to corral our wagons of nights. That was to drive in a circle, unhitch, then the men would pull them close together by hand, and after herding the stock would bring them in and tie to the outside wheels of the wagons for the night.

One day our train came up to a corral of this kind and the women were sitting around crying and the men were standing in groups talking very earnestly, and not a hoof in sight. We soon learned their troubles. They had left their stock out a little way from the wagons to feed without any guards and the Indians had seen their opportunity and run between them and their stock and run them off. What those poor people did we never learned. We had to travel on.

One morning a few days after this sad scene we passed a train which had not started out yet, and came upon another sad scene. Two men had left their train in the evening and drove about a mile ahead, in order to get better grass for their horses. Just at dusk they were sitting on a log near their wagons when eight Indians came behind them and commenced shooting them with arrows. The men jumped for their guns, but before they reached their wagons the Indians had them both down. They left them for dead and then took the four horses and guns and ammunition and $800 in money and everything else they wanted out of the wagon, and left. But one poor fellow was not quite dead. After the Indians left he crawled a little way off in the brush and lay there till next morning. When we came along he crawled out and told us all about it. We stayed with him till his train came up, then helped him to bury his partner, and then went on. I was pretty homesick for a few days.

We were getting into the mountains and the roads were bad, and so were the Indians. We were very cautious; two men stood guard every night, taking turns.

The weather was getting warm and pleasant after all, and through all of our hardships we had some pleasant and amusing things happen. There was a good many jack rabbits along the road. We had a rabbit pot-pie pretty often. One day about a half-dozen men got after a rabbit and were running past our wagon and shooting with their pistols. My husband was walking by our wagon and said, "Hand me the shotgun," and I handed it to him. He shot and brought down the rabbit, then gave it to me. That ended the race and raised a laugh.

Once in every two days we would stop a day and rest, lay over, we called it, to do our washing. We would take a bucket and camp kettle and go to the creek; that was all the utensils we had to wash with. When the clothes were dry they were ready to put on--no ironing on that trip. We saw irons, tubs, washboards, and a good many other things that people had thrown out of their wagons because their teams were giving out. We did not dare to pick them up and haul them for fear our own teams would give out. I knew one woman that had a cook stove in her wagon and she was so anxious to bring it through that she would get out and push on the wagon when it was going up hill, but she had to give it up and set it out and go on without it. We were beginning to find out how dependent we were on our teams.

Before we left home our neighbors and friends gave me a lot of nice pieces and helped me make a keepsake quilt. I prized it very highly. One day, I put it out to sun and some fire blew on it and burned it up. Then I shed a few tears. Much as we needed everything we had we would lose and leave our things at the camps. We lost our axe and coffee pot and our comb. Then we tried to borrow a comb, but found out there were but few in the train. So we women got together and had our hair cut off. Then we were called the short-haired train.

The health of our train was pretty good. Sometimes a family would get very sick from eating too many wild weeds they would gather and cook for greens so as to have a change, as variety of wood was getting scarce.

We brought a keg of sorghum syrup with us, and would have had plenty to last through, but one day our little boy was missing, and looking in the wagon we saw him. He had found the matches and was just putting the last bunch in the syrup keg, so we had to do without sorghum.

One night we stopped near an old fort where some men were staying. So I felt pretty safe, but before morning we found out they were worse than Indians, for they had whiskey to sell and some of the men in our train got some whiskey and got drunk, then fought and quarreled all night. Next morning when a few wagons were ready to start the men that had been drunk were asleep. Another train came along and we drove on with them. It seemed a trip where every one had to look out for self. We did not dare to stop long to help the unfortunate or we would not get through ourselves. We did not start out to die on the plains. We passed many a new made grave.

At this time it was as disagreeably hot as it had been cold on the start. One time we tried traveling at night to avoid the extreme heat, but that would not do.

I have not given many dates, as I have forgotten most of them. Am writing this mostly for my children and grandchildren to read and want it to be as near true as I can remember.

We learned that the main thing on that trip was to keep on moving. As we got near and into the mountains the weather got cool and pleasant. But, oh, such mountains and roads, sometimes they would seem almost perpendicular, but we would climb and get up most all out of the wagon walking, then slide down on the other side, then up, then down, and soon day after day some of the mountains seemed almost solid rock.

One day we came to a beautiful little stream. Someone that was walking dipped up a cup of water and said, "Will you have a drink?" I took the cup. Imagine my surprise when it almost burned my lips. Those were the first hot springs we had ever seen. Then we came to a place that looked like it was covered with ice and frost, but it proved to be salt. We picked up some pieces and used it for cooking.

We began to hear more rumors about the Indians and could see signs of their mischief. So we corralled our wagons very carefully and went to bed and were sleeping soundly when all of a sudden we were awakened with hearing screaming and very rapid shooting. I jumped out of bed and said, "The Indians have attacked us." My husband got up and said, "I will go and see what the trouble is." Then I got all of the guns and ammunition to the front of the wagon ready for battle, and was piling the sacks of flour and bacon around our little boy, who was yet asleep, when my husband came back and said it was coyotes yelping and the guards were shooting at them. So we went to bed again and were soon asleep. That was one thing we could enjoy on that trip.

Well, we finally got over the Rocky Mountains. You need not be surprised if I tell you that our shoes were getting thin and pretty badly worn. We did not start with an over supply and our clothes were wearing out fast and we were looking pretty rough and sunburnt.

We came to some more deep rivers and had to block up our wagon beds so we could cross. Then we came to a country infested with crickets. I never saw anything like it; they were almost as big as a mouse and could chirp and jump in such big bands. Our mules shied at them. Well, we were glad to get out of that country.

One day looking ahead in the distance we saw something coming that looked like covered wagons, but as it drew near we could see it was actually coming the other way toward us, something we had not seen for hundreds, yes, thousands of miles. Well, they came on and passed us. It was a pack train, wonderful sight for us. They frightened our teams in their weak and half-dead condition. Then someone said those were cowboys.

Then we came to where some men camped. They were excited over losing a lot of mules and horses. They were driving a band out west. The Indians had stampeded them and run a lot of them away. We saw several dead horses which the men had ridden to death trying to get the band together again. We traveled on and came to some timbered mountains. Now we could have plenty of wood to cook with. It was a treat to have plenty of wood and water at the same time.

One evening after we had corralled our wagons and the guards had taken the teams out to grass one of the men came running back and said, "Get your guns quick; there is a drove of elk right among our stock." The men hurried out with their guns, fired, and brought down two big elks and dragged them into camp. I remember it so well, they looked so much like one of our little mules. The men skinned them and cut them up and then decided that my husband had fired the most fatal shot; so we had first choice piece. The meat was fine.

We came to a desolate looking place. It was in a deep canyon and we had to stop over night. There were some old bleached bones and a lot of tangled hair. Someone said it was human hair and bones and that the Indians had massacred a train and their bodies had never been buried. We did not know how much of that was true, but at that time we could believe almost anything. After all, our Indian troubles were mostly scares, but as the old saying is, you had as well kill a person as scare him to death.

By this time we came to some more awful hills to come down. We all got out of wagons and the men tied ropes to the hind wheels and held back while the teams and people slid down. Well, we all got down and went on our way rejoicing, and finally got into some pretty country and laid over to let our teams rest, and do our washing.

That day I took a stroll down by the creek and saw a big fish lying in some shallow water in a little island. I very cautiously slipped around between it and the main creek and put my hands under it and threw it out on land. Then I wrapped my apron around it and went carrying it into camp. It was alive and weighed about eight pounds. We would not eat it for fear it might be sick, but some of the boys wanted it, so I gave it to them. They cooked it and ate it and said it was very good. Next morning we hitched up and traveled on.

The weather was pleasant and we began to see signs of civilization and met another pack train which was loaded with flour, bacon, whisky, and tobacco. I should not have said signs of civilization. But we saw better things further on. Some of our people tried to buy some provisions of them, but they would not sell; said they were taking them to the mines and expected to get a dollar a pound for what they had. Our money was pretty scarce and what we had was greenbacks and only worth fifty cents on the dollar out West.

Then we came to a little garden and a cabin back in the brush. We could see the green lettuce and onions through the fence. Some of our boys said they would make a raid on that garden, but when they got on the fence they saw a tree on the other side and a man hanging by the neck from a limb of that tree. Then they said, "We don't want any garden sass." We learned later that it was only a paddy stuffed with straw. Our provisions were getting scarce and our teams were getting weaker, and we very anxious to get through.

We finally arrived in the Grande Ronde Valley and then we spent the last cent we had to buy a beef bone and some fresh vegetables. Then all got together and made a big dinner. All sat down and ate together. After dinner we all shook hands and said good-bye. Then each one went his own way.

We started to cross the Blue Mountains and one of our mules got sick. We had urged him too much. He seemed to be asleep on his feet, held his eyes shut, and wanted to pull all the time. Well, he pulled through. I had almost learned to love those mules, they had been so faithful.

We arrived in Walla Walla, Wash., footsore and weary, in just three months from the day we started.

When we arrived in this beautiful little valley without a dollar and scarcely any clothing and no provisions we had a pretty hard time. Now, when a family gets their house and everything they have, burned, the people around get together and help them, and it is right they should in this land of plenty; and when a criminal leaves the penitentiary they give him a suit of clothes and some money. But there was no help for the green immigrants, as we were called, and I suppose we were, at least in some respects.

We did not understand the western slang and Indian talk that we heard so much. It was something like this. A man that had been out West about five years was eating dinner with us, said, "That is hiu mucka muck." He was referring to something on the table. We asked him if he liked this country. He said, "You bet your life!" We said, "Why do so many men out West wear revolvers on their belts and big knives in their boot legs?" He said, "It is necessary to keep order; we have a man for breakfast quite often."

Then we would hear the remark, lots of men out West are made to bite the dust with their boots on; and then, you sabba, or savvy, and many such expressions. Well, we finally got initiated. And the people were very kind to us. We never saw a time when we appreciated our neighbors so much. They were friends in need and in deed.

This country was covered with bunch-grass, flowers, Indians, coyotes, and grasshoppers. A few white people were living along the creeks in little huts. Some were growing a little wheat and others small grain and gardens. Everything was very high priced. Wheat sold for a dollar and a half a bushel. There was scarcely any fruit to be had at any price. When I go through this beautiful valley, now a little less than forty years after, and see wagon loads of delicious fruit going to waste it makes me think of those times.

Well, we went to work; had to rustle, kept at it from early morn till late at night. But we would jump from one thing to another. There seemed to be too many chances. First we would settle on one piece of land, then on another. There were thousands and thousands of acres of good unclaimed land all about us, but people thought none but the sloughs would grow anything. After two or three years of changing about we finally bought eighty acres of land and settled down. Paid eight hundred dollars for it. We gave thirty dollars, a horse, and our only cow to make the first payment. At this time we had two children in our family.

Before we had any wheat to sell it came down to fifty cents per bushel. The country up to this time had been settled mostly by men; only some of them had Indian women for wives. The families that settled this country first were nearly all new married people and a baby came to almost every home in less than two years for a dozen years or more.

One day I went to visit a dear neighbor and I was complaining of hard times and she said, "We have been living on boiled wheat for several days." I believe there were a good many others doing the same thing. Those hard times seemed to bind neighbors close together. Three or four of us would get together and go two or three miles to get some wild gooseberries and elderberries and red haws and fix them up for fruit. They were pretty good when there was nothing better.

I will now mention some of the Indian scares that we had to endure. We had been warned by the newspapers to look out for the Indians, as they were on the war path and had murdered some of the white settlers and had mangled them terribly. So one Sunday the people were holding meeting on Mill Creek in a little school house when a little girl came running in, crying, and said, "The Indians are killing my mama and papa." Some of the men hurried to the house, which was about a mile away, and the young boy preacher got on a horse and away he went as fast as his horse could go to warn the people at their homes that the Indians had broken out. He stopped at our house and asked for a fresh horse, as his was about run down. We did not have any, so he went rushing on and stopping at every house to give the alarm. My husband and several of the neighbor men had gone from home that day. Imagine the scene. We were running from one house to another; each one of us had three or four little children. After about a dozen of us got together we decided to go to a log cabin that was near and wait for the Indians to come. There was one man in the cabin and he was getting ready to shoot out through the cracks between the logs. When a man came from the seat of war and said no one is seriously hurt, it was a drunken row and only one Indian was killed, we all went home and the boy preacher got over his scare and has been long since a good and noted preacher. And the Indian that was supposed to be dead came to life again. Some of the men took him to town and had a trial and the jury sentenced him to wash his face. Well, this is one of the many such scares as some others can remember that are yet living.

I will relate one more incident. At this time there was a saw mill at the head of Mill Creek and there were several families living at the mill. The men had built a fort for the women and children in case the Indians should attack them. One day some men who lived in the valley took their teams and wagons and started to go to the mill, but when they got in the mountains they saw a band of Indians coming down the trail beyond the mill. The men at once stopped, unhitched from their wagons, and jumped on their horses and used the tugs for whips and came down the mountains on double quick and reported to all the people along the road what they had seen, and the people were soon leaving their cabins and running for the brush. And those at the mill saw the Indians coming and they went running to the fort. Some one relating the scene said the men could run faster than the women and children and got into the fort first. Well, the Indians came and were friendly and very much surprised when they saw the people running and said they had been back in the mountains hunting and fishing and did not know that there was any war going on.

The health of a people in a new country is usually good, but we would sometimes get sick. Would hardly dare think of sending for a doctor. There was no money to pay one and there could hardly be one found. But there was a woman who lived in our neighborhood that had a good doctor book. It was Doctor Gunn's work. She went by it in her own family, and the neighbors sent for her. She would take her doctor book under her arm and go to visit the sick. Then they would read and study together and use the simple remedies prescribed in that book and get along pretty well. In that way she got into quite a large practice. She often rode a little blue pony. People would sometimes make the remark, "I think there is someone sick at a certain house. I see the blue pony tied at the gate."