The question has been raised, whether this horse actually made the time reported. _I believe_ he did. Competent white men have measured the course carefully, and several persons kept the time, none of whom marked over ten minutes, while others marked less than nine-fifty.

If any man is sceptical, he can find a chance to leave some money with How-lish-wam-po. The chief don't need it, because he has thousands of dollars _buried_, that once belonged to white men.

But he is human, and will take all that is offered, on the terms Joe Crabb made with him.

If there are real smart sports anywhere who desire a fine band of Indian horses, they have here a chance to obtain them, without stealing. Take your race-horses to Umatilla, and you won't wait long. The probabilities are, that you may be disgusted with the _country very soon_.

For the benefit, it may be, of some of my readers, I would suggest that you have only to lead out the horse you propose running, and name the amount and distance. The Indians will find the horse to match the amount and distance, anywhere from fifty yards to one hundred miles. Don't be tender-hearted if you should win a few hundred ponies. They won't miss them. They only _loan_ them to you to gamble on.

Having a long-standing acquaintance with How-lish-wam-po, as a neighbor, and subsequently as his "high tyee chief," I am authorized to say to Commodore Vanderbilt, Robert Bonner, "Uncle" Harper, Rev. W. H. H. Murray, or any other horse-fancier, clerical or unclerical, that a sufficient forfeit will be deposited by How-lish-wam-po, and his friends, in any bank in Oregon, to defray the expenses of any party who will measure speed with his horse, on his own turf, five and a quarter miles, turning a stake midway the race; said expense to be paid on the condition that the said parties win the race; in which event they can return with ponies enough to overload the Union Pacific Railroad, and make business for the "Erie" for a long time to come; with the proviso that How-lish-wam-po's race-horse is alive and in condition to make the run, as we believe that he is at this present writing, 1874.

Parties seeking investments of the kind will receive prompt attention by addressing How-lish-wam-po, chief of Cayuse, Umatilla Reservation, Oregon, _care Joe Crabb, Esq._

This latter gentleman has been hunting this kind of a contract, in behalf of How-lish-wam-po, for several months, _unsuccessfully_.

The Umatilla Indians rear horses by the thousands, never feeding or stabling, but always herding them, when the owner has enough to justify the expense of hiring an Indian herder. The horses run in bands of fifty to one hundred, and seldom mix to any considerable extent. If however, there should be several bands corralled together, the master-horse of each band soon separates them. When turned out on the plains they are very exacting, and many a battle is fought by these long-maned captains, in defence, or to prevent the capture, by the others, of some one of their own.

Cayuse horses are small, from twelve to fifteen hands high; are of every shade of color, and many of them white or spotted, bald-faced, white-legged and gla.s.s-eyed. They are spirited, though easily broken to the saddle or harness. As saddle-horses they are far superior to the common American horse, and for speed and power of endurance they have no equals.

The Indians are accurate judges of the value of their animals and have strong attachments for them; seldom disposing of a favorite except in case of real necessity.

The small scurvy ponies are sold in large numbers, for prices ranging from five to twenty dollars each. A medium-sized saddle-horse sells for about forty dollars; a first-rate horse, one hundred dollars; and if a well-tried animal that can make one hundred miles one day, and repeat it the next, one hundred and fifty dollars.

The small, low-priced ponies are capable of carrying a common man all day long, without spur or whip. They are bought by white men for children's use, and for ladies' palfreys. They are docile, tractable, and fond of being petted. I know a small white pony, with long mane, and not more than forty inches in height, that was taught many tricks,--going through the hotel dining-room, kitchen, and parlor; sometimes following his little mistress upstairs; lying down and playing dead horse, kneeling for prayers, asking for sugar, by signs; in fact,--a fine pet. And yet the little fellow would canter off mile after mile with his mistress.

Major Barnhart, of Umatilla, owned a small Cayuse, about thirteen hands high, that would gallop to the Columbia river, thirty-one miles, in two hours, with a man on his back, and come back again at the same gait.

I once made an investment of five dollars in an unbroken pony, paid an Indian one dollar to ride her a few minutes, took her home and gave her to a little daughter, who named her "Cinderella." After a few days'

petting, she often mounted and rode her fearlessly.

This one was a bright bay, with a small star in the forehead, with long mane extending below the neck, a foretop reaching down to its nose.

The Indians teach their horses, by kindness, to be very gentle. Often on the visits which they make to old homes, a little pic-i-ni-ne (child) is securely fastened to the Indian saddle, and the horse is turned loose with the band.

On all their journeys they drive bands of ponies, presenting a grotesque scene: horses of all ages, sizes, and colors; some of them loaded with camp equipage, including cooking arrangements, tin pans, kettles, baskets; also bedding of blankets, skins of animals; always the rush matting to cover the poles of the lodge, and going pell-mell, trotting or galloping.

The women are chief managers, packing and driving the horses.

An Indian woman's outfit for horseback riding is a saddle with two pommels, one in front, the other in the rear, and about eight inches high.

The saddles are elaborately mounted with covers of dressed elk-skins, trimmed profusely with beads, while the lower portion is cut into a fringe, sometimes long enough to reach the ground.

These people seldom use a bridle, but, instead, a small rope, made of horsehair, in the making of which they display great taste. It is fastened with a double loop, around the horse's lower jaw. They carry, as an ornament, a whip, differing from ladies' riding-whips in this, that the Indian woman's whip is made of a stick twelve inches long, with a string attached to the _small_ end, to secure it to the wrist. The other, or larger end, is bored to a depth of a few inches, and in the hole is inserted two thongs of dressed elk-skin, or leather, two inches wide and twenty in length.

The Indian woman is last to leave camp in the morning, and has, perhaps, other reasons, than her duties as drudge, to detain her; for she is a woman, and depends somewhat on her personal appearance especially if she is unmarried. If, however, she is married, she don't care much more about her appearance than other married women, unless, indeed, she may have hopes of being a widow some day. Then she don't do more than other folks we often see, who wish to become widows, said wish being expressed by feathers, and paint on the face and hair.

However, these Umatilla Indian maidens, who have not abandoned the savage habits of their people, are proud and dressy, and they carry with them, as do the young men, looking-gla.s.ses, and pomatums, the latter made of deer's tallow or bear's grease.

They also, I mean young people especially, carry red paints. Take, for ill.u.s.tration, a young Indian maiden of Chief Homli's band, when on the annual visit to Grand Round valley.

Before leaving camp she besmears her hair with tallow and red paint, and her cheeks with the latter. Her frock, made loose, without corset or stays, is richly embroidered with gay-colored ribbons and beads, and rings of huge size, with bracelets on her wrists and arms.

Then suppose you see her mount a gayly caparisoned horse, from the right-hand side, climbing up with one foot over the high saddle, sitting astride, and, without requiring a young gent to hold the horse, place her beaded-moccasined feet in the stirrups, and, drawing up the parti-colored hair rope, dash off at what some folks would call breakneck speed, to join the caravan.

No young man had ever caught up her horse from the prairie, much less saddled it. But, on the other hand, she has probably brought up and saddled for her father, brother, or friend, a horse and prepared it for the master's use.

The young men who are peers of this girl do not wait to see her mounted and then bear her company. Half an hour before, they had thrown themselves on prancing steeds, and with painted cheeks, hair flowing, embellished with feathers, and necklaces of bears' claws, and bra.s.s rings, and most prominent of all, a looking-gla.s.s, suspended by a string around the neck.

The women manage the train and unpack the horses, make the lodge in which to camp, while their masters ride along carelessly, and stop to talk with travellers whom they meet; or it may be dismount at some way-side house and wait until it is time to start for the camp, where the lodge is built for the night.

There are, however, Indian men who are servants, and these a.s.sist the women.

When the site of the camp is reached, our young squaw dismounts, and, throwing off her fine clothes, goes to work in earnest, preparing the evening meal, while the gay young men, and the old ones, too, lounge and smoke unconcerned.

Remember, I am speaking now of Homli's band of the Walla-Wallas. There are Christianized Indians on Umatilla Reservation, that have left behind them their primitive habits,--men of intelligence, whose credit is good for any reasonable amount in business transactions, and who occupy houses like civilized people. But the major portion are still wrapped in blankets, and thoroughly attached to the old customs and habits of their ancestors. They have a magnificent country, and are surrounded by enterprising white men, who would make this land of the Umatilla the most beautiful on the Pacific coast.

It may be many years before these people will consent to remove. In one sense it does seem to be a wrong, that so many prosperous homes as this should afford, must be unoccupied.

In another sense it is right, at least in that those who live upon it now are the lawful owners, and therefore have a right to raise horses on land that is worth five, ten, and twenty dollars per acre, if they choose. So long as they adhere to their old ways, no improvements may be expected.

They will continue to raise horses and cattle, to drink whiskey and gamble, becoming more and more demoralized year by year; and in the mean time vicious white men will impose on them, often provoking quarrels, until some political change is made in the affairs of the Government, and the present humane policy toward them will be abandoned, and then their land will become the spoils of the white man. It were better for these people that they had a home somewhere out of the line of travel and commerce; or, at least, those who continually reject civilization. It is not to the disadvantage of those whose hearts are changed that they should remain. While the Government protects them they will enjoy the advantage of intercourse with business men. With those, however, who do not evince a willingness to become civilized, it is only a question of time, when they will waste away, and finally lose the grand patrimony they now possess.

I do not mean that it will ever be taken by force of arms, for the sentiments of justice and right are too deeply seated in the hearts and lives of the people of the frontier to permit any unjustifiable act of this kind to be committed; but designing men will, as they have ever done, involve good citizens in difficulties with Indians, who, so long as they cling to their superst.i.tious religion, will retaliate, shouting "blood for blood;" and then the cry of extermination will be extorted from good men, who do not and cannot understand or recognize this unjust mode of redress.

Under the treaty with these Indians, they are to enjoy the privilege of hunting and grazing on the public domain in common with citizens; but this right is scarcely acknowledged by the settlers of places they visit, under the treaty.

CHAPTER XIV.

SNAKE WAR--FIGHTING THE DEVIL WITH FIRE.

The southwestern portion of Oregon is a vast plain, whose general alt.i.tude is nearly four thousand feet above the level of the sea. A greater part of it is an uninhabited wilderness of sage-brush desert. A few hundred Indians have held it for generations, except the narrow belts of arable lands along the streams. There, Indians are commonly called "Snakes,"

deriving the name from the princ.i.p.al river of the country.

The overland route to Oregon traverses this region for hundreds of miles.

Many years ago the emigrants became engaged in a war with the few scattering bands of Indians along the route, and for many years hostilities continued. The origin of the first trouble is not known by white man's authority. The Indian story is to the effect that white men began it to recover stock, which they, the Indians, had purchased from other tribes. This may be correct, and may not; but that a relentless war was carried on for years there is no doubt, and, that in the aggregate, the Indians got the better of it.

The great overland route to the mining regions of Idaho in early days pa.s.sed through this hostile country. Many valuable lives were lost, and a great many hundreds of horses, mules, and cattle were stolen. The Snakes were daring enemies, and brave fellows on the warpath, successful in making reprisals, and, having nothing but their lives to lose, were bold and audacious scouts. They kept a frontier line of several hundred miles in length in constant alarm. Life was unsafe even within the lines of settlement.

Owyhee-Idaho country was one of the b.l.o.o.d.y battle-grounds, the Indians waylaying travellers along the roads, and from cover of sage-brush, or ledge of rocks, firing on them, and, in several instances, attacking stages loaded with pa.s.sengers. At one time the stage was fired into on the road between Boise City and Silver City. The driver--Charley Winslow--and four pa.s.sengers were killed and scalped. At another time, within ten miles of a mining town of two thousand inhabitants, Nathan Dixon, the driver of a stage-coach, was shot through the body and fell in the boot of the stage, a pa.s.senger by his side taking the lines and driving the stage-load of pa.s.sengers out of danger. Poor "Nate!"--he paid the penalty of too brave a heart. He had been offered an escort at the station but one mile away, and declined it, saying, "He was not made to be killed by Indians."

H. C. Scott, a ranchman living on Burnt river, Oregon, with his family, consisting of a wife and two children, went in a two-horse wagon to visit a neighbor two miles away. On their return they were fired on by Snake Indians. Mr. Scott received his death-wound; his wife was also shot through the body, but with heroic coolness took the lines of the team, and drove home, with her murdered husband struggling in death on the floor of the wagon, his blood sprinkling her children and herself. She lived but a few hours and was buried with him. The children were unharmed, although several volleys were discharged after the flying team and its load.

On the road from "The Dalles" to Canon city many skirmishes were had with these Indians. On one occasion they attacked the stage carrying pa.s.sengers and the United States mail. The driver, Mr. Wheeler, was shot with a slug cut from an iron rod that had been used to secure the tail-board of a freight-wagon. The slug pa.s.sed through his face, carrying with it several teeth from both sides of his upper jaw. Strange to relate, he drove his team out of further danger.

Not unfrequently freighters would lose the stock of entire trains, numbering scores of animals. Packers, too, lost their mule-trains. Lone hors.e.m.e.n were cut off, and murder, blood and theft reigned supreme in the several routes through the "Snake country."

A party of eighty-four Chinamen were killed while en route to the mines of Idaho. Helpless, unarmed Chinamen, they are game for the savage red men, and the n.o.ble-hearted white men also. One man, commenting on this occurrence, remarked that, "they had no business to be Chinamen. The more the Indians killed, the better." Instances of Indian butchery might be multiplied.