CHAPTER IV

Many Indians on Galloping HorsesAN INDIAN WELCOME.

Dr. Whitman and his two Indian boys joined the fur company for escort on its return trip. While on the plains a scourge of cholera broke out, and the Doctor's skill and his untiring work to save the lives of the men, won all their hearts, and they united in giving him a cordial invitation to join them in the spring, upon their annual visit to Green River. This was gladly accepted, as such an escort was a necessity in that day. The Doctor and his two Indian aids reached Rushville, New York, late on a Saturday night in November, 1835. His return was unexpected, and his first appearance to his friends was when he marched up the aisle of the church with his Indian boys, as they sang the opening hymn. His good old mother was so astonished that she spoke right out in meeting, "If there ain't Mark Whitman!" It is easy to conceive that such an incident called out a wide interest and inquiry, which was just what the Doctor desired, enthused as he was himself in the importance of the work before him. The Doctor had taken great pains all summer to instruct his Indian boys in English, and they proved apt pupils. He put them at once in school, where they made rapid progress, and were general favorites.Never was the enthusiastic young Doctor more active than in the fall and winter months in making his preparations. The American Board had resolved to establish a mission in Oregon, and they notified him that they preferred to send married men into the missionary field. This was unexpected but welcome news to Whitman, and was in accordance with the last advice from Dr. Parker: "Bring with you a good wife." He had already in his own mind made his selection in the person of Miss Narcissa Prentice, a daughter of Judge Prentice, of Angelica, New York, but owing to the privations and perils of the journey, and the isolated life among savages, he had hesitated to ask her to make such sacrifice. One can easily imagine his happiness, when upon fully explaining all, he found her with a courage equal to his own, and an abounding enthusiasm for the prospective work. After a time the clear-headed men of the Board, doubtless guided by their clearer-headed wives, raised a point, and said, upon such an expedition, so full of care and responsibility and danger, it would not do to send a woman unless accompanied by another of her sex. Here was a new dilemma. Time was passing, and candidates for such perils were not plentiful. The day of the wedding was postponed, and Whitman endeavored to meet the requirements. He finally heard ofDr. Spalding and his newly wedded wife, who were en route to the Osage Indian Mission. He learned their proposed route and set out to find them. Whether through chance or Providence, he succeeded. It was a cold day and a driving snow, when in his sleigh he sighted them ahead, after a long chase. When in hallooing distance he shouted, "Ship ahoy, you are wanted for Oregon!" Hearing the cheery, pleasant voice, they halted, Whitman driving his sleigh by the side of theirs, and he at once bounded into the subject of which he was full. Dr. Spalding proposed that they go to the hotel in the town just ahead, where they could talk the matter over without freezing. By a glowing fire Dr. Whitman retold the story of the Flatheads, about whom they had read; of his journey to the Far West to verify the facts, and the result, and of the two Indian boys ready to escort them to Oregon, where they would meet with an enthusiastic reception such as he and Dr. Parker had received on Green River. Whitman was often called "The Silent Man," but when aroused and enthused, he was an eloquent pleader. And with all at stake, as in this instance, he was doubtless at his best. They listened with profound attention. Mrs. Spalding was an educated woman, of great decision of character, an earnest "Christian," and a firm believer in a power higher than herselfready to guide her in life's duties. They were silent for a moment, when she arose and said, "I desire a few moments to myself for prayer," and retired to her room. The two men sat by the fire canvassing all the dangers of the expedition and the hopefulness of the outlook. Dr. Spalding afterward wrote, in speaking of the meeting, "I do not think she was gone from us more than ten minutes before she returned, her face all aglow with happiness and enthusiasm, and said, 'Yes, we will go to Oregon!'" He continues, "I gently expostulated, 'My dear, we must consider your health in such a hazardous undertaking.' She replied, in the words, 'Go ye into all the world and preach the Gospel to every creature, there is no exception made for ill health.' And no words of mine could alter her determination." Mrs. Spalding had been a semi-invalid for months, but her faith and Christian courage were strong. It was her prompt decision which decided the fate of the Oregon mission, of the four notable characters, and we may add, the fate of questions so great and grave to the nation, as to be unfathomable by man's wisdom.

The wedding day was again fixed. In this case there was more than usual interest in the bride, for her friends all knew of her destination.The late Mrs. H. P. Jackson, of Oberlin, Ohio, sister of the bride, has told me in letters, of the events of the pleasant occasion. The two Indian boys, dressed in their best, were guests of honor. Dr. Whitman introduced them to his wife, and says Mrs. Jackson, "When he told them she would go with them to their far-away home in Oregon, and teach them, they did not try to conceal their delight."

Narcissa Prentice was the eldest daughter of Judge Prentice, an influential, earnest Christian man, then residing in Angelica, New York. The daughter was well educated, loved for her womanly qualities and famed in all the country around for the sweetness of her voice. She was the leader of the church choir of the village, and the people crowded the building the evening before their departure to bid the little party a good by and give them a blessing. After a good social time, the minister, the Rev. Dr. Hull, called the meeting to order, and gave out the old familiar hymn:

"Yes, my native land, I love thee,All thy scenes I love them well;Friends, connections, happy country,Can I bid you all farewell?" Etc.

The late Martha J. Lamb, editor of the "Magazine of American History," who wrote the report of the farewell gathering, says:

"The great audience joined in singing the opening stanzas, but soon they began to drop out by ones and scores, and sobs were heard all over the audience. The last stanza was sung by one voice alone in a clear, sweet soprano, and not a faulty note; it was the voice of Narcissa Whitman."

It was the last time her old friends heard the sweet voice, for daylight found them braving the winter storm on their way to Oregon.

The late Eli G. Coe, of Illinois, then a young man, drove them in his sleigh to the mountains, en route to Pittsburg, where they were to take boat for St. Louis. He has given me a delightful sketch of the journey, upon which he marks Whitman "The Silent Man, ever thoughtful of all his guests," and Mrs. Whitman, "The lovely little woman who was the life of the company, who often dispelled gloom, and made all forget the winter cold, by a song of cheer."

Their route was from Pittsburg down the Ohio River to the Mississippi up to St. Louis, thence up the Missouri River to near where Fort Leavenworth now stands. The journey had no mishaps until they reached "The Big Muddy," as the Missouri has long been called. Those who navigated it half and three-quarters of a century ago, will never forget the journey. It was sand bars on sand bars, forever shifting with each freshet, and snags galore! The engineer stood constantly at his lever, to answer the bell, a leadsman stoodin the bow casting a lead and calling in loud, singsong the depth of water, until suddenly, like an electric shock, came the sharp, "five feet scant," and the bell rang, and the wheels reversed with a suddenness that aroused every one, until he got used to it. They were hung on snags, "hard aground" on sand bars, and as a consequence were four or five days behind the time at Leavenworth.

The reader will recollect that the fur-traders had given Dr. Whitman a cordial invitation to join them in the spring, and he was impatient but helpless in the delay. To the great discomfiture of the missionaries upon reaching the landing, they learned that the fur company had left four days before. What added to Whitman's trouble was, that at St. Louis he had been told he could get all the provisions he lacked at the fort, and upon inquiry, found nearly everything sold, and that he would have to start in poorly equipped with provisions, without a hope of being able to add to his stock, except by chance and courtesy of the traders.

This was the first great test of the courage of Dr. Whitman. Dr. Spalding was outspoken, "We must turn back and never think of such madness as to brave a journey among savages without an escort." Whitman said little, but rapidly made his preparation, simply declaring, "We will go on." Mrs. Spalding nobly seconded Whitman, and said,"I have started for Oregon, and to Oregon I will go or leave my body upon the plains." Mrs. Whitman was alike cheerful. So soon as harness could be adjusted, the loads packed, and the cattle rounded up, the man of courage gave the order, and the little train began to move through the deep mud of the Missouri River bottoms. We learned after that the fur company waited one day over the stipulated time. But they had in some way learned at St. Louis that the Doctor was going to bring with him some American women for the journey, something never heard of before, and as they were expecting to have to fight their way at times, they did not care for such encumbrances, anxious as they were to have the services of the good Doctor. Thus it was a gloomy start for the brave little company. Dr. Whitman had made ample preparation for the comfort of the women in a spring-wagon, "the brides' wagon," fitted up with various little comforts and a protection in every storm. But it is doubtful whether two cultivated American brides before, or since, ever made so memorable a wedding journey. The party consisted of the two brides and their husbands, Dr. W. H. Gray, two teamsters, and the two Indian boys. We may add that somewhere in the Sioux country the boys picked up three other Nez Perces friends; one of them, Samuel, was added permanently to the company.Mrs. Whitman writes, "When the boys get together they make a great chattering."

They were in an Indian country from the first day's start, and met great numbers of savages, out on their hunts, many moving to new camps, and some on the war-path. At no time were the missionaries molested, but on the contrary, were treated with great courtesy, and as Mrs. Whitman wrote, "They seemed greatly surprised to see white women in the party." The Indian boys were soon in their element, and of inestimable value; they could swim the rivers like ducks, and took all the care of the loose stock, and were wise in the ways of plains' life. They could explain to any suspicious Indians the coming of "the great medicine men" they were taking to their people, and in a hundred ways were helpers to the little company. Mrs. Whitman, from the outset, rode on horseback with her husband, only occasionally resting in the wagon, and for company to Mrs. Spalding, who was yet an invalid.

We make no pretense of writing a continued narrative of the journey, but just enough to catch its spirit. We have seen in it a dreary and discouraged start, and none but a hero with heroines to encourage him would have entered upon it. They had now been a whole month on the way making forced marches, the trail of the fur-tradersgetting fresher every day, until finally hearing they were in camp on Loupe Fork, the wagons pushed on and joined them. The Doctor and Mrs. Whitman were behind helping to hurry forward the loose stock. Finally, late at night, the Indian boys begged the Doctor and his wife to ride on to camp and leave them to drive the stock in at daylight. But they refused to leave them. Picketing their horses out to graze, then with their saddles for pillows, they lay upon the warm ground looking up at the stars and slept. At daylight they rode into camp and were courteously received and praised as "a plucky set."

The two American women, who had so alarmed the old plainsmen as a burden and an encumbrance, by their tact and kindness soon won them as friends, and nothing was left undone that the rough old fellows could do for their comfort. They had succeeded so admirably in passing safely for a month alone through the Indian country, that they began to have confidence in themselves. But they learned that they had not yet reached the point of real danger, and were glad to be protected by such a stalwart troop. The Indians had a great respect for these pioneer traders, who were veterans of the plains and splendidly armed. The greatest anxiety was for the safety of their stock at night, when picketed out to graze.The Indians especially coveted the oxen and cows, which required careful guarding to prevent stampeding. Cattle when frightened at night lose all sense, breaking away and running as long as they can stand, becoming easy prey for the savages, while horses and mules almost invariably break for the tents and wagons, and the company of men.

Camp at night is always made by driving the wagons in a circle, with tents pitched inside. The wagons make a protection from an enemy, and all their contents are in easy reach.

The year 1836 was a peaceable year among the Indians, and the buffalo and other game was so plentiful as to make small temptation for Indian depredation upon the white man's stock during this portion of the journey, but we may add they cast longing eyes at all times upon every good horse the white man rode.

In the Buffalo Country

The company had now reached the buffalo country, and soon began to see great herds containing thousands, and even tens of thousands. Every spring the buffalo journeyed northward to the valleys and plains to feed on the rich grasses. It is a feast occasion, one of the greatest the Indian enjoys. Tribes travel four and five hundred milesfrom their homes to meet the buffalo, and lay in a supply of dried meat, calf skins, and robes, and never forgetting to feast for a month while laying up winter stores. It is a novel and exhilarating sight to view the annual Indian migration to meet these noble wild cattle of the plains—the whole tribe, old and young, dogs and loose horses, with all their movable worldly goods brought with them packed on poles drawn by ponies. They settle down in the little valleys near springs, or along running waters, and arrange for work in advance with as much system as the farmer in the spring plows and sows. The buffalo country has generally, by mutual consent, been regarded as "peace grounds," but the desire for revenge has many times made it the scene of bloody contests and massacres. Hunting buffalo in those days, either by the Indians or white men, was not sport, but butchery. They were in such immense herds that, when running from their enemies, those in the rear could not get out of the way, and were an easy prey to any kind of weapon of death. The buffalo bull is the most gallant and noble among animals. On the march he leads, brings up the rear, and marches on the flanks, while all the cows and calves are kept in the center of the herd and protected from the bands of wolves, mountain-lions, and bears which linger around ready to devour the straying members of the herd. By a wonderful provisionof nature, the buffalo calves are practically all of the same age, so that a herd in the long summer outing is not much detained upon its way, for the little one trots gayly beside its mother in a few hours. But while the little fellows are thus comparatively helpless, those who have witnessed the scene, bear testimony to the courage of the great, strong-necked, sharp-horned bulls who will attack a grizzly or a whole pack of wolves, or a mountain-lion regardless of his own danger. At such times he is even at night a sleepless, faithful picket ever on duty. He walks backward and forward along his picketed line like a trained soldier, and when the ground is wet, he treads a deep path in the sod, and the picket line of a sleeping herd can easily be traced long afterward, and often is referred to as "Indian trails." One would suppose that such nobility would command respect. But it never did. Even such explorers and writers as Parkman and his men never seem to have enjoyed the day unless, in addition to the calves they killed for food, they were able to tell of the slaughter of many "savage old bulls." At the time of which I write buffalo were seen by the million. Fourteen years later, when the writer visited the same region, they could be seen in single herds covering a thousand acres. When frightened and running, they were turned from their course with the greatest difficulty.

A train on the trail they were crossing was only safe in halting and allowing it to pass. The pressure from the rear was so great that the front could not halt. Some of the old plainsmen told of "a tenderfoot's" experience, who was going to have some "rare sport, and his pick of an entire bunch." He observed a large herd quietly grazing and saw by making a detour, up a dry ravine, where he would be hidden from view, he could get immediately in their front. He succeeded, and tying his mule behind him, concealed himself in the edge of some bushes upon the bank of the creek. He did not have long to wait, something in the rear frightened the herd and it began to come directly toward him. As soon as in reach, he began to fire and kill. It would break the ranks for an instant only, and he at once saw death impending, as there was not a tree large enough to climb. He had shot until his gun was hot, but all in vain. Just then his old mule tied in the bushes opened up his musical "honk, honk," such as only a thoroughly frightened mule can utter, and the whole herd opened right and left, and the man was saved.

Some have expressed a wonder that these noble animals, in such myriads, should so soon have disappeared. It is easily seen, in the fact of the improved firearms used by the Indians, and that they killed, for food, skins for clothing, androbes for the market, only the cows and calves. They selected only the choice cuts of the meat, and left the great bodies for the wolves and other varments. They could tan only the skins of cows and calves for clothing and for tepee covers. It was a sickening sight to pass over the place of slaughter, and thus see hundreds of bodies, with only tongues and choice cuts and skins taken. American hunters were equally sacrificial. Half a century later the writer rode over the same land and saw Indians, all across the region, with carts and pack ponies gathering up bones of the buffalo. Passing stations along the Great Northern and Northern Pacific railroads, one passes ricks of bones half a mile long on each side, and as high as the tops of the cars, waiting for shipment East as fertilizers, and horn handles for knives and other uses in the arts. Only two living wild herds of buffalo are now reported, one small one in Texas, and one carefully protected by the government in Yellowstone Park. It would have been wise and humane had they been protected sooner by the strong arm of the law.

But it was the great good fortune to our missionaries to meet the buffalo herds. They started out poorly provided, and would soon have been in distress, for they had added three Nez Perces Indian boys to their company, and thepure air and exercise upon the plains provokes great appetites. It was equally good for the fur-traders, who had calculated upon the event. So the whole train stopped and began to kill and "jerk" meat. The Indian boys were in their element and veterans in the business, and laid in bountiful supplies. While it is fresh and juicy few animals furnish more nutritious food. A buffalo porterhouse steak, cooked over coals at the end of a forked stick, when the thermometer of appetite is up to "one hundred degrees in the shade," is a royal feast to be remembered. If however kept up long enough, the good old-fashioned pig with lean and fat strips on his ribs, is quite a relief. But the dried meat was the staple food of the little company from that time on. Mrs. Whitman cheerfully and jokingly writes in her diary, "We have dried buffalo meat and tea for breakfast, and tea and jerked buffalo for supper, but the Doctor has a different way of cooking each piece to give variety to the entertainment."

Mrs. Whitman kept carefully a daily diary of events of travel, which was luckily preserved, and passed into the hands of her sister, Mrs. Jackson, of Oberlin, Ohio, which I have been permitted to read and from which have copious selections in my larger work, "How Marcus Whitman Saved Oregon," after which it was passed on to the Whitman CollegeLibrary, where it is preserved as a precious treasure. The notable feature of this diary is its self-sacrificing spirit and good cheer. The scorching sun, the clouds of alkaline dust that stung the eyes and throat, the impure water they were compelled to use, the myriads of mosquitoes and buffalo gnats, all of which the author so well remembers as the dreariest things encountered in a long life, did not daunt the spirit of this delicate little woman. Not a word of complaint can be found in that daily diary, which was never written for the public eye, or for effect. The nearest to it was once, after being without flour or bread for weeks, she writes, "O for a few crusts of mother's bread; girls, don't waste the bread in the old home!" Men and women are all human, and I have no desire to picture my characters as perfect beings. They doubtless had their faults, but none who have not experienced some of the difficulties of that pioneer band, who, tired and worn with travel, sought sleep while hungry (after shaking out their blankets to be sure no snakes were within them), can censure. I repeat, it takes such experience to fully appreciate the heroism and unselfishness of such consecrated lives.

The old pioneers were wise geographers and surveyors. There were two things necessary for life upon the plains, viz., water and grass. Theystudied their maps and saw the Platte, North and South Forks, reaching northward and westward. So they made their trails along the banks, cutting off bends, avoiding impossible sloughs and hills, but keeping an eye upon the river in the distance, and ever working nearer to it when a detour had been made. The two Plattes thus furnish supplies for from five to six hundred miles. Travellers struck across the divide for the Sweetwater and its tributaries, until the foot of the Rockies is reached.

As the eyes of our travelers had rested for a month upon the snow-covered peaks of the great stony mountains, one can imagine it was a day of rejoicing when they began the ascent. The trail up "the South Pass" was so easy a grade that the horses and cattle scarcely felt the strain. One looking at it would surmise that this break in the great mountain was not an accident, but it was left for a great highway between the oceans, to make one family, and a United Nation. Striking mountains, after the long dreary summer upon the alkaline plains, hard as mountain-climbing is, was yet a change to be appreciated. I recollect distinctly, it turned our little company of sturdy men (a few years later) into rollicking boys who whooped and sang to get the echoes, and rolled great stones, until their arms ached, crushing down the mountain-side.

Bowing in ThanksPACIFIC SPRING—JULY 4, 1835

A Notable Celebration

Here on the top of the Rockies, or just beyond the summit, is a spring appropriately named "The Pacific Spring," for its pure, ice-cold water bubbles up and in a silvery stream winds its way westward. It is a beauty spot as the author well remembers. A little valley upon the mountains, covered with grass and wild flowers, with grand views of valleys and mountains reaching farther away than the eye can follow. Here the missionaries halted and allowed the fur-traders to pass on. It was the Fourth Day of July, a day ever memorable in the mind of every patriotic American. True they were but missionaries, and far from home and friends, but they were home-lovers and patriots. So spreading their blankets upon the bunch grass, they brought out the American flag, unfurled it, and with prayer and song dedicated the fair land thence to the Pacific, to God and the Union. It was a prayer and song which after history proved a prophecy; and one in which the actors in this little celebration took so brave a part as to deserve their names enrolled among the nation's royal benefactors. God rules the world, and all history shows that he oftenest leaves the great and strong, and takes the weak and humble to accomplish his grand purposes. Eternity will reveal whether that dedicationwas one of the agencies which brought the after grand results. Certain it was, that it was the agency of Dr. Whitman and his heroism in carrying out that vow years after, and stirred up a spirit never before experienced, and aroused the nation to action.

No stage could have been grander for such a celebration. Behind were the long stretches of the great plains, and still beyond the civilization of the continent, the hope of the Christian world; while before was the wilderness in all its wildness, reaching to the Pacific.

The Rockies towered about them, glittering in the sunshine! The craggy peaks of the Wind River mountains loomed up in the north, with the Coast Range visible, like floating clouds in the far west. The luxurious grass, the towering pines, and flowers that perfumed the air, made the spot beautiful, while the history of the event is a fit theme for a grand national epic or painting. There have been many historic celebrations of the nation's birth, some upon battle-fields where victory perched upon the "the banner of beauty and glory," but none more impressive than when upon that mountain top, in 1836, Mrs. Whitman's musical voice echoed from the rocks and trees,

"The star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave,O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave."

They had now entered upon the scenic stage of their journey, and it was a delightful change from the dead levels of the plains. They luxuriated in the pure ice-cold water, and magnificent scenery, but it was well for them that they knew none of the weary climbs ahead. We will not pause to note events from thence to Green River.

There they met with exciting and interesting savage life in all its realities. They found at "the rendezvous" two thousand Indians in camp, waiting for the coming of the traders. A thousand or more were from the Oregon country, and among them friends and relatives of the Indian boys, who had come the long distance to meet and welcome them, as well as to trade. They gave the boys a royal greeting, as they regarded them as heroes and great travelers. They were proud of their accomplishments in speaking like the "Bostons," and when the missionaries vouched for their earnest, faithful services, the Indians were proud of their boys. Here they stayed for nearly two weeks waiting for the completion of the trading. The Indians regarded the missionaries as their guests, and taxed themselves to the utmost to amuse them by wild games and feats of horsemanship and mimic battles. They scoured the hills and woods for game, brought fish from the river, and seemed to think even that not doing enough. They at alltimes treated "the white squaws" with the greatest courtesy. Mrs. Whitman marks this in her diary. She says:

"One of the chiefs brought his wife to our tent, and taking off his cap and bowing gracefully, introduced her as politely as any civilized man. Such encourages me to believe that much can be done for these poor people, and I long to be at work."

"Old Click-Click-Clackety-Clackety," the Historic Wagon. Breaking Camps and its Incidents, and the End of the Journey.

Breaking camp at Green River was a noisy and gleeful occasion. Half-starved Indian ponies, when they have rested a few weeks, generally rebel when packs are cinched with a "diamond hitch" around their well-marked ribs. Upon this occasion amusement was diversified and enjoyable, even to the actors. But both Indians and traders were no novices in such business, and soon the companies bade good by to each other and started along the trails to their widely scattered homes. It was the great exciting social event of Indian life, this distant visit to trade. The Indians there met friends and relatives, exchanged gossip, gathered the few luxuries and necessaries of life for the year to come. They brought with them squaws and some of their children, and enjoyed their outing in their savage way as much as the élite do the seashore or Saratoga, and judging of both, one would say they had more fun. The Oregon Indians were all anxious to be escorts to "theBoston teachers." There were two intelligent traders from Oregon, Messrs. McKay and McLeod, who offered escort to the little company, which was gladly accepted, and they were of invaluable service in that most difficult portion of the journey. The faithful Indian boys, however, held their places of honor and trust to the last. Mrs. Spalding had for some time been on horseback, and enjoyed it more than the wagon, traversing the rocky roads. There was no longer need of two wagons, and one was left at the rendezvous; but "the brides' wagon" pulled out with the pack-train. My young readers may think it an uninteresting object to write about, but they must remember it is "the brides' wagon," fitted up with all the little accommodations for the first two white women who braved the dangerous journey across the great stony mountains to the Pacific. True, it was battered and worn, dust and mud and storms had robbed it of style. It is well for those who ride in palace cars and whizzing 'autos to remember the days of their great grandfathers and grandmothers, who, amid privations and perils, with the parting blessings of Puritan homes, pulled across the Alleghanies in rough wagons and hewed out homes, and built this great empire of the Middle West. The more often we remember the heroines of the past the more we will enjoy this grandestinheritance of the present ever left to any people. But there was more than sentiment to this wagon as we shall see later on. It figuratively blazed the way, and "marked a wagon-road to the Columbia," and years after silenced the eloquence of America's greatest orator!

The battered old wagon was a source of amusement to the Indians, who rode in troops by its side to see the wheels go round, and hear its clatter. Especially was it a novelty to the younger Indians, who at once named it "Old Click-Click-Clackety-Clackety." There was a plain wagon-road from the Missouri to Green River, and from thence to Fort Hall—there it stopped. The royal owners of Oregon had long before prophesied and decreed, "there would never be a wagon-road to the Columbia!" They did not want one.

Righting a tipping wagonTHE RUGGED TRAIL TO OREGON.

The company reached Fort Hall safely, which was an outpost of the English Company, and only a pack trail led westward to the Columbia. Captain Grant, in command of the post, knew his business, and that was never to allow a wagon to go beyond Fort Hall. He at once told the company of the dangers and perils of the journey, of the impracticability of hauling a wagon. If tried it would so detain them that they would be caught in the snows upon the mountains and perish. His earnestness and arguments were such that he convincedmost of them, who favored abandoning the wagon. Even Mrs. Whitman joined others in the entreaty to Dr. Whitman to leave the wagon and move on. "The Silent Man" said little, but went on with his preparations, and when the pack-train moved out, "Old Click-Click-Clackety-Clackety" clacked in the rear as usual. The real facts are, that Captain Grant had scarcely overstated the dangers and difficulties of the undertaking. From the day they left Fort Hall until the memorable baptism of the wagon in Snake River, the old wagon is one of the constant themes of Mrs. Whitman's diary. We read, "Husband had a tedious time with the wagon to-day. It got stuck in a creek and he had to wade to get it out. After that in going up the mountain the wagon upset twice." She describes the steep up and down mountain trails where at times the mules had to be unhitched and the wagon lowered with ropes (as the writer a few years later was compelled to do). She adds, "I wondered that the wagon was not turning somersaults all the time. It is not grateful to my feelings to see him wearing himself out with such fatigue. All the mountain part of the way he has walked in laborious attempts to take the wagon." About one week later Mrs. Whitman writes, gleefully, "The axletree of the wagon broke to-day. I was a little rejoiced, for we are in hopes it will now be left."She adds, in her next note, "Our rejoicing was in vain; they have made the wagon into a cart with the back wheels, and lashed the front wheels to the sides, determined to take it through in some shape or other." "Worse yet" (she writes a week later), "The hills are so steep and rocky, husband thinks it best to lighten the load as much as possible, and haul nothing but the wheels, leaving the box and the trunk!" What do you think of that, my girl readers? The brides' trunk, that came from the far-away home, with all its mementoes and tender memories to be sacrificed, and "only the wheels" taken! But the gallant McLeod solved the problem and ordered the trunk packed on one of his mules, and it made the journey safely, and the old wagon made into a cart, but its wheels and every iron sacredly preserved, was still a wagon; and under a power impressed upon one brave soul it moved on its great way, marking a wagon-road and a highway between the oceans. Those may smile who will, but they do not think deep, nor do they estimate how small and seemingly insignificant events shape the greatest events in a personal, and even national, life.

The last note of Mrs. Whitman's diary referring to the wagon says:

"August 13. We have just crossed the Snake River, the packs were removed from the ponies and placed on the tallesthorses, while two of the highest were selected for Mrs. Spalding and me. Mr. McLeod gave me his and rode mine. The river is divided into three channels by islands, the last, a half a mile wide, and our direction was against the current, which made it hard for the horses, as the water was up to their sides. Husband had a difficult time with the cart, as both mules and cart upset in midstream, and the animals got tangled in the harness, and would have drowned but for the desperate struggle for their release. Two of the strongest horses were taken into the river and hitched to the cart, while two men swam behind and guided it safely to the shore."

There they were at Fort Boise, beyond the Snake, and in Oregon! The wagon-road was made! It was within easy reach of their future home. There it was decided to leave the cart until spring, together with half a dozen footsore cattle, which could be sent for, or exchanged for others at Fort Walla Walla. Packs were now divided and the patient mules, which had long drawn the cart, became packers.

An old wagon is the common rubbish in every farm-yard, and if my reader enters a protest to the large place I have given it, or to protest against Marcus Whitman for his persistent refusal to take the advice of his companions, I will state in simple defense, I believe Whitman was an inspired man! He never once made such claim, even to the wife he almost adored. Later on, as we shall see, he obeyed the same voice under far more trying circumstances,when called to make his midwinter ride to save Oregon.

When his friends insisted in saying, "It is like going down into the valley and shadow of death; wait until spring," his only answer was, "I must go now!" Who can fathom such mysteries in any other way than that I have mentioned. The chances are, he never dreamed of making a trail for a great transcontinental traffic. It is not at all likely that ever the thought came to him that he should guide a great immigrant train over the same route a few years later and the brides' wagon proved a notable factor in his success.

The Last March

The incumbrances left behind, the company moved on as rapidly as the loose stock could be driven. It was still a wild, rugged road, but much of the country traversed was beautiful. They were all now on horseback, and all their worldly possessions on pack-saddles. The weather was delightful, game abundant, and there was now no danger of starving, although they had long been without all the luxuries common to civilization. But best of all, they were buoyed up by the near completion of a nearly seven months' journey of hardships and danger. The day before they were to reach FortWalla Walla, the Doctor and Mrs. Whitman rode ahead of the company, and camped under the trees on the bank of the river, eight miles from the Fort. At daylight they were upon the road. Who can imagine the delight of the tired travelers, as they came in sight, at a distance, of human habitations and civilization! They spurred their horses into a gallop and rode to the gates of the Fort just as the occupants were sitting down to breakfast. The men and women of the Fort came at once and admitted them through the gates, and gave them a cordial welcome, and did their best to make them feel at ease.

Mrs. Whitman writes in her diary:

"September 1, 1836. We reached here this morning just as they were sitting down to breakfast. We were soon seated at table and treated to fresh salmon, potatoes, tea, bread, and butter; what a variety thought I. You cannot imagine what an appetite those rides in the mountain air give a person."

She playfully adds that,

"While at breakfast a rooster perched himself upon the doorstep, and crowed lustily. Whether it was in honor of the arrival of the first two white women, or as a general compliment to the company, I know not, but he pleased me."

The rest of the company reached the fort during the afternoon. Here they all were, and none missing, right upon the scene of their probable future labor.

The Cayuse Indians who had earnestly intercededfor teachers were the owners of a great tract of fertile land on both sides of the Walla Walla River. Adjoining them, one hundred miles distant, was the Nez Perces, to whom all the missionaries felt indebted and attracted, because of the boy friends who had so faithfully served them during the long journey, and as well for their amiable dispositions. The Cayuse were smart Indians, whose wealth was in horses, which roamed over their rich pastures, and without care, kept fat the year through. But the Cayuse were not like the Nez Perces, always to be relied upon. They were sharp traders, and notably tricky. But our missionaries found they could do nothing by way of settlement until they presented their credentials and consulted with the ruling authorities—the English Hudson Bay Company at Vancouver, two hundred and fifty miles down the Columbia. They were urged to stop and rest before making the long journey, but so eager were they to get to their work, and to make preparations for the winter, that they declined the kind invitation. Large boats were secured, and strong-armed, experienced Indian rowers soon bore the party to their destination, through a land, and along rivers romantically interesting. They found great bands of Indians on their route, especially at the rapids, and The Dalles, where many found employment, asboats and goods had to be carried for miles to smooth water. Dr. Whitman at once marked The Dalles as an ideal place for a mission.[1]

Dr. McLoughlin, the chief factor of the Hudson Bay Company, received the party most cordially, and bade them welcome. He was known among the Indians as "The great white head chief." He was a giant in stature, a gentleman of culture and education, and a man with a soul as large as his body. From the outset there seemed to be a freemasonry attachment between Whitman and McLoughlin. They were much alike, physically and mentally. They were both physicians and men with high moral character, stamped in every act of their lives. McLoughlin carried out fixed principles in all his dealings with the Indians; he never allowed them cheated in any trade; he lived up to every promise made; and the savage tribes, in every quarter, obeyed his commands like good soldiers do their general. Whitman laid bare the whole case, how and why they were there, and concealed nothing. His ideas freely given were, that he believed savages must first be taught to build homes, plant and sow, and raise cattle, sheep, and stop their roaming life. This was directly what the Hudson Bay people did not want.They wanted furs and skins, and to get them whole tribes must each year migrate to the distant hunting and trapping regions. Dr. McLoughlin, while anxious to serve the missionaries, was yet true to his company. He had placed the Methodist missionaries Jason and Daniel Lee the year before far up the Willamette, and he explained to Dr. Whitman that The Dalles was not the place for a mission, and that it would be far better for the company and for the missionaries, to settle in a more distant quarter. It all resulted in Dr. Whitman going to the Cayuse on the Walla Walla, and Dr. Spalding to the Nez Perces, one hundred and twenty-five miles further on.

McLoughlin was so impressed with the honesty and earnestness of his guests, that he gave them liberty to draw upon him for anything he could furnish for their use and comfort. Such an unlooked-for kindness was greatly appreciated. And we may add, as far as Dr. McLoughlin could execute the promise, it was sacredly fulfilled. It is well to constantly remember that without his kindly aid the missionaries of Oregon would have suffered, or even starved. Having settled these important preliminaries, the little company was impatient to be at its work. McLoughlin saw the necessity of house-building in preparation for the winter, but protested against the wives leaving his roof untilhomes were provided, and when he saw that they hesitated and feared that they would tax hospitality, he at once overcome all by stating it would not overtax, but would be a great favor to him if Mrs. Whitman would remain and give his daughter lessons in music. So it was arranged—The husbands with helpers, tools, and seeds departed for the scene of their future homes.

The Cayuse Indians were delighted with the arrangement, and at once set off six hundred and forty acres of their best land at the junction of two branches of the Walla Walla River for the mission. Here the Doctor, his two teamsters, and two he had hired set about house-building. There were small trees all about the grounds and along the river, but none suitable for lumber or boards. For all such they had to go from eight to ten miles up the river to the foot of the Blue Mountains, and saw by hand, or rive boards, pack them on horses, or float them down the rapid river. It is easy to see that house-building was no picnic job under such circumstances. But Whitman was not an "eight-hour man," and he never "struck." He toiled early and late, and camped down in the forest, and went to sleep with the musical howl of the wolf in his ears. The result was, in less than six weeks there loomed up "a commodious house," of one great room, with alarge open fireplace and nearly ready for guests. It had a shingled roof, places for windows and doors, and while the Doctor added the many little conveniences for comfort, Dr. Spalding went to Vancouver to escort the women, who were impatient, and anxious to be helpers of their husbands. A house, whether a cabin or a palace, is never a home until a good wife enters its doors. A man alone can no more make a home home-like than he can pack a trunk.

The Home-coming. The Beginning of Missionary Life. Clarissa, "the Little White Cayuse Queen." Her Death. Sketches of Daily Events.

After a somewhat tedious journey up the river for two hundred and fifty miles, against the current and strong winds, Mrs. Whitman and her escort reached the mission station December 10th, and alighted from her horse at the cabin door after dark, while the wolves from the farther banks of the Walla Walla united in a vigorous howl, either of protest or of welcome. My girl readers may imagine that the surroundings were not such as would call out any enthusiasm in a young wife, entering her first home. And yet there is a beautiful lesson of contentment, thankfulness, and love shown in the words of this earnest little Christian woman, surrounded by savage life. She writes in her diary:

"We reached our new home December 10th, found a house reared, and the lean-to inclosed, a good chimney and fireplace, and the floor laid, but no windows or doors, except blankets. My heart truly leaped for joy as I alighted from my horse, entered, and seated myself before a pleasant fire, for it was night and the air chilly."

Again, December 26th, she writes (you will observe the date, one day after the world's greatest anniversary):

"Where are we now, and who are we, that we should be so blessed of the Lord? I can scarcely realize that we are thus comfortably fixed and keeping house, so soon after our marriage, when I consider what was before us."

Think of it, girls! no chairs except those rudely made with skins stretched across them. Table made of four posts, covered with boards sawed by hand; stools made of logs sawed of proper length; pegs along the walls upon which to hang the clothing, nails being too expensive a luxury to use. Beds were bunks fastened to the walls, and filled with dried grass and leaves, and yet the young bride, accustomed to the luxuries of civilization, set about building a home around which always cluster life's comforts and joys. Every page of her diary speaks her thankfulness for unnumbered blessings, and not a discordant note, or a complaint, or a regret in all the pages. If I were to stop to moralize, I should mark the love that only comes where gold glitters, as the demoralizing agency of our day in this Christian land. Young people desire too often to start in life rich, even when their honored parents toiled for years for life comforts. This desire for wealth is to-day so universal as to mark it the chief aim of life. To start rich and be happyhave lured a multitude to misery. The little story I relate, however, tells its own moral in its simple facts, and needs few words to impress its beautiful lessons.

Mrs. Whitman thus describes the great farm and its surroundings. I have many times wandered over the old place, and cannot better describe it than to insert a note from her diary:

"It is a lovely situation. We are on a level peninsula formed by the two branches of the Walla Walla River. Our house stands on the southeast shore of the main river. To run a fence across, from river to river, will inclose three hundred acres of good land, and all directly under the eye. Just east of the house rises a range of low hills, covered with bunch grass almost as rich as oats, for the stock. The Indians have named the place 'Waiilatpui,' the place of the rye grass."

Upon one of the highest of those hills in the East, which Mrs. Whitman refers to, the pioneers of Oregon, Washington, and Idaho recently erected a stately marble monument to Whitman, and at its base is "the great grave" containing the remains of Dr. and Mrs. Whitman, and twelve others who perished in the massacre, which will be referred to more particularly in another chapter.

Dr. Whitman regarded it his first duty to plan to live in comfort, and set his Indians a good example. He toiled day and night in making his arrangements to plant and sow in the early spring months. The Indians flocked about themission in great numbers, curious to see the active, earnest work of the man, and wondering at his accomplishments. Mrs. Whitman soon organized classes of Indian children, and entered with enthusiasm upon the work to which she had dedicated her life. Indian children are bright, docile, and quick-witted, and she soon had them under control, and saw rapid progress, considering the fact that each had to learn the language of the other at the start. The Cayuse were very anxious for their children to learn all the secrets of "great medicine" and often sat around the yard and grounds in groups to take mental note of events. Whitman tried hard, by example and otherwise, to persuade the Indians to lend a helping hand at work; now and then they would join him in some heavy lifting which one man could not do, but they did not believe that Indian men were made to work, that "work was only for squaws."

What Whitman accomplished may be best seen by a short extract from a book written by T. J. Farnham, who visited the mission in 1839, three years later. He writes:

"I found two hundred and fifty acres inclosed and two hundred acres under good cultivation. I found from forty to fifty Indian children in the school, and Mrs. Whitman an indefatigable instructor. One new building was in course of construction,and a small grist mill in running order. It appeared to me quite remarkable that the Doctor could have accomplished so much since 1836, and act as physician to the Indians, and also to the distant mission stations at Clearwater and Spokane. He could not have done so, and kept the mission work to its high standard, only by the tactful and unceasing work of Mrs. Whitman."

The Rev. Dr. Jonathan Edwards, writing of the mission, which he visited in 1842, says:

"I found the Indians had taken a practical lesson from the Doctor, and were each cultivating for themselves from one-fourth to four acres of ground, and they had seventy head of cattle and a few sheep."

The great crops of wheat, barley, potatoes, melons, and vegetables so easily raised in the rich soil were a revelation to the Indians, and taught them just the practical lessons the Doctor so much desired. His theory was, that little could be done in a religious way with the Indians until he could induce them to build homes, and plant and sow and reap, and adopt the methods of civilized people. Many had been induced to build houses, and much of the unnecessary nomadic life had been abandoned. Mrs. Whitman retained her wonderful voice and sang and won the hearts of the savages, long before she knew enough of the language to make the sentiment of her songs impressive lessons. From the outset she was regarded as their friend, and they embraced every opportunity, intheir crude way, to show their appreciation. They often brought her presents of venison and wild fowl, which was an agreeable change of diet from the horse meat they were compelled to use for over three years. Their stock of cattle and sheep and hogs was too small to be used for food.

Mrs. Whitman says in her diary, in 1838: "To supply our men and many visitors we have this year bought of the Indians and eaten ten wild horses." Those young Cayuse horses that roamed over the rich pastures and nearly as wild as the deer, are not such bad food, as the author can testify. They are not to be compared with the old broken-down horses sometimes used for food by civilized people. Mrs. Whitman, in her diary, seldom enters a complaint against her Indian wards. She treated them as friends; nothing was kept under lock and key, and she declares nothing was ever stolen. But they liked to roam all over the house and were curious to see everything. After the home had been enlarged, as it had been each year, and bedrooms were added, she had a difficult task in teaching the Indian men that it was not proper for them to open the door or enter a lady's bedroom. They seemed to have difficulty in understanding that it was "a sacred place," and appeared hurt and aggrieved, lest that in some way they had lost favor with their good friend.

A Notable Event

Perhaps I should have noted it long before this, for it was a distinct event to these two people, so far separated from kindred and civilized friends, when a little girl baby came to cheer their rude home in the wilderness, seemed a gracious gift direct from paradise. To the Indians she was a wonder and delight. Great burly savages with their squaws came from miles and miles away to look upon the "little white squaw baby." They seemed to think it a great privilege and honor to be permitted to touch the soft, white cheek with a finger. To the sixty and seventy Indian children in the school, the baby was more interesting than their lessons, and the older and more careful Indian girls who were permitted to nurse and care for the little one during school hours were envied by all others.

In the pure health-giving air, with her vigorous constitution, the baby grew strong and vigorous. She was a precocious child physically and mentally, and before she was a year and a half old, she spoke both the English and Indian language. Her constant association with Indian children made her even more familiar with their language than the English. She had inherited a wonderful musical voice from her mother, and sang as the birds sing, because they cannot help singing.

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