CHAPTER IX

Trouble in deep snowLOST IN THE ROCKIES.

But to our story. They were safely in camp, by a roaring log fire, the deep cañon protecting them from the raging winds. As they discussed with thankful hearts the perils of the day, from which they had been rescued, they made plans for to-morrow, but here the guide spoke up and said, "I go back, I cannot take you over this mountain." General Lovejoy says, "Whitman talked and plead with the guide until a late hour, butcould not change his mind. To any except such a character as Whitman, the situation would have been indeed hopeless; but before he slept his plans were made. He said to General Lovejoy: "You stay here in the cañon and recuperate the stock, and I will return to the fort and get a new guide." At the first streak of dawn the men were mounted and on their way. It was a cheerless wait for Lovejoy, but he had the companionship of his dog, and he busied himself in cutting bunch grass and tender twigs for the animals and bringing in logs for his fire. The General says, "Whitman was gone just one week, when the old dog heard his distant halloo and answered it with a rejoicing bark." He and his new guide, hungry and tired, were soon enjoying the bright log fire, always the crowning comfort of camp-life.

I trust that my readers may all live to have a camp-fire experience. Permit me to tell you of one great camp-fire, near the summit of the Sierras, which lives in the memory after nearly fifty years of busy life. Our pack-train had been toiling up the mountain, hoping for a resting-place, when our scouts came and reported. Following them along winding paths which grizzlies and Indians had made, around the rugged rocks, we reached a beautiful little valley covered with luxuriant grass. We picketed our tired animals in themeadow, built a great fire of cedar logs against a marble wall straight up for a thousand feet, sang songs, sounded the bugle, and listened to the scores of echoes from the mountain peaks. But we were young and ready to enjoy nature's grand scenes.—Nowhere are they grander than in our own Western mountains.

But our heroic snow-bound travelers were burdened with far too much anxiety to enjoy nature in her magnificent winter adornment. Their eyes were not upon the lofty mountain peaks, but far along unknown trails towards the nation's capital. After they had succeeded in passing the well-nigh impassable mountains, they struck a more level country with sheltered valleys having a bountiful supply of wood and good water. I have often asked myself, when pondering over these events, was it a simple accident that the old scouts reached Fort Hall that October night and turned Whitman and Lovejoy a thousand miles off their direct route? That year the snow lay unusually deep all over the great plains. Had they started and been able to have crossed the Rockies, they would have met snow-covered, treeless plains, and for weeks at a time would have had to go without fires, having to depend upon theBois de vachefor fuel, which, covered deep with the snow, would have been impossible to find. This, with the lackof grass for the animals, would have made the route, not only impracticable, but nearly impossible. The scout and the old map seemed insignificant events, but yet how often they and their kind loom up in grand proportions. They may be marked by the thoughtless as mere happenings, but it is not a tax upon reason to believe that the soul attuned to listen and receive ever has a guidance higher than the wisdom of men.

This detention in the cañon and along other parts of the route caused the scant supplies to run lower. The bears were holed up in their winter quarters, they could have found deer and elk, had they stopped and hunted; but Whitman's maxim was forever, "travel, travel." He led upon the trail from morning until night, with eyes ever to the front. General Lovejoy tells us they finally reached a great emergency, and the first animal sacrificed to keep them from starving was the faithful old dog. I doubt not, that some of my young readers will stop to criticize so noble a man as Whitman for having any part in such an act, and the writer would sympathize with the sentiment. The dog is man's closest friend, that clings to him when all others forsake him. Seventy-four years ago, when the author's parents came to the Western wilderness across the Alleghanies, we had a great dog named Watch. He kept guard over uschildren as we rambled through the woods and along the way, as if he were wholly responsible for our safety. He grew old and nearly helpless. A conference was held among the older members, and it was thought merciful to put him out of his obvious misery, and an old friend of the family was selected for the task. I believe that after all three-quarters of a century of years the children, who loved the old dog, never quite forgave his executioner.

General Lovejoy tells us none of the particulars, but it is reasonable to suppose that Whitman was not consulted at all in the matter, and likely knew nothing of it until long after. The second animal used for food was one of the pack mules. They knew if they could live until they reached Taos, in New Mexico, they could secure supplies, and trade their broken-down stock for fresh animals. So they made forced marches.

I have indulged in only enough description of locality as to keep in touch with the travelers, and to note historic events. To-day the same scenes they viewed are the wonderlands of thousands of tourists each year.

They Reach Grand River

A little incident at Grand River reveals Marcus Whitman's indomitable spirit. It is a deep, dangerous, treacherous river, and many an immigranthas lost his life in the Grand or the Green river. The water is icy cold, even in mid-summer.

When the bold group of travelers stood on the bank they found a stream six hundred feet wide, two hundred feet on each side ice, and two hundred in the middle rolled the rapid torrent. The guide shook his head and said, "It is impossible! We cannot cross." Whitman replied, "We must cross, and now." He got down from his horse, cut a strong cottonwood pole about eight feet long. Mounting his horse, he put the pole upon his shoulder, and said, "Now push us in." The guide and the General skated them to the brink, and "horse and rider," says the General, "entirely disappeared, coming to the surface some distance below." The horse soon found footing and made for the shore, where Whitman broke the ice with his pole, and helped his horse to the firm ice. He soon had a rousing fire from the logs and driftwood. Those conversant with animal habits know that when the lead animal has passed any point, however dangerous, the rest are eager to follow. The General and guide broke the ice for a roadway to the water, and each seizing a tail, were towed safely to the farther shore.

They Reach Santa Fé

Upon reaching Santa Fé, in New Mexico, they felt quite in touch with civilization. They wouldno longer have to grope in the dark, along doubtful and unknown trails, but it all the more made Whitman anxious to push forward. They paused only long enough to inquire for news from the States, and to purchase a few needed supplies. It was still a long journey, and as it proved, more perilous to life than any portion they had already passed. Their next point was Bent's Fort on the head waters of the Arkansas River, now in Colorado. It was a cheerless, dreary plains journey, with none of the magnificent scenery of the mountain route to keep them company. Water was often scarce, as well as wood, except along the small streams. The intensely cold winter and deep snows had made the big gray wolves a menace to life of men and beasts. One very cold night they reached a little river which had no wood on the side they camped, but was plentiful on the opposite bank. Whitman seized his ax, but found the ice would break under his feet. He then lay flat upon the ice, wormed himself across, skated a bountiful supply across the glossy surface, and then returned in safety as he had gone.

Unfortunately, one of his heavy blows split his ax-handle. When he returned to his tent, he took a piece of rawhide, wrapped the spliced pieces carefully, and threw it down at the door of the tent. In the morning it was discovered that some thieving wolf attracted by the rawhide had stolen theimplement, and they never saw it again. Had this occurred two months before, it would have been regarded as an irreparable disaster.

Four days before reaching Bent's Fort they met Colonel Bent's son with a pack-train en route to El Paso. He informed them that in two days a company of fifty packers would leave the fort for St. Louis, and that there would not be another until towards spring.

He told them that it would be impossible for them with pack animals to reach the fort before the departure of the company. Whitman was at once aroused by the information. He proposed that he should take his blankets and two days' provision, make a forced march, and catch the convoy, while General Lovejoy and the guide could bring on the pack animals and remain at the fort, recuperate the stock, and meet him on the Missouri border in the spring. This was agreed to, and Whitman started on his lonely ride to Bent's. General Lovejoy and the guide moved on leisurely, reaching Bent's Fort four days later. They were astonished and alarmed when told that the Doctor had not arrived.

Whitman is Lost

General Lovejoy stated the whole case to Colonel Bent, who was at once aroused to action. He started runners after the company, orderingthem to go into camp on the Cottonwood, and await further commands.

"He sent out his best scouts in the search. Myself, guide, and one of the scouts passed up the banks of the Arkansas for one hundred miles, knowing if Whitman was alive he would make for the river. Every night our camp would be surrounded by hungry, gaunt, gray wolves, which as they were shot down would be torn in pieces and devoured by their fellows."

This gave them great uneasiness about Whitman, alone and without a shelter. They encountered some Indians who told them they had met a white man two days before who was hunting for Bent's Fort, and they had pointed out the way to him. They, in all haste, retraced their steps, along the way the Indians directed, and in an hour after they reached the fort Whitman came in greatly fatigued, and well-nigh despairing. But wearied as he was, he was deeply touched with Colonel Bent's kindness and thoughtfulness, and was buoyed up with new heart and hope that after all the hardships of the long journey he was yet able to prosecute it to the end. In the early morning he was in the saddle upon a fresh horse, with a good guide, and ready to ride forty miles before night to the camp on the Cottonwood, with credentials which would give them safe convoy to St. Louis. General Lovejoy, the guide, and all the stock remained until the next convoy was sent out in the spring,and found Whitman upon the Missouri border. In that early day the route from Bent's Fort to St. Louis was invested by bands of outlaws, as well as savage wild beasts, so that an escort of well-armed men was a necessity for all travelers. Thus a good Providence seemed from the outset to have guided the little band through all its perils in safety.

They Reach St. Louis

Dr. Barrows, in his interesting book, "Oregon, the Struggle for Possession," says:

"Upon the arrival of Whitman in St. Louis, it was my good fortune that he should be quartered as a guest under the same roof, and at the same table. Trappers and traders all eagerly asked questions, and he answered all courteously. He in turn asked about Congress; whether the Ashburton treaty had been passed by the Senate; and whether it covered the Northwestern Territory? He then learned, for the first time, that the Ashburton treaty had been signed, even before he left Oregon, and was confirmed by the Senate about the time he was lost and floundering in the snow upon the mountains."

He was eager to learn whether the Oregon question was still pending, and greatly relieved when told that the treaty only covered a little strip of twelve thousand acres, up in Maine, and that Oregon was left untouched in its boundaries. Dr. Barrows continues:

"Marcus Whitman once seen, and in one's family circle, telling of his business, for he apparently had but one, was a man not to be forgotten by the writer. He was of medium height, more compact than spare, a stout shoulder, and a largehead covered with iron-gray hair. He carried himself awkwardly. He seemed built as a man for whom more stock had been furnished than used systematically and gracefully. He was not quick in motion or speech, and no trace of a fanatic, but he was a profound enthusiast. He wore coarse, fur garments, with buckskin breeches. He had a buffalo overcoat with a head hood for emergencies, with fur leggins and foot moccasins. If my memory is not at fault, his entire dress when on the street did not show an inch of woven fabric."

We copy thus fully Dr. Barrows's description of Whitman and his dress, and it agrees with other descriptions less complete, as we trace him to Cincinnati, and again to the door of his old cherished friend, Dr. Parker, and have the testimony of his son, Professor Parker, who opened the door of his father's home to admit the guest in strange costume. Whitman had little confidence in his own power of oratory, and was even timid, while brave. He knew the persuasive eloquence of his old associate, and his enthusiasm for Oregon, and he had hoped and expected to have his help to plead for Oregon in Washington. But the Doctor was confined to his room by ill health, and it was impossible for him to undertake the journey. Glad again to meet his old friend, and sorrowing that he was not to have his aid in this critical time, he resumed his way, and reaching Washington, ended one of the most memorable trans-continental journeys ever recorded.

Whitman in Washington. His Conference with President Tyler and Secretary Webster and the Secretary of War. Visits New York and the American Board, Boston. His Return to the Frontier and to Oregon.

The exact date of Whitman's arrival at the national capital can be determined only from letters, but was probably on March 3, 1843, the day before the close of Congress, when, as usual, there was hurry and confusion. But it matters little for our purposes, for we have seen that the "Oregon boundary question had been up," and as usual had been ignored, and only the disputed lines upon a few thousand acres up in Maine had been adjudicated, while the Oregon boundary line was left in its old place, "up against the Rocky Mountains," as Senator Benton expressed it, "the natural, convenient, and everlasting boundary of the United States!" So Whitman had only to meet the President and his officials and individual members to press the claims of Oregon.

Washington in that day was not the beautiful city now seen, and its manners and customs werewholly different. It was before the day of enterprising newspaper work. McCullough and Halstead had not then introduced the modern methods of "the interview" in daily journals, or we should not now have to depend upon meager details and verbal messages to tell of this thrilling episode in American history. But it requires no imagination to believe that this heroic pioneer, dressed in the garb of the plains, attracted full attention. No man better knew the opinions of statesmen regarding Oregon, and we may well believe he felt, modest man as he was, appalled at the magnitude of the work before him. But with such a man we can believe there was no loitering for preparation. Fortunately the Secretary of War was an old school fellow of Whitman's and arranged for a speedy conference with the President and his Secretary of State, Webster, the latter the well-known active enemy of Oregon. Nothing is more discouraging to a writer than just such an occasion when giants meet in combat, and to be unable to report the words and acts of the actors, except from scrappy notes and verbal reports. Whitman never left any written record of that great discussion, for he never wrote a note in his life for the purpose of exalting himself in public estimation.

For the story of the great ride we are wholly dependent upon General Lovejoy's notes and utterances.And upon the return journey to Oregon, and during the long rides, the General says, "Whitman told me over and over all that was said and done," in that notable conference at Washington. Along the same lines we have the testimony of a score of his associates and co-workers in Oregon, to whom he was in duty bound to make full report, for they were parties in interest. So from such sources we glean our facts, and in their true spirit and meaning can rest upon them with much confidence, even if not so satisfactory, as if written down at the time.

The characters are before us, they had met in consultation—Marcus Whitman, the man with frosted hands and feet, dressed in furs and buckskin, who had so loved his country that he had braved the winter storms, and over unknown ways, without pay or hoped-for honors or rewards, had come four thousand five hundred miles to plead for Oregon to be placed under the flag. There was the President, the nation's chief; John Tyler, dignified, clear-eyed, honest, earnest, and as he proved, sympathetic and anxious to do his whole duty to the nation; and there was Daniel Webster, known the nation over as "the Great Orator," and "the brainy, far-seeing statesman," who was in this case all out of sympathy with Oregon. He had repeatedly marked its "worthlessness"; he was infull accord with those who had declared "it would endanger the republic," "was nearer Asia than the United States," and, we may add, that it was fully stated, he was at that very time actively negotiating the trade of Oregon for the Newfoundland fishing banks.

Such, tersely, is a vague pen-picture of three men who met and made history in the executive chamber, noonday, the 5th of March, 1843! The picture is worthy of the skilled brush of some master artist, instead of the poor words of the writer. It matters not if their work failed to be conclusive, it was but forging a link in the golden chain of the nation's grandeur, which had it been severed, no imagination can measure the calamity that would have resulted.

On horseback in deep waterWHITMAN CROSSING GRAND RIVER

It is the pride of the whole loyal people that the humblest citizen with something important to say may have audience with the nation's chief official. President John Tyler was no exception, and when notified of Whitman's wishes by Secretary of War Porter, he arranged to give him audience without delay. The President was, every day and hour, importuned to meet men, who came to beg for office or honors or emoluments of some kind, but as he learned from Secretary Porter, this man from Oregon was not of that kind he was curiously anxious to meet him. As we have stated,we make no effort to report speeches. It is well known that "the Silent Man" when aroused was strong and eloquent. Upon that long journey, with the weight and importance of his mission pressing upon him, my readers can well believe that Whitman's words were strong and true and impressive. As he told it to his friends, he dwelt upon the marvelous fertility of the soil, and the great crops of grain and fruits his fields and gardens and orchards had produced for six years; how stock ranged the pastures, fat the year round, without protection or feed from barns. He told of the magnificent forests, not equaled in other portions of the world, of the undoubted mineral riches in mountains, of the pure water in springs, flowing rivers navigable for the greatest ships, and of the inviting, balmy, healthful climate. Who could describe better than Whitman the grandeur of the Oregon country, destined, as he hoped, "for millions of American people!" It was then that the keen Webster made the remark, but "Doctor, how can you ever make a wagon-road for American immigration to Oregon?" and received the prompt reply, "There, Mr. Secretary, you have been deceived and misinformed. There is a wagon-road to Oregon now, and I made it and took a wagon over it six years ago, and it is there to-day!" That is the triumph of the old wagon turned into a cart with its frontwheels lashed to its sides. The patient, good little wife, in the years before, was sorrowing over the labors of her husband in his hard work, and mourned through many pages of her diary, as we have seen, over the folly of hauling along "the old wagon." She was not permitted to look into the future and hear how the Indian boys' "Old Click-Click-Clackety-Clackety" would strike dumb the nation's greatest orator. Nor is it at all likely that Whitman himself ever dreamed of such results. He simply obeyed a silent voice within, as was his rule of life, and old "Click," amid trials and perils never half told, rolled on, and made history.

Whitman referred also to the current rumors, of the purpose of "trading Oregon for the Newfoundland fishing banks," and said, "Mr. President, you had far better trade all New England than Oregon for the fishing banks!" This was a hard blow at the great secretary, who was as much wrapped up in New England as New England was in him. He referred to the treaty of 1818-1828, and "its understood meaning in Oregon, that whichever of the two nations settled Oregon should own and hold it"; he said, all I ask is, that you make no barter of Oregon until we can settle loyal Americans there in numbers sufficient to hold that which is their own. I hope to help lead such a band thissummer, a group already gathering upon the Missouri, worthy of your consideration and protection. I do not here pretend to give the exact words of Whitman, for reasons stated, but they are truthful to the spirit, as verified by scores of men, to whom all the scenes were related, and whose veracity cannot be doubted. Dr. Spalding says:

"Whitman concluded his address by saying, 'Mr. President, all that remains for me to say is, to ask, that you will not barter any of Oregon or allow English interference, until I can lead a band of stalwart American settlers across the plains, which I hope and expect to do.' To this President Tyler, deeply impressed, promptly and positively replied, 'Dr. Whitman, your long ride and frosted limbs speak of your courage and patriotism, and your missionary credentials are good vouchers for your character,' and he unhesitatingly granted his simple requests."

Whitman then held a long conference with the Secretary of War, and agreed that he at an early a date as possible would prepare an act which could be laid before Congress, covering the important points in the territorial organization of Oregon, and also a second article upon the strategic points along the immigrant route, where forts, resting places and protection could be vouchsafed. Both these important documents were written by Whitman during the summer, and are to be found in the archives of the war department in Washington, and can be read in the Appendix to my larger work, "How Marcus Whitman Saved Oregon."He held conference with many members of Congress, and felt that his work at the national capital was ended.

Whitman was not a man to loiter, and we next hear of him closeted with the staunch friend of Oregon, Horace Greeley of the New York Tribune. Greeley knew and admired a heroic character, and he highly complimented Whitman and his work in the Tribune. He proceeded to Boston to report to the American Board, to receive any reprimand for violation of rules and to transact minor affairs of the missions in Oregon. The enemies of Whitman have again and again gone over the old records of the American Board to find some severe rebuke to the man who "dabbled in politics." But if any rebuke was offered, it was careful to make no record of it. But it may be said the governors of the American Board evidently failed to comprehend in their anxiety to keep clear of all complications between "Church and State," that they were dealing with aninspired man, who had rendered the greatest possible service to the nation and to Protestant Christianity. They did another good act, either through pride for one of their missionaries or from generosity they sent him to a tailor shop for a complete suit of cloth clothes, which his own slim pocket-book could not afford. It took the American Board just fifty years from the dateof his death to see that the man in furs and leather breeches from Oregon, who stood humbly before them upon that occasion, was one of the grandest characters, as Christian and patriot, that they ever before or since enrolled as missionary! They waked up to that fact in 1897, when the great organization assembled in annual council, called attention to the fact, that it was "the fiftieth anniversary of the death of Dr. Marcus Whitman, an eminent missionary of the Board," and appointed special services to be held in several leading cities, and a general observance of that day. It was a thoughtful, educational, Christian act, which, if the old martyr could from his eternal mansion look down and hear, would make him glad.

The good Presbyterians who were a part of the American Board at that time, and were not then at all anxious to share in any honors to Whitman, latterly saw new light in something of the character grandeur of the neglected missionary. They caused a beautiful statue of Dr. Marcus Whitman to be placed in their Witherspoon building at Philadelphia. To the boys and young men, let me say the lesson in this is, that all good things come to the good who wait! Stand true for the right. It was that which has resurrected the name and honor of Whitman, after long years ofneglect, and will make his name shine, and glow with increasing luster, as the years come and go!

As Mrs. Whitman playfully wrote her father and mother, "I expect my dear husband will be so full of his great mission that he will not take time to tell you of home affairs, I will do so." That was in a measure true. He made a hurried visit to his mother in her home, to his wife's parents, and to his brother, who had moved West. But his eyes and thoughts and hopes were ever westward. He had heard from General Lovejoy, who was on the ground, of the bright prospect of a large company for Oregon. As the spring months opened in 1843, there were stirring times along the border, such as never before seen. Great wagons, with white canvas covers, drawn by long-horned oxen, sturdy mules, and horses, herds of fine cattle to stock the new farms, with from eight hundred to a thousand men, women, and children, with their household treasures, were there. They had received the same inspiration as their fathers who had peopled the great West across the Alleghanies, and the motto still was, "Westward the Star of Empire takes its way." Such were the inspiring conditions which greeted Whitman when he reached the border. He was a man of great faith, and firmly believed in success, but such an imposing body filled his soul with gratitude and thankfulness.

The company was made up mainly from the rural districts, strong, muscular men, their wives and children, and eager young people. There were many anxious mothers, who saw the responsibility of the great undertaking, and whose perils women intuitively feel more certainly than men. Who can tell the secret of that sudden gathering of pioneer heroes, on the banks of "the Great Muddy" in 1843? True, the old missionaries had written many letters. New immigrants had done the same. But Congress and the national authorities had done nothing but ridicule, and in no single case had lent a helping hand. There must have been some secret telepathetic power which had sounded a call!

True, Whitman and Lovejoy had been busy, but neither one ever made claim of inducing the great immigration of 1843. The honor was sufficient for them, as the only men acquainted with the road, to lead the great company to the promised land in safety. But the enemies of these missionaries, especially of Whitman, tried so often to make light of his eminent services, that the Rev. Dr. Myron Eells of Twana, Washington, some years ago, sat down and wrote to every living pioneer of that immigration he could locate (and he knew most of them), and asked the question, "Did Dr. Whitman induce you to immigrate to Oregon in 1843?" Two-fifths replied, "Yes."

The last weeks of April and the first of May found most of the immigrants pulled out upon the road, in companies of fifties and hundreds. They were in the Indian country on the first day of travel, and not sure how such an invasion would be received by the savages, they were warned to keep compact, and in bodies large enough for protection. The Indians, men, women, and children, swarmed about every camp, and watched every movement. They were invariably treated kindly, and responded with kindness. The warriors sat upon their horses stolidly by the trails and watched the long wagon-trains, the herds of cattle, and especially the women and children, the like of which had never before invaded their domain. The weeks of travel across the grass-grown, flower-covered prairies of Kansas and Nebraska was a picnic occasion for the immigrants. It was well that it was so. They did not have many afterward.

Island SceneMARMADUKE ISLAND. (B. H. Gifford, photo.)

The wagons were soon strung out over a long line. Dr. Whitman did not start with the head of the company. In a letter to a friend he wrote, "I remained behind until the last wagon was on the road." There were many who needed advice as to proper outfit, what to take, and what to leave, many who needed encouragement to start at all. When all had moved he rode rapidly to thehead of the column, to overtake it before it reached the Platte, the first wide river to be crossed.

The Platte is not a dangerous river if forded properly, but it looks threatening to timid people. It is nearly one mile wide, and it is about breast deep in ordinary stages. It runs over a bed of sand, and the secret of safety is to keep on the sand bars and keep moving. A halt, even for a few minutes, allows the feet of animals, or the wagon wheels to sink into the sands, and they are not easily extricated. Upon reaching the bank of the river, horsemen upon the best horses survey the route by zigzagging up and down, finding the shallowest water upon the bars, which are constantly shifting. The train of wagons are arranged to follow each other, a dozen or more yards apart, with horsemen at each vehicle to give immediate assistance in case of break or accident. The first driver keeps his eye upon the careful guides, picking the shallowest route. Careless endeavors to pull straight across, instead of pulling two miles around to gain one, involved trouble. The murky water is surcharged with sand, which is forever blown into it as it winds through the great plains, and is the source of the Missouri River's excessive supply of sand. It proves to be pure water if allowed to stand and settle. A bucket of water standing over night in the morning will be clear,with an inch of pure sand on the bottom. If the old maxim is true, "A fellow needs sand in his craw," he easily gets it on the Platte. Our immigrant party, wisely directed, forded the river safely with all its stock. Care was taken in fording all rivers to place heavy articles not easily injured by water low in the bed of the wagon.

The Buffalo Country

Here the caravan entered the buffalo country, where they were likely to meet large bodies of armed Indians who came there from long distances, to lay in their winter stores of meat and furs and skins. Many of these tribes were jealous of each other, and of white men who intruded upon their domain on such occasions, and bloody encounters frequently occurred while upon the way. The caravan had elected a captain to direct affairs and a guide to make orders for travel. But now they found so many questions arising in this large company, that a council or superior court was organized, from which there was no appeal. It held its sessions at night and upon rest days, and many of the members of that court upon the plains, after in the territory and states of Oregon, Washington, and Idaho, held the highest offices of trust and honor.

A halt to lay in a supply of buffalo meat was looked forward to with great satisfaction. But itwas found impracticable for so large a company to make a permanent halt, so they kept moving.

The hunters in large numbers went out each morning, with pack horses, and came in loaded at night with spoils of the chase. The noble bison was there by the million.

When reaching the dusty alkaline plains, where both good water and grass were scarce, naturally the best tempered people often turned grumblers. One of the chief causes of complaint laid before the superior court was that which arose between the horse companies and the cattle companies. They did not agree well together. The court decided to divide the caravan into two columns, "the horse" and "the cow" column. In 1876 the Honorable Jesse Applegate, a member of that immigration, delivered an address before The Historical Society of Oregon, entitled "A Day with the Cow Column." It is one of the most precise and graphic pictures ever drawn of life as it was, in this advance column of civilization, destined for its great work in the future Pacific states. The last third of the distance of that memorable journey proves the courage of the American, and at the same time arouses our commiseration and pity. I passed over the larger portion of the same road a few years later, with goggles drawn over my eyes, and a handkerchief bound about my face, as a defense from thedust and the myriad buffalo gnats, and can the more easily sympathize with those hundred mothers, often forced to travel on foot with little and well-nigh helpless children pulling at their skirts. As I think, I can but say, "O the pity of it!"

Mr. Applegate remarks:

"There was no time to pause and recruit the hungry stock, or to hunt for the withered herbage, for a marauding enemy hung upon the rear, and hovered on our flanks, and skulked in ambuscade in front. The road was strewn with dead cattle, abandoned wagons, and every article of household goods, even the sacred keepsakes. The failing strength of teams, required shorter couplings so as to save a few pounds. An ox or a horse would fall. Men would remove the yoke or harness, and secure a substitute from the almost equally tired animals in the corral."

Oh, it is well for the sons and daughters of these states of the Pacific, as well as the tourist in his parlor car, as they look upon flower-decked meadows, waving wheat-fields, orchards, and homes of comfort, with beauty everywhere, to remember the heroic deeds of heroic men and women who won for them this grand inheritance.

When the immigrants reached Fort Hall they met Captain Grant, who made the old appeal: "Leave your wagons, impossible to take them, no wagon-road to Oregon." He showed them the many wagons already left as proof of his statement. But here comes Whitman, who says, "Men, you have with incredible hardship brought your wagonsthus far, they are a necessity for your wives' and children's comfort, even their lives. They will be invaluable to you when the end of the journey is reached. I took a wagon, made into a cart, to Fort Boise six years ago." And thus "Old Click," on its last round, gave out its best blessing, which it conferred upon tired mothers and little children. The company took Whitman's advice, and the wagons rolled on. His watch-word was, "Travel, travel, travel, nothing else will bring rest and the end of the journey."

Upon reaching Snake River, the doctor devised an ingenious and safe method for the weaker teams to cross. There were still remaining about one hundred wagons, which Whitman arranged in one long line, placing the strong teams in front. The wagons rear and front were then roped together and the procession started with fifty men on horseback, pulling upon a long rope in front, while others attended the various teams to keep every one in line and moving.

It was a daring venture, but so well managed that the deep and dangerous river, the worst upon the route, was passed without accident. Many years ago the author, while making a talk in the opera house at Walla Walla, where many of the old pioneers and their descendants were gathered, recited the incident of the crossing of the Snake.After the close of the meeting a venerable old gentleman came to me and taking my hand said:

"Yes, that story of the crossing of the Snake is true, I was there. But I had four yoke of as good steers as ever pulled in yokes, and I was determined they should not be tied up in that long string of wagons to drown. I stood upon the bank and waited until the whole line was fully one-third across when I whipped in. I got about a quarter of a mile from shore, when I struck deep water, and felt my wagon floating, and soon oxen and wagon were facing squarely up stream, and the oxen barely getting foothold. I saw it only a question of time when we would drift into the deep water below and be lost. Just then I heard a shout, 'hold them steady,' 'hold them steady,' and I looked and saw a man rushing through the water, and as he came in reach he deftly dropped a rope over the horns of the lead ox, and beginning to pull gently said, 'Now whip up.' The noble animals responded, and taking a wide circuit, the water grew shallower, and we reached the shore in safety! And that man was Marcus Whitman!"

At the Snake the doctor met his faithful old Indian Istikus, and a pack-train loaded with flour sent to them by Dr. Spalding. Never was a generous gift so fraught with blessing. He also received letters telling him of the dangerous illness of Mrs. Spalding and urging him to leave all and ride with speed to the Spalding Mission. So the rest of the journey was made under the guidance of Istikus, who knew every foot of the way, and could give excellent advice.

The doctor, mounted upon a fresh horse sent by Dr. Spalding, was soon galloping on his way,and his wonderful ride ended when he reached home a few days later. Less than three weeks after that one hundred wagons, with their precious loads of wearied humanity, rolled down the sides of the Blue Mountains into the grassy, flower-decked meadows of the Walla Walla Valley, and American history made one of its grandest records. Old Glory went up, never to be hauled down while patriots live! The entire land between the oceans was ours. While perhaps one distinctive personage stands conspicuously in the front, there were honors enough to crown the whole band of heroes and heroines which, in 1843, at a critical period, marked plainly the great highway across the continent.

Whitman Joins the Great Immigrating Column. The News of the Safe Arrival in Oregon, and its Effects Upon the People. The Part Taken by Dr. Whitman, and Oregon's Importance to the Nation. The Great Political Contest. The Massacre.

The great immigration of 1843 to Oregon had called out wide attention from the thinking people all over the land. Congressmen in Washington began to hear from the people; still, in both houses of Congress were heard mutterings of "the desert waste" and "dangers of expansion." Lawmakers have a way of listening to the voices of men who make lawmakers, and they heard it on the Oregon question. President Tyler was true to his pledge to Whitman, and if there ever was a thought on the part of Webster to barter off Oregon, it was never heard of again. A great political party saw in it a popular national issue, and emblazoned upon their banners "Oregon and 54' 40° or fight!"

Nobody ever before or since saw such a political upheaval and somersault. The issue electedboth a President and a Congress. President Tyler was unwilling to let all the glory of it go to his political enemies, and in his closing message, gave large place to the importance of Oregon! The incoming President James K. Polk gave about one-fourth of his entire message to the Oregon question.

Such was the status of the question within a year and a half after Whitman's great ride.

The question was up to England, and the western boundary of the United States, which had been so easily settled in 1842, by compromising on a few farms in Maine, had to move westward from its fixed place in "the great Stony Mountains," or war was imminent.

England, as well as America, was aroused, and she sent over her experienced minister plenipotentiary Packingham. James Buchanan represented the United States, and they began their great task without delay. We no longer heard the old congressional cry of "No value in Oregon." Both nations saw great issues at stake, and keen and prolonged negotiations resulted. It was a battle royal between experienced diplomatists. Now, please note a prominent fact, this demand to settle the national dispute began in 1844, and it was not until April, 1846, that the treaty was signed, after most laborious efforts.

I wish to impress upon my readers the importance of dates in this, for they emphasize and make clear the timely acts of Whitman. In less than seven months the United States declared war against Mexico, and California was at stake. Suppose England could have foreseen that event, and the nine hundred million dollars of pure gold mined in California and Oregon, during the following ten years, would she have signed the treaty even in 1846? When did that great nation ever allow such a golden opportunity to pass without reserving tribute? Had England been given more time and more thorough knowledge, there is scarcely a doubt but that she would have tenaciously held to Oregon. It would have been easy for her to have joined hands with Mexico, and if so, had the United States held any of her present Pacific possessions, it would have been after a long and desolating war, in which the United States would have been at a great disadvantage, from its small navy at that time.

"I Must Go Now"

You will recollect when Dr. Whitman's old friends at the mission conference recited to him the dangers of such a trip, and said "Wait until spring," he simply and solemnly replied "I must go now." The plain facts of history are the keysthat explain that answer! It would not have done "to wait until spring." In all the sacred record, dealing with men's duties, the command is "go," "do," not to-morrow, not next year, but "now." Whitman made no boast to his fellow-missionaries of any inspiration, but they were of the class of men who could understand and appreciate his acts. In the glow of light from history, every thoughtful Christian can read their deeper meaning.

No, it would have been all too late had he waited to pilot that great immigration of 1843. No reader can but know, upon the safety of that band of immigrants, the fate of Oregon was dependent for years to come. Had another great Donnelley disaster come to them, and they had perished, who knows when another would have followed? No, it would not do to "wait until spring." It even then, with an awakened people, required two years to get England's consent to sign the treaty. Then, having Oregon we wanted and needed California. More reason still, great perils were in front, and less than a dozen years later, the existence of the Union was in danger. With the gold of California and Oregon, and the three great loyal states behind the flag, it is easy to see the timeliness of the act, and the immensity of the danger from delay,not only to Oregon, but to the nation.

Some may say, "this is only a supposable case,"and it would be true, but the facts are that England, through her Hudson Bay Company, had virtually owned and controlled Oregon for nearly half a century, from 1818 up to the day Whitman started upon his great ride, altogether with the official sanction of the American people. There can scarcely be a doubt in regard to it, for reasons before stated, that England expected to continue to hold it all, or at least a large portion of it. Those who shout no danger are blind to historic facts.

Had England at the date mentioned owned Oregon, or any part of it, it is reasonably certain she would have thrown her great influence with the South in that terrible struggle in 1861-1865, when "cotton was king," and when it required all the eloquence of America's greatest orators, backed up by many of England's wisest statesmen, to prevent England at the most critical period of the struggle, "acknowledging the belligerent rights of the South."

Old Glory floats to-day from ocean to ocean, and from lakes to the Gulf the men once at war are at peace: "the gray" and "the blue" have since marched and fought under the same flag, and have rejoiced together alike in its achievements.

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