CHAPTER IV. Pioneer Days, Chapter IV

Kiamath River, a stream four or five rods wide, one of the worst crossings that wagons ever made -boulders from a foot through to the size of flour barrels-but no accidents occurred.

We then had the Siskiyou Mountains to cross; but fortunately we found no difficulty in a two days' up and down passage. We then entered Rogue River valley, inhabited by a new tribe of Indians on the coast. We then struck the trail leading from Oregon to California6, and it was a comfort to know that civilized men had traveled this road before, as we had been months in a country where, to our knowledge; a white man had never been seen. The new tribe of Indians will be described in the next chapter.

CHAPTER IV

Rogue River valley was an agreeable change to us, as we found plenty of timber; water and grass for the stock. There were no indications of Indians in sight; but as we moved on and struck the river on the opposite side we saw two Indians, one with a rifle and the other with a bow and quiver of arrows. The river was about ten rods wide. They talked to use and exhibited their weapons; but as we could to understand their language, we did not answer them, so parted friendly, and proceeded down the river to where the trail crossed the stream, and there we camped. At his place we had our first introduction to Rogue River Indians' honesty, or rather dishonesty, as the sequel will show.

A Mr. Vanderpool, a former mountaineer, had brought 25 head of sheep safely across the plains. These sheep were entrusted to the care of one of his sons, but the old gentleman arose early that morning and turned the sheep out to graze until breakfast. The herd being near camp, he thought it would be safe to let them graze till he could eat his breakfast. After breakfast he went to bring the sheep, but, to his surprise and disappointment, they had disappeared in a canyon near at hand, with moccasin tracks following. He hurried back to camp and quickly reported. Your scribe quickly volunteered to follow and bring back the herd. Several other simpletons also offered their services, but, fortunately for us, he was a man of sense and experience with Indians, and would not allow us to enter the canyon on any such foolhardy expedition. As a matter of course, he would have to lead the party. so the result was that our new acquaintances were left to have a feast on the 25 sheep that had cost the owner a vast amount of trouble, and could he have succeed in getting them through they would have been valuable property.

That morning we forded the river, a swift, ugly stream, with the water in the

6 The "California Trail" of 1828 1845. A pack trail developed by the Hudson's Bay Company (HBC) to connect the Beaver colonies of the Sacramento Valley in Northern California to the Pacific Northwest headquarters of the HBC near present day Vancouver, Washington.

wagon beds in some places; but all got safely over and proceeded on our journey without interruption, until we came to what was afterwards called the Grave Creek Hills, which took us all day and well into the night to cross, it being dark and we not knowing where we were. As soon as we came to level ground, where it was possible to make a halt, we did so. We chained the oxen to trees to await what daylight would develop.

Soon a wagon appeared, with weeping and lamentation among its occupants. It was soon learned that an estimable young lady by the name of Crowley, who had been afflicted with typhoid fever, had died. It is hard to part with our loved ones in civil communities, where they may have all possible attention given them, as I know from experience; but imagine such loss in a wilderness inhabited by a savage tribe, and the impossibility of bestowing those tender cares; without physician or medicine to alleviate the suffering, and, worse still, after burial, the possibility of the body being exhumed, to be mutilated by savages or devoured by ravenous wolves, as there were many instances of such cases.

When morning came we found we were a few hundred yards from a small stream. We soon decamped and moved to the stream, laid over on that day and buried the deceased lady. All precautions were taken to hide the grave - it was dug in the center of the corral and a quantity of brush burned thereon. Two years afterward I passed that way, en route to the California gold mines, and, sorrowful to relate, the Indians had exhumed the body. Whether wolves had devoured the flesh or not could not be ascertained. At all events the bones lay bleaching in the sun, and her beautiful auburn hair lay in a mass, looking as bright and fair as it did on the head of the owner when in the vigor of youth. When I returned from California the mother of the lady came to where I was stopping, having heard of the circumstances, to inquire if the reports were true. That was one time in my life it seemed hard to tell the truth. I told it was true, and, characteristic of all mothers (God bless them all), she sept bitterly. It must be remembered that all those wold Indians watched the movements of our train till night, as wagons drawn by oxen were a sight to them both mysterious and wonderful, and they have a way of transmitting news so that our coming was made known ahead, so that all might be on the lookout. I have no doubt now but what there were Indians perhaps within a stone's thrown all day, watching everything that was done.

We will now leave this sorrowful scene and press forward to other troubles and privations, which, if we could have foreseen, would have made the bravest throw up their hands in utter despair. Winter was near at hand, and we were 200 miles from our destination-a land represented by some to flow with corn and wine and milk and honey, but the starved, hungry crowd, of which your scribe was a member, found none of the above-named delicacies, nor anything pertaining to either of them.

But to proceed on our journey. We encountered nothing of special note until we reached the entrance of the Umpqua Canyon. Before starting into that seemingly impassable barrier it was decided to lay over a day and give our lean, jaded oxen a rest, as it was said the canyon was nine miles through, and none of us had the slightest idea as to what kind of a road it would be. It was probably a good thing that we did not, for we all decided after passing over it that it was the worst road that wagons ever traveled