CHAPTER V. Pioneer Days, Chapter V

over. Bonaparte crossing the Alps with his army, so much lauded in history, in my judgment, was no comparison, as he had no wagons.

The first day we made the ascent, and camped with the oxen chained to trees. Remember they were all corralled the night before without food of any kind. Next day we crossed a plateau of some length, and from that we passed down the steepest hifi, or rather bank, that wagons were ever known to pass. Bear in mind that we were in a jungle of trees and bushes, and could only see a short distance in front or behind, so that if you had to stop for hours you could have no knowledge as tot he cause of detention. My team was bout the middle of the train of 50 wagons, so when this bank was encountered it took a long time to bet down. As each wagon would pass down, those behind would move forward the length of a team and wagon. Finally I cam to the jump- down, and now will come one of those pioneer incidents that will seem hard to believe, especially to those who have been brought up in a level country, and have seen no bad roads, nor anything else very bad. The wagon in front of me had in it a man who had been sick 20 days with typhoid fever, without medicine to relieve his suffering; in fact, he seemed at death's door, as he could not raise his hand to his head, and could not speak above a whisper.

CHAPTER V.

Under such circumstances it looked frightful to send a helpless man, almost unconscious, down such a frightful precipice; but it had to be done; so we hurriedly prepared for the adventure. We rough-locked all the wagon wheels, and, to make sure, a man got on each hind wheel. Half way down this precipice a ledge of rock projected just perceivable to the first that passed down, but so many wagons and so much stock had passed, forcing the dirt below from the rock, there was at the time this wagon reach it a perpendicular fall almost two feel. With all precautions arranged, and the men on the hind wheels, we made the start, and got along all right until we encountered the rock, when, from some unaccountable cause, the front wheels rose up and went off the rock and the hind wheels rose up and went crashing down the bank. Of course, the men on the wheels let go. The wagon struck bottom side up, smashed the wagon bows with such a crash that no one could suppose anything could live underneath. When it landed some one yelled out: "There, he's killed." We all rushed down and removed the wagon box and bedding, and, strange to say, we found our fellow-traveler still alive. On examination it could not be discovered at the time whether he had sustained any bodily injury from his aerial flight or not. Much quicker than it takes to write it, the wagon was righted, the sick may placed in it, and it passed on out of the way for others. The man recovered and lived.

Whilst in this turmoil and excitement, a large ox came along packed with blankets and other things belonging to the traveling outfit. The old fellow seemed to take mt he situation, and appeared to be very careful, being poor and weak. When he came to the projecting rock his limbs gave way and down he came, pack and all, and rolled over and landed in the creek below, unable to rise. We rushed to his assistance; all hands gave a

lift, and when we got him on his feet he moved on, if not a wiser ox a much wetter one.

No other mishap occurred here, to my knowledge, and a little before night the party were all down, and moving down Canyon Creek, strung out single file. Much of the route was in the creek. When night came on we bivouaced in this lonely dismal canyon, the poor oxen chained to trees, this making the third night without food of any kind. Our first rain fell that night, and from the manner it came down there was plenty where it came from. My recollection is that it was now the middle of October, and it may be truthfully said that the commencement of the rainy season in Oregon was the commencement of the tug-of-war for our weary, hungry party. After a long and almost sleepless night, morning came. We made an early start, as there was not much to cook. There was not a scrap of anything to eat in the wagon for the little family that was left in my charge. But on we go, pell mell down this creek, shut in on each side with precipitous mountains, the sides of which were covered with dense timber, with dense growth of underbrush along the creek, and a narrow, winding path cut out, following the tortuous meanderings of the stream. But fortunately about 3 o'clock the third day we emerged from this mountain prison. The rain had ceased failing and the sun gave additional enchantment to the scene, and there was plenty of grass for the almost famished stock. Canyonville, quite a flourishing town, is located on the same ground that our original camp was located. It would seem that all ought to be happy, and perhaps those fortunate enough to have something to satisfy the inner man could be so; but your scribe was not so fortunate, having eaten nothing since the day before with no prospect for anything in the future. I must say that the prospect for me and my dependents (a woman and two small children) looked gloomy, indeed. What made it more so, the party that had preceded us to open up the way and make it passable, had nothing at this same place, only what they killed in the shape of game, so there was nothing to be had in that line. But nest morning at the break of day i arose and took my gun and went forth to seek game, as out only chance was the rifle, and I had a good one. There was no chance of purchasing anything from those who still had a little, and I thought there was nothing in standing and starving without making an effort. So down the creek, i went, to where it emptied into the South Umpqua River, waded the stream full waist deep and up the side of a mountain I went. Soon I noticed fresh deer tracks. It has been 52 years since i saw those deer tracks, yet i remember the thrill of joy they sent through my weak and hungry body. A little further on I saw a deer, and if ever a man shot for meat, it was I. At the crack of the gun I saw I had the game. I prepared the carcass to cany to camp. Then I crouched down and got the deer on my back, but i found, owing to my exhausted condition, it was impossible for me to rise with it. Looking across the river, I saw a mon going toward camp on his pony. I yelled at the top of my voice, and he heard me, and came and carried my game to camp on his pony. When the news spread through camp men came from all directions for a share of the meat. I must confess i hardly knew what to say, consequently I said nothing. When the deer was dressed I threw down the knife and said: "Gentlemen, if any of you think that you need that meat more than I do, help yourselves." After I threw down the knife, I went to the tent, and after a short pause they walked away without touching the meat, all knowing that I had I had the widow and children in my care.

The last day's march out of the canyon was the worst for the destruction of