Wigwam and War-path Or the Royal Chief in Chains Part 15

Umatilla Agency has been mentioned on former pages. I return to it now to say something more of its people. It is under the management of the Catholic Church. It has had but _four_ agents in ten years, is on a great thoroughfare between the Columbia river and Idaho. It has a good climate, abundant resources, and is of great value. An effort was made during 1871, to induce the Indians to consent to a removal.

The council convened at Umatilla Agency, Oregon, August 7th, 1871, consisting on the part of the Government, of Superintendent A. B. Meacham, Agent N. A. Cornoyer, of Umatilla Agency, and John S. White, a citizen of Umatilla County, Oregon.

Hon. Felix Brunot, chairman of Indian Commission, was present; also, many of the citizens of the surrounding country. The council was organized with A. B. Meacham, president, Mathew Davenport, secretary, Donald McKay and P.

B. Pamburn, as interpreters. The council continued six days, during which time the questions at issue were fully discussed. A few of the speeches made will be sufficient to give a correct understanding of the argument for and against the sale of their lands.[4]

[4] NOTE.--See Appendix to Chapter XII. for the several speeches on the subject of removal.

The Indians were entirely untrammelled, and spoke without intimidation.

After the council had been in session four days, in reply to the remarks of a chief, that they were not ready to talk yet, it was said, "We want you to talk first all you have to say."

This council was conducted on fair terms. The Indians freely expressed their wishes and mind on the subject, and the white men accepted the result.

On all the western coast there is not a fairer land than Umatilla. I do not wonder that the Indians love their homes on this reservation. They are, however, somewhat divided in religious practice; one part being members of the Catholic Church, the remainder Dreamers,--followers of Smoh.e.l.ler. Some of them have made advancement in civil life.

Wealth has been to them a curse, and not a blessing. Many of them have large herds of horses and cattle, and have not felt the necessity for labor. The few who have farms are prosperous, the land being of excellent quality, climate favorable, and market convenient. At the Oregon State Fair, 1868, some of them were awarded first prizes for vegetables.

Surrounded, as they are, by white men, they have been worsted by the contact.

Unlike the Indians of Grand Round, who owe much of their prosperity to the citizens for whom they labored, the Indians of Umatilla are a rich, thrifty, proud people. They are fond of sports and games, and yield slowly to the advice of agents to abandon their habits. A few noticeable instances, however, to the contrary, are How-lish-wam-po, We-nap-snoot, and Pierre, together with a few others, who live in houses like citizens.

Another instance is that of the widow of Alex McKay, a half-breed. This woman, of Indian blood, has been educated by white persons, keeps house in a respectable manner, dresses after fas.h.i.+on's style, though about one year behind it. When white ladies adopt new fas.h.i.+ons this "Susan" waits to see whether it is perpetuated, and then adopts it just about the time her fairer sisters abandon it. During one of my official visits, I was invited to "a social" at Susan's house. In company with the agent and his family I attended. The refreshments served would have done credit to any house-wife in any frontier country, though the manner of serving them was rather comical. Each person went to the table, taking edibles in hand, while coffee for twenty persons was served in, perhaps, half-a-dozen cups, pa.s.sing from one to another.

The Indian women who were present were dressed "a la Boston:" painted cheeks, high chignons, immense tilting hoops, and high-heeled bootees.

The men were in citizen costume, Susan refusing to admit either man or maiden in Indian dress.

The dance, or _hop_, was also Boston, with music on a violin by a native performer. The first was an old-fas.h.i.+oned "French four." When the set was formed, they occupied the floor, leaving little room for wall-flowers.

Dancing is a part of Indian life in which they take great pleasure.

In this instance the music was slow, very slow at the commencement, but increased in time, growing faster, while faster went the flying hoops, and faster yet went the music; and then the dancers would chase each other in quick succession through the figure until the fiddles failed and the dancers, exhausted, sat down. No cold kind of amus.e.m.e.nt, that.

After refreshments were again served, another set was formed, and gone through in the same manner. I noticed in this affair that the maidens selected partners.

Susan, in reply to the remark on the change, said that "the boys liked all the girls for partners, but the girls don't always like all of the boys for partners. The boys have had their own way long enough." This is an enterprising woman, and believes in woman's rights. She is doing her people much good, in their amus.e.m.e.nts especially. Nature's children, as well as those of higher society, are blessed with joyful spirits, and a longing for recreation.

Susan has sense enough to know that she cannot, even if she would, prevent dancing, and wisely concludes to draw her people away from the old, uncouth, senseless dances of savages. Being herself a good Catholic, she is zealous for her church, and, since dancing is not prohibited, she succeeds in leading them into communion with religious people.

Whether the hearts of these converts are changed, I know not; their manners and customs are, and their ideas of right and justice much improved. For this reason, I commend this woman for her efforts to break up old, heathenish customs.

CHAPTER XIII.

"HOW-LISH-WAMPO," KING OF THE TURF--A DEAD THING CRAWLS.

Umatilla is known to be a great country for horses. I doubt if anywhere on this continent there can be found horses of greater speed or powers of endurance.

The feats performed by those people on horseback are wonderful, and past belief by those who know western horses.

How-lish-wam-po, chief of the Cayuse (Kiuse), is owner of several thousand horses. He is a stout-built man, has a dark complexion, wears his hair just clear of his shoulders, and is now past middle age.

This man is a natural horseman, and a match for any man of any race in matters pertaining to horses. He is really king of the turf in the Umatilla country.

In conversation with him regarding horses, he remarked to me that he had horses that could carry a man one hundred miles in a day, and bring him home the next day. I shook my head, when he proposed to back his judgment by betting twenty horses. I am satisfied that he could have won the wager.

The racing habits of these people are well known, and many a white man has found more than his match.

I remember, one day in the spring of 1867, a man and boy pa.s.sing my residence on the mountain bordering the Reservation. They were leading a fine-looking horse, with a fancy blanket over him. I suspected his purpose, and inquired his destination. In his answer I detected a rich Irish brogue and a tone that sounded somewhat familiar.

"It's meself that's going down to the Umatilla 'Risivation,' to have a bit of sport with the 'Injuns.' You see, I've been in Idaho this few years, and I've made me a nice bit of a stake; and I thought that, when I'd be going home, I might stop off at the Umatilla, and get even with them red-skinned boys that swindled me and Mike Connelly out of a few dollars when were going up,--so they did."

A few words of explanation, and I recognized him as the fellow who had, in partners.h.i.+p with another, bought an Indian pony, of which mention has been made in a previous chapter. I felt sympathy for him during his first adventure, and I did this time also, and said to him, "Be careful, Pat; you will lose all your money."

"Och! never fear; that fellow there has claned them all out in the Boi-se basin. Oh, but he is a sw.a.n.ge cat, so he is; and he will show them how to take a poor man in when he's foot-sore and tired, so he will, too. Now, do you mind what I'm telling yous? That lad here can tell you how he flies.

Och! but he's a swate one, so he is."

Pat went on his way with his heart full of hope. A few days after, the boy who had gone down with him returned homeward. To my inquiry about how Pat made out, racing horses, he shrugged his shoulders and replied, that "_the Injuns cleaned us out!_"

Another party, who had heard of the Umatilla race horses, pa.s.sed down toward the Reservation. This man's name was French Louie. He had several fine racers with him. I learned his destination, and gave him a few words of caution. But he replied that he "knew what he was about." He had "a horse that had '_swept the track_,' all the way from the Missouri river, at Denver City, Salt Lake, Boi-se, and Baker City. Never fear. I'll teach those Indians something they never knew, before I get through with them."

Poor fellow, I felt sorry for him. On his arrival on the Reservation he found chances to invest his money. The men he came to teach were apt scholars in tricks that are shrewd.

He led out a horse, and made a small bet and _lost_, as he _intended_ to.

The next run the Indians played _him_ the same game, until, thinking he had learned the speed of their horses, Louie proposed to wager all his money, horses, saddles, and, in fact, stake everything upon one race.

That man and his attendants went home on little ponies which the Indians gave them in charity.

How-lish-wam-po, chief of the Cayuses, is the owner of a horse with which he has challenged any and every sporting man in the country.

Several parties have visited Umatilla, bringing with them men and boys to drive home the herds of Indian horses they were "going to win."

One party imported a horse for the express purpose. He made known his desire, and he, too, soon found opportunity for an investment. The preliminaries were arranged, and the race was to be run over the Indian race-course, which was located on the bottom lands of Umatilla river, smooth, level turf, over two miles and a half in length.

At one end of this course a post was planted, round which the racers were to turn, and come back to the starting-point, making a distance of a little over five miles and a quarter.

Joe Crabb, the owner of the imported horse, had been present at a race months previous, when How-lish-wam-po had _permitted_ his horse to be beaten; and as he had measured the distance, marked the time, and subsequently tested the speed of his horse with the winner, on that occasion, he, of course, had a "dead thing."

The white men came with groom and riders, making a camp near the Indian, standing guard over his own horse, to prevent accident.

The Indians were not so careful of their horse; at least Joe Crabb thought they were not, and, since everything is fair in gambling as in war, he concluded to _know_ for himself how the speed of these two horses would compare.

He thought, as thousands of other white men have, that it was no harm to cheat an "Injun," no matter by what means.

There is a general belief that Indians sleep when their eyes are shut, and especially just _before daylight_.