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                                  THE

                            _Indian Council_

                                 IN THE

                       VALLEY OF THE WALLA-WALLA.

                                 1855.

                       (PRINTED, NOT PUBLISHED.)


                             SAN FRANCISCO:
         WHITTON, TOWNE & CO., PRINTERS, EXCELSIOR JOB OFFICE,
            NO. 151 CLAY STREET, THIRD DOOR BELOW MONTGOMERY
                                 1855.


                               TARRYTOWN
                                NEW YORK
                               REPRINTED
                             WILLIAM ABBATT
                                  1915
  Being Extra No. 39 of THE MAGAZINE OF HISTORY WITH NOTES AND QUERIES




RES ARDUA VETUSTIS NOVITATUM DARE; NOVIS AUCTORITATEM; OBSOLETIS,
NITOREM; OBSCURIS, LUCEM; FASTIDITIS, GRATICUM; DUBIIS, FIDEM; OMNIBUS
VERO NATURAM, ET NATURAL SUA OMNIA.

ITAQUE ETIAM NON ASSECUTIS, VOLUISSE ABUNDE PULCHRUM UTQUE MAGNIFICUM
EST.

(It is a difficult thing to give newness to old things, authority to new
things, beauty to things out of use, fame to the obscure, favor to the
hateful (or ugly), credit to the doubtful, nature to all and all to
nature. To such, nevertheless as cannot attain to all these, it is
greatly commendable and magnificial to have attempted the same.)

                                PLINY.—preface to his _Natural History_.




                            EDITOR'S PREFACE


If the author's other book, _Army Life on the Pacific_, which we
reprinted as our EXTRA No. 30, is a scarce item of Americana, this is
even more so, for it was not even published; a few copies only having
been printed for distribution among Lieutenant Kip's friends. Hence it
is exceedingly rare; a copy being priced in a recently issued catalogue,
at $25.00.

Of the various persons mentioned in its pages, none survives.

CAPTAIN B. L. E. BONNEVILLE, Seventh Infantry, was absent so long on the
explorations which made him famous, that his name was dropped from the
rolls of the Army as probably dead. On his reappearance he was restored
(1836), served through the Mexican War with the Fourth Infantry, and was
retired in 1861. In 1865 he was brevetted brigadier general, and died in
1878, the oldest officer on the retired list.

LIEUTENANT ARCHIBALD GRACIE, Fifth Infantry, resigned May 3, 1856. In
1861 he joined the Confederate army, and was killed as a brigadier
general, Dec. 2, 1864, at Petersburg.

CAPTAIN AND BREVET MAJOR GRANVILLE O. HALLER, Fourth Infantry, a veteran
of the Mexican War. Was dismissed from the Army in 1863, but reinstated
in 1879, and died in 1897.

LIEUTENANT HENRY C. HODGES, Fourth Infantry, retired as Colonel and
Asst. Q.M. Genl. in 1895.

MAJOR GABRIEL J. RAINS, Fourth Infantry, resigned from the Army in 1861,
and joined the Confederate army. He died in 1881.

CAPTAIN DAVID A. RUSSELL, Fourth Infantry, a veteran of the Mexican War,
became Colonel of the 7th Massachusetts in 1862, and was killed, as
Major General U.S.A. in the battle of Opequan, Va., Sept. 19, 1864.

GOVERNOR ISAAC I. STEVENS, a veteran of the Mexican War, had resigned as
brevet major of Engineers, in 1853. He re-entered the Army in 1861, as
Colonel of the Seventy-ninth N. Y. and was killed as Major General, at
Chantilly, Va., Sept, 1, 1862.

CAPTAIN HENRY D. WALLEN, Fourth Infantry, was retired in 1874 as Colonel
Second Infantry. He was brevetted brigadier general in 1865 for services
during the War of the Rebellion and died in 1886.

REV. MARCUS WHITMAN, the distinguished missionary-explorer, who saved
Oregon to the United States, and was killed by the Indians at his
missionary settlement of Waülatpu, Oregon, Nov. 29, 1847.

BRIGADIER GENERAL JOHN E. WOOL, a veteran of the War of 1812, and the
Mexican War, became Major General in 1862, and was retired in 1863. He
died in 1869.




These pages are the expansion of a Journal kept while with the Escort
from the 4th Infantry, at the Indian Council. A few copies are now
printed for some personal friends. While it may show them the nature of
Army life on the frontiers, it will preserve for the writer a record of
some pleasant scenes on the plains, among tribes which in a few years
will cease to exist.

                                                            LAWRENCE KIP

  SAN FRANCISCO, SEPT. 1855.




                                  THE

                   INDIAN COUNCIL AT THE WALLA-WALLA




                                JOURNAL


It was about ten o'clock on a morning in the beginning of May, that our
good steamer crossed the bar at the mouth of the Columbia river,—from
its shifting shoals the most dangerous navigation on the whole Pacific
coast. Our passage of six days from San Francisco had been remarkably
stormy, and probably there were none on board more delighted than myself
at the prospect of once more standing on terra firma. "Life on the ocean
wave," has some very pretty poetical ideas connected with it, but I
prefer to have got through with all my rocking in my babyhood, and now
sympathize with the Conservative party in wishing all things to be firm
and stable. I am unfortunately one of those

            "Whose soul does sicken o'er the heaving wave."

At noon we reached the village of Astoria, rendered classical ground by
Washington Irving. An old trapper still living, who belonged to Mr.
Astor's first party, says, he has often seen one thousand Indian canoes
at a time collected on the beach in front of the fort. When the Hudson
Bay Company took charge of it, they removed their establishment up the
river to Vancouver, and allowed the fort to fall into decay, till not a
vestige of it now remains. A few houses, like the beginning of a
village, are scattered along the banks which slope down to the river,
wooded to the edge with pines. Opposite to this we anchored for a few
hours to land freight, and then continuing our course up the river,
night found us still "on our winding way."

At daylight I was awakened by the ceasing of the monotonous stroke of
the engine and found we were opposite to Fort Vancouver. The sun was
just rising when I came on deck, so that I had the whole scene before
me. Near the river are low meadow grounds, on which stands the post of
the Hudson Bay Company,—a picketed enclosure of about three hundred
yards square, composed of roughly split pine logs. Within this are the
buildings of the establishment, where once much of its immense fur trade
was carried on. From these head-quarters, their companies of trappers,
hunters and voyageurs, generally Canadians, were sent out to thread the
rivers in pursuit of the beaver. Alone they traversed the vast plains,
or passed months in the heart of the mountains, far north to the Russian
possessions, or south to the borders of California, returning in one or
two years with the furs to barter at the Fort. Then came generally a
short time of the wildest revelry, until everything was dissipated or
perhaps gambled away, when with a new outfit they set forth on another
expedition. From Vancouver the Company sent their cargoes of furs and
peltries to England, and thence they received by sea their yearly
supplies. They possessed an influence over the Indians which was
wonderful and which the perfect system of their operations enabled them
for years to maintain. But the transfer of the country to the Americans
and the progress of civilization around them, driving off the Indians
and beaver, have forced them to remove much of their business to other
posts.

Some distance back the ground rises, and on this ridge stand the
buildings of Fort Vancouver, one of the frontier posts of the United
States Army, marked by the American flag waving on the parade ground in
front. Far in the distance, like a cone of silver, on which the first
rays of the sun were glancing, rose the snow-capped points of Mount
Hood.

Among our passengers were one hundred and fifty recruits for the 4th
Infantry, in charge of Captain Augur, with whom I landed about six
o'clock, and was soon at the hospitable quarters of Captain Wallen.

Fort Vancouver was at this time under the command of Lieutenant Colonel
Bonneville, whose "Adventures" for three years in the adjoining Indian
country will always live and be read in the fascinating pages of Irving.
Two companies of the 4th Infantry and one of the 3d Artillery were
stationed there. Altogether, it is probably the most pleasant of our
posts on the Pacific coast. The place is healthy, the scenery around
beautiful, furnishing opportunities of fishing, hunting and riding,
while its nearness to Portland and Oregon City, prevents the young
officers from being, as at many other Western posts, deprived of the
refining influence of female society. Many are the occasions on which
they find it necessary to drop down to these places. Deserters are
supposed to be lurking there, garrison stores are to be provided, or
some other of Uncle Sam's interests are to be looked after. Then, these
visits must be returned, for the inhabitants of these places have an
equal care for the welfare of their neighbors at the fort. Numerous,
therefore, are the parties of pleasure which come from these towns to
enliven the solitude of the garrison. On these occasions they are
welcomed by balls, and night after night the fine music of the
Regimental Band is heard floating over the waters of the Columbia river
and the brilliant glare of lights from the Fort shows that _tattoo_ is
not the signal for all within its walls to retire.

Here, a few days passed pleasantly, in the way garrison life always
does. In such places there is but little change. "One day telleth
another." Guard mounting—the morning ride—the drill—the long talk over
the dinner table—the evening parade—the still longer talk at night, with
reminiscences of West Point days—and then to bed. At this time,
Lieutenant Hodges (4th Infantry) was ordered to the post at the Dalles,
about ninety miles distant, to conduct thither a company of recruits,
and I, having no very definite object in view, except to see as much of
the country as possible, determined to accompany him.

We left Vancouver about six A.M. in a little steamer, the _Belle_, which
runs up Columbia river about fifty miles, as far as the Cascades. The
scenery of the river is in all parts beautiful, but very varied in its
character. The pine forests stretch down to the banks, enlivened here
and there by the cultivated spot which some settler has cleared, whose
axe awakened new and strange echoes as it rang through the primeval
woods. On the margin of the shore, and particularly on one of the
islands, we noticed the dead-houses of the Indians, rudely constructed
of logs. Within, the bodies of the deceased are placed for a time,
attired in their best array, until the building becomes filled. Then,
the oldest occupants are removed and placed on the shore, till the tide
launches them off on their last voyage and they are swept down to the
ocean, which to the "untutored savage," as to his more cultivated
brethren, symbolizes Eternity.

About noon, after a morning of almost incessant rain, we reached the
Cascades, the head of navigation. Here, a _portage_ has to be made, as
the river for more than two miles flows over the rocks, whirling and
boiling in a succession of rapids, similar to those in the river St.
Lawrence. This is the great salmon fishery of the Columbia river, the
season for which commences in this month, when the fish descend[1] the
river in incredible numbers. The banks are inhabited by the remains of
some of the Indian tribes, who display their skill in catching the
salmon, which they dry for exportation. As we passed up, we found them
scattered along the shore employed in this work. Little bridges are
thrown out over the rocks, on which the Indians post themselves, with
nets on hoops, to which long handles are attached. With these they scoop
up the fish and throw them on the shore. They are then pounded fine
between two stones, cured, and tightly packed in bales of grass matting
lined with dried fish skin, in which state they will keep for years. The
process is precisely the same as it was when described by Lewis and
Clarke. The aboriginal village of Wish-ram, at the head of the narrows,
which they mention as being the place of resort for the tribes from the
interior to barter for fish, is yet in existence. We still notice, too,
the difference which the early explorers observed, between these Indians
and those of the plains. The latter, living on horseback, are finely
developed, and look like warriors; the former, engaged only in their
canoes or stooping over the banks, are low in stature and seem to have
been dwarfed out of all manhood. In everything noble they are many
degrees below the wild tribes on the plains.

Footnote 1:

  As the fish go _up_ the river to spawn, this is evidently a slip of
  the pen for "ascend."

------------------------------------------------------------------------

We walked for about three miles, until we had passed the Cascades, and
then took another little steamer which was to carry us to the Dalles.
The scenery above is similar to that which we had already passed. In one
place the mountains seem to come down to the river, ending in a huge
rock perfectly steep, which has received the name of Cape Horn. Above,
the precipices are covered with fir and white cedar; two small cascades,
like silver lines, leap from point to point for a distance of one
hundred and fifty feet, while below, in the deep shadow the waters seem
to sweep around the rocks with a sullen sound. About ten at night we
reached the end of our journey.

The post at the Dalles possesses none of the outward attractions of
scenery which distinguish that of Vancouver. Its principal
recommendation is its healthiness. The buildings are badly arranged,
having been planned and erected some years ago by the Mounted Rifles,
when they were stationed in Oregon. The officers' quarters are on the
top of a hill, and the barracks for the men some distance further down,
as if the officers intended to get as far from them as possible. There
is a want of compactness, and as there is no stockade—nothing in the
shape of a fortification—in case of an outbreak by any hostile tribe of
Indians, the post might easily be surprised. At this time, two Companies
of the 4th Infantry were stationed there under the command of Major
Rains.

Here I spent a week very much as I had done at Vancouver. During this
time we were enlivened by a visit from Governor Stevens, the Governor of
Washington Territory. He was on his way to the interior of the Indian
country—to Walla-Walla—in connection with the Indian Commissioners, to
hold a Grand Council, to which he had summoned the tribes far and near.
For some time they have been restless, numerous murders of emigrants
crossing the plains, have occurred, and it is deemed necessary by the
Government to remove some of the tribes to Reservations which have been
selected for them. The object of this Council was, therefore, to propose
to them the purchase of their territory—a proposition which it was
expected, (as it afterwards proved,) would be received by some tribes
with violent opposition. Governor Stevens had therefore stopped to
request a small body of troops to be sent on to meet him at the Council
ground, to act as escort to the Commissioners, and also to guard the
presents which were to be forwarded for distribution among the Indians.

A Lieutenant and about forty men were therefore detailed by Major Rains
for this duty, to which were added two half-breeds to act as packers,
and a Cayuse Indian, who was to officiate as guide. This worthy, from
having been shot in the mouth in a fight with the Snake Indians,
rejoiced in the _soubriquet_ of Cut-mouth John. Wounds are said to be
honorable, particularly when received in front, but this was certainly
not ornamental, for it had given him a dreadful distortion of visage.

On the invitation of the young commander of the expedition, I agreed to
accompany it. The choice of this officer indeed held out every promise
of a pleasant time. Lieutenant Archibald Gracie, in addition to his high
qualifications as a soldier and gentleman, (traits which he shares in
common with the other officers of the post,) had for my purpose the
advantage of our cadet life together for a while at West Point, which
gave us a common topic and ground of interest in the past. Many an
evening, therefore, have we spent lying before our camp fire, out on the
still plains or by the rushing waters of the Umatilla, talking over
these recollections or discussing the probable fortunes of those who
were with us in the House of Bondage.

Our preparations were soon made, for army expeditions do not allow much
time for packing of trunks. The command was mounted, some fifteen pack
mules added to carry the camp equipage, and about noon, May 18th, we bid
farewell to the officers and rode away from the Dalles. Our course
during the afternoon was through the Des Chutes Valley, an admirable
country for grazing, as the temperature is such that cattle can be kept
out for the whole year and always find subsistence. It was formerly the
place where the Hudson Bay Company raised all the best horses they used.
The country appears, however, from the absence of timber, to be waste
and desolate, though the soil is said to be rich and admirably adapted
to agriculture. After passing the little river of Des Chutes, we found
some springs near the Columbia and encamped, having advanced about
twenty miles.

Our arrangements for sleeping were soon made. We carried no tents, so
that a buffalo robe and a blanket formed all our bedroom furniture. This
did well enough on pleasant nights, but when it rained, it required some
skill to take refuge under the buffalo robe in such a way as to keep
dry, and not to wake up finding one's self lying in a pool of water. As
soon as we encamped, fires were made by the soldiers and the cooking
commenced. Our suppers indeed, were not very sumptuous, the invariable
bill of fare being, bacon, hard biscuit and a cup of coffee. Yet a long
day's ride would supply the appetite, and after the horses were picketed
and we were sitting cosily by the fire or were lying down watching the
stars above us, with no sound on the wide plain but the measured tread
of our sentinel, there was a degree of freedom about it far more
pleasant than the conventional life of cities.

_Saturday, May 9th._—We were up early this morning with the intention of
making a long march, but were disappointed, as some of our animals had
strayed off. There being no Indians in the neighborhood, they had been
turned out loose. Men had to be sent out to hunt them up, and it was
near eleven o'clock before the command was ready to march. However, we
improved on the previous day, going twenty-five miles. During the
morning, we reached John Day's River. This, so called from a hunter who
was one of the original members of Mr. Astor's enterprise, it took us
some time to cross, as the water was high, and all the pack mules had to
be unloaded and their packs taken across in a canoe. We went into camp
about five o'clock.

_Sunday, May, 20th._—This was anything but a day of rest, for our march
was the most severe one we have had, being more than forty miles, with
the sun, hot as the tropics, beating down upon our heads. There was
nothing, too, in the appearance of the country to afford any relief. Far
as the eye could reach was only a wide sunburnt plain, perfectly
lifeless, for the summer suns, by burning up the herbage, had driven the
game to seek refuge by the rivers. The prairie was covered with only a
miserable crop of salt weed and wormwood, and our animals drooped as we
pushed on to find some resting place. Added to this was the want of
water, for often in these regions we are obliged to march from twenty to
twenty-five miles, before we can reach a spring or water course. We were
forced in this case to ride the whole day without stopping, until
towards evening we reached Wells' Springs, a desolate looking place, at
the foot of a range of hills. Here, however, we had water, and therefore
encamped. Night, too, was at hand, so that we were relieved from the
intolerable glare and heat, and in addition, one of the corporals had
the good fortune to shoot a couple of ducks which were lingering about
in the neighborhood of the spring, so that our evening fare was quite
luxurious.

_Monday, May 21st._—To-day we made a shorter march, of thirty miles, and
went into camp at three o'clock. Three miles from our camping ground we
passed the Indian Agency, a house erected by Government at an expense of
six thousand dollars, for the residence of the Agent. He is, however,
seldom here, making his home generally at the Dalles, and when we passed
the place it was unoccupied. In the evening a party of Indians, whom we
found to be Walla-Wallas, rode into camp. After a little _pow-wow_ they
left us, but having some suspicions of our visitors, our little camp was
arranged with extra care. The horses were carefully picketed, lest they
should be run off, and Lieutenant Gracie directed the guard in walking
their rounds to examine that their muskets were ready for immediate use.

In the course of the night the rain had commenced and Lieutenant Gracie
and I were striving to keep dry and sleep under the little tent of pack
covers we had hastily erected, when we were startled from our first
slumbers by a terrific yell. It may be imagined that it did not take us
many seconds to be on our feet, with our pistols ready for, what we
supposed, was an attack. Looking out, however, in the dark night, every
thing seemed quiet on the prairie. The animals were grazing around, and
not an Indian to be seen. Upon inquiry, we discovered that the
disturbance had been caused by one of the soldiers finding a large snake
in bed with him. The reptile probably did not like the rain, and
therefore crawled under the soldier's blanket for warmth. What species
it was we did not learn, for the snake, disgusted with his inhospitable
reception, glided away, and the soldier did not detain him to make any
enquiries about his parentage.

_Tuesday, May 22d._—Our course this morning was through the same
desolate country, until we struck the Umatilla, a beautiful stream
fringed with trees. About ten o'clock we came upon a party of ten
soldiers of the 4th Infantry, who were encamped by the river. They had
been sent out from the Dalles a week before, under the command of a
corporal, in pursuit of some Indian murderers, in finding whom, however,
they had been successful. As Lieutenant Gracie had been directed, in
event of meeting them, to add them to his command, their camp was broken
up and they marched on with us, making the number of soldiers
forty-seven. Towards evening our guide announced that we were but a few
miles from the valley which was the residence of the Cayuse tribe.
Lieutenant Gracie, therefore, sent on the soldiers under command of a
sergeant to find a camping place for the night, while we, under the
guidance of Mr. Cut-mouth John, struck across the country to visit his
countrymen. We found their lodges in a beautiful, well-watered valley,
which I am not surprised they are unwilling to give up. They are,
however, much diminished in numbers, and did not seem to amount to more
than two hundred. We went into several of their lodges, and although
they are notoriously the most unfriendly tribe to the whites among all
the Indians in this region, of which we afterwards had some strong
evidences, yet on this occasion they received us well and showed no
feelings but those of cordiality. After leaving them, we returned to the
trail, and riding on about five miles, found our party encamped by the
Umatilla.

_Wednesday, May 23d._—At two o'clock P.M., we arrived at the ground
selected for the Council, having made the march in six days. It was in
one of the most beautiful spots of the Walla-Walla Valley, well wooded
and with plenty of water. Ten miles distant is seen the range of the
Blue Mountains, forming the southeast boundary of the great plains along
the Columbia, whose waters it divides from those of Lewis river. It
stretches away along the horizon until it is lost in the dim distance,
where the chain unites with the Snake River Mountains.

Here we found General Palmer, the Indian Agent, and Governor Stevens,
with their party, who had already pitched their tents. With the latter
we dined. As was proper for the highest dignitary on the ground, he had
a dining room separate from his tent. An arbor had been erected near it,
in which was placed a table, hastily constructed from split pine logs,
smoothed off, but not very smooth. Our own preparations were made for a
more permanent encampment than we have as yet had: a tent was procured
for Lieutenant Gracie and myself, while the men erected for themselves
huts of boughs, spreading over them pack covers.

_Thursday, May 24th._—This has been an exceedingly interesting day, as
about twenty-five hundred of the Nez Percé tribe have arrived. It was
our first specimen of this Prairie chivalry, and it certainly realized
all our conceptions of these wild warriors of the plains. Their coming
was announced about ten o'clock, and going out on the plain to where a
flag staff had been erected, we saw them approaching on horseback in one
long line. They were almost entirely naked, gaudily painted and
decorated with their wild trappings. Their plumes fluttered above them,
while below, skins and trinkets and all kinds of fantastic
embellishments flaunted in the sunshine. Trained from early childhood
almost to live upon horseback, they sat upon their fine animals as if
they were centaurs. Their horses, too, were arrayed in the most glaring
finery. They were painted with such colors as formed the greatest
contrast; the white being smeared with crimson in fantastic figures, and
the dark colored streaked with white clay. Beads and fringes of gaudy
colors were hanging from the bridles, while the plumes of eagle feathers
interwoven with the mane and tail, fluttered as the breeze swept over
them, and completed their wild and fantastic appearance.

When about a mile distant they halted, and half a dozen chiefs rode
forward and were presented to Governor Stevens and General Palmer, in
the order of their rank. Then on came the rest of the wild horsemen in
single file, clashing their shields, singing and beating their drums as
they marched past us. Then they formed a circle and dashed around us,
while our little group stood there, the center of their wild evolutions.
They would gallop up as if about to make a charge, then wheel round and
round, sounding their loud whoops until they had apparently worked
themselves up into an intense excitement. Then some score or two
dismounted, and forming a ring, danced for about twenty minutes, while
those surrounding them beat time on their drums.

After these performances, more than twenty of the chiefs went over to
the tent of Governor Stevens, where they sat for sometime, smoking the
"pipe of peace," in token of good fellowship, and then returned to their
camping ground.

The Nez Percés, or pierced-nose Indians, received this name from the
early traders and trappers, but they call themselves by the name of
Chipunnish. While they are the most friendly to the whites of any tribe
in this region, they are at the same time one of the most numerous and
powerful, roaming over the whole Rocky Mountains, along the streams to
the West, and across the almost limitless plains to the East, until they
reach the hunting grounds of the tribes of the Missouri. They hunt the
elk, the white bear, the mountain sheep and the buffalo, while they trap
the beaver to sell the skins to the whites. They are celebrated for
their droves of horses, which, after being branded, are turned loose to
roam upon the fertile plains till needed by their owners: when this is
the case, it requires but a few days to break them sufficiently to
answer the purpose of their bold riders.

About seventy women were seen among the warriors, for their presence is
necessary when the tribe is to be encamped for any length of time. They
perform all the menial offices, arranging the lodge, cooking and
bringing wood, for it would be a disgrace to their lords to be seen
engaged in these things. It would procure for them the title of
_squaws_. Every thing but the perils of war and the chase are beneath
their attention. When at home and not occupied in preparing their arms,
or in feats of horsemanship, they are gambling, lounging in groups on
the mounds of the prairie, or listening to some story-teller, who
recounts the exploits of the old warriors of the tribe.

The Walla-Wallas, another of the principal tribes present, is one much
reduced in numbers and in importance since the pioneer trappers first
came among them. They range through the valley for thirty miles, to old
Fort Walla-Walla, once a central trading post of the Hudson Bay Company,
on the left bank of the Columbia river near where the Walla-Walla
empties into it.

In the afternoon I visited the lodge of an old chief of the Nez Percés,
named Lawyer. He showed us a wound in his side from which he was yet
suffering, although several years had elapsed since it was received. It
had been inflicted in a fight with their old hereditary enemies, the
Blackfeet Indians. These are the most dangerous banditti among all the
tribes,—perfect Ishmaelites—who, while they are at war with all the
neighboring savages, have nourished the most implacable hatred to the
whites, since they first met them in the days of Lewis and Clarke. War
is their employment, and the booty they gain by it, their support. They
are admirable horsemen and as much distinguished for their treachery as
for their headlong courage. Their hunting grounds extend from the Yellow
Stone and Missouri rivers to the Rocky Mountains. He showed us also some
locks of their hair which he wore about him,—not as love tokens, or
presented willingly by the former owners, but rather the reverse, as I
presume they are the remains of scalps he had taken.

To-day Governor Stevens and Mr. Doty, one of his party, dined with us.
It was the first dinner party we had given in the wilderness. Yet think
not, O ye who dine your friends at Delmonico's, that our entertainment
was at all like yours! In the centre of our tent, a buffalo robe was
laid on the ground (the luxury of a table being confined to the
Governor), on which were placed the tin plates which were our only
dishes, for china is not adapted to mule traveling on the plains. About
this we reclined rather in the Oriental style. At one end of the table
(I mean the buffalo skin) was a beef steak from one of the cattle daily
killed at the camp, and at the other end a portion of the same
unfortunate animal's liver. One side-dish was a plate of potatoes—the
other, a plate of bread of leaden heaviness. The second course
was—coffee, likewise served in tin cups. Yet we gathered around this
feast with appetites which could not be found among the strollers in
Broadway, and which it required no French sauces to provoke.

_Friday, May 25th._—We woke this morning to hear the rain pattering
about us, and to be thankful that we were encamped, and not obliged to
resume our march. At noon it cleared up, when we procured our horses and
rode over to the Indian camp to pay another visit to our friend Lawyer.
We found the old chief surrounded by his family and reading a portion of
the New Testament, while a German soldier of Governor Stevens' party,
was engaged taking his portrait in crayon. He afterwards presented me
with a copy, which I keep as a memento of these pleasant days in the
wilderness.

In the evening he came to our tent to return our visit. We feasted him
to the best of our ability, not omitting the indispensable pipe, and he
seemed exceedingly gratified with his entertainment. A discussion had
taken place sometime before, as to the hospitality of the Indians, and
Lieutenant Gracie determined on this occasion to test the question: so,
when the old chief's heart seemed to be warmed up with our good cheer,
he enquired, "Whether Lawyer would be glad to see him if he came to his
country to make a short visit?" To this rather direct hint no reply was
for some time given, and the old man evidently endeavored to change the
subject. At last, finding it pressed upon him, he said—"That Mr. Craig,"
(an American,) "had a very good house not far from his lodge." The
nearest to an invitation that he would give, was to answer in reply to
Lieutenant Gracie's question, "Perhaps so."

_Saturday, May 26th._—I spent the morning on horseback exploring the
country. In the course of my ride I met an Indian boy with a prairie
chicken he had just killed, and which he was delighted to exchange for
an old silk handkerchief. There are three peculiarities for which this
region of country has been remarked,—its gorgeous sunsets,—the rapidity
with which the water in its streams rises and falls,—and the contrast
between its hot days and cold nights.

Towards evening the Cayuse tribe arrived, numbering about three hundred.
They came in whooping and singing in the Indian fashion, and after
riding round the camp of the Nez Percés two or three times, they retired
to form their own at some little distance. In a short time some of the
principal chiefs paid their respects to Governor Stevens and then came
down to look at our camp. It was not, as we had reason to believe
afterwards, a friendly visit, but rather a _reconnaissance_ to learn our
numbers and estimate our powers of resistance. In the evening I again
visited Lawyer and also a number of his tribe. Some of them we found
singing sacred music to prepare for to-morrow, which is Sunday.

_Sunday, May 27th._—The rain this morning when we woke, was not
pattering upon our tent, but fairly splashing around it, so that we were
contented to keep within its covering till noon, when the returning
sunshine invited us forth. After riding over to Governor Stevens' to
lunch, we went to the Nez Percé camp, where we found they were holding
service in one of the largest lodges: two of the chiefs were
officiating, one of them delivering an address, (taking the Ten
Commandments for his text,) and at the end of each sentence the other
chief would repeat it in a louder tone of voice. This is their
invariable custom with all their speeches. Everything was conducted with
the greatest propriety, and the singing, in which they all joined, had
an exceedingly musical effect. There is an odd mixture of this world and
the next in some of the Nez Percés,—an equal love for fighting and
devotion—the wildest Indian traits with a strictness in some religious
rites which might shame those "who profess and call themselves
Christians." They have prayers in their lodges every morning and
evening—service several times on Sunday—and nothing will induce them on
that day to engage in any trading.

At an early day the Roman Catholic Missionaries went among them, and as
the tribe seemed blessed with a more tractable disposition than most of
their brethren, the labors of the Fathers appear to have met with
considerable success. A kind of Christianity was introduced among them,
strangely altered, indeed, in many respects, to make it harmonize with
Indian thoughts and actions, yet still retaining many of the great
truths of the faith. It exerted, too, a very perceptible influence over
their system of morality. The Methodists, I believe, have more recently
added their teaching; so that if the theological creed of the Nez Percés
was now investigated, it would probably be an odd system, which would
startle an ordinary D.D.

After service we rode through the Cayuse camp, but saw no evidence of
Sunday there. The young warriors were lounging about their lodges,
preparing their arms or taking care of their horses, to be ready for
their evening races. The Christianity among these Indians, we suspect,
is confined to the Nez Percés.

_Monday, May 28th._—At noon to-day I rode out about five miles from our
camp to visit some gentlemen who reside on the site of one of the old
Missions. It was once the residence of the Methodist missionaries, who
seem to have succeeded the Roman Catholic priests in some parts of this
country. For what reason, I know not, they appear to have abandoned
their ground, and when the old _adobe_ buildings stood vacant, being
well situated, with timber around, they were taken by these gentlemen
who were endeavoring to raise stock, to sell to emigrants crossing the
plains, or settlers who will soon be "locating" themselves through these
valleys. They have since abandoned it and moved fifty miles farther into
the interior to a claim of their own. About a stone's throw from the
house are the graves of Dr. Whitman and his family, (seven in number,)
who were murdered in 1847, by a band of Cayuses. He was, I believe,
physician to the Mission.

We spent the afternoon at the Nez Percé camp, where a band of some
thirty young warriors were engaged in dancing and singing. Their musical
instruments are few in number and of the rudest kind. The singing is
very harsh, and to us, who listened to it only as a collection of
sounds, seemed utterly discordant. The songs are almost entirely
extemporaneous, like the Improvisatore recitations of the Italians, a
narrative of some past events, or perhaps suggested by the sight of
persons present, or by trifling circumstances known to the audience. We
never saw the women dancing, and believe they rarely do, and never with
the men.

During the dancing we had a little interlude in the shape of a speech. A
young chief delivered it, and at the end of each sentence it was
repeated in a louder voice by one of the old men. This repetition is
their invariable custom, and a crier seems to be a necessary
accompaniment to all their villages.

To-day, leading chiefs belonging to some of the most distant tribes,
attended by their followers, have been coming in to the camp, and most
of those for which the Commissioners have been waiting are now
represented. Their encampments and lodges are scattered over the valley
for more than a mile, presenting a wild and fantastic appearance. The
Council will probably open to-morrow. According to the original orders
received by Lieutenant Gracie, this was to have been our last day here,
but foreseeing this delay, Governor Stevens had some time ago sent an
express to the Dalles, stating the necessity for the soldiers remaining.
To-day the express returned, bringing instructions from Major Haller to
Lieutenant Gracie, authorizing him to remain on the Council-ground until
the treaty was concluded, and informing him that provisions had been
sent to the escort for seven days more.

_Tuesday, May 29th._—To-day the Council was to have met at twelve, but
it was two o'clock before it came together. About eight tribes were
represented. Nothing, however, was done but to organize the Council and
swear in the interpreters. Governor Stevens then made them a short
address. All this occupied about two hours, when it began to rain and
the Council adjourned to meet again at ten o'clock to-morrow morning if
the weather should be pleasant: otherwise, on the first pleasant day. A
fine prospect for the extension of our stay in the valley! There are
about five thousand Indians, including squaws and children, on the
ground.

We had another of our _recherché_ dinner parties this evening,
entertaining one of the gentlemen residing at the Mission, and another
attached to Governor Stevens' party. We received to-day news of the
inspection visit of General Wool to Fort Vancouver and his order for an
expedition to set out on the twentieth of June from Fort Dalles, for the
Snake Indian country, the force to be commanded by Major Haller.

_Wednesday, May 30th._—At one o'clock this afternoon the Council met,
and business seems to be really commencing. It was a very striking
scene. Directly in front of Governor Stevens' tent a small arbor had
been erected, in which, at a table, sat several of his party taking
notes of every thing said. In front of the arbor on a bench sat Governor
Stevens and General Palmer, and before them, in the open air, in
concentric semicircles, were ranged the Indians, the chiefs in the front
ranks, in the order of their dignity, while the far back ground was
filled with women and children. The Indians sat on the ground, (in their
own words,) "reposing on the bosom of their Great Mother." There were
probably a thousand present at a time.

After smoking for half an hour, (a ceremony which with them precedes all
business,) the Council was opened by a short address from General
Palmer. Governor Stevens then rose and made a long speech, setting forth
the object of the Council and what was desired of them. As he finished
each sentence, the interpreters repeated it to two of the Indians, who
announced it in a loud voice to the rest—one in the Nez Percé and the
other in the Walla-Walla language. This process necessarily causes
business to move slowly.

Many of the Indians have been to our camp to visit us to-day among them,
Stechus, an old Chief of the Cayuses.

_Thursday, May 31st._—On arriving at Governor Stevens' tent I found that
the Council had already met. After the usual preamble of smoking,
Governor Stevens and General Palmer, in succession, made long speeches
to them, explaining the benefits they would receive from signing this
treaty, and the advantages which would result to them from their removal
to the new lands offered in exchange for their present hunting grounds.
The Council lasted till three o'clock.

This evening we went, as usual, to the Nez Percé camp. There was a
foot-race, but the great events of the evening were the horse-races.
Each of the tribes now here possesses large numbers of horses, so that
wherever they are, the prairies about them are covered with these
animals roaming at large until wanted by their masters. Part of these
are derived from the wild horses of the prairies, while some, from the
marks with which they are branded, show that they have been stolen from
the Spaniards in Upper Mexico. To capture horses is esteemed next in
honor to laurels gained in actual war, and they will follow the party of
a hostile tribe for weeks, watching an opportunity to "run off" their
horses. It is for this, too, that they are hovering around the emigrants
on the plains, who some times by a _stampede_, or a single bold dash,
lose in a night all their animals, and are left helpless on the plains,
as a ship at sea without sails.

Living as they do on horseback, racing forms one of their greatest
amusements. They will ride for miles, often having heavy bets depending
on the result. On this occasion we saw nearly thirty Indians start at
once and dash over the plain like the winds, sweeping round in a circle
of several miles.

_Friday, June 1st._—The Council did not meet this morning, as the
Indians wished time to consider the proposal made to them during the
last few days. We learned that two or three of the half-civilized Nez
Percés, who could write, were keeping a minute account of all that
transpired at these meetings.

At the races this evening a serious accident took place, and which had
nearly proved fatal. The Indians, as usual, were dashing about on
horseback, some going up and others down, when two of them came in
collision, knocking down both horses and leaving the riders senseless.
No bones happened to be broken: the "medicine men" took charge of them,
and it is supposed they will recover.

To-day has been the warmest we have had: there has not been a breath of
air stirring, and the valley seemed like an extensive oven. At evening,
however, the skies darkened, and for two hours we had the most
tremendous thunder storm I ever witnessed. It was worthy of the tropics.

_Saturday, June 2d._—Just before I was up this morning we had a call
from some of the Indians, who pay little regard to visiting hours. After
breakfast I rode over to see the gentlemen at the old Mission, and on my
return to camp found that the Council was already assembled, having met
at twelve o'clock. The Indian Chiefs had at length begun to reply, so
that another step has been gained. After Governor Stevens' opening
speech, several of them followed in short addresses. I arrived there
just in time to hear the last one, made by one of the Cayuse Chiefs. He
did not commit himself as to what they would do, but the whole tenor of
his address was unfavorable to the reception of the treaty. After a few
words in conclusion from Governor Stevens, the Council adjourned until
ten o'clock on Monday.

Then came part of my daily routine of amusement, to ride out and see
Lieutenant Gracie practice the soldiers at target firing. He has been
gradually lengthening the distance, and some of the men are now able to
make very admirable shots. At the Indian camp to-night there was a great
foot-race between about a dozen competitors, who ran over two miles. It
was a good test of the long-winded endurance of the young warriors. As
they raced off over the plain, parties of the Indians and those of us
who were on horseback, rode on each side of them, the friends of the
competitors encouraging them and taunting those who flagged.

_Sunday, June 3d._—A quiet day, most of it spent in reading in my tent.
In the afternoon rode over to the Mission, and on my return dined with
Governor Stevens. This evening the pack mules from Fort Dalles, with
seven days' provisions, arrived at the Mission and are to be brought
over early to-morrow morning by some of the soldiers.

_Monday, June 4th_—Breakfast at the fashionable hour of ten, as I was
waiting for Lieutenant Gracie, who was obliged to go early to the
Mission to see about the pack mules. An express came in this morning
from the Dalles, giving him orders to join Major Haller's command,
forty-five miles below this place, as soon as the Council breaks up.

The diplomatists met to-day at half-past one o'clock. After Governor
Stevens' address, the old Chief, Lawyer, spoke, which was the first time
anything had been heard from the Nez Percés. Several of the other Chiefs
followed, and the Council finally adjourned at five o'clock, without
having yet made any sensible progress. The maxim, that "time is money,"
which prevails so extensively among the Anglo-Saxons, has not yet
penetrated into the wilderness to be received as a motive in any way
influencing the conduct. With the Indians, "the next moon" will answer
just as well as this month, for any business that is to be transacted. I
should think, however, that the Commissioners would have their patience
utterly exhausted.

Until a late hour we heard from the Indian camps the sound of their
singing and the beating of their drums, and could see the figures flit
before the fires as the dancing went on.

_Tuesday, June 5th._—Another visit before breakfast from some of our
Indian friends. Early this morning Lieutenant Gracie sent off an express
to the Dalles to report progress. Then came the same routine of the
Council: Governor Stevens, at the opening, gave them the most elaborate
address he has yet made, explaining to the Chiefs most definitely, what
lands he wished them to give up, and what their "Great Father," (the
President,) would give them in return, together with the benefits they
would derive from the exchange. General Palmer afterwards made a speech
an hour long, in which he endeavored to illustrate to his audience the
many advantages resulting from their being brought into contact with
civilization. His reasoning at one time led him to give an account of
the Railroad and Telegraph. It was sufficiently amusing to listen to
this scientific lecture, (as Julian Avenel says of Warden's homily in
_The Monastery_,) "quaintly conceived and curiously pronounced, and to a
well chosen congregation;" but it probably would have been much more
diverting, could we have known the precise impressions left upon the
minds of his audience, or have heard them talk it over afterwards in
their lodges. After he had finished, Stechus, an old Cayuse Chief, made
a short speech, and then Governor Stevens adjourned them until
to-morrow.

There is evidently a more hostile feeling towards the whites getting up
among some of the tribes, of which we had to-night a very unmistakable
proof. The Cayuses, we have known, have never been friendly, but
hitherto they have disguised their feelings. To-night, as Lieutenant
Gracie and I attempted, as usual, to enter their camp, they showed a
decided opposition: we were motioned back, and the young warriors threw
themselves in our way to obstruct our advance. To yield to this,
however, or to show any signs of being intimidated, would have been
ruinous with the Indians, so we were obliged to carry out our original
intentions. We placed our horses abreast, riding round the Indians,
where it was possible, and at other times forcing our way through,
believing that they would not dare to resort to actual violence. If,
however, this hostile feeling at the Council increases, how long will it
be before we have an actual outbreak?

_Wednesday, June 6th._—To-day the Indians again determined not to meet
in Council, as they wished to consult among themselves: so there is
another day lost. After my ride up the valley to the Mission, I found on
my return to dinner, an old trapper and Indian trader had come in to
visit us, and was to be our guest. We had, however, a sumptuous repast,
for he brought with him a buffalo tongue, a great luxury on the plains,
and one which anywhere might tempt the epicure.

The races to-night were the most exciting we have seen, as the Indians
had bet some sixteen or eighteen blankets (a great stake for them!) on
the result, and all the passions of their savage natures were called
into play. There was visible none of that Mohawk stoicism of manner
which Fenimore Cooper describes. After the races were finished,
Lieutenant Gracie and I concluded to ride into the camp of our amiable
friends, the Cayuses, to see how they felt this evening. There was no
attempt to exclude us, though if savage and scowling looks could have
killed, we should both have ended our mortal career this evening in this
Valley of Walla-Walla.

_Thursday, June 7th._—Mr. McKay took breakfast with us. He is the son of
the old Indian hunter so often mentioned in Irving's "Astoria," and
whose name is identified with pioneer life in this region.

The Council met to-day at twelve, when I went into the arbor, and taking
my seat at the reporters' table, wrote some of the speeches delivered.
There is, of course, in those of the Indians, too much repetition to
give them fully, but a few extracts may show the manner in which these
wearisome debates were conducted day after day:

GOVERNOR STEVENS. "My brothers! we expect to have your hearts to-day.
Let us have your hearts straight out."

LAWYER, the old Nez Percé Chief. The first part of his speech was
historical, relating the discovery of this country by the Spaniards,
which is a favorite topic with the Indian orators. In the course of it,
he thus narrated the story of Columbus and the egg, which he had heard
from some of the missionaries.

"One of the head of the court said, 'I knew there was such a country.'
Columbus, who had discovered it, said, 'Can you make an egg stand on its
end?' He tried to make the egg stand, but could not do it. He did not
understand how. It fell over. Columbus then showed them all that he
could make it stand. He set it down and it stood. He knew how, and after
they saw it done, they could all do it."

He thus described the manner in which the tribes at the East receded at
the approach of the whites:

"The red men traveled away farther, and from that time they kept
traveling away farther, as the white people came up with them. And this
man's people," (pointing to a Delaware Indian, who was one of the
interpreters,) "are from that people. They have come on from the Great
Lake where the sun rises, until they are near to us now, at the setting
sun. And from that country, somewhere from the centre, came Lewis and
Clarke, and that is the way the white people traveled and came on here
to my forefathers. They passed through our country, they became
acquainted with our country and all our streams, and our forefathers
used them well, as well as they could, and from the time of Columbus,
from the time of Lewis and Clarke, we have known you, my friends; we
poor people have known you as brothers."

He concluded by expressing his approval of the treaty, only urging that
the whites should act towards them in good faith.

GOVERNOR STEVENS. "We have now the hearts of the Nez Percés through
their Chief. Their hearts and our hearts are one. We want the hearts of
the other tribes through their Chiefs."

YOUNG CHIEF, of the Cayuses. He was evidently opposed to the treaty, but
grounded his objections on two arguments. The first was, they had no
right to sell the ground which God had given for their support, unless
for good reasons.

"I wonder if the ground has anything to say? I wonder if the ground
would come alive and what is on it? Though I hear what the ground says.
The ground says, 'It is the Great Spirit that placed me here. The Great
Spirit tells me to take care of the Indians, to feed them aright. The
Great Spirit appointed the roots to feed the Indians on. The water says
the same thing. The Great Spirit directs me, Feed the Indians well. The
grass says the same thing, Feed the horses and cattle. The ground, water
and grass say, The Great Spirit has given us our names. We have these
names and hold these names. Neither the Indians nor the Whites have a
right to change these names. The ground says, The Great Spirit has
placed me here to produce all that grows on me, trees and fruit. The
same way the ground says, It was from me man was made. The Great Spirit,
in placing men on the earth, desired them to take good care of the
ground and to do each other no harm. The Great Spirit said, You Indians
who take care of certain portions of the country should not trade it off
except you get a fair price...."

The other argument was, that he could not understand clearly what they
were to receive:

"The Indians are blind. This is the reason we do not see the country
well. Lawyer sees clear. This is the reason why I don't know anything
about this country. I do not see the offer you have made to us yet. If I
had the money in my hand I should see. I am, as it were, blind. I am
blind and ignorant. I have a heart, but cannot say much. This is the
reason why the Chiefs do not understand each other right, and stand
apart. Although I see your offer before me, I do not understand it and I
do not yet take it. I walk as it were in the dark, and cannot therefore
take hold of what I do not see. Lawyer sees and he takes hold. When I
come to understand your propositions, I will take hold. I do not know
when. This is all I have to say."

FIVE CROWS, of the Walla-Wallas. "I will speak a few words. My heart is
just the same as the Young Chief's."

GENERAL PALMER. "We know no Chief among the Walla-Wallas but
Peepe-mox-mox. If he has anything to say, we will be pleased to hear
it."

PEEPE-MOX-MOX. "I do not know what is straight. I do not see the offer
you have made to the Indians. I never saw these things which are offered
by my Great Father. My heart cried when you first spoke to me. I felt as
if I was blown away like a feather. Let your heart be, to separate as we
now are and appoint some other time. We shall have no bad minds. Stop
the whites from coming up here until we have this talk. Let them not
bring their axes with them. The whites may travel in all directions
through our country, we will have nothing to say to them, provided they
do not build houses on our lands. Now I wish to speak about Lawyer. I
think he has given his land. That is what I think from his words. I
request another meeting. It is not in one meeting only that we can come
to a decision. If you come again with a friendly message from our Great
Father, I shall see you again at this place. To-morrow I shall see you
again, and to-morrow evening I shall go home. This is all I have to
say."

GENERAL PALMER. "I want to say a few words to these people. But before I
do so, if Camiaken wants to speak, I will be glad to hear him."

CAMAIKEN, Yakima Chief. "I have nothing to say."

GENERAL PALMER. "I would enquire whether Peepe-mox-mox or Young Chief
has spoken for the Umatillas? I would wish to know farther, whether the
Umatillas are of the same heart?"

OWHI, Umatilla Chief. "We are talking together, and the Great Spirit
hears all that we say to-day. The Great Spirit gave us the land and
measured the land to us. This is the reason I am afraid to say any thing
about this land. I am afraid of the laws of the Great Spirit. This is
the reason of my heart being sad. This is the reason I cannot give you
an answer. I am afraid of the Great Spirit. Shall I steal this land and
sell it? or, what shall I do? This is the reason why my heart is sad.
The Great Spirit made our friends, but the Great Spirit made _our_
bodies from the earth, as if they were different from the whites. What
shall I do? Shall I give the land which is a part of my body and leave
myself poor and destitute? Shall I say, I will give you my land? I
cannot say so. I am afraid of the Great Spirit. I love my life. The
reason why I do not give my land away is, I am afraid I shall be sent to
hell. I love my friends. I love my life. This is the reason why I do not
give my land away. I have one word more to say. My people are far away.
They do not know your words. This is the reason I cannot give you an
answer. I show you my heart. This is all I have to say."

GOVERNOR STEVENS. "How will Camiaken or Schoom speak?"

CAMAIKEN. "What have I to be talking about?"

GENERAL PALMER. "We have listened and heard our Chiefs speak. The hearts
of the Nez Percés and ours are one. The Cayuses, the Walla-Wallas, and
the other tribes, say, they do not understand us. We were in hopes we
should have had but one heart. Why should we have more than one heart?
Young Chief says, he does not know what we propose to him. Peepe-mox-mox
says the same. Can we bring these saw mills and these grist mills on our
backs to show these people? Can we bring these blacksmith shops, these
wagons and tents on our backs to show them at this time? Can we cause
fields of wheat and corn to spring up in a day that they may see them?
Can we build these school houses and these dwellings in a day? Can we
bring all the money that these things will cost, that they may see it?
It would be more than all the horses of any one of these tribes could
carry. It takes time to do these things. We come first to see you and
make a bargain. We brought but a few goods with us. But whatever we
promise to give you, you will get.

"How long will these people remain blind? We come to try and open their
eyes. They refuse the light. I have a wife and children. My brother here
has the same. I have a good house, fields of wheat, potatoes and peas.
Why should I leave them and come so far to see you? It was to try and do
you good, but you throw it away. Why is it that you do so? We all
sometimes do wrong. Sometimes because our hearts are bad, and sometimes
because we have bad counsel. Your people have sometimes done wrong. Our
hearts have cried. Our hearts still cry. But if you will try to do
right, we will try to forget it. How long will you listen to this bad
counsel and refuse to receive the light?

"I, too, like the ground where I was born. I left it because it was for
my good. I have come a long way. We ask you to go but a short distance.
We do not come to steal your land. We pay you more than it is worth.
There is the Umatilla Valley that affords a little good land. Between
the two streams and all around it, is a parched up plain. What is it
worth to you, and what is it worth to us? Not half what we have offered
you for it. Why do we offer you so much? Because our Great Father has
told us to take care of his red people. We come to you with his message,
to try and do you good," &c., &c.

These extracts will give a specimen of the kind of "talk" which went on
day after day. All but the Nez Percés were evidently disinclined to the
treaty, and it was melancholy to see their reluctance to abandon the old
hunting grounds of their fathers and their impotent struggles against
the overpowering influence of the whites. The meeting to-day closed with
an effective speech by Governor Stevens, addressed to the Chiefs who had
argued against the treaty. I give a part of it:—

"I must say a few words. My brother and I have talked straight. Have all
of you talked straight? Lawyer has, and his people have, and their
business will be finished to-morrow. Young Chief says, he is blind and
does not understand. What is it that he wants? Steckus says, his heart
is in one of three places—the Grand Rond, the Toucher, and the Two
Cañon. Where is the heart of the Young Chief? Peepe-mox-mox cannot be
wafted off like a feather. Does he prefer the Yakima to the Nez Percé
Reservation? We have asked him before. We ask him now. Where is his
heart? Camiaken, the Great Chief of the Yakimas, has not spoken at all.
His people have had no voice here to-day. He is not ashamed to speak? He
is not afraid to speak? Then, speak out. Owhi is afraid lest God be
angry at his selling his land. Owhi, my brother! I do not think God will
be angry if you do your best for yourself and your children. Ask
yourself this question to-night. Will not God be angry with me if I
neglect this opportunity to do them good? But Owhi says, his people are
not here. Why then did he tell us, Come, hear our talk? I do not want to
be ashamed of him. Owhi has the heart of his people. We expect him to
speak out. We expect to hear from Camiaken and from Schoom. The treaty
we will have drawn up to-night. You can see it to-morrow. The Nez Percés
must not be put off any longer. This business must be despatched. I hope
that all the other hearts and our hearts will agree. They have asked us
to speak straight. We have spoken straight. We have asked you to speak
straight, but have yet to hear from you."

The Council did not adjourn till six o'clock. In the evening I rode over
as usual to the Nez Percé camp and found many of them playing cards in
their lodges. They are most inveterate gamblers, and a warrior will
sometimes stake on successive games, his arms, and horses, and even his
wives, so that in a single night he is reduced to a state of primitive
poverty and obliged to trust to charity to be remounted for the hunt.

In the other camps everything seemed to be in a violent commotion. The
Cayuses and other tribes are very much incensed against the Nez Percés
for agreeing to the terms of the treaty, but fortunately for them, and
probably for us also, the Nez Percés are as numerous as the others
united.

_Friday, June 8th._—As the Council does not open until noon, our
mornings pass in the same way. Lieutenant Gracie and I practise pistol
shooting, read, and ride about the country, visiting Governor Stevens'
party and at the Mission.

To-day it was nearly three o'clock before they met. After a few remarks
by Governor Stevens, General Palmer made a long speech addressed to
those Chiefs who refused yesterday to accede to the treaty. He told
them, as they do not wish to go on the Nez Percés Reservation, (the
tribes never having been very friendly to each other,) he would offer
them another Reservation, which would embrace parts of the lands on
which they were now living. After this offer had been clearly explained
to them and considered, all acceded to it, with the exception of one
tribe, the Yakimas.

It seemed as if we were getting on charmingly and the end of all
difficulties was at hand, when suddenly a new explosive element dropped
down into this little political caldron. Just before the Council
adjourned, an Indian runner arrived with the news that Looking Glass,
the war-chief of the Nez Percés was coming. Half an hour afterwards, he,
with another chief and about twenty warriors, came in. They had just
returned from an incursion into the Blackfoot country, where there had
been some fighting and they had brought back with them, as a trophy, one
scalp, which was dangling from a pole. Governor Stevens and General
Palmer went out to meet them and mutual introductions were made. Looking
Glass then, without dismounting from his horse, made a short and very
violent speech, which I afterwards learned was, as I suspected, an
expression of his indignation at their selling the country. The Council
then adjourned.

At the races this evening in the Nez Percés camp, we found ten of the
young braves who came in that afternoon, basking in the enjoyment of
their laurels. Dressed in buffalo skins, painted and decorated in the
most fantastic style, they stood in a line on one side of the race
ground, exhibiting themselves as much as possible and singing songs in
honor of their exploits. After the races we rode through the Cayuse
camp. They seemed to be in commotion, apparently making preparation to
depart.

_Saturday, June 9th._—This morning the old Chief Lawyer, came down and
took breakfast with us. The Council did not meet till three o'clock and
matters seem now to have reached a crisis. The treaty must either be
soon accepted or the tribes will separate in hopeless bad feeling. On
the strength of the assent yesterday given by all the tribes, except the
Yakimas, the papers were drawn up and brought into the Council to be
signed by the principal Chiefs. Governor Stevens once more—for Looking
Glass' benefit—explained the principal points in the treaty, and among
other things told them, there would be three Reservations,—the Cayuses,
the Walla-Wallas and Umatillas to be placed upon one—the Nez Percés on
another—and the Yakimas on the third, and that they were not to be
removed to these Reservations for two or three years.

Looking Glass then arose and made a strong speech against the treaty,
which had such an effect, that not only the Nez Percés but all the other
tribes refused to sign it. Looking Glass, although nominally only the
second Chief, has more influence than Lawyer and is in reality _the_
Chief of the different Nez Percé tribes. Governor Stevens and General
Palmer made several speeches to induce him to change his decision, for
should he do so, the other Chiefs would follow his example; but in vain,
and the Council was obliged to adjourn until Monday. In the mean while,
it is supposed that the Commissioners will bring some cogent arguments
to bear upon Looking Glass and induce him to accede to the treaty.

Near the race ground this evening we found the women collected in
circles on the ground, gambling with the most intense earnestness. Like
the men they will spend hours around the lodge fires, staking every
thing they have on the changes and chances of the game. Near them stood,
as on the last evening, the returned warriors, exhibiting their
fantastic bravery, and apparently thus challenging the applause of the
softer sex.

We supposed yesterday that we should have started this evening for the
Umatilla, but the prospect now is that we shall be delayed several days
longer.

_Sunday, June 10th._—We understand there has been great excitement
through the Indian camps to-day. The Nez Percés have been all day long
holding a council among themselves, and it is represented, the
proposition has been made to appoint Looking Glass head Chief over
Lawyer. Yesterday, while Looking Glass was speaking, Lawyer left the
Council without saying anything; which many of them are disposed to
regard as the surrender of his place. Should this proposition be carried
into effect, it would give a quietus to the treaty.

_Monday, June 11th._—Before breakfast we had a visit from Lawyer with
some other Indians. At ten o'clock the Council met. Governor Stevens
opened it with a short speech, at the close of which he asked the Chiefs
to come forward and sign the papers. This they all did without the least
opposition. What he has been doing with Looking Glass since last
Saturday, we cannot imagine, but we suppose savage nature in the
wilderness is the same as civilized nature was in England in Walpole's
day, and "every man has his price." After this was over, the presents
which General Palmer had brought with him were distributed, and the
Council, like other Legislative bodies, adjourned _sine die_.

As soon as this business was finished, we at once struck our tents and
began our march towards the Umatilla. On our way, Lieutenant Gracie and
I made our parting visit at the Mission, and then proceeded about
fifteen miles before we encamped for the night. Just as we were
starting, an express arrived from the Dalles, bringing us in letters and
papers.

We have now ended our connection with the Council and bid adieu to our
Indian friends. It is therefore an appropriate place to say, that we
subsequently discovered we had been all the while unconsciously treading
on a mine. Some of the friendly Indians afterwards disclosed to the
traders, that during the whole meeting of the Council, active
negotiations were on foot to cut off the whites. This plot originated
with the Cayuses, in their indignation at the prospect of being deprived
of their lands. Their programme was, first to massacre the escort, which
could easily have been done. Fifty soldiers against three thousand
Indian warriors, out on the open plain, made rather too great odds. We
should have had time, like Lieutenant Grattan[2] at Fort Laramie, last
season, to have delivered one fire and then the contest would have been
over. Their next move was, to surprise the post at the Dalles, which
they could also easily have done, as most of the troops were withdrawn,
and the Indians in the neighborhood had recently united with them. This
would have been the beginning of their war of extermination upon the
settlers. The only thing which prevented the execution of this scheme
was, the refusal of the Nez Percés to accede to it, and as they were
more powerful than the others united, it was impossible to make this
outbreak without their concurrence. Constant negotiations were going on
between the tribes, but without effect, nor was it discovered by the
whites until after the Council had separated.

Footnote 2:

  Brevet Second Lieutenant John Lawrence Grattan, Sixth Infantry, was
  killed, with all his party, by the Sioux Indians, in what is known as
  the "Grattan Massacre," near Fort Laramie, Neb., August 19, 1854.—ED.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Tuesday, June 12th._—We were up bright and early this morning,
expecting by sunrise to have been on our march. But some of the horses
had strayed away during the night and it was eight o'clock before they
could be all collected to enable us to set out. After riding thirty
miles we reached the Umatilla. Here we found a sergeant of the 4th
Infantry and five men encamped, who had been sent to meet us with
provisions. Just then a pouring rain began, and we were glad to make our
preparations for the night.

_Wednesday, June 13th._—I awoke to find it still raining in torrents and
the wind blowing a beautiful accompaniment, as it swept through the
trees which line the banks of the river. Fortunately the sergeant had
brought with him a tent, which was turned over to us, and we remained
tolerably comfortable. In the midst of the storm, however, a visitor
arrived. He was a Mr. Whitney, who is living about a mile from our
encampment, with Mr. McKay, on a claim he is cultivating, belonging to
the latter. He invited Lieutenant Gracie and myself to take tea with
him. About three o'clock it cleared up and we rode over to his
residence, where for the first time in several weeks we had the
satisfaction of seeing some thing which looked like domestic comfort.
Mr. Whitney had his wife and child with him, and he took us over his
garden and showed us his crops. At six o'clock we had tea, after the
manner of civilized people, which was a great luxury to us after our
camp fare in the wilderness.

Just as we were bidding good night, three of our acquaintances arrived
from the Council ground on their way to the Dalles. We learned from them
that the Indians celebrated a great Scalp Dance the night before, in
which one hundred and fifty of the women took part. The tribes then
broke up their lodges and returned to their own hunting grounds.

_Thursday, June 14th._—The place where we now are is an old camping
ground, well known to all the Western hunters, being a central spot
where several trails diverge. The emigrant trail passes by it, and
stretches thence over the Blue Mountains, leading to Fort Boisé. Here
Lieutenant Gracie has orders to remain until the arrival of the rest of
the Command, which starts from the Dalles on the twentieth, to enter the
Snake country. He has been, therefore, making arrangements to-day for a
more permanent encampment, as he may be delayed here for a couple of
weeks. The tents have been regularly arranged, our own a little in
advance, and those of the men built of boughs and pack covers, so as to
protect them from the weather. A log house has been erected at one end
of the camp, to hold the provisions, and to-day the men have been
employed in constructing a _corral_, or enclosure, in the California
style, to secure the horses.

This evening our Indian guide came in. He had been left at the Council
ground to hunt up some stray horses.

_Friday, June 15th._—Early this morning Lieutenant Gracie sent off the
Indian guide to the Dalles, as he had no further use for him. Mr.
Cut-mouth John has apparently served us faithfully, though being a
Cayuse, we cannot tell how deeply he has been implicated in the
plottings of his countrymen this summer, or what part he would have
taken, had their projected outbreak ripened into action.

To-day Lieutenant Gracie began to have his drills for the men, one
before breakfast and the other after supper. At the early drill they are
exercised in shooting at a target. This evening, at Mr. McKay's, we met
the old Chief, Stechus, who had stopped there on an expedition after
some missing cattle. He seemed quite pleased to see us. While there,
General Palmer and his party also arrived from the Council ground.

_Saturday, June 16th._—After drill we rode over to Mr. McKay's and found
General Palmer's party still encamped there, as he was taken ill this
morning. He probably needs rest both of body and mind, and on the
plains, this is the great prescription, as the remedies which the
hunters can give are comprised in a list of very few simples. Nature is
generally expected to perform the cure. Had his illness come on at the
Council, he could have had the "medicine men" of our friends, the Nez
Percés, to prescribe for him. Their prescriptions, however, are always
the same, whatever may be the disease, whether ague or fever, or small
pox. The patient is shut up in a small close lodge, called a "sweating
house," where he is subjected, until almost stifled, to a vapor bath
produced by water slowly poured on red hot stones.

_Sunday, June 17th._—My last Sunday on the plains, and it passed quietly
enough. After Lieutenant Gracie had finished inspection and we had taken
our usual bath in the river, we rode over to General Palmer's encampment
to enquire after his health. We found him still too unwell to travel.
The rest of the day was spent in reading, for we have found a small
supply of books at Mr. McKay's, which have proven quite a treasure in
the wilderness.

_Monday, June 18th._—Lieutenant Gracie has commenced practising the men
at skirmish drill for an hour a day, and is thus preparing them for
their Snake country expedition. It has become too hot, except in the
morning and evening, to move about with comfort, and after the drill,
our ride over to Mr. McKay's and our bath in the Umatilla, we are
content to spend the remainder of the day in lounging and reading under
the shelter of our tent. In an encampment on the plains, during the dead
silence of a sultry noon, with no conventional restraints of
civilization about us, we realize more fully than in any other place,
the truth of the Neapolitan maxim—_Dolce far niente_.

We had to-day a visit from five of the Cayuse Indians, two of whom had
been accustomed to visit us at Walla-Walla.

_Tuesday, June 19th._—Before we were up we had an arrival of another
party of the Cayuse tribe. Their lodges are in a valley about eight
miles from the camp. They smoked the "pipe of peace" and probably this
time with sincerity, as they knew we had force enough with us to defeat
any attempt they might make. The principal Chief of the Umatillas also
came into our camp and some strange Indians whom we had never before
seen.

As Lieutenant Gracie is obliged to remain at this camping ground, and it
may be some days before the command arrives from the Dalles, I have
determined myself to proceed on to that post to-morrow in company with
Mr. McKay. I therefore this evening rode over to his place and made my
arrangements for setting off the next morning.

_Wednesday, June 20th._—This morning a messenger arrived from the Dalles
with papers and the latest news—the latter having been almost forgotten
by this time in the settlements.

After early drill I took my final leave of the camp. Lieutenant Gracie
rode with me over to Mr. McKay's, where I left my horse, as he belonged
to the command, transferring my saddle and bridle to one of Mr. McKay's,
which I am to ride. And here Lieutenant Gracie and I parted. We have
been companions for weeks by day and night, and in this his first
independent command, (in many incidents which I could not relate in this
brief journal,) he has established, with those at the Council who were
accustomed to military expeditions in the Indian country, a character
for decision and energy which gives the promise of distinction in much
wider and more responsible scenes of action in the future.

We set off about half-past nine o'clock. Mr. McKay and myself, with two
boys whose business was to drive the pack mules. Our traveling
arrangements were made in the old Spanish-California style, still common
in those parts of the country where horses are plenty. Besides those we
rode, were seven or eight which ran loose and were driven by the boys,
to be used when our own began to flag.

We crossed the Umatilla at once, and on the opposite side striking the
trail on which we had gone into the interior, commenced our return
westward. After riding for about twenty miles we reached the Indian
Agency. Here, two of the other horses were caught, our saddles and
bridles transferred to them, and the tired ones turned loose to follow
with the rest. Then, on we went until five in the evening when we
encamped for the night at Wells' Springs, having traveled during the day
fifty-five miles.

_Thursday, June 21st._—We were on our way this morning by five o'clock.
On the trail we passed every little while solitary graves, the last
resting places of some unfortunate emigrants. The road from Missouri to
the Rocky Mountains can almost be traced by these sad memorials, and no
human language can convey an idea of the sorrow and suffering which has
taken place on the plains, caused by this rush to the land of gold.
About ten miles on our way we met a portion of the 4th Infantry and 3d
Artillery under Lieutenants Day, Hodges and Mendell. At noon we halted
at Willow Creek, (seventeen miles from Wells' Springs,) for several
hours, to rest our horses. We then pushed on until eight in the evening,
when we reached John Day's River, where a refreshing bath recompensed us
for our long and hot ride. We had ridden to-day about forty-five miles.

_Friday, June 22d._—We left John Day's River about seven o'clock, and
after riding twelve miles, met Major Haller, (Commander of the
expedition,) and Captain Russell, 4th Infantry, with their escort, with
whom we stopped for a short time. Soon afterwards we met another
detachment of troops, with two or three wagons, each drawn by six mules.
About noon we struck the Columbia River, whose solitary banks were quite
enlivened by the long trains of wagons containing the provisions of the
detachment. We counted twenty-four, half of which were on one side of
the river and half on the other. The different detachments and wagons
will all meet at the camping ground on the Umatilla where we left
Lieutenant Gracie. There will be about one hundred and fifty mounted men
besides the packers and wagoners. After resting for a couple of hours on
the Columbia, we set out for the Dalles, where we arrived at five
o'clock. Here we found Lieutenant Dryer, who is to set out to-morrow
morning and join the command as Quarter Master.

And thus ended my expedition into the wilderness. It has shown me the
rough side of army life, and yet the time has passed pleasantly from the
very novelty and freshness of everything. And now, amid all the
refinements of civilization, I cannot but look back with something like
regret to the freedom of our little camp on the quiet plains, where no
sound was heard to break our slumber, but the steady tread of our
sentinel or the rippling of the Umatilla.




                                _FINIS_




                          Transcriber's Notes.

Some punctuation, accentuation, spacing, hyphenation and spelling have
been corrected, but where the original spelling variations appear more
than once they have been retained.

Italicized words and phrases are presented by surrounding the text with
underscores.