MARSHFIELD, Or., Jan. 28.--(Special.)--Seventy-four years ago on the morning of January 28, 1854, 40 miners from the Colville or Randolph City mines, seven miles north of what is now Bandon, at the mouth of the Coquille River, led by George H. Abbott, raided three Indian settlements on the river, which had all told 75 persons, including the children, and devastated the district. The Indians were taken unawares, and when the massacre was over, 15 males and one adult female were dead.
    Mr. Abbott's report to F. M. Smith, sub-agent at Port Orford, the next day, said: "The Indians are sitting about the ruins of their smoldering homes." Mr. Abbott signed the report as "captain commanding Coos County volunteers."
    That incident of early days, termed "murder" by Sub-Agent Smith, was the subject of a dispute which was never settled in the minds of fair-minded people, for the miners submitted evidence of varied aggravations which the Indians had perpetrated upon the persons and the property of the miners, while Chief John, badly wounded in the massacre, stoutly maintained there had been no offense by the Indians which warranted anything more than a powwow and a definite understanding between the tribe and the whites.
    To this day there are those who look upon the incident as one of the blackest crimes ever committed in Oregon under the guise of plausible excuse. The mines in those days were peopled by admitted tough characters, and there was, on the other hand, a claim that the miners, who numbered about 250, with 50 or more whites residing in the vicinity, were not aware whether the Indians had in their tribe that many warriors or several times that many, and whether or not they could not call in other tribes to aid in wiping out the whites.
    Numbered among those who participated in the massacre and who signed subsequent documents relating to the affair were the following: George H. Abbott, leader and general spokesman; A. F. Soap, chairman of secret meetings held prior to and after the massacre; William Packwood, secretary; John Grolonis, a witness; B. J. Bell, J. E. McClure, B. J. Burns, W. J. Berry and J. C. Danford, a committee appointed to seek aid from the United States military station at Port Orford, and who made a special report to Sub-Agent Smith, following the massacre. There were also X. E. Scott and J. B. O'Meally, chairman and secretary of several meetings held to consider the Indian situation; John A. Pension was a witness who swore to incidents of Indian insolence. William Whike was another who was conversant with troubles from the Indians.
    In substantiation of reasons for their attack upon the Indians, four reports were made by the executives of the whites' councils, and among the complaints enumerated were: Indian riding white man's horse without permission; the Indians swore at them in English; the Indians did not want them about their settlements; an Indian shot at a crowd of whites who were standing near the ferry house; the Indians cut the rope holding the ferryboat; they had shot across the river at whites; they had committed thefts from houses; that, on being invited in to discuss affairs, Chief John had sent back an insolent reply and said he would kill any white man who approached his encampment. Various other sins were laid at the doors of the Indians.
    A rather significant outcome of the massacre was contained in Captain Abbott's report made to Sub-Agent Smith the day of the massacre, January 28, 1854: "I almost forgot to say that our loss was none, either in killed, wounded or prisoners."
    Farcical, almost, was a portion of his report: "And I can say, to the credit of both officers and men, that they behaved like soldiers and avoided innocent bloodshed as much as possible." They had attacked the three Indian settlements at daylight, when the unsuspecting Indians were sleeping.
    The whites had accused the Indians of storing arms and munitions, preparatory to an attack upon the miners. Sub-Agent Smith's report of the subsequent investigation showed the ludicrousness of this claim. There were but five powder-and-ball arms in possession of the natives, and two of these were unserviceable. Although the whites, to make their claims good, afterwards said the arms had been destroyed in the fires which burned all but a single hut, a search of the ashes and ruins disclosed no signs of firearms, and the miners' statements regarding preparation by the Indians were found incorrect.
    Sub-Agent Smith, who reported to Joel Palmer, Superintendent of Indian Affairs, Territory of Oregon, at Dayton, February 5 following the massacre, found a woeful state of affairs in connection with the prior and subsequent activities of the so-called Coos County volunteers.
    January 27 the word went out for a gathering of whites at the ferry, which was on the south side of the river, and 40 men responded to the invitation. The vigilance committee had prepared a report of the situation to be sent to Sub-Agent Smith, asking him to forward them soldiers from Port Orford to help protect the whites. This was prepared, or at least signed, January 27, but the report was enclosed to Smith afterwards, following the scenes of the morning of the 28th, it having been decided at the meeting of the day before that it was not policy to wait for orders from Port Orford, only 28 miles away, and so the slaughter took place before any aid had been requested.
    On being informed of what had taken place, Sub-Agent Smith proceeded to the scene, finding the Indians dispersed and in hiding, fearful of further atrocities by the whites, although a truce had been arranged the day following the carnage. Chilliman, an Indian, was used as interpreter both by the miners and Mr. Smith. Through his offices, Chief John and others were induced to come in and discuss affairs. They were not inclined to make any complaint, but on promise of protection from the government, the details of the massacre and the charges lodged against the Indians were learned and discussed.
    The Indians were ready to make peace at any price and remove from the "homes of their forefathers," if Mr. Smith [so] advised. Chief John was interested in the safety of his people, and only consented to talk when he had been assured that there would be peace in the future.
    Chief John had been accused of shooting across the river at the white once only, but he explained this incident by saying he had shot at a duck and was not aware there were any whites in the vicinity. He denied firing at men at the ferry house. One of the miners corroborated the chief's statement he had shot at a duck.
    None of the Indians had shot at men standing near the ferry house, they all declared. Chief John had not sent insolent replies to the miners when they desired a conference, but he admitted that some of the tribe had done so. The Indians admitted they did not want the whites in their country, and incidents of theft were owned to, and they had ridden the miners' horses without permission.
    Mr. Smith reported at great length to Joel Palmer, who forwarded the voluminous report to the Department of the Interior on March 11, 1854.
    There was an opera bouffe element in the proceedings of that immediate situation--if it were not remembered how the Indians were slaughtered. The miners, several times the strength of the Indians, had called for help from the military post at Port Orford. Sub-Agent Smith, in reporting, said there were only four soldiers at the fort. The miners had claimed the Indians were possessed of a regular arsenal, when they had but five arms, and the miners themselves had but 14 serviceable rifles and shotguns and 11 pistols, making 25 arms in all.
    At the meeting of the miners of January 28, held after the morning surprise, measures were adopted to prevent the Indians from obtaining arms, and it was resolved: "That if any person or persons sell, barter, or in any way dispose of any gun, rifle, pistol, carbine or other firearms, or any powder, lead, caps or other ammunition, to any Indian or Indians, such person or persons so offending shall be deemed guilty of a high misdemeanor, and shall receive for the first offense 30 lashes upon the bare back, and for the second offense shall suffer death."
    The organization could really be termed nothing more than a vigilance committee, for there were no law enforcement officers in this part of the state at the time, as Sub-Agent Smith set out in his reports when he said there was no way to punish the lawless whites, as there was no justice of the peace in the area, and men who abhorred the massacre were afraid to come into the open and make a stand for decency.
    Only the military could be invoked in case of strife or lawlessness, and four soldiers would not have made much of an impression on the rough mining element which was the majority of inhabitants at the time.
Oregonian, Portland, January 29, 1928, page 8  Read official correspondence concerning the massacre on this and subsequent pages.

    Reminiscences of George H. Abbott, Indian agent in Oregon Territory in 1859, written by him in 1896, while they were still fresh in his memory, were discovered by his daughter, Mrs. Lucy Nelson of Fairfield, a few months ago in cleaning out an old desk, and realizing that they are now of historic interest, she sent them to the pioneer department of the Statesman. The first installment gives a graphic account of the finding by Agent Abbott of the bodies of the Ledford party, which started from Jacksonville, Ore. to cross the Cascade Mountains.
    Abbott's story follows:
    In the month of April 1859, I held the office of Indian agent in Oregon, and received instructions from the then-Superintendent of Indian Affairs for that state, J. W. Nesmith, to proceed to Jacksonville, thence to Klamath Lake and open negotiations with the Indians of that region to open the country to settlement by the whites and to place the Indians on a reservation.
    When I arrived at Jacksonville, the Cascade Mountains, which had to be crossed to reach the lake country, were covered with snow and looked to be impassable, but learning that a party of five men had started to the lakes before my arrival and had failed to return, I concluded that they had got safely over the mountains, and I made ready to go also, following their trail.
    I employed three or four white men and one Indian--a Klamath Lake Indian--who with a few others of that tribe had passed the preceding winter at Jacksonville. Of the party I remember the names of T. J. Sutton [Thomas J. Sutton, later editor of the Idaho World] and a Mr. Birdseye, while the Indian was called "Jim."
    We followed the trail of the party ahead, called the Ledford party from the fact that a Mr. Ledford was one of the party. From the tracks and other sources of information we learned that there were five men, seven horses and a dog in the party.
    When the trail reached the snow and got as far into it as was possible, it turned and by a different route than that followed up returned to the valley of Butte Creek, at the western base of the mountains, and went into camp. The plan of their camp was clearly defined by marks of the camp fire, tent pins left in the ground and other indications, unmistakable to frontiersmen, but no trail could be found leading from it.
    We made camp some distance away and made [a] systematic search, but only found the carcass of the dog, in the creek, and a piece of rope fastened to a block of wood, evidently part of a picket rope, the animal having been so picketed to allow it to drag the block from place to place while feeding on the young grass. The rope had been cut with a knife or other sharp instrument.
    There was evidence that Indians had been in the vicinity about the same time, presumably a hunting party, who had burned their brush camps when they left there. We could only find tracks of one horse at any one place, leaving the prairie valley and going into the timber. Indian Jim and myself went hunting the first thing after dinner and I shot a deer, but did not get it. Mr. Birdseye, the Indian, Jim and I each took the track of a horse, entering the timber at different places, and proceeded to follow to see where they would lead to. When I had gone about two miles in a northerly direction I saw the Indian, apparently following a track, but gradually nearing me as we advanced. Soon he joined me, the two tracks having come together. At my request he continued on the trail while I returned to camp, where I found Birdseye, who had got in before me. On my inquiring if he had found his horse he answered that he had, but that the horse was dead.
    By this time I had concluded that the Indians had killed all of the Ledford party, but had not expressed my opinion to the others. Dinner had been prepared, and while we were partaking of it the Indian, Jim, returned to camp and, catching my eye, beckoned me to where he was unsaddling his horse and said that he felt certain that the Indians had murdered the men whose trail we had been following and had taken their horses and other property and had gone north.
    He showed me a stirrup from the saddle of a white man which he found in the trail. He reported that after I had turned back he followed the tracks of both horses about a mile, when another horse track joined in, and that while following the trail over a piece of soft ground he found moccasin tracks in the trail. This confirmed my opinion, and after dinner Mr. Birdseye and I went to look at the dead horse found by him. We had some difficulty finding the horse and separated in the brush, when I found the carcass of a horse of a different color to the one found and described by Birdseye.
    In short, I found three carcasses, neither of them answering to the one found by him. They had been taken to such a hidden place as the Indians supposed would never be found and shot in the head in each case. I called Birdseye to me, showed him the carcasses found by me, told him that I was quite certain that the Indians had killed all or nearly all of the Ledford party, and in order to conceal the fact had brought four of their horses by devious routes to this place, had killed them and taking three of the seven head that we knew had belonged to the party, together with other valuables, had gone north, repeating what Indian Jim had reported, and the discoveries made by him, and giving it as my opinion that the bodies of the murdered men were hidden in the brush between where we were at the time and the place where the camp was so plainly marked.
    We undertook to search the brush and did so to some extent, but found nothing. We then went to camp where the other men were, reported our find and the conclusions reached, made another vain search for the bodies, packed up and started on our return to Jacksonville, as it was impossible to cross that mountain at that time. We wished to report our ghastly discoveries for general information, and especially for the purpose of obtaining means to remove the bodies, when found, to a suitable place for burial, we having no such means other than to pack them on horseback.
    On our arrival a public meeting was called, the facts stated, opinions exchanged, and as a result a company of 35 men, who chose for captain one John Hillman, was fitted out and sent to find the bodies, if possible, and return them to Jacksonville, a wagon being provided for that purpose, after which the company was expected to follow the trail of the murderers and if they could be found punish them or secure their arrest, as circumstances seemed to favor.
    Indian Jim and I accompanied them, but before starting I requested the sheriff to receive and place in jail the Indians about Jacksonville, and to protect them should any person or persons attempt to take vengeance on them for the murder of their friends or relatives.
    The sheriff very kindly complied with the request, but I am proud to say that the precaution was unnecessary, as there was no disposition to molest them.
    It sometimes happens that the innocent suffer for the crimes of the guilty under the excitement incident to our frontier troubles, hence the precaution.
    The company was fully mounted and about 10 o'clock of the second day out made camp at the place of the tragedy. A brother of the murdered Ledford, also the brother of another of his party whose name I have forgotten, was with us, and of course were very anxious to see the dead horses.
    I guided them and several others to the carcasses, and one of them recognized his brother's horse beyond doubt by a mark on one of the hoofs. We then began a close search for the bodies, I advising a careful notice of the ground to see if the surface had been disturbed, as I had adopted the theory that the bodies had been buried. Seeing that the search was being but superficially made, I took it upon myself to make it thorough, and by penetrating to the center of a cluster of spruce bushes, which I had looked through before sufficiently to see that there was nothing on the surface of the ground that could be taken for a cache, I found a space clear of brush about six feet square.
    The surface looked natural; spruce leaves covered it as if fallen from the bushes, but while looking carefully over it I discovered a short stump, not over an inch in height above the ground, that had been cut off with a knife or ax. Next I found a clod of fresh-dug clay in the brush some three feet to the side of the clear spot, with the imprint of the hollow of an Indian's foot thereon.
    Stepping out the brush, I called some of the men, who were looking about the last camping place of the missing party, and leading them into the thicket drew their attention to my discovery and told them that by uncovering the spot we would find either a grave or a cache. Then it was discovered that we had forgotten to bring tools to dig with, but knowing of a fallen tree much splintered, we went to our camp, chopped with an ax two wooden shovels out of large splinters, took dinner which we found ready, and returned to open the grave, if it was a grave.
    Removing a few inches of the surface we found a pick and shovel, under which was spread a white blanket, which being removed revealed a most shocking sight. There before our eyes were four bodies, nearly nude, showing the ghastly wounds through which their lives had ebbed away. The hands and feet of all four were bound together with plaited bark ropes, such as are made by squaws and were in general use by the natives. One body was missing and was never found, that of Ledford, but I learned later from the Indians that while his comrades were being killed in their tent he escaped therefrom, ran for his life, but was overtaken and killed some two miles down Butte Creek and his body thrown in the creek.
    The bodies were taken to Jacksonville for Christian burial, and the company followed the trail of the Indian murderers until it could be no longer found, when all returned to Jacksonville.
    I proposed to take about 30 men and proceed to Klamath Lake to quiet any hostile feeling that might develop among the Indians there, everybody of course laying the murder to Indians of that vicinity, and to arrest and bring to punishment, if possible, all who might be implicated.

    George H. Abbott, father of Mrs. Lucy M. Nelson of Fairfield, a government agent in charge of the Indians in Oregon Territory in 1859, wrote for his daughter the story of some of his experience with the western tribes, and after his death the manuscript was found.
    Abbott is relating the story of the massacre of the Ledford party in 1859, which started out from Jacksonville, in the Cascade Mountains. In the first installment of the article Abbott tells of his finding the bodies after others had given up the search. He tells of the burial of the bodies at Jacksonville and then says he proposed to take about 30 men and proceed to Klamath Lake to quiet any hostile feeling which might, he felt, develop among the Indians there, and to arrest any Indians he felt might be implicated.
    The story continues:
    A meeting was called to consider the matter, but it was thought too dangerous for less force than 100 men to go. I believed that if the force was so large they would be difficult if not impossible to restrain from acts of violence and that an Indian war, for which no cause existed, would result. With about 30 men there would be but little danger of such trouble. I reasoned that if the Indians had killed the Ledford party as an act of war, no effort to conceal the murder would have followed, that therefore the killing had been done for plunder and by a small band, without authority or the consent of the tribes. That if the proper course were pursued the guilty could be punished and peace maintained. Therefore I would not consent to take a force greater than I could control in the interest of peace.
    Finally I declared that I had so much confidence in my knowledge of the Indian character and my own judgment that I would go alone if no others, not to exceed 30 in number, would take the risk, and closed by inviting as many as would volunteer to accompany me to step to the front.
    Two men, I say MEN, T. J. Sutton and a Mr. Moore, responded, and they were all out of some 200 then present who had the courage to do so, so great was the danger apprehended.
    The next day we made the necessary preparation and on the second day after the meeting, taking the Indians from the care of the sheriff, we set out for Klamath Lake, taking them with us. This time we went by the southern route and, passing the Cascade Mountains near Klamath River, made good time and arrived at the southern end of what we called Big Klamath Lake, now called Upper Klamath Lake, on the fifth day from Jacksonville.
    There was a considerable village of Indians there, and as we approached the warriors could be seen taking position on a ridge running in a southwesterly direction from the village, on which they had constructed defenses consisting of piles of rock. We went into camp about a mile from them, sent two or three Indians to let them know who and what we were and awaited the result. In due time our Indians returned accompanied by five or six from the village, who were delighted to know that we were friends. They also brought the most important and satisfactory intelligence, which removed all fear for our safety, if such fear found place in the minds of any of the party.
    The substance of the information was that some renegade Molalla Indians had killed the five white men, and that the chief of the Klamath Lake Indians, named La Lake, a great friend of the whites, had killed three of the murderers and had taken their heads to Yreka.
    When the Indians from the village had returned to their home, those that we had brought from Jacksonville let us fully into the secret of the whole matter. The murder was committed by five Molalla--renegades from their tribe, which was located on the Grand Ronde Reservation--and two Klamath Lake Indians, who were relatives of the chief medicine man of the Lake Indians, and that through his influence all of the tribe was pledged to secrecy as to them, and in fact to deny that any of their people would do such things.
    This medicine man was called Cumtuckna and was a bad character, as will appear to the reader of this narrative. The Indians of Oregon, in the primitive state, believed that the medicine man, or medicine warrior, for that matter, could kill as well as cure, hence their influence caused by dread of their supposed powers was very great, and this superstition is not fully extinct yet. This statement will explain what might seem unaccountable in the conduct of these people in our intercourse with them. The information so fully given us by the Indians Jim and George was accompanied by a request that we should never let it be known that they told us. It was necessary for their safety; their lives were at stake.
    The next day we crossed Klamath River where it flows from the lake and continued on our way around the eastern side of the lake, toward the principal village, the headquarters of the tribe, situated between the upper lake and the Klamath Marsh, just below the confluence of Sprague River. We camped on the lake and in the night were aroused by the tramp of a horse coming along the trail that we had followed.
    The rider proved to be one of the trusted warriors who had gone to Yreka with the chief La Lake.
    He reported that the people of Yreka had sent the chief and party with his heads to Jacksonville, that the people there had rejoiced over them, had made valuable presents to them and told of our venture, and that La Lake had sent him to travel night and day until he should overtake us for fear of trouble between us and some of the Indians, [and] that he was to see that we were properly received and cared for by the Indians.
    Early the next day we pitched our camp at the principal village and there awaited the coming of the chief, the Indians expressing the most friendly sentiments. Some two days passed before La Lake and party arrived, and it was with much pleasure to us that one of his party was a white man by the name of Callaway, who had gone with the chief from some point on the way to Yreka and to Jacksonville, and had returned to the lake to be present at our councils with the Indians. This arrival made our party of white men four strong, and so far as we knew we were the only white men on the east side of the Cascade Mountains south of The Dalles and were therefore completely isolated.
    While the chief La Lake and his men were killing the three Molallas whose heads were taken as a peace offering to the whites, one of his warriors was mortally wounded and died of his wounds before the return of the chief, and preparations for the funeral were in progress. The custom of these people was to cremate their dead or at least such as fell in battle; therefore we had an opportunity to witness the unusual spectacle of burning the body, with the hideously savage ceremony pertaining to such funerals among the Klamath Lake Indians.
    Old Cumtuckna, "medicine man," priest, wizard, sorcerer or whatever he was or claimed to be, was in his glory. He conducted the ceremonies, which seemed congenial to his nature, therefore pleasant. Before the funeral there were 15 or 20, possibly more, such piles--a cemetery. I had noticed a mysterious council pile, nearly the shape of an eastern haystack, covered with rush mat such as are worn by squaws and are commonly in use as carpets and for bedding by the Indians. This pile was pulled down and opened out until only about two feet high and 12 feet in diameter of surface fuel of the most inflammable kind, mostly dry pitch pine, placed thereon to about 16 inches in depth, the body on that, the treasures, arms and so forth of the deceased with the body; more fuel, two horses slain and put in the pile; more fuel, and the whole set to burning, while the chanting and mourning, led by Cumtuckna, was kept up until the whole pile of combustibles was consumed, and through most of the night. When cool enough the pile was carefully rearranged, covered as before and prepared to await the next victim. The pile was composed of earth, wood ashes and incinerated bones of dead Indians and their horses, pieces of guns, pots, pans and scraps of clothing, beads and other debris, only partially burned.

    The concluding installment of the story of George H. Abbott, Oregon Indian agent in the '50s, which has been published in two former installments of the pioneer department of the Statesman, is an exciting story of an experience with murderous Indians participated in by two other former Idaho citizens, whom Abbott designates as "Caliway" (one wonders if he does not mean Calloway) of Caldwell [probably either Thomas Henry Callaway or Abner Early Callaway], and Sutton of Boise City.
    In the previous stories Abbott tells of discovering the murdered bodies of a party of whites which left Jacksonville, and of the secret information given two friendly Indians, Jim and George, of the real culprits, while Abbott was on a twofold mission, to acquaint the Oregon Indian tribes, including "Cumtuckna," a famous medicine man, of the government's desire to place them on a reservation and to throw the land open to settlement by the whites, and also to arrest the two Indian murderers.
    His diplomacy in the matter is seen in the development of the story which follows his description of an Indian cremation ceremony:
    After the funeral our business was taken up in earnest, prominent Indians from the Klamath Lake country but one being present. The council lasted nearly three days, the Indians being exceedingly well pleased at the prospect of being placed on a reservation under the care of the government and the opening of the country to white settlement.
    The general business of my visit to them, under my official instructions, was readily and pleasantly accomplished, but the matter of the participation of two members of the tribe in the murder of the Ledford party, a very important addition to my official business, was not so easily disposed of. I commended their action toward the Molallas, but told them that I knew that two of their people had taken an active part in the murder, which they denied most solemnly, as they had agreed to do. I insisted and told them that the law required them to deliver the murderers to the whites to be dealt with as white murderers were treated for such crimes. Thus matters went from day to day, I accusing and they denying. They demanded: whence my information?
    I replied that the Great Spirit revealed the facts to me, and also led me to find the murdered men, though carefully concealed. This evidently impressed many of them, but Cumtuckna would head off in a weak denial. Finally on the last day of the council, after having discussed the propriety of such proceeding with men of my party, and being as well prepared as possible for any emergency, I determined to point out the individuals accused. They had been made known to me by Jim and George, two of the Indians whom we had brought from Jacksonville. I thought this a dangerous procedure, especially as one of them, known as Skookum John, always carried his rifle in our presence, and when in council always held the rifle across his knees, as he squatted in the circle around the council fire. But believing it to be my duty to make the accusation personal, in order that innocent Indians would have no cause to fear for themselves personally, I, at the proper time, said:
    "I know and can point out the two guilty men," and being challenged by Cumtuckna to do so, I pointed to Skookum John, saying, "There is one of them," and "there is the other," pointing to the other accused man.
    This, as I had expected, created a profound sensation. Skookum John rose to his feet, shouldered his rifle and left, followed by his partner in crime, who was his brother. Cumtuckna and a few others denied the charge, but not with much decision or energy. The council dissolved without ceremony, while I announced my intention to start on the following morning to see the absent band under War Chief George, some 35 miles up Sprague River.
    La Lake said that he, with some of his men, would go with us. Accordingly we, with some six or eight of La Lake's men, were on the way up Sprague River early on the day appointed, and when out some 10 miles, and when the chief and I were out of hearing of others, he said:
    "Mr. Abbott, I am ashamed."
    My reply was: "Yes, I suppose you are."
    "What you said about two of our people taking part in the murder of the white men was true, and the two that you pointed out were the guilty men, but I was compelled to deny it and I am ashamed of it.
    "How you got the information I don't know, but you are right about it, and if we induce Chief George to assist us, we will arrest the murderers and you can take them to Jacksonville for punishment, but you seem to know much about Indian customs, and therefore you know the powers exercised by the medicine men and the dread of them by the Indians; therefore you can understand that we may not be able to enlist Chief George in our enterprise.
    "The two murderers are near relatives of our great medicine man, Cumtuckna, and he will use all means to shield them."
    He further said that without the cooperation of Chief George, he--La Lake--was helpless. I assured him that I fully understood and appreciated his position, and did not blame him for what had passed, and that if we failed to obtain assistance from George, the arrest of the two murderers would have to be postponed to a future and more favorable time.
    Our business with Chief George and his band concerning the opening of the country to settlement, placing the Indians on a reservation, etc., was, like that with the other bands, very pleasant and satisfactory, but, though they were willing that the two murderers should be arrested and punished, they declined to take part in making the arrest, pleading in justification that it would lead to bloodshed among themselves and to a feud that would divide the tribes for a generation or more.
    That settled it, and we had no further business to detain us longer than until the following morning, when we would start on our return to Jacksonville.
    About 5 o'clock in the evening a party of mounted Indians were observed coming over the trail that we had traveled in coming, and we soon recognized Cumtuckna, the two murderers, and about six more of their relatives and adherents.
    I, suspecting them of intended treachery and foul play, directed the three white men to spread out their bedding near some large pine trees, some 10 steps from our campfire, to place their rifles under the edge of their blankets so that they could bring them into instant use, keep their revolvers where their hands could find them readily, to lie down on their blankets and watch and await developments. I would receive the delegation and entertain them as if their visit was the most natural event.
    When the Indians had secured their horses and presented themselves in camp, I invited Cumtuckna to a seat beside me on a large pine log near the fire, and on the side opposite to where my men were quietly resting on their beds. This brought the other members of the band directly between me and my men. Each of the Indians, Cumtuckna excepted, held blankets around their bodies up to their necks, concealing such arms as they might carry.
    This being the usual trick among Indians when a surprise was intended served only to confirm our belief in the true object of their visit, that is, that they hoped to catch us off guard, unsuspecting, and to kill us all, the motive being to remove all evidence of the guilt of two of their number, they probably thinking that no other white men had knowledge of the facts, that we only could convict them or expose them, therefore our removal meant safety for them.
    When they got into our camp they found me whittling a pine stick with a large bowie knife, and while talking to them about the reservation business, which was the subject of conversation for the evening, that knife was continually in my hand, while the revolvers of our whole party were in [a] most convenient position.
    One of Chief La Lake's men came up soon after the arrival of the Cumtuckna party and took position directly behind me and Cumtuckna. He was arrayed as the others were, covered with a blanket to the chin. Thus we continued to talk, that is, I and Cumtuckna, everybody else being silent, until about 9 o'clock at night, when the Indians withdrew. Then La Lake's man came into the light of the fire, opened his blanket and showed a pistol with the remark, "Cumtuckna, damn, shoot him," showing that he suspected treachery as we did, and that he was there to aid us. This was the most trying ordeal that I have ever had to pass through.
    To feel certain that this desperate band was watching to find us careless and for a moment off our guard, to throw aside their blankets and with pistols and knives hidden thereunder to murder us like so many coyotes.
    My official duty restrained me from any action until attacked, self-defense alone being permitted us; otherwise I believe that I would have "opened the ball" by driving my bowie knife through old Cumtuckna, as I intended to do if they began the fight. There was but little sleep in our camp that night, for we looked for them to try to crawl in and try that method to surprise and murder us. We made such arrangements that, had they come, they would have been surprised. We all rested--I won't say slept--together, with the understanding that if they came no noise or movements on our part should be made until we could give them a volley.
    About midnight we could hear horses approaching at a lively gait, and we knew by the sound that there was only two. When near, one of the riders hailed us. I recognized the voice of our friend, Indian Jim, and answered him. The two turned their horses out to graze and came to where we lay. It was Jim and George whom we had left at the chief village, 35 miles away. They, in suppressed tones of voice, inquired if Cumtuckna had been there, being answered in the affirmative. They told us that as night was setting in the squaws of Cumtuckna's part of the village began to talk of his intention to kill us that night, that Jim and George left the village slyly and unseen, caught their horses and hastened to warn us, if possible to do so in time to avert our doom. They also joined us under the blankets with the assurance that they would help us in case we were attacked. They had ridden 35 miles between 8 o'clock and 12, or in four hours. At daylight nothing could be seen of Cumtuckna's party, neither men nor horses. During the night they had quietly stolen away.
    We started on our return to Jacksonville, after taking leave of our friends, Jim, George, La Lake and his band. We reached Jacksonville in due time without further adventure.
    In conclusion I wish to bear witness to the valor and loyalty of my comrades on that expedition. No braver men ever lived than they proved to be.
    No three men were ever placed in a more trying position than they were and lived to get out of it with more credit. Their patience was equal to their courage. There was no complaints, no expressions of fear or uncertainty. They were there to do their duty at any risk, and it is a great pleasure to me to know that two of them are living, Mr. Caliway at Caldwell, and Sutton at Boise.
    I have had many remarkable adventures in the early days of the Pacific Coast, but I have always considered this Klamath Lake experience among the most trying. That we three who had these experiences so many years ago should be living this month of January, in the year of our Lord 1896, in the same state, too, is to me cause for rejoicing.
    Let us hope that we may meet again in the near future and before passing to the great hereafter.

Last revised October 14, 2024