Sunday Oregonian, Portland, December 20, 1885, page 3


    "Mother started a hotel and boarding house at Albany. It was called the Albany hotel. I married Samuel Tillard, one of the boarders at our hotel. Rev. White, a Baptist preacher, married us. We went into the Rogue River Valley, about 25 miles north of Jacksonville, where we took up a claim. My husband was successful with stock, so we bought a few cattle as a start for a stock ranch. I shall never forget the night of August 5, 1855. The Indians had set fire to the brush and the fire had got into the sugar pines in the nearby hills and mountains. It was a fearsome and wonderful sight, to see the flames running up the trunks of the big trees. When the tops caught fire the trees looked like huge torches. My neighbor, Mrs. J. K. Jones, was with me that night, for I was expecting my first baby to arrive. I wanted them to take me out in the chaparral. It was as light as day from the burning forests. I was afraid to stay in the house. Mrs. Jones put me to bed, and pretty soon my baby, Billy, was born. Billy lives here in Portland now.
    "When Billy was six weeks old my husband had business to attend to in the Willamette Valley, so I decided to go along and show my mother and the rest of the folks my new baby. Mrs. Jones said I could go along with my husband and she would take care of Billy. She thought the 250-mile trip to Albany would be too hard on so young a baby. I thanked her, but told her I wouldn't think of leaving my baby, so I rode on horseback and carried him. The trip took us about 10 days. We camped out each night beside the trail, for in those days there were not many settlers in Southern Oregon. Just before we reached the canyon we stopped at the home of Mr. and Mrs. George W. Harris. They had come from the Willamette Valley not long before and taken a claim. Mrs. Harris said to me, 'I wish I could go back to the valley with you. I am so homesick for my old friends and the valley.' In less than two weeks the Indians killed my neighbor, Mrs. J. K. Jones, and her husband and also carried away Mrs. J. Wagoner and her little 4-year-old girl, Mary. Their fate was never known. George Harris was at work near his home. The Indians came toward him. He ran to the house. They shot him, and he fell partly inside the doorway and partly out. Mrs. Harris dragged him in, barred the door and fired through the chinks in the logs at the Indians. Her little girl put the lead on to melt and began to mold bullets. The little girl was wounded, but didn't tell her mother. She went upstairs, and her mother didn't know she was shot till the blood ran through the ceiling and fell on the floor. The little boy, who was out in the potato field, was captured and killed. Mrs. Harris stood the Indians off till help came the next day. A considerable number of the settlers up and down the valley were killed and most of the houses burned and the stock run off. Later the government paid us for the loss of our improvements and stock. We didn't go back to Rogue River. We bought an 80-are place near Albany."
Sarah Ann Walton Tillard, quoted by Fred Lockley, "Impressions and Observations of the Journal Man," Oregon Journal, Portland, September 22, 1925, page 8


    The Indians on Tuesday, the 9th inst., burned the house of Mr. Jones, on Rogue River, near Jacksonville, and he was killed, and his wife severely wounded, dying soon after.… The house of Mr. Wagoner, of the same place, was also burned, together with his wife and child. Mr. Wagoner had left his home about an hour previous for the purpose of escorting Miss Pellet, the temperance lecturer, to Illinois Valley, and on returning, being but a short distance from his house, he beheld it in flames. On his arrival home he found the Indians dancing and shouting around the fire. In the meantime the U.S. troops, under command of Major Fitzgerald, came upon them, killing five of their number, the rest making their escape.… Mr. Harris, also of the same place, was killed, his child wounded and his property destroyed. Great praise is due Mrs. Harris, for her heroic conduct after the Indians had killed her husband, wounded her child and destroyed their property. She fought the Indians the whole night alone with a double-barreled gun, firing some forty rounds at them.… On Tuesday noon intelligence was received at Jacksonville of Mr. Hamilton being killed and a Mr. Westfall wounded, by the Indians at Jewett's Ferry, about 16 miles further down the river.
Del Norte Record, Crescent City, May 20, 1893, page 1


Editor Oregonian:
    I am under the painful necessity of informing you that our predictions relative to another Indian war have been more than realized.
    The impending storm which that has so long been visible to the candid observer, and of which so much has been said and written, has burst upon our devoted heads, and we are now reaping the rich bitter fruits of Indian philanthropy, the results accruing from a corrupt administration of Indian affairs, particularly in Southern Oregon. It is useless, however, for me to comment upon It is useless, however, at the present time to comment farther upon this subject at the. Former communications relative to these matters have given you a partially correct true understanding some idea of the true condition of the dangers which have to some extent advised you of the dangers to which we have been exposed for months past, and the utter neglect or refusal of those to whose care our rights are confided to adopt such measure such means as would frustrate the evil designs of a savage foe.
    For the present, I or until the hostilities cease, I shall content myself with giving you a simple narrative of facts, as they transpire.
    Since my last communication, this entire section of country has been the scene of the most heart-rending massacres that has ever befallen the lot of man to behold witness.
    At daybreak on Monday last (October 8th) the volunteer forces by a preconcerted action made a simultaneous attack upon three camps of Indians who had left the reserve with the manifest intention of committing depredations within the settlements upon the settlers above the reserve in the vicinity of Butte Creek, fifteen miles from Jacksonville.
    The plan of operations was admirably laid out well arranged and admirably laid out. Not less than forty Indians paid suffered the penalty they had so long and so justly merited. The battle lasted four hours. Unfortunately, however, several citizens were wounded in the conflict, one of whom (J.A. Lupton, member-elect to the Assembly) has since died.
    On the following morning by the several tribes on Rogue River by who had commenced committing depredations in June last consummated the act which they had so long premeditated. Between Jewett's Ferry and Grave Creek fifteen upwards Jump Off Joe (Creek) at in a distance of thirty-five miles, upwards of fifteen persons are known to have been killed, including men, women and children. On the morning of this deplorable affair, Mr. Wagoner at Louse Rose Creek, left home his house to accompany Miss Pellet to Vannoy's Ferry, a distance of four miles, leaving none at home but his wife and child and an Indian, who had frequently been employed as a servant about the premises. On his return from the ferry, he discovered his barn on fire and some thirty well-armed Indians in and around his house. Knowing that it would be worse than useless to attempt the rescue of his family, unarmed as he was, he immediately proceeded to alarm the neighborhood. But sad to relate, all had shared alike.
    Mr. Jones, living three miles south of Wagoner's, was killed and his wife mortally wounded--has since died. Along the road to Evans' Ferry, several men were found dead in the road, teams killed and goods destroyed. On returning to Mr. Wagoner's house Mrs. Wagoner was burned and the remains of Mrs. Wagoner and daughter lay smoldering in the ruins, and on proceeding to the house of Mr. Harris, twenty-four hours after the attack, the owner was found dead and the Indians found surrounding a piece thicket of brushwood. The Indians how immediately fled and when from the thicket, to the joy of all present, emerged Mrs. Harris, bearing in her arms her wounded child. Mr. Harris as It seems that Mr. Harris was killed by an Umpqua Indian at the onset. Before dying, however, he directed dictated to his wife, who was wholly unskilled in the use of firearms, the manner of loading his rifle. With this and a revolver she kept possession of the house for twelve hours. Day Night coming on she retreated to the Their little girl, who was seriously wounded, kept a constant lookout through the apertures of the ceiling and reported to her mother from time to time of the near approach of Indians the enemy. Night coming on, Mrs. Harris retreated to the thicket destitute of bullets, yet notwithstanding kept up an incessant fire with powder alone until the moment of her rescue. The family of Mr. Haines living in that vicinity is also massacred murdered. Thus did this heroic woman keep twenty-five or thirty bloodthirsty Indians at bay for the space of twenty-four hours and that too without even a morsel of food, or even a drop of water.
    Mr. Haines and family, living in that vicinity, are also murdered and other families are yet to be heard from. It is more than probable, however, that all the families living in that vicinity of the mouth of have all shared the same fate. Col. Ross has with his characteristic promptitude has mustered into service several companies of mounted volunteers who are rendering excellent service, and if the desire of all concerned is carried into effect, the occupation of an Indian agent here, like Othello's, will be gone.
    The policy pursued by parties to whom I have heretofore referred, relative to the official acts of those who have who have been engaged taken an active part in suppressing Indian hostilities in years past, has destroyed the confidence of many that the general government would remunerate those render compensation for service rendered or supplies furnished, consequently the requisite supplies for this emergency are compelled to be raised by direct contributions of money, provisions, &c. from our citizens; a burden which they are illy able to bear.
B. F. Dowell Papers, Bancroft Library Mss. P-A 137  The edited letter was printed in the Oregonian of October 27, 1855, on page 2.


    Francis M. Tibbetts, of East Portland, engineer of the Stark Street ferry, a youthful pioneer of Oregon, who is thoroughly conversant with the troublous times of the early settlers in Southern Oregon, occasioned by the Indian outbreak from Cow Creek southward in 1855, recently submitted the following narrative to the records of Multnomah Camp No. 2, Indian War Veterans:
    I was born at Manchester, Dearborn County, Indiana, November 21, 1838. My father, Jonathan L. Tibbetts, came from Bangor, Maine. He followed trading on the Mississippi River for several years, and farmed some near Manchester, Indiana. In 1852 he came to Oregon with his family, consisting of my mother and ten children, and settled in the Umpqua Valley, near where Oakland now is. Here my father acquired a donation land claim and raised his family. The land was claimed by an Indian, "Louis," who was bought off for $610, gold coin. and then kept the hotel in Oakland for fourteen years. Afterwards he lived at Eugene City a few years, and died June 23, 1885, in East Portland, at the age of 81 years. All the remainder of my father's family are still living. My father was a Methodist preacher, and the first in the Umpqua Valley, and was the elder brother of Gideon Tibbetts, of Tibbett's addition to East Portland. In the fall of 1855 I was on my father's farm, near Oakland, when Charles Johnson came along the road with two heavily laden freight wagons, on the way from Portland to Southern Oregon. Johnson owned a farm in the Umpqua Valley, near my father's, was a single man, and had engaged in teaming as a more remunerative employment than farming. He was an Ohio man, of very light complexion, weighed about 160 pounds, and was about 25 or 26 years old at the time of which I write. He was a trustworthy and industrious man, and worthy of a better fate than [to] be
    When he arrived at my father's place he concluded that his wagons were too heavily laden for the trip south, though the then-notoriously bad roads of the "Big Canyon." So he secured an additional wagon and team and divided his two wagonloads so as to make three of them, and employed me as driver for the extra team. The teams and freight, which consisted of stoves, tinware and butter, were all the property of Hiram Smith, then a merchant of Portland, who lately died in East Portland. Frank Stone, who died in Portland last month, was the third man of our freighting caravan. We proceeded southward on our journey, and as we reached the far end of the "Big Canyon" and were hitching up our teams one morning a man came along the road on horseback from the south and gave us information of an Indian outbreak between there and Jacksonville. Notwithstanding there was a feeling of danger from all that we learned, we proceeded on the road about six miles to Smith's place. Here we found travelers and the surrounding settlers congregating and arranging to defend themselves against an attack by the Indians. Smith's farm, or "place," is four or five miles south of the old "Hardy Elliff" station, at the southern end of the "Big Canyon," and is on Cow Creek, which, rising in the Cascade Range of mountains, passes by Hardy Elliff's and, running first westerly, thence northerly, and thence again easterly, makes a complete circuit of a spur of the Cascade Range, through which the "Big Canyon" is a passageway, and empties into the South Umpqua River seven or eight miles northward of Canyonville, at the northerly end of the "Big Canyon." Formerly, when all the travel was by wagon road, it passed up the westerly side of the South Umpqua River from Roseburg to the crossing of the South Umpqua, four or five miles from Canyonville, and there followed up Canyon Creek to Canyonville, where it entered the "Big Canyon" and followed up Canyon Creek, which flows through the canyon, a distance of twelve miles, to Hardy Elliff's.
rises in the canyon at a point about two miles northward of Hardy Elliff's. The grade of the canyon is not difficult for a wagon road, but the narrowness of the defile in some places, the swampy and boggy character of the creek in others, the precipitous mountains adjacent, and the dense forest excluding the sun's influence for a very large portion of the year, made the "Big Canyon" difficult of passage for a large portion of the time. A toll road was established through it by a private corporation some years after the time of which I write, but did not improve the opportunities of travel materially, though it, at one time, entered somewhat into the state's politics. The O.&C. Railroad, that has since been constructed as far south as Ashland, on Rogue River, does not passs through the "Big Canyon," but, crossing South Umpqua north of the mouth of Cow Creek, follows up that stream many miles westward of the "Big Canyon." The following are the names of the settlers on Cow Creek, south of the canyon, in 1855: Hardy Elliff, Stephen [Mynatt], ------ Smith, ------ Turner, [John W.] Redfield, who lived at the crossing of Cow Creek and about a mile from Smith's place. All these had families. When we arrived at Smith's Johnson concluded it was unwise to imperil our lives as well as endanger the loss of the team and freight by traveling on the road, and so we put the wagons and freight in Smith's corral, close to the house, and turned the teams into his pasture. In the afternoon of the day that we arrived at Smith's a volunteer company was formed at Turner's store, about half a mile south of Smith's. J. S. Rinearson was chosen captain, Charles Johnson first lieutenant, and Frank Stone and myself
with about thirty others. Sometime in the latter part of the day a man named Wm. Lawler arrived on foot at Turner's from down on Grave Creek, a short distance below the mouth of Coyote Creek, where he had been mining, and where he had been attacked by the Indians when alone. He had succeeded in making his escape from them, though he was closely pursued for awhile, and fired at several times at close range. But he succeeded in eluding them by devious ways in the brush and timber and had laid out over one night, in the mountains, alone. Lawler presented two phases. He was very well tickled at reaching a place of safety and meeting with his white people again, which he very plainly showed. He was bareheaded, with few clothes, and quite hungry and haggard and worn out, which he also showed. He told me that the Indians attacked him and got between him and his cabin early in the morning, when he saw that his only chance was by taking to the brush close by, which he did. He told us there had been some other miners not far below him on Grave Creek, and he supposed that, in all probability, they had been attacked and killed. Supposing that we might possibly be able to succor these other miners, early on the next morning Capt. Rinearson, with his company, started, with Lawler as guide, to where the other miners were supposed to be. We went by the main road about five miles to what was then known as the "Six Bit" house, and from here we left the main road and followed down Wolf or Coyote Creek to where it empties into Grave Creek. In passing, I might mention that the "Six Bit" house is said to have taken its name from a circumstance connected with the hanging of an Indian. Being asked, when on the scaffold, what he had to say before being hung, [he] replied that a certain white man in the crowd "owed him six bits" that he would like to have.
    Before starting from Turner's one of the command, William Ganey provided himself with a supply of the kind of "tarantula juice" then very common in the country. The "Six Bit" house we found deserted by its owner and keeper and occupied by a large number of Chinamen, who had congregated there from remote points, seeking safety. Ganey had become quite boisterous from drinking this poisonous manufactured stuff, called whisky, and made an onslaught upon the
firing several pistol shots in the house where the Chinamen were, who skipped out at the windows and doors and hied away to the brush close by. Ganey become so unruly that he was [as] dangerous to the whole company as a wild man. He was overpowered, by order of the captain, and housed and placed under guard and sent on to the Grave Creek House. A few miles below the mouth of Wolf Creek we came to Lawler's cabin, which had been fired by the Indians, after removing everything of value. We proceeded on down Grave Creek, and when we had gone four or five miles below Lawler's cabin, and when our company was moving along in a quiet pace, we came suddenly, face to face, upon a cavalcade of about fifteen or twenty Indians. The foremost one of our company at the time was a man called Doc Rivers. The Indians, upon discovering the approach of our men, fired hastily and then fled across Grave Creek and up the hillside beyond, leaving their horses, about twenty in number, which we captured. Our men promptly returned the fire, and secured one dead Indian that we knew of. A firing was kept up across the creek for some time but without any injury to our men, whatever the damage was to the Indians, the hillside where the Indians were being mostly covered with timber and brush. Immediately below where we found the Indians, we found two dead miners who had been killed while at work in their mine. They had each been shot several times, and apparently had been dead about two days. Their clapboard cabin had been robbed but not burnt. We set to work to bury the men, and while doing so the Indians upon the opposite hillside yelled and halloed at us and bantered our men to come upon the mountainside to where they were and they would fight us. Some of our men who could talk their language answered for the Indians to come down into open ground and we would fight them. We had intended to go down Grave Creek to its mouth, but Capt. Rinearson calculated that our force was too small for that venture, as it was very probable that there was a large force of Indians at that time in that direction, and our limited supplies and imperfect equipment were such that we concluded to "about face" and proceed up Grave Creek to the main road. We afterwards learned that a few miles below where we turned back there was a big camp of hostiles, who would probably have annihilated our whole command, if we had proceeded down that way. We took the Indian horses with us and
towards the main road. I think we were about fifteen miles below the Grave Creek House. We traveled up Grave Creek about five miles, and then moved back onto the mountain to a suitable place, and camped over the night, putting out pretty much the whole command for a guard. We marched to the main crossing of Grave Creek the next day and stayed there one night. Up to this time my firearms consisted of two horse pistols furnished me at Turner's. To become familiar with my arms I had fired one of them, with a result that was at least convincing at my end of the apparatus. I should mention that though Lawler had espoused the better part of valor, when, without any arms, he was chased from his cabin and through the brush and into the mountains by the Indians, yet when he returned with us he acted every part of a courageous man. In those times it was customary for every man, wherever he was, to have at least one riding animal with him, and consequently our command was mounted from the first. Ganey rejoined us at the Grave Creek House, a sober and wiser man, and ever afterwards behaved himself in a very proper way. All of our company, so far as I can now recollect, behaved and acted well and courageously at all times. The heavy timber and dense undergrowth over the whole country south of the "Big Canyon" to Rogue River, excepting in a few small spots, and along the streams at different places where there were some narrow strips of clear ground, always gave the Indians every opportunity of concealment. Such was the character of the country in this respect that with a little bit of energy and perseverance their subjugation would have been impossible. Twenty men of courage and determination could subsist in those wilds, even at this time, and defy the world, almost for a lifetime. Apparently the Indians' purpose was not to make any kind of war, but to
and unguarded and there to evade pursuit. They do not seem even to have made an attempt to ambush any considerable number of the white volunteers or soldiers, though they might have done so effectually in many instances even upon the main traveled, public roads, as well as elsewhere. Between Cow Creek and Grave Creek the main traveled road passes, most of the way, through underbrush of so dense a growth that an individual could conceal himself within a few feet of the roadside and not be seen, and in which pursuit would be wholly impossible. Five well-armed and energetic white men could have completely stopped communication or travel south of Cow Creek, easily enough, during the time of the Indian war.
    When our company was organized at Turner's, those who composed it were travelers, settlers in the neighborhood and miners. I do not recollect, if I ever knew, how Capt. Rinearson came to be present, but I think he had returned that far from a trip to Southern Oregon. Most of the men at the time of the organization of the company were strangers to me. James Twogood and [McDonough] Harkness were keeping the Grave Creek House and had enclosed it with a structure of palisades. Harkness was afterwards killed by the Indians while carrying dispatches for Gen. Lamerick.
    The next morning, after arriving at the Grave Creek House, we proceeded southward on the main road toward Jacksonville, as far south as Harris'. Along the road we witnessed the remains of the Indians' depredations, that are so well known, and met Captain A. J. Smith's company of regulars. We returned and camped at the widow Niday's place, eight miles south of Grave Creek, as being a convenient point from which to act in any direction that we might be needed. We remained at this place a few days. One night while camped here, two men, Jack Collins, now of East Portland, and Ben Gentry arrived at our camp from Galice Creek, a mining camp on a creek by that name, emptying into Rogue River on the south side, about thirty miles below Jacksonville. The Indians had attacked the miners and they had congregated in a small board shanty, where the Indians had besieged them and killed one man and wounded five others. Collins and Gentry had made
at night. Early next morning a portion of our company, including myself, under Capt. Rinearson, marched for Galice Creek, fording Rogue River with much difficulty, and reached there in the afternoon. The Indians receded into the mountains as we approached. The cabin in which the miners were congregated was filled with bullet holes from the Indians' guns. Among the people there was one white woman, the wife of the man Pickett, whom the Indians had killed. About twenty-five or thirty people had taken refuge in this cabin. We stayed overnight at this place, and early the next morning word reached us that Capt. Smith's company of regulars was close at hand, and they arrived within an hour or two after. As it was more convenient and desirable for the miners and besieged to make their exit with Capt. Smith toward Jacksonville, and as he had come fully prepared to care for the wounded and to convey them all to safety, Capt. Rinearson's detachment started immediately for Niday's place again, where we arrived that afternoon. Lieut. Charles Johnson, who had remained at Niday's in command of a small portion of our company, while the balance made the excursion under Capt. Rinearson to Galice Creek, the next day after our return obtained leave from Capt. Rinearson to come over to Turner's station, as he was desirous of looking after Hiram Smith's property that we had left at Smith's place on Cow Creek. Lieutenant Johnson was to return by a certain time, but we never saw him again alive. Flem. Hill, who now lives at Wilbur, in Douglas County, came past our camp at Niday's from Jacksonville. Capt. Rinearson told Hill that he was apprehensive for the fate of Johnson, as the time for his return had passed, and he felt too much confidence in him to think he would not keep his engagement if possible. Hill departed on the road northward in the afternoon on horseback, and returned to our camp late at night and reported the killing of Bailey near Cow Creek. This solved the mystery of the failure of Johnson to return. Our company was immediately mustered, and in an hour after Hill's return we were mounted and on the road, traveling at a brisk canter toward Cow Creek. We arrived at the scene of Bailey's murder, about one mile south of Cow Creek, a distance of fifteen miles, a little before daylight. Here we found three wagons standing in the road,
in their yokes, portions of the wagons' contents scattered about, and numerous of Bailey's drove of hogs, which was in the company of the wagons when attacked, running at large. As we came upon this scene the accidental discharge of a gun by one of our men created a little commotion. Capt. Rinearson gave quick orders, "Halt!" "Dismount!" which were obeyed in good spirit. The captain soon ascertained the cause of the alarm, and all were ordered to remount, and were again soon on the way. Good old Capt. Rinearson may by this time with age have lost some of his usefulness to his fellow men, but I doubt if his spirit is any the less ardent. Then he was a suitable and competent commander for such an occasion, and I believe his men were worthy of him. He was then in the prime of manhood, and is so well known in Oregon that I will not venture to give a detail of the character of the man. Of course, from this scene our anxious thoughts were bent towards the settlers' places--Redfield's, Turner's, Smith's and [Wynatt's]--on Cow Creek, not far distant. We pushed on across Cow Creek and found Redfield's houses burnt down, but the ruins still smoking, so that we knew that we were not long after the onslaught of the Indians, even if we should not be in time to encounter any of it. Turner's station, a half mile distant, we also found burned to the ground. Our anxiety at this was intense, for we had gone from here a few days before to rescue others, whom we had supposed in more imminent danger, and had left numerous families and others at these places, for whose fate we now felt the most serious apprehension. Fortunately the settlers and others in the vicinity of Cow Creek were assembled at Smith's and making a determined defense. The night guard at Smith's was stationed a little beyond (south of) the house in a clump of trees, not far from the road, on a knoll.
the guard, supposing that we were Indians, fired on us, but failed of any effect, probably because we were much below them, though we were quite near. By order of the captain we charged up the hill from where the firing came, supposing it was from Indians. Our charge brought out several volleys from the guard, but the firing all missed its aim, and when we were within fifty yards of them, the guard, in the peering dawn of day, discovered who we were. The body of Bailey had been rescued and was at Smith's.
    Bailey had been traveling southward with three wagonloads of produce and a drove of hogs, and though warned of the danger continued on the road with his teams and droves, and was attacked by the Indians when about one mile south of the crossing of Cow Creek. He was killed, and perhaps one or two others, and I think some of the men with him were wounded. Finding these at Smith's comparatively safe for the time being, our company pushed on to [Wynatt]'s, three miles distant. Here we found the corpse of Charles Johnson, our first lieutenant, and the place occupied by about ten men, among whom were Stephen [Wynatt], severely wounded, and five or six women and several children. They were glad to give us welcome and we were provided with a sumptuous breakfast, which we much needed after our night's jaunt. Among those at this place, besides Stephen [Wynatt] and his wife, were his father and mother, Hardy Elliff and wife, and preacher Miller and his wife. Several others were also there. The Indians had endeavored for a whole day to carry by assault both Smith's and [Wynatt]'s houses, but had been kept at a distance by the occupants. Each was a two-storied log house, and afforded a pretty strong and convenient defense from the upper stories. Johnson was killed the day before we arrived at [Wynatt]'s. The people at [Wynatt]'s had observed a considerable smoke down the road towards Smith's place, which raised a suspicion that the Indians had captured it and massacred the occupants. This created quite an alarm at [Wynatt]'s, as such a fate at Smith's place would be sure to be followed by a severe assault at [Wynatt]'s. Charles Johnson, Stephen [Wynatt] and a man named Aleck Abbott [probably James Asahel Abbott] had concluded to go to a ridge upon the hillside to discover, if possible,
and ascertain whence the column of smoke arose. When they had come nearly to the top of the ridge they were fired on by the Indians from a concealed place under the low-bending boughs of a tree. [Wynatt] was hit the first round, and severely wounded. He fell to the ground; Johnson picked him up and dragged him down the hill, the Indians still firing and following them up. [Wynatt] told Johnson to leave him and save himself, as there was no hope for him. Abbott had reached some trees near the foot of the hill, and was firing back at the Indians. Johnson succeeded in getting [Wynatt] to the foot of the hill, being fired on by the Indians all the while, and then turning to observe the enemy was hit over the left eye by a bullet, which passed through his head, causing instant death. This occurrence was in plain view of those at the house, and not over a half mile from them. Two of those at the house took a horse from the stable and went to bring the men in. They reached the spot where the men were found, [Wynatt] barely wounded and Johnson dead, as stated. Firing was going on all the time, and the horse was wild or scared so that it was difficult to manage him to any use. It was concluded to bring in [Wynatt] first, as he was still alive, and to return for Johnson's body. But when they did so the Indians had stripped the body of clothing, taken the scalp, and mutilated the body in various ways. Nevertheless it was recovered, and in the afternoon of the day of our arrival we buried the remains of Lieut. Charles Johnson about two hundred yards from [Wynatt]'s house, near the foot of the hill, with military salute by his company over his grave. By this time life began to look earnest and real to a boy of 17 summers. [Wynatt] was so badly wounded that he was expected to die, though he afterwards fully recovered. It was then supposed that a sub-chief called "Limpy" was at the head of this marauding party. During the first night after our arrival Hardy Elliff and I were on guard together. Hardy had a Kentucky rifle that he called "Betsy."
there was a clear moonlight, and we heard the tramp of horses approaching. Finally three horsemen rode by, about two hundred and fifty yards distant, on the hillside. Hardy said for me to retain my fire for a close engagement if they attempted to attack us, and he would turn "Betsy" loose on them, which he did. But the Indians speedily scampered away. After this the guard was rearranged for the night. Immediately after the arrival of our company the Indians left the neighborhood, and it was supposed that they had gone down Cow Creek and across the divide, on to Rogue River. I was detailed to accompany preacher Miller and his family to Roseburg, while Capt. Rinearson and his company returned southward, and afterwards engaged in the somewhat celebrated battle of Hungry Hill, where both the regulars and several companies of volunteers, under command of Rinearson as major, participated. Rinearson's company was soon disbanded, owing to some jealousies of a political nature. My father had heard that Johnson was killed, but could not hear what had become of me, when I arrived at home one night between 1 and 2 o'clock. The people in the whole Umpqua Valley, and even in portions of the Willamette Valley, were much alarmed of danger from the Indians. Sometime in the early winter W. W. Chapman organized a company of volunteers in the Umpqua Valley for three months' services, in which I enlisted. There were a considerable number of Indians in the Umpqua Valley at that time. We were taken down the Umpqua River to Scottsburg, and from there myself and about ten or twelve others were sent down to and stationed on Winchester Bay, near the mouth of the Umpqua, as a lookout against any body of coast Indians ascending the river. We were at this place a considerable time. While we were here a portion of Capt. Chapman's company passed south through the "Big Canyon" to Grave Creek, and down Grave Creek and Rogue River to the Big Meadows. After their return we were all stationed for awhile at Kellogg's, which is a place about six miles above Elkton, on the Umpqua River.
    The three months for which this company was organized having expired, I did not re-enlist, though most of the company did.
Oregonian, May 30, 1886, page 2


    Shortly after arriving home Mr. Harkness thought we could dispose of a small cargo of groceries & provisions at Galice Creek, 20 miles distant on Rogue River. Jack for some cause would not go with us. We started, arrived there all right on Saturday. This, according to the best of my recollection was the 8th day of October A.D. 1855. Found ready sale for most of the goods and balance left to be sold & sent the train home Sunday 9th, while their Chief Limpy wanted a sack of flour and pay me next time I came in. I told him all right, "Nika hyas kumtux mika klosh tum tum hie." ["I well understand your good heart trade."] This pleased him & was the best sale I made on the creek. Sunday evening I was standing outside the saloon, 5 or 6 feet from Jack Lowry & Charley Beckett, a Cherokee half-breed. They were both intoxicated and having an altercation about some trivial matter. Being a friend to them both [I] tried to pacify them, but no, Jack pulled his shirt and went for him. Charley, being a powerful man, would not strike him but nearly caught him by [the] top of his head, held him at arm's length. But Jack, being crazed with liquor, whisked out a sheath knife & plunged it to the hilt in Charley's bowels, who instantly shoved Jack over & said he was stabbed. Although within 4 or 5 feet of them, it was all done so quick that I did not see the knife. Jack sobered instantly, put on his shirt and went off up the creek. I knew it was fatal for Charley, but next day at noon when I got ready to start home he begged of me to go via Love's ranch, which was 2 miles out of my way & send down Dr. Paxton. I kept a big dun Spanish mule out of the train to ride home. Left the creek and went up 2 miles, forded Rogue River about 2 o'clock Oct. 10th 1855. I had a good Oregon-made saddle, with holsters, between 4 & 5 hundred dollars in one side & a Colt's revolver on the other. Shortly after crossing the river my mule became frantic from some cause unknown to me at the time, but easily explained afterwards. The trail was narrow and up & down steep places & through thick brush. Although I had a good Spanish bit on the mule, he charged up & down & through the gulches like a shot out of a gun, and I had as much difficulty in trying to keep my seat as Horace Greeley in the stagecoach with Hank Monk.
    After about 6 miles at a cyclone gait [I] arrived at the mouth of Jumpoff Joe [Creek] and passed up into a more open country, the lower end of R. R. Valley. By this time I was nearly exhausted. The mule was white with lather & foam, the water dripping from him and the blood streaming from his mouth, the effects of a Spanish bit & my muscle. At this point I left our trail, turned to the right and proceed up the valley and soon arrived at the residence of George Miller [and] rode up to the door to inquire for Doc. Paxton. The door was open but no person there. Looked in, saw the straw tick had just been emptied, and nearly everything taken from the house. This explained what was the matter with the mule, for I knew on sight that it was the work of Indians. So I passed on up the valley in quest of Doc Paxton & to find out what was the matter. The valley here is about ¾ of a mile wide, a smooth, nice prairie land; to the left is a rise of 10 or 15 feet, and the land is heavily timbered & covered with a thick growth of underbrush. I rode on for half a mile and thought I saw someone up on the bench or side hill. I put spurs to the mule and rode directly up there and was somewhat taken aback to find a woman & 2 children. The woman I discovered was a Yankee & she had a dirk stuck in her belt and a double-barreled shotgun in her hands and a pr. of blankets the children was sitting upon.
    She looked and acted brave--poor, frail woman, she did not realize that herself & children's lives were spared simply because she lived in Timoleon Love's house. Of course I inquired for Paxton and asked for an explanation, when she made the following statement. She said Umpqua Joe (a Cherokee that came out with Fremont [and] was killed near there a year or two ago by his son-in-law) had come down from Jacksonville about 2 hours before in hot haste & reported to them that the Indians had broke out that morning in the Upper Rogue River Valley, and that they were massacring all the whites and burning everything before them, and told Doc Paxton who was there at the house to take her & the children up to Vannoy's and that he, Joe, had a canoe down at the river; [he] would get in that, make a run down to Galice Creek in one hour (river very rapid) and would tell Capt. Belknap, her husband & his partner Mr. White to come right up that night, that Mr. Paxton had taken her & the children & cached them out in the brush and for her to stay there while he went down to the other house and got his horses. This was several hours before, and she was there waiting for him. Poor, frightened man, he never came back. I then told her it was no place for her out there; she must go to the house and that being personally acquainted as I was with nearly every Indian in that part of the country, I did not place much confidence in Joe's report, thought it was only a tease, that our folks would expect me home that night, but under the circumstances I would not desert her till someone came, so we all went to the house. Mr. Love's pack train she said would be in that night. I picketed out my mule; we got supper; waited till 10 o'clock. No one came and so we lay down with our clothes on ready for any emergency. It was a long night. The house was of hewn logs, but not chinked--all open. Daylight came at last; [we] got up and went out but not a living thing was to be seen except my mule. Stayed there all that day, all the second night, but not a soul came to our relief. What did it mean? This was Wednesday morning and I began to get fidgety and nervous, till about 10 a.m. I heard a rumbling noise, looked up the valley, saw bright flashes up & down, and thought it must be Indians coming on horseback. We all got inside; I barricaded the door with sacks of flour and then took a look at them through the sights of a gun. They came swooping down upon us in a dead run. Soon I discovered it to be a party of six white men & I breathed easier. We opened the door. They seemed much surprised to find us living and especially me, for Harkness told them that I was to be home Monday, but that Doc Paxton had come in through the mountains, got to the Grave Creek House about 12 o'clock that night and reported that he barely escaped with his life, that everybody had been murdered, and of course I had been waylaid & killed, that they had just been sent down from Vannoy's to look for the Belknaps, that the Indians, without a moment's notice had begun to shoot the settlers & burn their homes. They named the Jones family, the Wagoners, the Harrises as all killed and the Haines family not heard from. This recital raised my hair, and the boys said I turned white as a sheet. There was no time to be wasted at that stage of the game. I saddled my mule; we packed Mrs. B. & her 2 children onto two of the men's horses with a few articles of clothing. The men leading the horses, they started for Vannoy's 7 or 8 miles up the river. 4 of the men & myself concluded we would go over and look for the Haines family, a distance of 4 miles. Mr. Haines had only settled there that spring, had a house, 2 or 3 yoke of large oxen, wagon, wife & 4 children. The 2 younger ones died during the summer. I having a fresh animal took the lead, found the trail through thick brush & heavy timber. We went single file on a run. Each man had a gun or revolver in hand. We made the run of 4 miles in less than 30 minutes, arrived there safely, found the house still standing. I rode up first, saw blood & brains on corner of house but no living thing around. The door was open. I stepped inside & was horrified at the sight. There was not Indians enough in the country to frighten me then. There lay the boy with the whole top of his head taken off. Mr. Haines was lying with his feet toward the fireplace on his back with a pillow under his head; his shirt was open and I saw a bullet hole square in the center of his breast, looked as though he had died a lingering death. We had not been there more than 20 minutes, were counciling what disposition to make of the bodies. The mother & daughter we knew well enough were captives. About this time we heard a tornado, though of course it was the whole tribe of Indians coming on horseback, for they made a terrible noise. We all got inside the house, our guns ready to give them a warm reception. In a few minutes, however, we were greatly relieved by discovering it to be a cavalry co. of U.S. troops under command of Capt. A. J. Smith [it was Brevet Major Edward H. Fitzgerald] from Fort Lane and a volunteer co. of some 50 men from Jacksonville, all coming as fast as horses could run. We left them to care for the dead & started up the road for home. Soon as we got into the road it was quite dusty & we could plainly see the footprints of a large body of Indians, and bringing up the rear was plain to be seen the footsteps of Mrs. Haines & daughter. We followed on over a mile to [the] crossing of Jumpoff Joe; here they turned square to the left and struck off northwest. We followed on for over a mile when we came to a very thick growth of underbrush and discovered smoke from a dozen or more camp fires. Thought we had found them sure. 2 of us started around on one side & 3 on the other to close in on them, empty our guns and retreat toward the troops. But when we came together we only found camp fires & the remains of 3 or 4 large oxen. Nothing left but the head, hide & bones. We felt sadly disappointed, for we were in want of Indian scalps & meant business. Then we started for home, arrived safely & found them entrenched in a stockade composed of rails set up on end. And the people there looked upon me as one [risen from the grave.]
James H. Twogood, 1886, Silas J. Day Papers, Lilly Library, Indiana University


    Few persons who reside in the peaceful valleys of Oregon can realize that only a short time since within the memory of many an old settler these hills and vales were populated with a race who waged perpetual warfare with those seeking new homes in this beautiful land. One little incident may revive the memory of many an old settler and recount old scenes that might otherwise be forever lost. In August of 1855 a youth not over sixteen years old was employed by Mr. Richard Forrest as mail carrier on the route between Oakland, Oregon, and Yreka, California. This mail was carried every other week or twenty-six trips per year. One bright Tuesday morning this youth left his night station at Leland, or Grave Creek, and started for his next station which was near Rock Point--there was but one post office in that distance, that of Gold River at the crossing of Rogue River. He had crossed the divide from Grave Creek and entered the valley of "Jumpoff Joe." crossed that stream and wound around among the hills toward Louse Creek where the circumstance occurred that I want to relate.
    All the early pioneer settlers along the road depended upon this messenger to deliver their mail, take their letters to the office and do other errands, therefore they always watched for his arrival and had many good words and other favors to give him and he in turn looked upon them as his special friends. He had just passed one house, after pleasant greetings, when he was surrounded by a large number of Indians who professed great friendship and warmly shook him by the hand and at the same time tried to drag him from his horse. He pulled loose and went on until he came to Wagoner's house on Louse Creek where he detected another band of the redskins in the act of firing the building. They discovered him at about the same time and immediately opened fire upon him.
    He fled back to Harris' place but was unable to reach the house as it was surrounded by the first party he had met and they showered the bullets all about him, but he finally escaped and warned the citizens back along the road who nearly all escaped to their fortification. In the house--Wagoner's--was Mrs. Wagoner. Her husband had left home that morning to transact some business and left his wife alone with a "pet" Indian. This Indian saw the others coming and told her what they were doing. She immediately fastened the doors and windows and prepared for a siege. They wanted her as a prisoner and finally set the house on fire thinking that would bring her out, but this poor forsaken unprotected young woman, knowing her fate if captured, preferred the torture of the flames to that of the red devils howling on the outside. This pet Indian told afterward that the heroic woman, after the house was fired, washed her face, combed her hair before the mirror and then sat down in her rocking chair and sang until the smoke and flames suffocated her. Her heroism and fortitude surprised these savages and they tried to save her when too late. She was more fortunate than some of her sister neighbors captured that day whose final time has not yet revealed.
Capital Journal, Salem, November 12, 1888, page 4


    We had hardly left the cañon [on November 1, 1855] when we began to see traces of the Indian devastations. Blackened and smoking ruins, surrounded by the carcasses of domestic animals, marked the places where, but a few days before, the settlers had lived. We passed a team on the road; the oxen lay shot in the yoke, and the dark blood stains upon the seat of the wagon told the fate of the driver. Even the stacks of hay and grain in the fields had been burned. After leaving the cañon, we followed the narrow but fertile valley of Cow Creek for a few miles and then crossing a steep divide between it and Wolf Creek, encamped on the latter stream. Major Martin intended to proceed, in the morning, to join in the battle which was going on among the mountains, at a distance from the road variously estimated to be from five to twelve miles. As he could not spare us an escort, we determined to press forward as rapidly as possible towards Fort Lane, trusting that the Indians would be too busy to attack our party. In the evening, however, stragglers from the fight began to come in. They reported that the provisions were entirely exhausted and the powder nearly gone; that the Indians were numerous and very strongly posted; that several while men had been killed and many wounded and that it had been thought best to fall back for the present and wait for supplies. The regular troops were on their way to Grave Creek, and the volunteers were coming to our camp as fast as they could transport their wounded. The Indians did not follow them, and they all arrived before morning. The forage on the route had been burned, and our animals suffered much from want of food tonight.
    November 2.--This morning Major Martin, escorted by a volunteer company, went to Grave Creek to see Captain A. J. Smith, 1st Dragoons, commanding the United States troops in the valley. He offered us the benefit of his escort, and we accompanied him accordingly. This gentleman, together with Captain Mosher and other volunteer officers, assisted us in every way in their power, and without this accidental aid our party would have found it very difficult to cross the valley.
    Wolf and Grave creeks are separated by high and steep hills, covered with thick timber and underbrush. On reaching Wolf Creek we found Captain Smith in camp, near a house surrounded by a small stockade. His supply of forage had failed, and he was forced, on this account, to prepare to return to Fort Lane as soon as a few men, who had died of their wounds, could be buried. Lieut. Gibson, formerly in command of the escort of our party, was among the wounded. Being compelled by want of forage to press forward as fast as possible, I applied to Capt. Smith for an escort. He gave me one so promptly that in less than fifteen minutes we were again on our way.
    Between Grave and Jumpoff Joe creeks the road passed over a steep and heavily timbered divide. The Indians had killed two men in charge of a pack train on this hill, and the half-burned remains of their wagon and packs were still to be seen. Near this place Major Fitzgerald, 1st Dragoons, had overtaken with a scouting party and killed several of the savages. At Jumpoff Joe Creek, a man driving swine had been murdered, and a large number of his animals lay dead in the road. On leaving this creek, we passed through an undulating and fertile country, sometimes open and sometimes thinly covered with a growth of oak, sugar maple and a little pine and hemlock. After traveling until nearly sundown, we encamped at a building which had been preserved from the general ruin by the heroism of a woman named Harris. After her husband had been murdered and her daughter wounded, she had made a desperate and successful defense by shooting at the savages from between the crevices of the log house. The traces of her bullets upon the trees, which had shielded the Indians, and the marks of the tragedy within the dwelling, were plainly visible. Soon after dark a small party under the command of Lieut. Allston, 1st Cavalry, arrived with the wounded and encamped. Captain Smith, with a few men, passed us on his way to Fort Lane. The length of our day's march was about fourteen miles.
Lieutenant Henry L. Abbott, Reports of Explorations and Surveys, to Ascertain the Most Practicable and Economical Route for a Railroad from the Mississippi River to the Pacific Ocean, Washington 1857, pages 107-109


Sir
    I again have time to drop you a few lines before starting. Capt. Judah is expected to arrive this evening, in which event I will be able to start day after tomorrow. I have no doubt of its being necessary to have a large escort till I get through the canyon as well from fear of the whites as from the hostile bands of Indians who are in the vicinity of the roads. On the first inst. I sent two Indians in whom I had confidence to the camp of the hostile party to endeavor if possible to get a correct statement in regard to the massacres of the 9th of Oct. last, and more especially to learn if they held in bondage any white women & if so to try to redeem them.
    They returned on the 11th inst. in company with two other Indians belonging to George's band with the following statement, that Old John & eight others [of] his own people did all the mischief that day until their arrival at Wagoner's ranch and at that place they killed Mrs. Wagoner & fired the house before they were observed by the other Indians. Chief George was camped within four hundred yards of the house, but was not at home himself; he had left the day previous to go to Cow Creek. Mrs. Wagoner's daughter, a little girl about eight years of age, was at George's camp and was saved by his woman concealing her. After John had killed these people, captured the teams & burned the houses, he was joined by some other Indians, among whom he divided the cargo that he had captured belonging to Peters & co.; about two thirds of George's people agreed to join him and all the Cow Creeks that were there did the same. The new force was then sent on the road to continue the work of pillage and death begun by Old John.
    He and his men here left for Illinois Valley. The house of Mr. Harris was then attacked by this new party. Mrs. Harris, who was rescued by Major Fitzgerald, recognized some Cow Creek Indians & talked to them before they killed her husband, which in a measure corroborates the statement made by the Indians. They both agree as to who shot Mr. Harris. I am not aware that the Indians knew anything of Mrs. Harris' statement previous to making their own. They also remarked they could have killed her but did not wish to kill women. They strove to take her prisoner, hoping her powder would soon become exhausted, when they would be enabled to capture her, from which they were prevented by the timely arrival of Major Fitzgerald. From here they proceeded to the house of Mr. Haines, where he and his son were killed, his wife and daughter taken prisoners. No clue has been had of the fate of Mrs. Haines and daughter except this, and this, being partially corroborated by the evidence of white persons, leaves but little more to doubt its correctness. The Indians aver that Mrs. Haines' daughter lived but three days, when she died with the flux. That her life was despaired of from that disease on the morning of the massacre I know to be a fact. Mrs. Haines lived six days and died of the same disease; she also was sick at the time of her captivity & had lost two children the week previous of the same disease, so I conclude there is no cause to doubt the statement of the Indians on this matter. Mrs. Wagoner's daughter lived near two months and was killed by some of John's boys, who had been sent from Mr. Wagoner's ranch to the Klamath on a recruiting service. Immediately upon their rejoining the Indians at the meadows they shot the little girl & a little half breed girl belonging to an Indian woman, averring at the same time they done it in revenge for some Indian women who had been killed by the whites. These Indians declare they have not killed any women nor did they intend it should be done, that none but John's people were guilty of such atrocious acts. They also state there are a great many Indians at the meadows, some from the coast below the mouth of Rogue River. These are not armed. The entire Klamath tribe & many disaffected Indians from Northern California have joined them, numbering in all near three hundred efficient warriors, that they are strongly fortified, have made excavations underground & arched them over with large rock & will stand a general fight, although their desire is for peace.
    Bill, son to Old John, refuses to fight & says he never will. These Indians say he invariably mounts his horse & leaves at the first approach of the whites, and is now living several miles from the main body of the Indians with none but his own family. This is the same Bill spoken of last summer, who was with that party on the Klamath at the time of the massacre there, of which you were informed at the time, and subsequently of the surrender of two of the worst of that party into the hands of the civil authorities of California & of their acquittal and subsequent murder by the populace. He says he still desires peace & that he will do anything, or go anywhere, to obtain it, that he never will war with the whites. I give you his statement from which  you can form your own conclusions.
    Old John says he desires peace provided the whites are really penitent & want it. Such a peace as he had from the former treaty, which only served to turn his people into a belief of security, on which they were killed for amusement by the whites, he does not want. He considers he has avenged his injuries, for which he was fighting, & has not lost a single man in doing it, and if the whites are willing to make & observe a peace he will do the same. If the whites wish to fight it is all right. He prefers war to a dishonorable peace, that he would rather die fighting for his rights than to have peace for himself & have his people killed for nothing whenever it suited the caprice of some man to do so. Limpy is exceedingly anxious for peace, says he never joined the war party nor never intends to. He was at Fort Lane at the time of the massacre and remained there until after its occurrence, and left to get his family away from danger. He said when he left he would return with them if it was possible for him to do so & if it was not he would go to the coast mountains and spend the winter there, that he would only fight in defense of his life or family, how true he has kept his word. We have no means of knowing more than the statement of the Indians who were sent out as scouts, & one of them being his brother would probably present the fairest side to view. Limpy is the Indian who caused a gun and some other stolen articles to be returned to their owner a short time previous to the war, of which I gave you an account at the time [see Ambrose's letter of Oct. 8, 1855], though without knowing who had done it. The theft was committed by John's people, the articles taken from them & returned to the owner by Limpy.
    The two messengers sent to us by them were kindly treated and sent back with the following statement, that the whites were very much exasperated at having their women & children killed & they need not hope for peace so long as these murderers were alive, that George's people and the Cow Creeks had no good cause to engage in the war, indeed every facility was afforded them to keep out of it, that they could return to their people whenever it suited them & tell them to defend themselves as best they could, as peace could not be talked of while those murderers were yet unpunished, that they must first surrender them up unconditionally. They then requested me to make known their views to you and they would await an answer, that if extermination was still the cry and they were forced to fight against their will, that we would be held responsible for the murder of our own people & not them, that the whites never could kill them, while they could kill a great many whites.
    I have given you the substance of the interview and as near in their own language as it could be got. I have no doubt it is the desire of a large portion of them to have peace. They are tired of war, but a peace with John's people and the Klamaths would be of short duration, at least until they are well chastised. It does seem to me to be fallacy to talk of peace. I was well satisfied all the while that they were the leading spirit of the whole war & but for them we might still have had peace. It also strikes me very forcibly that it could not be regarded as either very visionary or foolish to make some disposition of about two third of the war party who desire peace, other than trying to exterminate them. I agree with the Indians in that particular that the whites never can do it.
Joel Palmer Esqr.
    Supt. Ind. Affairs
        Dayton O.T.
NARA Series M2, Microcopy of Records of the Oregon Superintendency of Indian Affairs 1848-1873, Reel 14; Letters Received, 1856, No. 98.


    The Yreka Union publishes the following in relation to the Indian war, taken from the Table Rock Sentinel:
    "The Indians who were sent to the Meadows bring back some important information. It appears that the force of warriors is about 300, or over--that they are fortified with a view of security against ordnance, and confident of their ability to prosecute the war. The chiefs say they are revenged for the Indians that had been killed by the whites, and are satisfied and willing to treat--that they will suspend hostilities and remain at peace as long as the whites let them alone--and no longer. The warriors are said to be nearly all eager to fight. They had lost but 16 men during the war--six at the Grave Creek, three at the mouth of Jumpoff Joe, six at Wagoner's ranch, and one at the Meadows.
    "They were told that Mrs. Haines and her daughter, and Mrs. Wagoner's child were taken prisoners--that the two first died within a week of disease with which they were sick when captured, and that the latter was kept until a few days ago, when, hearing of the murder of the two squaws who had been taken by the whites, she was killed in revenge. At the same time a half Indian child was taken from its mother and shot because it had white blood."
Trinity Journal, Weaverville, California, March 1, 1856, page 3


    AN EXPRESSMAN KILLED.--The Yreka Union has been informed that Mr. Harkness, one of the partners of the Grave Creek House, in company with Mr. Wagoner, of Jacksonville, O.T., was taking the express from Grave Creek to McAdams, down Rogue River, and that the Indians fired upon them, killing Mr. Harkness. One ball passed through the clothes of Mr. Wagoner, without, however, doing him any injury.
Marysville Daily Herald, Marysville, California, May 17, 1856, page 3


    This war had its origin in Southern Oregon, where the principal difficulties and duties of the regular troops were to protect the Indians from a set of unprincipled and irresponsible white men. For two years previous, reports and complaints were forwarded to the Headquarters, Department of Pacific, commanded by Gen'l. Wool, by the regular officers on duty in that region, setting forth the acts of these white men, many of them quite as brutal and savage as any ever perpetrated by Indians. A petty theft or personal quarrel was deemed a sufficient excuse for killing an Indian on the spot, or making a night attack on an unsuspecting camp. These things fixed the idea in the mind of Gen. Wool that all the difficulties in the two Territories had the same common origin, viz.: the whites themselves.
    Finally the wholesale slaughter of women and children by Major Lupton's party drove the Indians of that section to desperation. This party was organized under the false report that the Indians were killing the stock on Butte Creek--a report founded on the fact that a farmer of that section had an ox that died, and he gave the meat to the Indians, and some passersby saw them cutting it up and bore the false report to Jacksonville. This was Jake's band of Indians, who were on a pass from the reservation to procure provisions, and the same day that this intelligence went into Jacksonville they were recalled by the Indian agent. The warriors returned immediately, leaving the women and children to follow the next day. But at daylight Lupton was upon them and killed twenty-seven of them; of this entire party but 3 were capable of bearing arms; the others were old men, women and children. This occurred on the morning of the 8th of October, 1855. The news was immediately borne to the reservation, after killing a young man who was making shingles for the Indians. They proceeded down the Rogue River, killing a man at Evans' ferry early on the morning of the 9th; two miles further on they killed Jones and his wife; a few miles farther several travelers, and finally united with George's band of about thirty, and the war in Southern Oregon was fairly commenced. The causes of these outbreaks in the north and south, though separate and distinct, were confounded both by Gen. Wool and the people of Oregon, each holding their own opinions. The people said it was a combination of all the tribes against the whites, and cited as proof the coincidence of their occurring nearly at the same time. Though, in reality, the first acts of the north were committed in August and September. Gen. Wool said it was the aggressions of the whites themselves. The one making the real cause in the north, the excuse for the outbreak in the south, and the other, the real cause of the outbreak in the south, the supposed cause for hostilities in the north.
"A Page in Military History by an Officer of the Army," Truth Teller, Steilacoom, Washington Territory, February 25, 1858, page 1  Attributed to August V. Kautz.


    Information has been received from the Siletz Reservation to the effect that the Indians there have recently had a "free fight" among themselves, in which five were killed and twelve wounded. One band attempted to kill a "doctor" belonging to another band, when the fight became general upon the merits of the case, and resulted as above. The Tututnis and Rogue Rivers had another fight, in which three of the latter were killed, and one of the former dangerously wounded. Afterward the Tututnis waylaid a party of Rogue Rivers, and killed Sambo, the leader in the murder of Mrs. Wagoner, in 1855.
"Ten Days Later from Oregon," Memphis Daily Appeal, March 30, 1859, page 2


    THE INDIANS IN NEW MEXICO.--Major Joseph Smith, of the 5th Regiment, C.V., stationed at Fort Stanton, writes to a friend in Siskiyou, Aug. 5th, as follows:
    The Indians have been very bad in New Mexico and Arizona all this spring and summer. They have run off considerable stock and killed a great many travelers on the roads, and have been generally very troublesome. I had two men of my old company carrying the express from this post to Santa Fe, and about six weeks ago they were both killed by the Indians at the Gallinas Mountains, about 75 miles north of this place. Their names are J. B Wagner and John Hinkley. Hinkley formerly lived in Alleghany, California, and Wagner was from Scott River, where he was very well known. Wagner was a good man, and was well liked by all who knew him; his family was all killed by the Indians in the Rogue River war of [1855-6], he having lived in Rogue River Valley at that time. There is another company of infantry on the way here from Fort Union. It will arrive in a few days. Then I will have four companies and commence a vigorous warfare against the Apache Indians. They are a bad tribe, and the deadly enemy of the white man.
Marysville Daily Appeal, Marysville, California, September 19, 1863, page 3


    The special agent of the government who was here last week, says the Eugene Register, taking testimony of citizens of this country in claims against the government for Indian depredations, had six claims submitted to him. The largest claim is the Belshaw, which is for about $1500. A brother of George Belshaw of this city, accompanied by another man, obtained a load of apples down the valley and were taking them to Southern Oregon, when they were attacked by the Rogue River Indians and killed and their property destroyed. The claim is for this property.
Times-Mountaineer, The Dalles, April 15, 1893, page 3


    The veterans of the Rogue River Indian war have been submitting their evidence in support of claims for Indian depredations committed in the Rogue River war of 1856 before Special Agent Hubbard of the court of claims, who has held court here during the week. Judge Crockett has a spoliation claim of $3600 for hogs killed at Jump-off Joe, in October, 1855. Also Joshua Wright has a claim for $5000, arising out of the same source for 100 head of hogs killed there. Crockett and Wright were driving their hogs to Sailor Diggings and had camped at Jump-off Joe, when the Indians broke out and killed settlers and stock indiscriminately. The war lasted until the summer of 1856, when the Indians were finally subdued.
    Many startling scenes and incidents are related in the testimony, and when Mr. Hubbard gets through he could write a story on frontier life in Oregon that would discount Kit Carson or Buffalo Bill. Mr. Kellogg of Douglas County and the J. L. Yokum heirs also have claims.--Grants Pass Observer.
Del Norte Record, Crescent City, April 29, 1893, page 2