Roseburg News-Review May 30, 1932, page 3.  Byars rode the mail route on the Siskiyou Trail in 1856-1858. A 1968 Ralph Friedman article, below, identifies the original manuscript of this account as then being in the hands of Ray L. Stout.


The following account was written forty years earlier, and from a different point of view:

    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 [apparently William Hickenbottom] 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 that some of her sister neighbors captured that day--whose final time has not yet revealed.
Capital Journal, Salem, November 12, 1888, page 4


    THE OREGON MAIL.--The nonarrival of the Oregon mail is accounted for by the mail carrier being attacked and driven back by the Indians. He was riding in company with two other men, and when they reached the vicinity of Grave Creek four or five Indians came up and stopped them, and commenced talking; presently one of the Indians suddenly grabbed hold of the bridle reins of the horse which the mail carrier was riding. The animal reared and plunged so forcibly that the Indian loosed his hold and fell to the ground. The three men quickly retreated towards the canyon and escaped. The Indians fired several shots at them, none of which took effect.
Daily Alta California, San Francisco, October 26, 1855, page 2


    The experience of mankind has stamped with the signet of truth the popular saying that "success denotes merit," and when a young man attains a position of honor and prominence in a community, whether it be in the political or mercantile world, that fact should be taken as proof of merit of no ordinary kind, in the makeup of the one winning such honor and distinction. Such an elevation as that of Hon. W. H. Byars to the responsible position of State Printer argues that his past life has
been spent to good purpose, and that he has availed himself of his leisure time to store his mind with that fund of literary and political lore which stands him so well before the people of Oregon today. He was born in Des Moines County, Iowa, July 7, 1839, his father, Fleming Byars being a Virginian by birth and his mother, whose maiden name was Anna Deardorff, a native of Ohio. The father died in 1847, leaving the mother with one son and three daughters. In 1851 she was married to John H. Mires and in 1853 they crossed the plains and settled in Umpqua (now Douglas) County, where they still reside. The subject of our sketch carried the United States mails from Oakland, Oregon, to Yreka, California, in 1856-7 and 1858, and, notwithstanding the fearful condition of the roads, the almost utter absence of bridges during that time, showing conclusively that he was possessed of indomitable pluck and energy and a hearty, robust constitution. During the winters of 1858-9 and 1859-60 young Byars attended the Columbia College at Eugene City, and taught school at Fair Oaks, in his own county, during the summer of 1859. In 1860 he ran for the office of County Surveyor but was defeated. He attended Umpqua Academy during the winter of 1860-1. He spent the summer of 1860 prospecting for gold on the headwaters of the Umpqua river. The summer of 1861 was spent in teaching school at Fair Oaks, and in the winter of 1861-2 attended school at the Willamette University, and during the years 1862-3-4 he was in the Eastern Oregon and Idaho Territory gold mines. On March 15, 1865, he enlisted in Company A of the First Oregon Cavalry, and was elected Orderly Sergeant, in which capacity he served until mustered out July 26, 1868, acting meanwhile as an escort and guard for the surveying party that located the Central Oregon Military wagon road, running from Eugene City to the eastern boundary of the State. Entering school once more he graduated from the Umpqua Academy in 1867, and in the winter of that year taught school at Calapooia school house. The year following he was elected School Superintendent of Douglas County. He was married to Mrs. Emma A. Reed (nee Slocum) on December 23, 1868, and their family now consists of three boys and two girls. In 1869 and 1870 he was one of the principals of the Umpqua Academy, and in 1870 was the nominee of the Republican party of Douglas County for the office of Sheriff but was defeated at the polls. He moved into Roseburg in 1872 and in 1873 purchased the Plaindealer, then a Democratic newspaper published by W. A. McPherson, and at once converted it into a Republican organ, since which time he has continued its publication and has in a great measure assisted in making Douglas County one of the strongest Republican counties of the State. Mr. Byars is a practical surveyor and has acted as Deputy U.S. Surveyor for a number of years, and had several important contracts. Mr. Byars is a strong Republican and has been such ever since he cast his maiden vote for Abraham Lincoln in 1860. At the Republican State Convention held in Portland in April, 1882, Mr. Byars received the nomination of State Printer, and at the general election held in June following, he was elected by 2,438 majority over W. F. Cornell, the strongest man the Democracy could have nominated for that position. Mr. Byars is a quiet, unobtrusive gentleman, who rarely attracts attention. He is a good business man, however, attentive and prompt in the discharge of his official duties, and as honest a man as we ever met. He is a genial, whole-souled gentleman, and, socially speaking, stands high in the community. He is of low stature, heavy built, with a clear, penetrating eye, prominent features, heavy beard and hair and a strong constitution.
Frank E. Hodgkins & J. J. Galvin, Pen Pictures of Representative Men of Oregon, 1882


W. H. BYARS, who is numbered among the Oregon pioneers of 1853, is a native of Des Moines, Iowa, born July 7, 1839. His paternal ancestors were among the colonial settlers of Virginia, and his father, Fleming Byars, was born in that state and there passed his boyhood; the mother was a member of the Deardorff family of Ohio. Mr. Fleming Byars married Anna Deardorff in Union County, Indiana, in 1838, and went to Des Moines County, Iowa, and there followed agricultural pursuits until his death, in 1847; he left a wife and four children. Mrs. Byars afterward married John Myers, of Iowa, and in 1853 they joined the tide of western emigration and crossed the plains to Oregon; after a tedious journey of five months they reached the Pacific coast, locating on a donation claim in Douglas County. W. H. Byars was reared to the life of a farmer, and his educational advantages were therefore quite limited. He made the most of his opportunities, and by perseverance finally fitted himself to teach; he continued his studies at intervals, attending Columbia College, at Eugene, the Willamette University, at Salem, and afterward graduated with the first class at Wilbur Academy, Douglas County, in 1868.
    In 1862 began a period of interruption to his intellectual pursuits; he visited the mines of Idaho and for two years was engaged in the chief industry of that section, in hauling and packing supplies or digging for gold. Returning to Oregon at the end of two years he enlisted in Company A, First Oregon Cavalry, and for eighteen months was in the Indian campaigns in the eastern part of the state. He was honorably discharged at Vancouver, in August 1865, and returned to Douglas County, where he continued his studies until his graduation. After this event he taught in the academy and was elected County Superintendent of Schools for Douglas County. In 1870 he was elected County Surveyor, and two years later was appointed United States Deputy Surveyor under W. H. Odell, Surveyor-General, a position he filled until 1884.
    Mr. Byars removed to Roseburg in 1875 and bought the Plain Dealer, a Democratic weekly newspaper; he changed the politics of this sheet and continued its editor and publisher until 1884, when he sold out, after being elected State Printer, the duties of which office required his presence at Salem. He then purchased a half interest in the Statesman, W. H. Odell being the the other partner, and assumed its management and editorial work for eighteen months, after which he sold to the present proprietors. In 1888 he was elected City Surveyor of Salem and held that office until 1890, when, under the administration of President Benjamin Harrison, he was appointed United States Surveyor-General for the state of Oregon.
    Mr. Byars was married in Douglas County, Oregon, December 23, 1868, to Mrs. Emma A. (Slocum) Reed, a native of Kentucky. Six children have been born of this union: Ana A., wife of S. R. Thompson; William F., Alfred H., Mera B., now dead; John Rex and Vera M.
    Our subject is a member of Sedgwick Post, No. 10, G.A.R., of Salem, of the Masonic fraternity, the A.O.U.W. and the Salem Grange. He has always been a loyal supporter of the interests of the state and has done his share in the development of her resources.
Rev. H. K. Hines, An Illustrated History of the State of Oregon, 1893, pages 610-611


    A portrayal of life in the Pacific Northwest during the 1850s is given in the following story, which was found by W. F. Byars among the papers of his father, W. H. Byars.
    The post office at Oakland, Oregon, in 1856, was located on a high prairie surrounded by oak-covered hills about three miles from the present town of Oakland. The postmaster was Rev. Tower, and the office was in his private residence which consisted of two rooms--the kitchen, dining room, parlor, living room and a bed room. The office was in the first room. Oakland was the terminus of four mail routes. One went to Scottsburg and the coast; one north by Yoncalla to Corvallis, one northerly over the Coast Fork to Eugene, and the other southerly via Winchester, Roseburg, etc. to Yreka, California. These lines were all weekly routes and all carried on horseback with an additional packhorse when necessary. The mail day was Friday of each week and the hour was from 10 to 2 o'clock. All the mail matter was emptied out of the various pouches in a pile in the middle of the room and each corner was designated as a different mail route. Then the postmaster and several of the family, together with the various carriers, and perhaps a neighbor or two, surrounded the pile and, similar to an old-fashioned husking bee, proceeded to select and distribute the packages and letters until they were all gone. Then each carrier would refill his pouches with the mail assigned him, pack his horse and be off on his journey, while the postmaster distributed what was left for his office to the parties addressed.
    The first office on my route was Winchester, which was at the crossing of the North Umpqua River and at that time was rather a lively little town, rivaling Roseburg as a business center and for the county seat. I might here insert that Calapooya Creek was then the dividing line between Douglas and Umpqua counties, which gave Roseburg a decided advantage, and the additional liberality of Mr. Aaron Rose, the proprietor of the town, gave the latter an easy victory. Judge James Walton, now a citizen of Salem, was postmaster. He was a justice of the peace and proprietor of the Winchester Hotel. The office was in the bar room of the hotel--a very neat little office.
    Wilbur, a small educational village at which is located Umpqua Academy, is about 3 miles north of Winchester, but as it was within the five-mile limit, the town was not permitted to have a post office.
    It is five miles from Winchester to Roseburg; Capt. William Martin's donation claim and home is the first place on the road. His residence has the distinction of being the first Masonic Lodge room in the valley. The family went visiting on the evening of the lodge meetings. Next on the right is the old home of Gen. Joseph Lane, whose history as a Mexican and Indian war veteran, Territorial Governor, delegate to Congress, Oregon's first United States Senator, and candidate for Vice President of the United States, is well known. His remains lie in the midst of those of his family in the Masonic cemetery near Roseburg.
    Roseburg then, as now, was the chief town of the Umpqua Valley. It is located on the South Umpqua River at the mouth of Deer Creek, in a beautiful valley, surrounded by high hills. Mr. Richard H. Dearborn was postmaster and Samuel Gordon was his deputy. Mr. Dearborn had a general merchandise store and the office was partitioned off on Main Street. The building was a one-story box house and extended from Main to Jackson Street on the ground now occupied by the "Wilson" block. Mr. Rose, the proprietor of the town, owned and ran the only hotel in the place. Governor Gibbs and Chadwick resided here and Judge Deady had a law office in the town. Rufus Mallory taught school and found his wife here. W. R. Willis was elected justice of the peace and read law while in office. Smith Kearney was a familiar personage on the streets. John Kelly lived just south of the town. Dr. Hamilton had a little six-by-nine drug store. Deer Creek was spanned on the main street with a bridge that was carried away in a "freshet" in 1857. The creek was forded or swum until the bridge was constructed on Jackson Street the next summer. The Government Land Office was first located at Winchester, but afterward the building, as well as a number of others, was moved bodily to Roseburg.
    Round Prairie was the next office south of Roseburg, James Burnett the postmaster. The road at that time crossed the Roberts Hill about one mile east of the present road. This later road was located and constructed by General (at that time Capt.) Joe Hooker in 1858, from an appropriation of money made by Congress for the improvement of the Scottsburg and Camp Stewart Military Road, Hooker being detailed to superintend the work. Mr. Burnett kept the office in his private residence and his wife chiefly attended to the duties of the office.
    Six miles south of Round Prairie is Myrtle Creek. There was no town here at that time. Mr. Lazarus Wright owned the donation land claim, was postmaster and kept a wayside hotel. He was an ideal backwoodsman. The office was kept in the hotel and all the neighbors were welcome to assist in overhauling and assorting the mails. He was more at home with his gun and dogs than with the penmanship of the average postmaster of that day. A very good story got into circulation about the time in which Mr. Wright and another prominent pioneer, Mr. Sol Abraham [Southern Oregon's first millionaire and founder of Glendale, Oregon] were the chief actors. Mr. Abraham's version of the story was about like this: Late in the evening at the time of making his first trip to southern Oregon as an itinerant merchant, he was near the Wright home on Myrtle Creek. Near the road he spied a bright-looking striped little animal, the like of which he had never seen before, and therefore was unacquainted with it peculiar habits. As it appeared rather tame, and thinking it would be a nice pet, he concluded to attempt its capture. Rushing up to it he gave it a smart blow with his stick which knocked it over and, stooping to pick it up, he suddenly changed his mind, and let go unmolested further. Approaching the house, he asked for a night's entertainment which was readily granted, and he joined the family circle about the fire. Three or four hounds were in the room or loitering about the door. Mrs. Wright chased them away with the broom and remarked that "Them dogs have been killing another skunk." The absence of the dogs failed to remedy the matter. Mr. Abraham related his experience with the little striped animal. Mr. Wright then told him that in order to remove the offensive odor, it would be necessary to bury his impregnated clothing for several hours in the ground, and in order to make it practicable he would loan him a suit of clothes for the night. This proposition was accepted and the clothing was soon covered in a small grave not far from the house, and Mr. A. presented the appearance of a small boy in his big father's clothes, occasioning much merriment for the rest of the evening. Sometime during the night while the household were all asleep the cattle came down from the hills, and finding a mound of new-turned earth apparently determined to destroy it. At least when Mr. Abraham arose next morning and went out to secure his clothing he found the grave all horned and torn to pieces and his clothing scattered in fragments, no piece large enough to indicate from whence it came. The nearest point south where he could secure others was Jacksonville, eighty-five miles away. He was therefore compelled to negotiate with Mr. Wright. In this rig he went on his way rejoicing and was the funniest-looking Jew that ever traveled that road.
    Myrtle Creek was spanned by a plain wooden bridge which was carried away in 1861 by the high water and in replacing it a very exemplary young man, Mr. Roadman, was killed by the accidental falling of some of the timbers.
    To reach Canyonville, the next office nine miles south of Myrtle Creek, it was necessary to cross the South Umpqua three times. A trail, however, crossed over a spur of the mountains and two crossings were saved when the stream was high. Mr. Yokum kept the ferry at the upper crossing. His daughter, Miss Ruby, was quite a popular belle, for whom Smith Kearney, then a successful cattle drover, had a great admiration. Father Yokum objected to Kearney's attention to his daughter, and Kearney frequently rewarded me liberally for delivering letters and packages into the young lady's hands.
    The proper name of the post office at that time was North Canyonville. It was the terminus of the Oakland mail route, which was weekly. James G. Clark was postmaster and his office was kept in a small room of general merchandise including liquors, etc. His home was also a wayside inn, and his wife, "Aunt Rachel" as she was usually called, was well known as the kindest, motherly woman and the best cook on the whole road. Clark's place was abut one-half mile north of the present town, which then consisted of only three or four houses. It was then a universal camping ground, as immediately south of here the road entered the "Big" Umpqua Canyon. Mail day was usually a holiday for the settlers for miles around the office, and as the mail was due at Canyonville on Sunday evening a big crowd always awaited its arrival.
    On emerging from the canyon at the south end you enter the upper Cow Creek Valley about ten miles east of Glendale. Here at the time I write [of] was Camp Elliff--Hardy Elliff's home, a log house in a nice opening surrounded by a palisade. These fortifications were generally constructed on the same plan and were as follows: A ditch two or three feet deep was dug on the line of fortifications. Into this ditch were placed logs 10 to 12 inches in diameter on end and as close together as they could be placed, two smaller timbers were then set one on each side, to break the joint, and the ground was well rammed back in place to hold the timbers solid. Port holes were then cut at proper heights and sufficiently close together to accommodate the besieged. These were usually stopped up unless in use. A bastion was constructed at each angle in order to protect the sides. This property was first located by A. J. Knott, who afterward located near Oakland and still later became the proprietor of the Stark Street Ferry at Portland. [I'm not positive, but it appears to me that Mr. Byars' memory is flawed here. A. J. Knott was first in Canyonville, not upper Cow Creek. I do believe that distinction goes to Hardy Elliff.] All the places between here and Jacksonville not so protected were burned during the previous year by the Indians, and many people killed. After passing several blackened home places, the next is the home of Dan Levens. This place was attacked several times. Mr. Mynatt, a settler nearby, and some other parties went to the top of a hill close by to reconnoiter and were fired upon by the Indians. Mynatt was shot through the lungs and fell. Charley Johnson tried to bring him back but was about to be surrounded when John Fortune, jumping on a horse, ran to the rescue. Johnson helped Mynatt on the horse with Fortune and they escaped, but poor Charley fell and the Indians scalped him and mangled his body in plain view of the house, Rev. J. W. Miller being one of the witnesses. Fortune was afterward drowned in the South Umpqua River. He raised the famous race mare known as "The Fortune Filly" of Mandy. The next place standing was the residence of Henry Smith, near by a large stockade called "Camp Smith." Smith's house is full of bullet holes made by Indians' guns, the house having been attacked several different times. Smith was postmaster, and the name of the office was Galesville. Afterward Ben Sargent was appointed and the office was moved about ½ mile further west on the bank of Cow Creek. Ben ran a miscellaneous store. He afterward killed the justice of the peace of the precinct, as he said, in self defense, and as there were no witnesses, the explanation went. Just below this place is the crossing of Cow Creek, and the home of the Redfields. [One of their sons went on to fame and fortune as the inventor of the Redfield bomb sight and supplied the military during WWI and WWII. He then then went on to produce the Redfield rifle scope so popular in the late 1900s.] Mr. Redfield has but one hand, but is most excellent shot and a brave man. His young wife had equal grit and they stuck to their place until Bailey was killed and their house was attacked. In their escape to Camp Smith, Mrs. Redfield received a bullet wound in the knee that has made her a cripple ever since. They still won and live in the old homestead. [While at Camp Smith, their house and outbuildings were burned to the ground.] There were no bridges on Cow Creek, therefore those crossing frequently swam the stream. I did several times, carrying the mail over on a footlog.
    The divide south of Cow Creek about two miles is the dividing line between the waters of Rogue River and the Umpqua. At the foot of the mountain on the north side is where Mr. Holland Bailey, of Lane County, was killed, Oct. 23, the year before. He had a drove of hogs and several ox teams loaded with goods. The Indians were ambushed behind a sugar pine log near the road 50 strong. All the others escaped excepting Bailey. Their escape after the first fire was, perhaps, largely due to the fact that a pack train was just coming down the mountain and the Indians reloaded and remained quiet to entrap them. When they came along it proved to be Mr. James Twogood and his train. The chief and Twogood, or "Jimmy Moxclose" as he was called by the Indians [omission?]. The same day they burned all the houses in the valley excepting the three heretofore named. It is six miles over the mountains to Camp Bailey--"Six Bit House" as it is known. It was located in the big loop of the R.R. [The railroad didn't get here until the 1880s. It started south from Roseburg in 1882.] on Wolf Creek near where a big white oak tree now stands. It got its name from the following circumstance. Indian Charley was tried by "Judge Lynch" and was condemned to be hung for depredations he was accused of. The rope was about his neck and over a limb of this tree when the proprietor of the place demanded of Charley that he pay the "six bits" due for his dinner. Charley replied "Nika halo chickamin, wake memaloose nika potlach." (I have not the money, you don't kill, I'll pay you.) The pony was led from under and Charley was a good Indian.
    Many white men were as barbarous at the Indians. Near this place an Indian boy, belonging to a tribe in Lower California, with a pack train a bell boy (the boy to ride the bell horse) was shot off the horse of a passing train for no other reason than that of being an Indian. Near this place was fought the famous battle of "Hungry Hill." The whites were represented by Co.s A, B, C, D, Bailey's and Gordon's co's of volunteers and 105 regulars under command of Capt. Smith of the First Dragoons. The Indians had the selection of the ground. They sent out a small force who kept up a running fire with the advancing troops. Capts. Rinearson and Welton with their companies were assigned to lead, but their forces being soon augmented by stragglers from all other companies, they became uncontrollable, all rushing to the front with the eagerness to fire the first shot. There was a long, open hillside sloping to the west and terminating abruptly at a heavily timbered uphill slope, also covered with dense undergrowth. The Indians were well covered by this timber and brush, and they allowed the wild rush to reach almost the foot of the hill before they opened their fire. Their first fire was so fatal and so many men fell that it stopped the mad flight. Safety was sought behind the nearest trees to the rear, and the panic for retreat among many was as contagious as had been the enthusiasm for the charge. Soon an inglorious retreat was made by a large majority of the troops. The rear was held and the wounded cared for and brought [omission] many by the heroic few, augmented by the ignorance of the enemy as to their numbers. The loss was twelve killed and twenty-seven wounded. That of the enemy must have been much less.
    At the crossing of Wolf Creek, near where the hotel now stands, when I passed the road first lay the remains of an Indian who had been killed a short time before. He was a renegade and was waylaid and put to sleep at that place.
    The next office on the road was Leland at Grave Creek. James Twogood was postmaster. He and McDonald Harkness owned the place. Harkness had been killed a short time before by the Indians. His brother Samuel and family were now living on the place with Twogood. It was well protected by a stockade, and being the only house within thirty miles was a popular stopping place for travelers. This creek and the post office both derived their names from the same source--the death of a young lady which had occurred on the creek in the first train of emigrants that passed through the valley in 1846. It was something like this: The young lady's name was Martha Leland Crowley. Her friends were anxious that her burial place should be hidden from the knowledge of the Indians, who were crazy to obtain any wearing apparel belonging to the whites. After interment, every precaution was taken to hide her grave. Savage cupidity was great and his cunning soon discovered the hiding place. The body was exhumed, all raiments removed and the corpse left for a feast for wild beasts, which soon left only a few bones, to be afterwards collected by the passing stranger and reburied in their former resting place. The grave gave the creek its name, and Leland became that of the office. This creek was not bridged, but a single log spanned it a short distance above the ford and when the creek was "swimming" deep we coaxed our horses and mules to walk the log. I knew one contrary fellow which turned around once on the log, but in turning back, lost his balance and went to the bottom. He was loaded with 400 pounds of nails. Here I became acquainted with the first Chinamen I ever knew--two rollicking boys who were anxious to learn English and were ready to make a speech or sing a China song or do an errand for a white man. I thought I had a fine joke on the boys but I doubt whether they ever saw it or not. One of the men at the station killed a deer, a short distance from the creek, and told the boys if they would bring him in the hindquarters they might have the rest. The boys took a toting pole and a couple of bags and went for the deer. After a time they returned, one with the hindquarters balanced with a stone and the other with the forequarters balanced with another stone.
    That road passes over another range of mountains south of Grave Creek. Just after passing the top of the ridge the road formerly crossed a little creek that came down from the mountain to the left, and then followed down the left bank of the same for quite a distance. Just below the crossing is a log that holds a secret that never will be told. A young man was found by its side frozen to death in the winter of 1855-6. He had apparently given out and lain down and died. Before doing so he had knocked the cock off his gun and thrown it away, so the gun would be of no use to the Indians if it should be found by them. Who he was, where he came from and whither going, that log might tell. A little further down the creek is a rivulet that is dry in summer but quite a little steam in winter. Where it passes a maple tree it cut quite a hole just below it which made quite a pool of water during the winter months. In the hole, in 1858, were discovered the remains of a white man. From the appearance of his teeth he was supposed to be about thirty years old. His hair was rather long, of reddish hue and very curly. The same mystery surrounds this man as the one by the log. I was told by a party that a young man of that description, riding a black horse and coming from northern California, and on his way to Oregon to buy cattle, had never been heard from after he crossed Rogue River on his way north. The matter was never investigated. The widow Sexton's place was just on the west side of Jump Off Joe Valley. The road crossed that stream at a ford above the present bridge. It was seldom "swimming" but often deep fording. I killed 2 beaver on the flat just below the ford in the winter of '56. They were on an inspecting tour and I caught them too far from the creek to escape.
    The road at that time turned to the left and went entirely different than the present road to a point near Grants Pass. Abel George located at the Pass toward Louse Creek. The pioneer owner of the place was in the woods making rails on the day of the "outbreak" and, hearing the shooting at the Harris place, ran through the woods all the way to Grave Creek and thus saved his life. Just through the gap was the home of George W. Harris, who settled there only a short time before, coming from Damascus in Clackamas County. He was at home on the eventful 9th day of October, 1855. The Indians called him to the door and before he could retreat shot him through the breast. He lived only long enough to warn his wife about loading the gun, and that heroic mother and wife defended her home, dead husband and little girl until night. Then she silently stole away, taking her child with her, hid in a dense thicket of willows nearby and waited until relief came next day. The little girl looking through a crack saw an Indian with whom the family were well acquainted and who had always expressed great friendship. Exposing herself and calling the Indian by name, she said "you wouldn't shoot, me, would you?" Before she could dodge, he sent a bullet through her arm. [This sounds like a confabulation with the Jones story.] The little brother, sent on an errand to a neighbors, was never heard of afterward. A neighbor and friend of the family who had accompanied them from the valley, Frank A. Reed, a school teacher, was also killed at his home nearby. The mail carrier and another young man escaped in the following manner: They had just passed, in fact that place was in sight, when they met the Indians. They appeared very glad to see the boys and tried to pull them from their horses. After some consultation among themselves, they allowed the mail man and companion to proceed. They hurried forward by [and] when they approached the Wagoner place, at the crossing of Louse Creek, they saw the house was in flames and a large number of Indians were just starting north along the road. The Indians, seeing the boys, called out for them to come on; the boys, fearful for the worst, hesitated. That hesitation was their salvation. Someone of the band began shooting and soon the bullets were flying too close for comfort. The boys retraced their steps more hurriedly than they had come, and in approaching the Harris house they bore to the right and passed near the foot of the hill, when again they heard the bullets sing. The Indians had discovered their flight and were attempting to cut them off or stop them with leaden messengers. They soon gained the summit of the spur and passed out of range on the other side, this making good their escape, and fortunately were able to warn many settlers and travelers, who huddled together at Grave Creek, prepared to make the best defense possible.
    Wagoner was away from home that day. He had gone to escort a lady temperance lecturer to some of the mining camps over in Josephine County. His wife and baby girl and an Indian trusty were there alone. The Indian trusty proved treacherous or was compelled to be so. The Indians were very anxious to secure her as a prisoner and may have done so. A hopeful legend runs: That after securing the house and intimidating any from trying to enter, she arranged herself in her best apparel, and seating herself in the middle of the room with her child in her arms, she sang until her voice was drowned by the crackling flames--her home being her funeral pyre. Another more horrible story is that she and child were prisoners for many months, the child later killed on account of its annoyance and the mother refusing to eat, dying from excessive grief and starvation. [The captivity story is uncorroborated; it may be a confabulation with the Geisel story.]
    Just south from Louse Creek was a long, grassy glade through which the road ran toward the summit between Louse Creek and the small stream running through Grants Pass. The Knott and Ladd brothers were on their way to Jacksonville with a stock of goods, conveyed by a pack train and four or five wagons. They were in this glade when attacked and the Indians, having secured the road in front and rear, imagined they had the boys corralled. With due judgment, they cut the packs from the animals and the horses from the wagons, and leaving the oxen to care for themselves, mounted and rode away, but not in the direction the Indians had anticipated. The boys were well acquainted with the country and escaped by way of an old trail not used in recent years. They made their way to Evans Ferry and there joined a small company who had defended the house and themselves from an attack earlier in the day. In the wagons and packs were found, among other things, some liquors with which many of the Indians soon became too demoralized to continue their work and, through this circumstance, in all probability, many settlers escaped. Quite a number were found here early next day by a company of troops from Fort Lane and volunteer citizens and several were killed before they could escape to the nearby brush and mountains. On top of the divide is where young James W. Cartwright and Given were killed. They had a two-horse wagon loaded with apples from the Willamette Valley and were on the road to Jacksonville. Some eight or ten people were killed along the road at "Bloody Run," "Dry Diggings," and the Jones' place, between this summit and Evans Ferry. This was the next post office on the route. Mr. Evans was postmaster. The name of the office was Gold River. I usually crossed Rogue at this ferry. Jewett's ferry was three miles above near the mouth of Evans Creek and the west boundary of the Indian reservation. At this place two packers were killed on the morning of the ninth--the first of that memorable massacre--at the same time that Jewett's house was fired upon from across the river, but no one injured.
    Evans' ferry was the old crossing and a favorite camping ground for the Indians who were always on the alert to steal, rob or kill the careless or non-vigilant traveler. These rocks and rivers and hills might reveal the sequel of travelers who never returned. There was no settlement north of the river above Evans' ferry. Birdseye, Dr. Miller and Rosenstock were the chief settlers along the south side up to the W. G. T'Vault place but as he had moved to Jacksonville to publish the Table Rock Sentinel the office was discontinued about the time I went on the road. (Its name was Dardanelles.) J. B. White was making his home at Rosenstock's. He had a mining claim across the river, afterward located a homestead, started a small trading post, and later laid out the town of Rock Point. This is after the reservation was thrown open to settlement and the stage road was changed to that side of the river. The road leaves the river at Dardanelles and runs up a small stream for two or three miles, crosses a low ridge to Willow Springs and then runs along the south slope of a range of oak hills to Jacksonville. A prosperous mining town is located on Jackson Creek in a cove of mountains where the creek leave the hills and enters the valley proper.
    All the hillsides and gulches were dotted with miner's cabins and they were securing the precious metal with the "pan," the "cradle," the "Tom" and the "sluice box." Some were even carrying their dirt for some distance before it could be washed. Mr. Cyphers was postmaster, but afterward Mr. Hoffman was appointed to the place. The crowds about the office on mail day were immense and the postmaster, after assorting his mail, usually got upon a goods box and read off the names. If the party was in the crowd, his hand went up and the letter was passed to him. To get to the delivery window each person was compelled to take his turn and a string of men for half a block away was not an uncommon sight. C. C. Beekman had a news stand and carried express to Yreka, 60 miles over the mountains, a business fraught with many dangers. The next office south of here was Phoenix, familiarly called Gassburg, also Camp Stuart. A few years afterward Camp Baker was located a mile south of here on Stuart Creek.
The Goldendale Sentinel, Goldendale, Washington, February 6, 1948. Written sometime after 1882. Transcription and comments by Dale Greenley.


    BYARS, HON. W. H., of Salem, was born July 7, 1839, at Des Moines, Iowa, and came to Oregon in 1853. He attended Columbia College, Willamette University and Wilbur Academy, graduating from the latter in 1868. From 1862 to 1865 he was in the Idaho mines, and eighteen months in service in the First Oregon Cavalry. He was elected Superintendent of Schools of Douglas County, and in 1870 County Surveyor. In 1872 he was appointed Deputy United States Surveyor, holding the position twelve years. From 1875 to 1884 he was editor and publisher of the Roseburg Plaindealer. In 1884 he was elected State Printer, and for eighteen months was part owner and editor of the Salem Statesman. In 1888 he was elected City Surveyor of Salem, and in 1890 was appointed United States Surveyor General. He has been continuously a member of conventions.
Republican League Register, Reporter Publishing Co., Portland, 1896, page 187


    William H. Byars, who is also a newspaper man, was born in Iowa in 1839, the descendant of a Virginia family. He crossed the Plains to Oregon in the fifties with his mother and stepfather, John Mires, and settled in Douglas County. As a young man he became United States mail carrier on the Oregon-California route and during the Modoc War [sic] had some very narrow escapes from death. He was on the early government surveys through Oregon and Washington and still follows that line of work. His first newspaper was the Roseburg Plaindealer, which he purchased in 1873 and changed to a Republican journal. He was elected state printer in 1882 and while in Salem bought the Daily Statesman, which he conducted for several years. He was one of the founders of the daily and weekly Journal. Besides holding the position of city engineer of Salem, he was for a number of years surveyor general of Oregon with headquarters at Portland. He was afterward appointed commandant of the Soldiers' Home in Roseburg and served in that capacity four years. In the early seventies he was at the head of the Umpqua Academy and also served as superintendent of schools of Douglas County. At present Mr. Byars makes his home in Salem, where he follows his engineering profession. His wife is a native of Kentucky ; her father was born in Massachusetts and mother in Ohio. The family crossed the Plains to Oregon in the early fifties, settling in Douglas County.
"William Fleming Byars," An Illustrated History of Klickitat, Yakima and Kittitas Counties, 1904, page 400