1. My first impressions were not favorable
    My first station after graduation in 1852 was Governor's Island. I was assigned as Brevet Second Lieutenant in the Fourth Infantry, then serving on the Pacific Coast. Myself, with three other classmates, John Mullan, A. V. Kautz, and John Nugen sailed from New York per steamer about the fourth of November for San Francisco.
    Having never seen anything beyond my own country home previous to going to West Point, all experiences after leaving New York were entirely new to me. The ocean steamer, smell of bilge water, the motion of the ship, and the vastness of the ocean--add to these the deathly sea sickness which overcame me near Sandy Hook--did not prepossess me in favor of that mode of travel. I scarcely left my bunk until we reached the Isthmus. Although I had my life yet before me, and everything was tinted with bright colors, so great was my aging [sic] during this sea sickness that I was indifferent to life, and cared but little whether the vessel went to the bottom or not.
    Our route across the Isthmus was by the Nicaragua River, which presented many new features to me. The natives, verdure, and climate were all so different from anything I had ever seen before that I was constantly on the alert for something new or unexpected, and I was so wrought up that it was an easy matter for me to believe even in the marvelous.
    We were lightered from the ocean steamer on to three small river steamers at the mouth of the San Juan River in the afternoon. We commenced our journey up the river a sufficient time before dark so as to take in the view of our surroundings. The weather was hot and murky, with frequent showers of rain. The banks of the river were one dense, impenetrable jungle of trees, with vines intertwining their branches. Alligators could be seen watching their chances for prey, lizards climbing in the branches of the trees, at least four feet long, flights of parrots screaming at the tops of their voices.
    Our steamer was so crowded that there was scarcely standing room for its passengers. When night came on, it was inky dark. It thundered and lightninged and rained hard. At intervals all was hushed save the waters rushing against the overhanging boughs, sounding like the rushing of the many waters. Altogether it presented one of the wildest and most weird scenes I have ever witnessed before or since.
    Some time during the night the steamer in advance of ours ran into the branches of an overhanging tree, which carried away their smokestack, killing the captain, and so disabling the boat that it had to be left. In transferring its passengers to the two other boats, an old lady slipped off the gangplank, and was seen no more.
    This seemed to me to be the longest night I have ever experienced. Nothing to eat, no place to rest, and I was tired and sleepy. One man, while dozing during the night, fell overboard, put up a terrible yell the moment he struck the water, swam ashore, and clung to an overhanging branch until rescued by a small boat.
    We arrived at Castilla Rapids soon after daylight the next morning, and were received by a detachment of native troops, the mangiest lot I ever saw. Their heads were shaved as a rule; many of them had nothing but shirts on. From appearance their muskets must certainly have been unserviceable. They were quartered in a huckel [sic] made of cane reeds, and such that would not seem to furnish much protection.
    Castilla Rapids was said to have been caused by buccaneers a century or so ago obstructing the river by tumbling large boulders in its channel so as to elude their pursuers. There were a few natives living at the place, and one kind of a hotel kept by an American who charged California prices for everything. For instance, we paid a dollar per permission to spread our blankets on the floor of a large parlor and bar room combined, without any furniture save glasses, etc.
    Rather an amusing scene occurred during the night. The floor was one mass of human beings; the space above it was also filled with people swung in hammocks. Our minds had been kept on a strain ever since our entrance into the country by the bloodcurdling stories told of the natives attacking and murdering travelers, etc., etc. The savage and brutal countenances of these people assisted our credulity. The rapids made much noise, the night was pitch dark, and sometime during the night one of the hammock strings gave way, discharging its contents on some unlucky sleeper below. As if by magic, everything was a perfect pandemonium, persons yelling at the tops of their voices, pistols clicking all around me, and for fear of being shot, I lay low.
    Pretty soon, however, the landlord came in with a light, and order was restored. It was amusing to hear the different individuals swear that they had not been afraid. Since then I have learned that the world is full of just such brave people, but fail to discern their bravery until the danger is past.
    Next morning the steamer brought in a load of passengers from California, all eager to hear the latest news from the "States." One poor fellow was brought as a corpse, lying on the deck, covered with a blanket. His remains were buried that day by some of his comrades.
    In the afternoon we were transferred into two boats above the rapids, the ones that brought the California passengers. These boats were more capacious than the others, and better in every way. That evening we reached St. Carlos, situated on the north bank where the river debouches from Lake Nicaragua. The river above the rapids is wider, and the current not so swift as it was below the rapids. The country on either side was higher, and the jungles gave way to a more open country.
    The moon was shining brightly, and the sail across the lake that night was perfectly charming. We arrived at Virgin Bay next morning, and at once commenced disembarking from the steamer onto the backs of mules. The passage here to San Juan del Sur on the Pacific Coast, a distance of twelve miles, was the worst I have ever seen. It was one gigantic mud hole, places where mule and rider would almost sink out of sight. The most of us reached the port that evening one mass of mud from head to foot. Some time during the night Dutch Kautz came trudging along, carrying his carpet sack; said the last he saw of his mule was its ears just sticking out of the mud. The next day we waded in the sea, clothes and all, to wash off some of the mud.
    That evening we set sail for San Francisco; our luggage not having arrived, we had to leave it behind. Although the water of the Pacific Ocean was smooth compared with that of the Atlantic, I was sick all the way. We arrived in San Francisco about December 1.
    San Francisco was then a conglomeration of frame buildings, streets deep in sand; wharf facilities were very limited. Where the Occidental Hotel now stands there was mud and marsh which was overflowed by the tides. Everything was excitement and bustle, prices were most exorbitant, common laborers received much higher wages than officers of the Army, although at that time, by special act of Congress, we were allowed extra pay.
    Everything was so different from what I had been accustomed to that it was hard to realize I was in the United States. People had flocked there from all parts of the world; all nationalities were represented there. Sentiments and ideas were so liberal and expanded that they were almost beyond bounds. Money was so plentiful amongst citizens that it was but lightly appreciated.
    My first station on the Pacific Coast was at Benicia Barracks, where I was assigned to Company "F" 4th Regiment of Infantry, commanded by 2nd Lt. Edmund B. Underwood.
    The roads and walks all about the town and barracks were one mud hole. It was nothing unusual to see the tops of boots sticking out of the mud in the streets where they had been left by the wearer in preference to digging them out.
    The Headquarters and one company of the 2nd Regiment of Infantry were also at the barracks. The officers, as near as I can now recollect, were Maj. Day, Capt. Frazier, Lts. Steele and Fighting Tom Wright, 2nd Infantry; Scott and Underwood, 4th Infantry.
    With the exception of Capt. Frazier and Steele there was not a day passed but what these officers were drunk at least once, and mostly until the wee hours in the morning. I never had seen such gambling and carousing before or since.
    My first duty after reporting was as a file closer to the funeral escort of Maj. Miller, 2nd Infantry, who had just died from the effects of strong drink. Major Day, whose head was as white as the driven snow, commanded the escort, and when all of us officers had assembled in the room where the corpse was lying, he said, "Well, fellows, Old Miller is dead and he can't drink, so let us all take a drink." I was never more horrified in my life.
    Duty at the post was rendered in so lax a manner that I did not see my company for one week after I joined. When I would suggest going to visit the company, I would be put off by its commander until some other time. In the early spring I was delighted at an order for companies "B" and "F" 4th Infantry to proceed to Humboldt Bay under command of Bvt. Lt. Col. R. C. Buchanan to there establish a post, the site to be selected by our commanding officer.
    Just before leaving I was taken with a violent case of erysipelas in both ankles, and was in great dread for fear I would be left behind. One doctor painted the parts affected with creosote and iodine, but they still kept on getting worse. Next morning another doctor came, Dr. Griffin, who filled me up with calomel and jalap, which made me deathly sick until it commenced operating, after which the disease seemed to leave my system entirely. The next day I marched down to the wharf and embarked with my company. The second doctor, who was pretty full [of liquor?], blackguarded me for my impudence in daring to get well without his permission, remarking that he was expecting an interesting case, but that I had spoiled it, etc.
    We boarded the old steamer Goliah, an old boat, that, in order to increase its capacity, had been cut into and pierced in the center, so that when the center was on top of a wave the two ends would sag, and produce feelings of insecurity and of the unseaworthiness of the vessel. Its accommodations for the officers were not equal to those in the steerage of the vessels nowadays, while the men were huddled together like so many swine, and but little better cared for.
    The weather, after getting out to sea, was rainy and disagreeable; the wind was cold and raw. There was not sufficient shelter to keep all the soldiers dry, even, and upon one occasion some of them were standing near the cabin door to get out of the rain when Col. Buchanan spied them, and drove them away with the remark that "By the powers," he expected next they would want him to invite them into the cabin to dine with him, etc. It struck me as being particularly heartless and cruel. They were doing no harm to anyone; the government had not furnished them proper transportation, and instead of complaining they were simply trying to shelter themselves from the rain. Many of their number were seasick, too.
    The owner of the ship, "Old Bully Wright," [John T. Wright] was aboard also. He was a man upwards of sixty years of age, and had been brought up to the life of a "sea dog," and had apparently outlived all the pleasures of life. All avenues to his heart had long ago closed up, so that the only comfort left him was his greed for money.
    Upon our arrival off the entrance to Humboldt Bay we stood off and on until the tide and the sea were favorable for us to undertake its difficult passage. Finally all signs were favorable, and we labored on the bar, the old ship nearly breaking in two. All on board experienced great relief when we were safely over.
    We crossed in the morning, the sun was shining, and everything was lovely. The forest of the immense redwoods which came down close to the bay with the high "Bald Mountain" in their rear some eight or ten miles back presented a beautiful landscape that was very pleasing and grateful to the eye after our disagreeable sea journey. We steamed up and down the bay once or twice in order that Col. Buchanan could select the most eligible site for the new post to be erected.
    Our commander seemed particularly elated at his own importance and his fitness for the duties assigned him, and lost no opportunity to impress on all of us subordinates how far we fell short of what he expected. He seemed to take delight in wounding the feelings of those under him, and succeeded pretty generally in making himself unpopular amongst the citizens as well as the army.
    Finally a point near the little town of Bucksport, which was situated opposite the entrance of the bay, was settled upon, and everything was disembarked and moved to a mesa or plateau about half a mile back from the bay, and work commenced. Most of the site was a prairie, but some clearing of underbrush was necessary. To this end, together with roads to be built, and quarters, etc., everybody kept busy.
    The officers present were Col. Buchanan, Assistant Surgeon C. P. Deyerle, 1st Lt. W. H. Scott, 2nd Lt. Edmund B. Underwood, John C. Bonnycastle, and myself, Bvt. 2nd Lt. I was appointed Adjutant, and in this position was thrown constantly in contact with the Commanding Officer. I soon became familiar with his idiosyncrasies, and avoided him whenever it was possible, for from the first I never believed in that mode of discipline which consisted in trying to break down men's self-respect and make a mere machine of them instead of appealing to their better feelings and judgment.
    Colonel Buchanan's principle was to allow no subordinate to make suggestions unasked, and told me, on one occasion, never to take the suggestions of a noncommissioned officer but go ahead and do my own way, even if I knew I was wrong. It was clear he must have followed this principle, judging from the number of mistakes he made.
    I must say that my first impressions of the army were not favorable. Most of the customs and habits that I witnessed were not calculated to impress one's morals or usefulness. Most of the commanding officers were petty tyrants, styled by some martinets. They lost no opportunities to snub those under them, and prided themselves in saying disagreeable things. Most of them had been in command of small posts so long that their habits and minds had narrowed down to their surroundings, and woe be unto the young officer if his ideas should get above their level and wish to expand. Generally they were the quintessence of selfishness. Everything within their reach was made subservient to their comforts, and should there be more of anything than they wanted, then the rest might have it.
    Many of these officers had the most exalted opinions of themselves and of their importance to our government. In several instances others shared these opinions with them. I used to hear the older officers discussing who would be the prominent officers in case of a big war, and those men who had the reputation of being martinets were the ones selected in most instances.
    When our big war did come, it was the fewest of those men who could expand enough to grasp the situation, and the consequence was that as a rule they were failures, and because they had to be superseded they continually railed at the ingratitude of Republics, etc.
    Whenever I could, I went hunting, so that I became very familiar with all the country within reaching distance of the post. Back in the mountains, particularly in the Bald Mountains, there was a great abundance of elk, deer, and blue grouse, with an occasional bear. There were large flats in places on the edges of the bay that were overflowed by the tides, which swarmed with waterfowl, especially ducks. When we first arrived in the bay the ducks would get up in countless numbers upon the approach of our boat. The flapping of their wings would sound like distant thunder. This was such a new feature to me that I could hardly contain myself until I could get ashore. But my inexperience in hunting made it more difficult to take them than I at first supposed.
    I here saw my first Indians, as there were several small bands living on different parts of the bay, but they were poor, harmless, scrofuletic, and miserable creatures who lived principally on fish. Many of them were deformed, and the most loathsome-looking human beings that I have ever seen. The Bald Mountain Indians, however, were a different set, and were more or less hostile, killed a good many whites, besides committing other depredations.
    The whites became so incensed at the outrages committed by these Indians that some thought those in the bay were in collusion with those in the mountains, so one night a lot of citizens assembled and massacred a number of these poor defenseless beings, who thought, doubtless, that their very condition would be their safeguard. Some of the local newspapers lauded this, one of the most fiendish acts that has ever disgraced civilization. I took part in one expedition against the Bald Mountain Indians, but without result.
    I, with a detachment of my company, was sent as escort to a surveying party in charge of a Mr. Washington from Virginia. We went up the coast to the mouth of the Klamath. Our route lay up the beach, to me a very interesting country. While in camp near Port Orford, one of the soldiers brought me some sand with mica in it. I failed to convince him that it was not gold, so next morning when we left camp for our day's march, he packed it with him.
    The mountains generally were not far back from the beach. In places, when the tide was in, the breakers washed up against perpendicular cliffs from two to three hundred feet high. So we would have to wait for the tide to run out before passing these. Some fifteen miles before reaching the mouth of the Klamath River, we camped at Gold Bluffs, where the beach for several miles contained gold mixed in small quantities with the sand.
    Their mode of working at that time was at each low tide to traverse this beach with some pack mules loaded with panniers, so that when the waves had thrown up a streak of pay sand, it was shoveled into the panniers, and thence packed to the sluice boxes which separated the gold.
    I was told that when the beach was first discovered, it was estimated that it contained $40,000,000, but that their methods of catching the gold were then so primitive and slow (they at that time packed the gold-bearing sand to some point at low tide and there mixed it with quicksilver by oxen treading on it) that before much was saved a heavy sea came and washed it all out to sea. Since then certain seas would throw up some pay sand. Then I believed all this statement, but since then I have heard so much romance mixed up with all mining operations that I have become a little incredulous about everything that has mine in it.
    After remaining a day or so at the mouth of the Klamath River, we retraced our march down the beach, and there the journey was carried into the Bald Mountain country. I remained there until about the last of October, 1853, when I was promoted to full 2nd Lieutenant in "E" Company, then stationed at Fort Jones, near Yreka, California.

2. The unexpected was constantly happening
    As the Rogue River Indians were then on the warpath, I was hurried to join my new station. I sailed from Humboldt Bay to San Francisco in a sailing vessel loaded with lumber, and a very tedious passage we had of it, as we were becalmed for several days. From San Francisco I traveled up the Sacramento River as far as Sacramento on a steamboat. This was a very lively city then, almost as much business done here as there was in San Francisco.
    I was amused at the rival hotel buses, or rather their drivers, blackguarding each other. I was the only passenger, and one who didn't get me told me I had better have myself wrapped up in straw, or otherwise I would be all rubbed to pieces before reaching my destination from here to Fort Reading, near the upper end of the Sacramento Valley. Here I met Lt. Underwood, who was 1st Lt. of Company "D." Major Wright was in command, Capt. Morris, regular Quartermaster, and Assistant Surgeon John Campbell were there.
    I was given a mule here which I rode up to Fort Jones, passing through Shasta City, one of the liveliest places I had ever seen then. It was situated in the midst of a rich placer region where several thousand miners were engaged in mining. From here my route lay up Trinity River, another mining region where hundreds of men were mining. Money was plentiful, and prices for everything were most exorbitant. I reached Fort Jones the latter part of October.
    The post was situated on the edge of a beautiful mountain valley called Scott's Valley, with a beautiful river of the same name running through it. Yreka was some eighteen miles distant. The post consisted of a few log huts, built on the two pieces of a passage plan. Two companies were stationed here. The Commandant was Brevet Major "He! He! be God! G. Washington Patten," Captain, 2nd Infantry.
    Capt. B. R. Alden, whom I had left as Commandant at West Point, was also here. It seemed he had left his resignation with his wife before leaving the East to join his company. When the report of his having been wounded by the Indians reached Washington, she handed in his resignation, which, much to his disappointment, had been accepted. The notification had just been sent him here.
    As he was an officer strongly imbued with the military spirit, and the local notoriety which his being wounded by the Indians gave him was pleasing to him, he was very loath to leave the service. He finally left that section of the country, where there were prospects of more service, with many regrets, although he was partially paralyzed from the effects of his wound. As a matter of fact, he never regained the use of one arm, and partially one side, and in consequence was unable to participate in our great war of the rebellion, but was most of the time off in Europe trying to recover his health. Soon after the close of the war he died.
    In addition to the officers above mentioned were Doctor Sorrel, Lt. C---- [Austin W. Colcord], 2nd Infantry, and Lt. Dryer, 4th Infantry.
    It was the unexpected that was constantly happening ever since I left New York. The most marvelous stories were in circulation concerning most everything, particularly about Indians and bear. As I had seen so many things that to me were wonderful, I was prepared to believe many of these stories of bear coming into camp, chewing people, pulling off their blankets when they were asleep, hugging one to death, tremendous size of the grizzlies, the treachery and cruelty of the Indians, the many adventures that were constantly occurring, etc., etc. I was constantly on the "qui vive" to meet some of these many adventures.
    I was assigned to one of the pens that was not yet finished. There were neither latches nor fastening of any kind on my door. One evening I was lying on my bunk, ruminating before lighting my candle. It was pitch dark. I heard the tread of some animal approaching my door, and suddenly the door flew open, and in walked some large animal, judging from the clicking noise his claws made on the floor as he stalked across the room to the fireplace. Shortly afterwards I heard him turn around and approach where I was lying. My first impulse was to save myself by flight. I reasoned that would not do, as he could easily outrun me, especially as all was dark. It then occurred to me that I had seen a large Newfoundland dog around the garrison during the day, but even then, when he came near the bed and I reached out and felt his shaggy coat, I was not fully relieved for the moment, but when I fully realized the situation, he lost no time in getting out of my house.
    Shortly after this I came into my room one evening, soon after dark, went up to the mantelpiece and struck a match to light my candle. All of a sudden I felt a whirl around my head, and felt the sensation of my scalp leaving my head. I soon discovered it was an owl who had undoubtedly flown in through the open door during my absence, and was probably blinded by the light, and in its fright lit on my head. His needle-like claws produced the pain in my scalp, as my hair was cut close, and there was no protection. I, however, catching him, turned him loose, much to his delight.
    Scattered over the country were a few Shasta Indians, generally well disposed, but more frequently forced to take the war path or sink all self-respect, by the outrages of the whites perpetrated upon them. The country was overrun by people from all nations in search of the mighty dollar. Greed was almost unrestrained, and from the nature of our government there was little or no law that these people were bound to respect.
    It was of no infrequent occurrence for an Indian to be shot down in cold blood, or a squaw to be raped by some brute. Such a thing as a white man being punished for outraging an Indian was unheard of. It was the fable of the wolf and lamb every time. The consequence was that there was scarcely ever a time that there was not one or more wars with the Indians somewhere on the Pacific Coast.
    There were a good many Indians about Fort Jones and vicinity from whom I soon learned their grievances. It is hard to believe now the wrongs these Indians had to suffer in those days. I doubt now if there is a single one left to tell their tale. The trouble with the army was that the Indians would confide in us as friends, and we had to witness this unjust treatment of them without the power to help them. Then when they were pushed beyond endurance and would go on the war path we had to fight when our sympathies were with the Indians.
    Yreka was situated in the midst of a vast placer district. Its population, including those mining in the immediate vicinity, was estimated at 10,000. It resembled a large ants' nest. Miner, merchant, gambler, and all seemed busy plying their different avocations, coming and going apparently all the time, scarcely stopping for the night. Idlers were the exception. Prices for everything were most exorbitant. The medium of exchange was coin exclusively, nothing less than twenty-five cents, and but little of that. Everyone carried their lives in their own hands. Scarcely a week passed by without one or more persons being killed.
    Shortly after my arrival at Fort Jones the 2nd Infantry was ordered east, which left but one company of the 4th Infantry at our post. With the 2nd left one of the curiosities of the army, Bvt. Major, Captain G. W. Patten. He was a man of about 5 feet five inches in height, and of slight build. He had lost all of his left hand except its thumb and forefinger during the Mexican War, which for all the world looked like the claw of a crawfish.
    He was pompous, irritable, and flighty, and of all men I have ever met the least calculated for the army. In addition he had a stoppage in his speech which made his conversation very difficult, and himself very ludicrous at times. His chief trouble was in starting a sentence. He would make such terrible grimaces, and precede most every word by "He! He! be Jesus Christ," (or "God"), so that he was familiarly known as "He! He! be God! Patten." As nothing short of seeing and hearing him talk would give an adequate idea of him, I shall not attempt it. He was very funny for a week or ten days, until he commenced repeating, when he became very tiresome.
    Soon after my advent Lt. Bonnycastle joined the company as 1st Lieutenant, and about the first of January, 1854, Capt. H. M. Judah joined by promotion. Soon after his arrival a courier one day came in from Yreka with the information that a party of white men had been killed by Indians on the Klamath River, some twenty miles above Cottonwood. We at once left for the scene of the trouble, leaving a detachment under a noncommissioned officer in command of the post.
    Our command consisted of Capt. Judah, Lt. Bonnycastle, Doctor Sorrel, and myself, and about twenty soldiers. At Yreka we were joined by a few Volunteers, and at Cottonwood we were joined by a company of Volunteers commanded by a Capt. Geiger, whose brother was amongst the killed.
    Capt. Judah was in command of the whole. He organized his command into an advance guard, main body, and rear guard. I was to command the advance guard, Bonnycastle the main body, and the Volunteers were to be the rear guard, while Capt. Judah was to operate from one part of his command to the other. Our army left the ferry about noon, and commenced our march.
    The ground was covered with snow. Our line of march was near the banks of the river. It snowed at intervals; at one time the snow seemed to fall in a mass. Although I was near the main body, I could not see them for the snow. We marched until near dark, when we halted to wait for the rear guard, which had not been seen or heard of since we started.
    Finally night came on, and no tidings from the rear. We still waited and waited. Finally it became near ten o'clock, when one of the Volunteers volunteered to go back and see what had become of the missing. He had not been gone long when he came back, on foot, tearing through the brush on the opposite side of the creek, very much excited, and wanted torches brought to show him across the creek, when he would tell all.
    Finally he got on our side, almost breathless, and speechless, and afoot. All rushed around him, anxious to hear the trouble. As soon as he could speak, he gasped out that the Indians had massacred all the rear guard. He could hear them exulting on their victory. When asked what had become of his animal, he said he could make better time on foot, so had abandoned it.
    The command at once started back on the trail. I was sent ahead with three men to keep two hundred yards ahead of the main body. All the weapons I had was a revolver. (I have often thought since I have learned something of Indian warfare, how helpless I was.) I had not proceeded far before I heard a terrible noise ahead. I soon, however, discovered it proceeded from a lot of drunken muleteers headed by a one-eyed sailor, following along our trail. They could give us no definite information about anyone else. They returned with us to our fires.
    About an hour afterwards Capt. Judah with some more stragglers came into camp. Judah was so drunk that he had to be lifted from his horse. It seemed that the rear guard had gotten some whiskey, and were all drunk, and scattered for at least ten miles back. Every few minutes some person or a pack mule would come straggling in of his own accord. About two o'clock in the morning a mule with the Doctor's and my bedding came straggling. Nobody had anything to eat, and it was very cold and disagreeable, so we spread down our blankets on the snow, feet toward the fire. My boots were so frozen that I could not take them off, so had to turn in with them on.
    Some time before daylight our blankets took fire, and in trying to put them out some molten rubber ran over my hand, took the skin off, and gave me a very sore hand. The next day we lay in camp, and parties were sent out and brought in the remainder of our packs and rear guard.
    Capt. Judah was sick all day with the delirium tremens. I never heard such blasphemy and obscenity in all my life as I did amongst the Volunteers. The Volunteer who stampeded back into our camp swore he would shoot any persons who said they weren't Indians he heard.
    The next morning we started on our march, which still lay up the river and near its bank. We soon came to a mountain torrent [Fall Creek] that empties into the river. Its bank was fringed with trees on either bank. The spray from the water had frozen to a height of fifteen feet. We had to cut an arch through it so we could pass. We found the dead bodies of the white men frozen, and partly eaten by wolves. The Indians were not very far off in a cave which was at the top of a slope of nearly forty-five degrees, and at the foot of a palisade. The entrance was barricaded with rocks and logs so as to prevent its being taken by a charge. The top of the bluffs was about 100 feet above the cave.
    The Regulars were posted at the bottom near the foot of the slope, while the Volunteers were on top of the bluffs. Capt. Geiger, attempting to look over the bluff, was instantly killed by an Indian's bullet through the brain. Capt. Judah, who was considerable of a demagogue, was talking of ordering the Regulars to charge the cave. He being on the sick report, Bonnycastle and I would have to lead the charge. Bonnycastle said all right, if he came out of the charge all right, he would prefer charges against Judah. The charge was not ordered, however.
    The next morning I was ordered to proceed to Fort Lane in Rogue River Valley and procure a howitzer to shell the Indians. Doctor Sorrel accompanied me. We rode all that day and until about ten o'clock that night before we came to a house where we could stay all night. In crossing the Siskiyou Mountains, the snow was very light, and at times it was midsides to our horses, and the cold was intense. The next afternoon we reached Fort Lane at the lower end of Rogue River Valley. Capt. A. J. Smith was in command, who concluded he would take his company of the 1st Dragoons and go back with us.
    When we reached Capt. Judah's command, we found that officer still sick. Capt. Smith took command, and upon investigation, after trying to shell the cave in vain, found that the Indians were only defending themselves when they killed the white men, that some of the miners had organized an expedition to steal some ponies and squaws, and had made the attack. So he had a parley with the Indians, and drew off, much to the dissatisfaction of the Volunteers, who were anxious to have the Regulars charge the Indians' stronghold that they might come in for some spoils.
    The remains of Capt. Geiger were taken back to Cottonwood to be interred, and in the whole population of several hundred people a Bible could not be had to use in performing the burial service. Capt. Smith returned to Fort Lane, and our part of the grand farce returned to our places of abode.
    Bonnycastle preferred charges against Capt. Judah, but after much begging on Judah's part, Bonnycastle agreed not to push the charges provided Capt. Judah should transfer out of the company. Judah soon left with a view of a transfer, but after remaining away for some months and failing to accomplish the transfer, returned, and soon after Bonnycastle left, so the matter was finally dropped.
    In those days the Commissary Department kept nothing but the soldier's ration, no deductions were allowed, but we had to pay the original cost, with transportation added. The prices in Yreka were simply beyond our thoughts. My pay was $64 per month, and my mess bill exceeded it. So Bonnycastle, Sorrel, and myself clubbed together and sent to San Francisco for ammunition. In this way we were able to get our shot for 66 cents per pound, and other things in proportion. Sorrel made arrangements for the sale of game in Yreka, and I did most of the hunting. At the end of the month the mess was able to declare dividends. For over a year we never had any meat on our table except game.
    I was hunting all my leisure time, so I soon became familiar with all the country within reach of the post. I also used to go hunting with the Indians, and in this way learned something of their habits, as well as those of game. I always had a great passion for hunting, and this was my first opportunity of ever indulging it to any extent.
    With the exception of an occasional Indian scare that would send the troops out on short expeditions, nothing of particular note happened during the remainder of 1854. In the fall of that year John B. Hood was assigned to duty with the company, and Bvt. 2nd Lieutenant Hood and I hunted a great deal together, and became very intimate. We engaged in ranching together. He sold out on leaving in the spring, and made money, while I held on and lost money.
    In the spring of 1855 Lt. Williamson of the Engineers was ordered to explore the Cascade Range of mountains with the view of determining the practicability of building a railroad across it. Lt. H. G. Gibson of the Artillery was to command the escort, which was to be composed of artillery and cavalry. Lt. Hood was to command the cavalry, and I was to be the A.A.Q.M. and A.C.S. of the expedition. Attached to the expedition were two gentlemen from Cleveland, Ohio, Doctors Sterling and Newberry, the former to act as medical officer, while the latter was the naturalist. The whole was to assemble at Fort Reading.
    We started out about the last day of July, and crossed over the mountains at Lassen's Butte, and struck the lava beds on the southeastern branch of Pit River, and while traveling down it, Lt. P. H. Sheridan joined us from Reading, and relieved Hood, who had been transferred to the 2nd Cavalry. This was the last time I ever saw Hood, who afterwards became celebrated in the Confederate service.
    Our route was down this branch of Pit River to its mouth, then up the main stream to a point some distance above the junction of the west branch, from whence we crossed over to Wright and Tule lakes, both of which had no outlets. The latter had quite a stream running into it, called Lost River. Bordering on the south of this lake are the famous lava beds of Modoc history.
    On Lost River is a natural bridge of stone extending across the river, or, in fact, there are two close together. One is horizontal, and two or three feet under water, while the other is straighter, the upper edge is just out of the water, while the lower part of the bridge is one foot under the water. The two bridges were some few feet apart, and about ten or fifteen feet wide. The strange part is that they are situated in the midst of a sagebrush plain, with apparently sand and clay formation.
    From Tule Lake we traveled up Williamson's Valley, and part the way up Klamath Marsh, trying to skirt its eastern shore, but finding that impractical, we struck west on an Indian trail which led to a place where the marsh above and below converged to a slough not over 75 yards wide, which we forded with but little difficulty. We now crossed over to the Deschutes River, where we went into camp until Lt. Williamson explored the Cascade Range for a practicable pass.
    All streams in this country, as well as most we had passed from Fort Reading, abounded in trout. Game was plentiful in places. We had a hunter along by the name of Hollinsmith who was to supply the outfit with fresh meat. But either from lack of skill or his timidity to leave the command, he killed but one deer that he brought into camp, but he rode ahead of the column just sufficiently far to scare the game out of reach of those who might have killed some.
    From this camp I hunted up in the mountains. I upon one occasion took a couple of the soldiers and went up to the summit on a hunt. It was one of the grandest and most picturesque countries I had ever seen. The summit must have been from twenty to forty miles in breadth, covered with lakes and parks scattered amongst a heavy growth of pine and spruce timber. From one prominence I counted eleven of these lakes, some of which were six or seven miles in length, and almost as wide. Around some of the shores there were beautiful meadows of luxuriant grass.
    In some lakes were runs of magnificent trout, which could be had in the greatest quantities just for the catching. In one lake I killed two loons (North American Diver) and shot at a beaver. In another, while walking close to its edge, I heard snorting in the tule which bordered the shore for half a dozen yards, sounding like hogs rooting. Finally I discovered them to be otter. I shot one that measured five feet three inches from tip to tip. Half a dozen others swam out into the clear water at the report of my gun, cocking their eyes up at me, seemed quite tame. I could have killed several others, but had no use for them, the one being all I could carry.
    While encamped at one of these lakes, imagining that there was no other human being anywhere in that country, who should drop in on me just before dusk but Lt. Sheridan. He was escorting Lt. Williamson on a side survey, and coming across my trail followed it up and stayed all night with me. We had a grand time together, talking over what we had seen, etc., etc. Soon after he left, I killed a magnificent elk and returned to camp, the meat of which was a godsend to all in camp.
    From this camp we moved south, and crossed the Cascade Range of mountains on the old emigrant road down the middle fork of the Willamette River, and followed down the valley of the same name to a point opposite the town of Portland, where we turned off to the east and encamped on the bank of the Columbia River opposite to Fort Vancouver. The river was about three-fourths of a mile wide at this point, of clear blue water. The banks were fringed with beautiful trees of spruce, maple, ash, oaks, etc.
    Opposite our camp, some three quarters of a mile distant from the other shore, was Fort Vancouver, situated on the upper end of a gentle grassy slope running down to the river bank against a dark background of a dense forest of tall spruce. From this point were visible four high peaks capped with snow all the year round. Upon the whole, it was a grand and picturesque sight.
    The artillery part of our escort, having been dismissed after finishing the exploration through the Cascade Range, had returned to Fort Reading, so that Lt. Sheridan and myself, with the cavalry, thirteen in number, were all that was left of the escort.
    The Willamette Valley was a magnificent body of land, but was unfortunately settled by a population of mostly old pioneers from Missouri, who came to that country before the spirit of progress had commenced in the East, and consequently were a long ways behind the age. They owned the land in large tracts, mostly 640 acres, would not cultivate it, nor let anyone else.
    The Columbia River Indians above the Dalles had just broken out, so Lt. Sheridan with the cavalry was ordered to join the expedition against these Indians. Lt. Williamson had left for San Francisco, so Lt. H. L. Abbot, Williamson's assistant, and myself were now the only officers of the expedition left.
    We soon afterwards commenced retracing our steps through the Willamette country on our way to Fort Reading. Nothing of note occurred until we had reached the lower end of the Umpqua Valley, which was separated from the Willamette Valley by a low range of mountains. Just before we reached this point, the Rogue River Indians had broken out, and were supposed to be in the range of mountains forming the southern boundary of that valley.
    We arrived at a place called the Six Bit House, a wayside inn. We went into camp near it, where later there came a company southern Oregon Mounted Volunteers raised for the ostensible purpose of operating against the hostile Indians, and camped near us. When they unsaddled they threw their saddles, bridles and spurs on one pile. The next morning when they went to saddle up the ones who came first found the best. A perfect pandemonium ensued. I thought I had heard obscenity and blasphemy before, but this beat anything I had ever heard.
    It seemed that the day previous to our arrival here, Capt. A. J. Smith, 1st Dragoons, in command of Regulars and Volunteers, had had a fight with the Indians some miles southwest of where we were, and if the troops did not get the worst of it, it was a drawn battle, and the troops withdrew to the settlements, and left the Indians monarchs of the woods, and no one knew where they were liable to attack next.
    The name of the Capt. of the company at Six Bits House above alluded to was Bowie [Laban Buoy], a Methodist exhorter. He was a short, stout man. He was left-handed, and wore an old artillery sword about one foot and a half or two feet long. He didn't seem to have any control over his men. After exhorting them for a long time to get ready, probably two-thirds had saddled their horses. He succeeded in getting some of them into line.
    He drew his little sword with his left hand, and brandished it over his head, and bawled out, "'Tenshun the company!" Some answered back, "Go to hell!" while others said, "Hold it, Cap, until I go to the rear," only in not such choice language.
    "Now," says he, "at the command 'prepare to mount,' catch your horses by the bridle with your left hand, put your foot in the stirrup, and mount." Suiting the action to the word, in attempting to mount, his foot slipped out of the stirrup and his chin struck the pommel of the saddle and his corporosity shook like a bag of jelly. He looked out at some of the men who were on their horses, when he said, "That's right boys, get up thar."
    He finally succeeded in getting the majority of his men in line, and he harangued them thusly, drawing his little sword in his left hand, and brandishing it over his head, "'Tenshun the company! Now boys, the eyes of your country is upon you! The enemy has had a whole day's rest, and we may expect to have a fight at any time and any place," and a lot more stuff that I don't now recollect.
    We finally got under way, and a motlier crew has never been seen since old Falstaff's time. They were mounted on horses and mules of all sizes and degrees, some wore plug hats, and others caps; all were mostly armed with the old-fashioned squirrel rifles. The captain rode at the head of his company, while I brought up at the rear.
    We had not proceeded far before we came to a thicket where the Indians could ambush us and inflict great damage on us without our injuring them in return. The captain halted the company, and said, "'Tenshun the company!" drew his sword as before, "Now, boys, look well to your caps. Guns on right shoulder! Keep your eyes well about you! Look behind every stump and every tree! You may be attacked at any moment, and in case of attack be prepared to resist the attackment!" The men would answer back with some obscenity.
    I made the remark that if we were attacked, I would rather be in front than in rear, as there I might have some show of getting away from the Indians, but in rear I should certainly be trod to death. The joke was not particularly relished by the cavalier who heard it. No Indians showed themselves, and we passed unmolested.
    We had not proceeded far until we met Capt. Smith, who had returned from the Hungry Hill fight with his wounded. There I met old Dutch Kautz for the first time since we parted in 1852 in San Francisco. It seemed he had started out from Fort Orford to find a road to the Rogue River country. He met some Indians in the woods, and saluted them with compliments of the season, when they answered his salute with a volley at close range. One ball struck him in the chest, and would certainly have killed him but for two books he had in his pocket. The ball struck the corner of one, going through it, but was stopped by the other, knocking him down. The soldiers started to run, saying the Lieutenant was killed, but he jumped up and prevented the stampede. As it was a thick, bushy country he had no trouble in getting away. Kautz came into Fort Lane and reported the whole affair to Capt. Smith, who went out with some Regulars and was joined by some Volunteers.
    The next morning our original party left the soldiers, and we continued our journey toward Rogue River Valley. Before getting there, we passed the smoldering ruins of several houses that had been burned by the Indians, most of the inhabitants killed, and in one instance a family had been burned, cattle and hogs had been shot down by the Indians. The chickens were unmolested, but were as wild as quail already; they seemed to realize that something was wrong, and they had no friends.
    When we arrived at Jacksonville, Oregon, I learned that Doctor Sorrel had been ordered east, and, anxious to see him before his departure, I rode to Yreka in one day, sixty-five miles, on the same mule I had ridden on the entire expedition. He had left, however, so I did not get to see him. I then went to Fort Reading, and closed up my expeditionary accounts, after which I returned to Fort Jones, remaining there through the winter. 

3. This was my first Indian
    In March, 1856, I was ordered in command of Company "E," Capt. Judah's (better known as "The Forty Thieves"), to proceed to Fort Lane, near Jacksonville, Oregon, and report to Capt. A. J. Smith for duty against the hostile Indians.
    Not all of the Rogue River Indians were hostile; Old Sam's and Limpy's bands were friendly. These Indians were ordered to be removed to the Yamhill reservation, far down in the Willamette Valley. These Indians were very loath to leave their country and go to a land they knew nothing of. There was great weeping and wailing when the time came for them to go. I was to assist in their removal. Lt. W. B. Hazen was also of the escort.
    After we had proceeded to near Imperial Canyon, I was ordered to return to Fort Lane. Just before I left, one morning as we were going to start, some white men slipped up in the brush, and shot one of the Indians in cold blood. I followed their trail for several miles, but had to give up the pursuit as useless.
    Soon after my return to the fort, I was taken sick with acute rheumatism in the left shoulder and the erysipelas in the left arm. I don't see how it was possible for me to have suffered more and lived. So when the expedition left a few days afterwards to operate against the hostiles, I was unable to accompany it. Lt. N. B. Sweitzer, 1st Dragoons, was assigned to the command of my company.
    Lt. Underwood, who had accompanied the Indians to the Yamhill reservation, returned three days after I was taken sick. So much had I fallen off from my suffering that he did not recognize me. The medical officer at the post was a contract doctor, who, with the commanding officer, was drunk the whole blessed time. [The civilian doctor was reportedly Charles B. Brooks.] My malady did not seem to abate in the least. I took his medicine for some time, until I saw he took no interest in my case, and I lost all confidence in him.
    My arm had shrunk away to mere skin and bones, I had lost all use or control of it. An abscess had just been lanced which extended from just above the elbow to the shoulder. The commanding officer came into the room one day, and said, "Look here, old fellow, it won't do to see you die in this way. Let's send to the hospital and get some medical books and read up on your case."
    We found one book that said brandy was good to counteract the poison of erysipelas, but it was bad for rheumatism. But on the grounds it was good for one of the diseases, it was prescribed, and as long as it lasted he paid me frequent visits.
    Also, a squaw came into my room one day, and wanted to know whom I was going to give my things to when I died, and, knowing what shrewd observers they were, it made me think all the more seriously of my case. So I finally took my own case in hand and commenced dosing with calomel and jalap until my system began to show healthy symptoms, when I would several times during the day take a pitcher of cold water and pour it on my shoulder, until the disease gradually left my system altogether.
    Strange to say, I have never had scarcely an ache or pain since, with the exception of twice when I was wounded, afterwards erysipelas showed itself. My arm, however, was left weak and lame, and so stiff that I could not get my hand to my head for nearly a year afterwards. I had also used so much morphine that it was some time before I could sleep well without it. I was laid up about one month, but it seemed an age. I was strong and healthy, and my system could throw off any reasonable attack on it.
    Sick as I was, I never went to bed except at night. My quarters were next to the commanding officer's, and I was frequently kept awake by their orgies, which sometimes would last all night. One night it was pitch dark when someone rode up, and hollered, "Hello!" The commanding officer rushed out of his house, and wanted to know what he meant by telling him to "go to hell" in his own house.
    It was useless for the poor fellow to disclaim any disrespect, or deny the soft impeachment. The commanding officer yelled out for the Sergeant of the Guard, whereupon the party fled. There was an immense mud hole in the rear of the quarters in the direction of his retreat. I heard something sound like striking soft mud with a clapboard as one of them was thrown from his horse in the mud hole. It turned out afterwards that it was a party of Volunteers who were also drunk and had lost their way.
    Shortly after my recovery I was ordered to proceed down Rogue River with a company of 3rd Artillery in command of Lt. Ransom to join Capt. A. J. Smith, to take command of my company. No one knew their exact whereabouts, but I was expected to hunt them up. About this time Capt. Smith had a fight with the hostiles, and came very near losing his entire command. Over two-thirds of my company in command of Lt. Sweitzer were killed and wounded in the fight.
    We proceeded down the river under a guide by the name of Mike Bushey. All of us were on foot. The trail was fearfully rough in places, and the hot, broiling sun made the climbing of the steep mountain extremely hard. I made several side scouts with one or two men, looking for signs of the command or of Indians.
    While on the top of a high mountain near the mouth of the Illinois River, I was out hunting that afternoon when I came on a fresh trail of Indians. The country was brushy, and the ravines were steep over which the trail led. I followed for some time. It became very fresh, and although I fully realized the danger I was in, I could not resist the temptation.
    While following them through a thick, brushy ravine, just the place of all others I didn't want to see them, I saw a black pair of eyes peering at me through the brush. I lost no time in getting up to them, and much to my delight discovered it to be a small party of squaws and children. They said they had become separated from their people, and that their people had left the country with the soldiers, etc., etc. I took them into camp.
    The next morning we marched down a steep mountain to the junction of the Illinois with the Rogue River. We could see no fresh signs, but everything pointed to the fact that both troops and Indians had moved down the river at some time previous, together, which corroborated the statement made by the squaws. From here we retraced our steps back to Fort Lane, where we got the information that the Indians had surrendered and gone with the troops by Port Orford to the Yamhill reservation, where the remainder of them were. The squaws were taken to Fort Lane, and afterwards were sent to join the remainder of their people.
    I was promoted 1st Lieutenant March 11, to Company "D" vice Underwood promoted Captain. My company now being stationed at Fort Jones, I was again stationed there.
    During the winter 1856-57, the Indians on Pit River massacred all the white settlers living in Pit River Valley, and destroyed all their property. This valley was situated about 100 miles east of Yreka, with a high range of mountains intervening. As the snow in these mountains was very deep, the news of this massacre did not reach Yreka until some time after it had occurred. Then someone happened to go over on snowshoes.
    There was a company of Volunteers raised in Yreka and crossed over into that country about the first of March. After operating against these Indians for a month or so, it returned without any results. It was said that they were worsted in a couple of engagements they had with the Indians, but of the truth of this I know nothing.
    About the middle of May Capt. Judah, from Fort Jones, started out for the scene of trouble with his company, "E" (Forty Thieves), and my company, "D." Even at that late date the snow was in drifts in places from ten to fifteen feet deep. During the early morning this snow was sufficiently hard to bear up our wagons, but later it would become so soft that the wheels would go down until further progress was arrested by the beds.
    After crossing the main divide, our route lay close under Shasta Butte. The melting snow would come down in rivulets during the afternoon, and late at night, but in the mornings all would be dry, and the atmosphere would be more or less frosty.
    We proceeded to Lockhart's Ferry, just below the junction of the two forks of Pit River. This ferry was kept by Sam Lockhart. His twin brother, Harry, was one of the unfortunates of the winter before, and as a matter of course Sam was very bitter, and declared his intentions of killing all the Indians that he saw. He had already killed several, and had the reputation of being a desperate man. He sometime years afterward was killed in Silver City, Idaho.
    North of the ferry a couple of miles was a lake formed of large springs, the outlet from which was Fall River, by a long ways the larger of the two forks. The water was so clear in these springs that it was difficult to tell where the atmosphere left off and the water commenced. There was notably one spring that must have run 2,000 miner's inches, that was forty-five feet deep, and so clear that the smallest trout could be seen at its bottom with ease. This water was ice cold, and full of magnificent trout. I have always had an idea that Rhett or Tule Lake of Modoc fame was the source from which these springs came, as they were situated at the foot, while Rhett Lake was at the head of the lava beds.
    Around this lake formed by the springs there was a large area of land covered with tule, or bulrushes. From a prominence just above the ferry we could see a number of Indians weaving about in this tule, their black heads forming a striking contrast with the surrounding green tule. Capt. Judah informed me that he was going to make an attack on the Indians in the tule the next morning, that he expected to lose a number of men, etc., etc. (All of which I have learned to be the merest balderdash.)
    The next morning we crossed Fall River, and proceeded to the tules above mentioned. We found the water in the tule from one to two feet deep, covering a hundred acres or more, the upper end of which bordered the lake. I went out into the tule with the men, while Judah remained on the outside. The tule was nearly as high as my head, while some was higher. I traversed that swamp in all directions, but could see neither Indian nor any signs. The nature of the tule and the water precluded leaving any sign.
    Sometimes I could see them off at a distance, but by the time I could get there I could see nothing of them. Finally we gave up the search as useless, and returned to camp, to be tantalized by seeing plenty of Indians in the tule. After lying in camp a day or so, Capt. Judah projected an expedition to the east of the river.
    I have forgotten to mention that both companies were mounted on mules, with improvised rigging, some with ropes, and others with equally, if not worse, makeshifts to fasten the saddles on the mules, and all did not have cruppers. It was as good as a circus to see us when we left Fort Jones. Many of our men were drunk, including our commander. Many of the mules were wild, and had not been accustomed to being ridden, while the soldiers generally were poor riders. The air was full of soldiers after the command was given to mount, and for the next two days stragglers were still overtaking the command.
    Well, we crossed to the ferry, and commenced our journey to some place where we hoped to find the Indians not so wily. We had no guide who knew any more of the country than we did. Judah with his company took the lead, while I brought up the rear.
    After we had traveled for a couple of days without seeing any Indians, we came to the edge of a park with timber on the opposite side. Probably this park was three-quarters of a mile wide. In the center of it was a ridge about as high as our heads, and in the opposite woods and about on a level with this ridge were a couple of old wick-a-ups. There were some crows walking along the ridge opposite these wick-a-ups, so, looking from our standpoint, they were projected about the doors of the wick-a-ups. Judah announced them to be Indians.
    He asked his First Sergeant if they were not Indians. His sergeant was a big Irishman by the name of McCarty, who said, "Yes, Captain, I see their children dancing 'firheust' the door."
    I saw perfectly plainly what it was, but not being asked, I ventured no suggestions, as he was in the habit of snubbing persons for volunteering suggestions, and there was not the best of terms between us, for I had seen enough of him to realize fully what an unmitigated fraud he was.
    So he ordered the charge, taking the lead with his company. The ground was rough, and in places rocky. I could only see what was in front of me, but that was fun enough for one day to see his men tumbling off their mules in the most ludicrous manner. Finally we reached the wick-a-ups, and found them to have been deserted for months, and no sign of any Indians.
    It was as good as a circus to look back over the field he crossed to see the men "hors-de-combat," riderless mules running in all directions, men coming, limping, some with their guns, but others carrying their saddles. Capt. Judah had that look of cool impudence which he was such a master of, and I could never make up my mind whether he knew better or not.
    We gathered up our demoralized army, and marched back to the ferry. Capt. Judah had just been married the second time, and was anxious to get back to his bride. Soon after getting back to our old camp, he returned to Fort Jones, leaving me with only sixteen men of my company to accomplish what he had failed to do with his two companies. He reported upon his return to Fort Jones that there were no Indians in the country, etc., etc.
    I fully realized the situation, and knew that there were plenty of Indians, and that my only show was to find where the Indians were, without their knowledge, and to attack them by surprise. I furthermore was satisfied that they watched our movements all the time, and kept out of our way. I also reasoned that seeing Capt. Judah going out of the country with the most of the troops, they would be off their guard.
    I had by this time learned enough about Indian craft to have confidence in my being able to hold my own with them, so, shortly after Judah left, I took two soldiers and went off on a scout to see if I couldn't locate some of their camps. I went in a southeasterly direction from the ferry, and on the second day I came on to a small rancheria. Some of the Indians wanted to talk with me, but I would not let them approach me. Telling them I was going to Yreka, of which they seemed to know the name, I was in hopes of throwing them off their guard, and I went back to camp and got all my men.
    I left my camp after dark so we would not be seen. I reached the vicinity of the rancheria next day sometime, and lay concealed all that day. Sometime during the night we left camp, intending to surround the Indians just at daylight next morning. The guide, Dick Pugh, and I went ahead to locate the rancheria, while the sergeant was to follow with the company.
    By some mistake we became separated, so all that night was spent in hunting each other. The next morning we found each other in the same camp we had left the night previous. So the next night we again moved close to the rancheria, and surrounded it by daylight next morning, but all were gone. Just when they had left I could not tell, as a heavy rainstorm had obliterated all sign.
    I then sent the company with the guide under a low range of bluffs, while I rode out a little to the left to examine a dim trail I had seen on my recent scout. I had not proceeded far before I saw a squaw track which had just been made. It had doubled on its track, and was on a run, evidently having either seen me or the command. I followed it in hopes of capturing her to get information as to the whereabouts of her people. I soon saw several other tracks all running in the same direction, and also saw a lot of plunder abandoned by them. Directly saw some buck tracks. By this time I could follow them at a gallop.
    The chase had now become so exciting that I thought but little of the danger. Soon I saw the Indians running ahead of me. I rode up to a buck, dismounted, and wounded him, and remounted, and killed him with my pistol.
    Just then the Indians rose up all about me, and came towards me with frightful yells, letting fly a shower of arrows at me. I had an old muzzle-loading rifle which was now empty, and one barrel of my pistol had snapped. I thought discretion the better part of valor, so I put spurs to my horse, and ran out of the only opening left, about 100 yards, and a big Indian, seemed to me about ten feet high, was running his best to close this up. He had his hair tucked back of his ears, which gave him a particularly ferocious look. His arrows flew all around me with such a velocity that they did not appear over a couple of inches long.
    I must have run a couple of miles before I found the command. They being under the bluff had heard nothing. We at once returned to where I had left the Indians, but they had all fled except one old squaw who was lying beside the dead buck I had killed. This was my first Indian.
    After a fruitless effort to get some information from the squaw, we followed the tracks of the fleeing Indians until we saw that they had scattered, and were going into some low mountains, when we abandoned pursuit.
    We passed over a barren strip of country where a hailstorm had just been. It was so severe that the bark of trees lying down had been beaten off. The ground was covered with pine leaves, and the soft ground was full of holes an inch deep that I could stick my thumb in where the hail had driven in and melted.
    The Indians in this section of the country having been aroused, I thought it useless to stay out any longer, so returned to camp at the ferry, and in a few days took ten men and made a scout to the north of the ferry.
    Some miles above the ferry the river cañons for about nine miles, the cañon being very high, and, in fact, it was what is called a box cañon for most of this distance. It afforded good protection to the Indians. The old emigrant road passed near this place, and it was always considered very dangerous, and it was to this place I betook myself in hopes of finding some of the Indians.
    We skirted along the right bank of the cañon, which was very deep and precipitous, and very rough, with large blocks of detached rocks lying along the sides where the slope was rough enough to furnish them a resting place. There were but four places where we could get down to the river, even on foot.
    All of a sudden, as we turned a sharp bend in the bluff, we saw a camp of Indians down at the water's edge. They saw us at the same time, and commenced scurrying, some running up, and some down, while others swam across the river. I at once dismounted, and, finding a dim trail close by descending down the precipice, I at once commenced its descent with all possible speed, so as to get within shooting distance of them. I saw a buck swimming with his bow and arrows and wolf robe held above his head. I aimed at the edge of the water. At the crack of the rifle he sank, and the robe and weapons floated down the stream.
    I at once commenced reloading my old muzzle-loader, when the guide at the tops of the bluffs yelled, "Look out for the arrows!" I looked up, and saw the air apparently full of them. Almost simultaneously one hit me in the right hip. When I jerked it out the head remained in my leg, where it remains still. There were a couple of inches of blood on the shaft of the arrow when I pulled it out. The Indians doing the firing were some who had previously swum across, and had secreted themselves in the rocks. They set up a yell when I was hit.
    I at once commenced the ascent through a shower of arrows. The ascent was so steep that I had to pull myself up by catching hold of bunches of grass, rocks, and such things as I could get hold of. In one bunch of grass I caught hold of two arrows that had been shot at me. The wonder was that I was not hit oftener. By the time I reached the top the perspiration stood out on me in large drops, and I was deathly sick.
    As soon as I was able, we returned to our camp at the ferry. I had to ride on horseback and suffered most excruciating pain during the journey. When I reached camp, my groin was all green.
    The nearest doctor was at Fort Jones, 120 miles distant, but I was in hopes I could get along without having to send for the doctor, fearing that I would be relieved, as Capt. Judah was inimical to me, and if he found out that I preferred being in the field to Fort Jones, he would certainly order me back, for that was just about his caliber.
    I stood it for a couple of days, but my leg got so much worse that I sent Dick Pugh in to Fort Jones after the doctor. When the news of my being wounded reached Fort Jones, much excitement prevailed. The whole command was ordered out, and as usual they got drunk, Judah included, who fell by the wayside, and Lt. Hiram Dryer, and Dr. C. C. Kearney with all the available men came out.
    By the time they reached me I was a little better, but the doctor saw nothing to do except let things take their course. The doctor thought the arrow might have been poisoned, as these Indians were noted for using poison in their arrows.
    They would poison them in this way: They would catch a rattlesnake, and when they would kill a deer or an antelope, they would take the fresh liver, and let the rattlesnake bite it until it would get full of poison. Then they would run the shafts of the arrows through it. On the shafts were small grooves to hold the poison. Under the most favorable circumstances this poison would retain its strength about one month, but during moist weather it would not last over a few days.

4. We charged right in their midst
    I was wounded on the tenth of June. So hearty was my system that on the 27th, when the Indians made a raid on some traders and ran off a lot of stock, I managed to mount my horse and follow them. This trail led into the lava beds north and west of the lake. Although there were a good many head of cattle, it was difficult to follow their trail in the lava.
    This lava had evidently been in a liquid state when it was poured over the country, and in cooling it was forced up in all conceivable shapes. There were fissures in it from ten to fifteen feet across the top that would extend a couple or more miles long. These fissures were so deep that their bottoms could not be seen. A rock thrown down them would almost invariably plunk into water at a depth of from fifty to sixty feet.
    No one but an Indian could have driven those cattle through this country, for in addition to the rough character of these rocks, there was a thick undergrowth of brush growing out of the crevices in the rocks where a sufficient amount of earth had collected to support them. While driving by a small, wedge-shaped fissure, a large ox had fallen into it with its feet downward. The Indians had killed it, and disemboweled it through the back, and went on with the balance, evidently intending to come back for the meat later.
    Owing to the difficulty of following the trail, and noticing a large mountain, I took a straight course for the mountain, believing that to be their destination. I had not traveled far before we struck a soft piece of ground running nearly in the direction I wanted to go. Finding a trail running through it, I followed it, and had not gone very far before I saw tracks running into it. Judging from the deep impressions their feet made on the soft ground, they were carrying heavy loads.
    I at once concluded they had butchered the cattle, and were packing their meat to their camp. Shortly I came to a small pond near the foot of the mountain, where they had encamped the night before. We counted forty-one campfires, with plenty of evidences of their having been eating beef.
    Now being well satisfied that their camp was not far off, I returned to my camp. Lt. Dryer and the Doctor were anxious to return to their flesh pots, and I assured them that I would not need their services. So they returned, leaving me again in command. Dryer very kindly left me enough of my company to give me thirty-three men all told, so the next morning I took all my men except one man, whom I left to keep camp, and proceeded to the pond where I had seen the Indian fires.
    Upon my arrival there, no Indians had been there since I had left it two days before. I scouted around considerable, but could find no fresh sign. At night I took one man, and went up the side of the mountain, and climbed a tree where I could overlook the lava beds, but could see nothing.
    So next morning I packed up, and marched in a northerly direction along the base of the mountain, pretending that I was going to leave the country. After getting in camp I took my gun and prospected for signs up the side of the mountain. I discovered where an Indian had been watching us, so next morning I ascended the mountain in the direction of my previous day's march, but instead of crossing the range when I got to the summit, I turned southward, and marched parallel to my march of yesterday.
    We killed two Indians on our march of two days. I killed one, and the soldiers the other, but the mountain was thrusted, so that our march was obstructed from view. We slipped down the side of the mountain, and camped in a ravine not far from the pond and overlooking the lava beds. That evening it rained a little, so that smoke would hang close to camp. I forbade fires till after dark, when they could be made out of sight. Just before dusk I was rewarded by seeing smoke out in the lava beds, about three or four miles distant. The night was dark, and the country ahead of me was so rough that it was useless to try to get close to them before daylight, so all was prepared to leave at daylight the next morning.
    In the morning I left two men to guard the mules and camp, and as soon as we could see, we took up our line of march. I led the way. As soon as we got into the lava beds, we had to be guided by direction entirely, as the brush was too thick to see fifty yards ahead, and the whole bed was comparatively level for miles and miles.
    The rain the evening before had softened the brush and leaves, so we made comparatively little noise. We started up several fine deer on our way. All of a sudden we came in sight of their outpost, not over fifty yards ahead, in the shape of an Indian who was busy making something, sitting with his head close to his knees. Several men raised their guns to shoot, but I stopped them. We could see the smoke from the rancheria not over one-fourth of a mile distant.
    I at once divided my men into three squads, a sergeant and two men to go around to the left, and another sergeant and nine men to go around to the right, to keep out of sight of the Indians, to join and make the attack from the opposite direction from us. I would charge with the remaining ten men, and meet the Indians fleeing away from the attacking party. In the meantime, I detailed one of my men to keep a watch on the sentinel, and to shoot him immediately upon hearing the shots at the rancheria.
    After the flanking parties got well under way, the sentinel saw them, and, thinking he had not been seen, crawfished off into some brush near at hand. The soldier went up close to him, so as to prevent his escape. Seeing the movements of this soldier satisfied the Indian that he was discovered. He came up to the soldier, at the same time giving up his bow and arrows, and commenced explaining what a good Indian he was, that the Indians who were bad and stole the cattle, etc., etc., lived way east.
    When he gave himself up, I sent a second soldier to tell the other not to shoot him, but just as he reached him, firing commenced at the rancheria. Not knowing what the second soldier's orders were, he shot the Indian through the head. It so surprised the second soldier that he was sure he was shot.
    We then commenced our charge toward the firing. We met the Indians piling out of the rancheria, running from the attack of the other two parties. They were all yelling, women, children, and all. Bucks were imitating wild beast "war whoops," and a worse pandemonium I never saw before or since. We met them face to face, so close that we could see the whites of each other's eyes. The yelling and screeching and all taken together made my hair fairly stand on end.
    We killed a great many, and after the main fight was over, we hunted some reserved ground that we knew had Indians hidden. By deploying as skirmishers, and shooting them as they broke cover, we got them. One or two faced us, and made a manly fight, while others would attempt to run. There was but one squaw killed.
    The country was rougher than I supposed it could possibly be. The lava in cooling was thrown up in all imaginable shapes, contorted, leaving cores, fissures, and little promontories, looking as if the molten lava had been forced through a sieve and cooled in that shape. In walking over it, some of it would sound like walking over sheets of cast iron, and all was rough as a rasp. Then imagine all this covered over with a thick growth of scrubby juniper pinion, with underbrush. There was one place where a hundred Indians could have hid within three quarters of an acre, and not one of them could have been seen.
    Their camp was full of beef, leaving no doubt of their being the guilty parties. Although they left everything in camp, we found nothing of value. After the fight the men searched all around. In the vicinity of the fight they found nothing except women and children. Sometimes they would find three or four in a hole seemingly not large enough to hold one. We took some of them with us to camp, giving them something to eat. Next morning when we left, they were turned loose. To give some idea of the roughness of that lava, some of the men went into the fight with new shoes on, and came out of it barefooted.
    This fight occurred on the second of July, 1857.
    The men were anxious to have a fight on the Fourth, but we failed to find the subject, although we came near having another fight a few days afterwards as we ran across a buck. In killing him, the reports of our guns alarmed quite a village not far off, who made their escape.
    Having alarmed this whole country, we returned to camp. After refitting, we started again on another scout, further to the north and east. We found nothing in the country over which our previous scout was made.
    After almost giving up all hope of finding any Indians on this trip, I came across a single Indian track which had just been made. After following it some six or eight miles, it led into a beautiful valley shut in on the north and east by a walled bluff of rocks. By the time it reached the valley, more tracks had joined the one, and, suspecting their camp was not far off, we went into camp at a little spring. I went ahead to a bluff that overlooked the valley, and after watching for some time, I saw some Indians ahead several miles, and from their actions I was satisfied their camp was not far off.
    So at midnight that night we got breakfast, packed up, and started for the place where we saw the Indians. Their camp was under a bluff just on the edge of a valley. To fence them in the valley, we went up on the bluffs, so as to get between them and the rough country to the west. We got on the bluff just after daybreak, and as we were approaching its edge, an Indian popped up his head, and gave the alarm.
    There must have been at least 500 of them, all told. The grass on the valley gave it a straw color, so the contrast of these black Indians scattering over it looked like so many crows, and all of them yelling at the tops of their lungs.
    The bluffs were precipitous and rocky, and it took some time for us to get down, by which time the Indians were some distance out in the valley, and scattered in all directions, running at the top of their speed. We were armed with the old Yaeger, or Mississippi rifle, a muzzle-loader. The bullet used was the Minie ball, with a hollow base. I ordered the men to scatter, and each to take his Indian.
    I had killed one, when I saw one of the soldiers shooting at an Indian with one of those old-fashioned "Allen's pepper boxes," having discharged his rifle, and keeping his mule between himself and the Indian, with the latter closing in on him. I had just finished loading my gun when I saw this performance, and saw that the Indian would close in on the soldier in a few moments more unless assistance was given him. So I at once mounted, and put spurs to my horse, and when I had gotten within one hundred yards of them, the Indian, evidently judging that my rifle was loaded, left the soldier, and came at me.
    I dismounted and ran ahead, so he would not shoot my horse, to within sixty yards of him. He was half bending and half squatting, with his breast towards me, jumping first to one side, and then to the other, evidently trying to draw my fire, keeping an arrow pointed at me all this time. (This is a position they take when they dodge arrows, which they will do for a small sum.)
    He was singing his death song. I took a rest on my knee, and, moving my rifle from one side to the other, following his movements, I got a good aim, when I pulled the trigger, and broke his back. In this condition, while lying on the ground, he shot five arrows into the soldier's mule, three of them going through the saddle and three thicknesses of blankets into the mule before I could kill him with my pistol.
    I then loaded and put spurs to my horse, and overtook another Indian who was just making his escape into the foothills to the south, and shot him. It was difficult to tell how many Indians were killed. By the greatest piece of good fortune we had no casualties on our side, although some of our guns were rendered useless by the base of the ball becoming detached and remaining in the gun.
    We all rallied at this village, and destroyed what plunder we found. We found large quantities of grasshoppers being dried by them for their winter supply. They caught the grasshoppers by setting fire to the grass, and in that way would burn off their legs.
    This fight took place on the twenty-seventh day of July.
    Having now gotten all the Indians in this section of the country on the alert, we returned to our camp above the ferry, which I had moved to the west. While on our way back, one day we discovered some Indians in swimming. I drew my mules up in line and dismounted, so that they would not make a noise, and left a couple of men to guard them while the remainder of us started in to surround the Indians, the country being too rough to use our animals. All of a sudden, and without any provocation, a mule we called "Bullhead" set up a bray, so that when we got to the place there was not an Indian to be seen. Mr. Mule forever after that was in great disfavor with our command.
    About this time Capt. J. W. T. Gardiner, 1st Dragoons, arrived on Fall River to establish a post, which he did, and named it after the undersigned.
    We had turned up the Indians to the north and east so often that they had become shy. We made some other scouts in their country, but beyond killing an occasional Indian, we could not accomplish anything. Besides, they had stopped their depredations.
    I took two men one day and went down the river on its west bank in hopes of locating a camp. I knew there were some not far from us, but the country was rough, and I suspected they were watching us, so it would be useless to go after them with the whole command without first having located their camp so we could move on them after dark.
    Our first move was to get on the top of a high, brushy ridge that overlooked quite a valley to the southwest. We watched here for some time when we saw some Indians come trailing in from the direction of the river. We watched them until they had assembled to the number of about one hundred. The squaws commenced gathering grass seed while the bucks stood sentinels.
    I left the animals with one of the men, and I took the other and started down the river, keeping to the timber so as to keep out of sight as much as possible. When I came to the trail that the Indians had come on from the river, we jumped from rock to rock so as not to make any sign. We now worked our way toward the river through some soft, ashy hills. We found in there a wash boiler, photographs, and other things that evidently had belonged to the people who had been massacred the previous winter. We got close to the river, and while listening and looking for the Indians, I fell asleep.
    Pretty soon the soldier awakened me and said he heard Indians not far from where we were. I soon discovered that the noise proceeded from some Indians who were in swimming. That satisfied me that their rancheria was not far away. Just below us was a small creek putting in from our side, covered with trees and underbrush. I suspected their camp must be in that brush, but I could not see anything from where we were, but just below this creek, and not fifty yards from it was a little bluff overlooking it.
    While it was a risky thing to do, I could not get the desired information unless I got on this bluff. So I went up the creek sufficiently far to prevent discovery, and came on to the point overlooking the creek and river from the rear. I noticed where three fresh squaw tracks had gone back on the bluff, and I was in dread of their returning before getting through with our observations.
    After peeping over the bluffs, and getting the desired information, that they were camped on the creek as I had first supposed, we retraced our steps. We had not proceeded far, however, when I saw one of the squaws coming directly towards us. I hid behind a tree, and when she was in a few feet of me I jumped out suddenly in front of her, at the same time pointing my gun at her, and making motions that if she gave the alarm, I would shoot her.
    She had a basket with some grass seed in it, and a papoose on her back. She was very much frightened, but not confused. She seemed to realize the situation. She kept motioning that she expected two people to come from the direction she came, and wanted us to hold on. But as I was not looking for any more, and was anxious to get out of that vicinity, I didn't let the grass grow under my feet.
    When she saw that her appeals were in vain, and that we turned to go up the river, she sat down, put on her moccasins, and threw her basket away, and was prepared for the journey. I took the lead, and directed the soldier to see that she kept up with me, and did not make her escape. I took a good, brisk gait, she keeping close on my heels all the way. When we passed the trail that led up to and started up to the valley where we had seen the Indians gathering grass seed in the morning, I noticed from the signs that they had returned to the river, and that we, probably, had passed the most dangerous country, and that we had not been discovered.
    We continued on until we reached our animals that we had left in the morning with the other man. We mounted, and continued to our camp, arriving there just before dark. I reasoned that there was a chance of our not having been discovered. They might not miss the squaw until it was too dark for them to discover our tracks in searching for her, but they would certainly do so the next morning. Our only show was to surprise the camp, to go down there that night yet so as to be there at daylight the next morning.
    We left just after dark, taking a trail over into the valley mentioned before, which we had avoided in the morning to prevent discovery. Where the trail went down into the valley, it was very precipitous and rough. The night came on very dark; a severe thunderstorm overtook us on the mountain. The clouds were inky black, and the darkness was so intense that we could not see our hands before us, except when flashes of lightning lit up the country.
    I marched in front, and kept the squaw still ahead of me in order that she, being on foot, could follow the trail. She still carried the papoose on her back. She had plenty of opportunities to escape. Her child would cry occasionally, when she would stop, nurse, and sing to it. Before we reached the vicinity of the rancheria, the storm had passed, and the sky was clear.
    When we reached the creek where I saw the Indians in camp the day previous, I saw the Indians had gone. We finally found that their rancheria was across the river and some distance below the mouth of the creek. The river here was nearly one hundred yards wide, and we could tell nothing about its depth. There was but one canoe on our side of the river, and half the bottom was split out of it, so it was useless so far as crossing the men in was concerned. It was then too late to make a raft so as to cross before it got daylight.
    The squaw kept urging me, by signs, to hurry up before daylight came for fear the Indians would make their escape. By this time we were opposite where the Indians were, looking at the canoe. By this time the Indians had commenced making fires, and I realized the fact that we could do nothing.
    The squaw laid down her papoose, and, taking up her basket hat which she wore on her head, commenced bailing out the canoe, gradually working her way toward the end farthest from the shore. All of a sudden she dove under the water and disappeared.
    It did not seem a minute before all the fires were put out in their camp on the other side. I would not have given her this chance of escape had it not been for the fact that I saw we could accomplish nothing. She had many better opportunities to escape on the march during the night previous. She certainly deserved a crown from her people for the sacrifice she made for them. She left her papoose with us, which could not have been more than three weeks old.
    After daylight we managed to stuff grass in the leaky canoe, so that one of the men crossed over in it to the other side of the river and bring over some good canoes that were there. We all crossed over and found that they had left everything in their precipitous flight. We found a good many seines and nets of different descriptions that were well made of some kind of strong thread which did credit to their skill.
    We returned to the opposite bank where the papoose was, which by this time was squalling at the top of its lungs. We hung it up on a limb, and I secreted myself with a few of the men, and gave instructions to take the back trail and go over the top of a mountain in plain sight of where we were, so that the Indians would think we had gone out of the country, and come back to camp and get get their papoose. But the soldiers, stupid-like, halted on top of the mountain in plain view of the whole country.
    As soon as I saw this I waited no longer, but followed up, and mounted our horses, and returned to camp, acknowledging ourselves fairly beaten. The Indians had evidently transferred their camp to the opposite bank of the river as a precautionary measure. I never knew whether they had made this change from any suspicion arising from the squaw's absence or not. These Indians were such hard customers that they were naturally suspicious themselves.
    I made many other scouts to different parts of this country, so that I became pretty much familiar with it all. But in none of these scouts was I ever again successful in getting any more telling blows on these Indians. We would occasionally come across some straggling Indians, but their main parties must either have scattered, or else they were more vigilant. But one thing was certain: they stopped their depredations.
    In the latter part of August or first part of September I made peace with them when they came in and encamped near the post, but having no good interpreter, I was unable to get any particulars from them.
    I was particularly struck with their cunning in all their little ways of capturing a livelihood. They dug pits, some of them fifteen feet deep, with sharpened pegs driven in their bottom with the sharp end uppermost, along the game trails. They would carefully remove every part of the excavated earth from within sight, and then so deftly cover over the pit with brush and earth that the unsuspecting game would fall an easy prey. It was from this circumstance that the Indians and the river took their name. I saw one of these pits on the old emigrant road, made evidently to capture emigrant stock.
    They managed so that all the country in which they lived was made to pay tribute to them. Game, fish, nuts, roots, grass seed, grasshoppers, crickets, waterfowl and their eggs, the larvae of hornets, yellowjackets, etc.
    It was amusing to see them locate a yellowjackets nest. These little bees were a nuisance around camp. You could not leave a piece of meat or anything sweet exposed in our camp but what they were into it. So Mr. Indian would get a down from the duck, which was large in bulk, but had no heft to it, and would fasten to its shaft end either a small piece of meat or something sweet. When Mr. Yellow Jacket would seize hold of the coveted treasure and make a bee line for his home, the down would impede his flight so much that Mr. Indian was enabled to keep close enough to find his nest. Then it would be but short work with fire to clean out their nest.
    They would also stretch cords across marshy ground, supported by poles driven in the ground at intervals. From these cords they would suspend strings with a slip noose in their ends that would just hang at the edge of the water, so that waterfowl feeding along would occasionally get their necks caught in these nooses.
    These Indians had gotten quite used to our camp, and seemed to feel perfectly at home, when one morning they were all gone. They had fled the night previous. I got them back again, but never did know what made them leave.
    These Indians were noted all over the Pacific Coast as being amongst the very worst. They had the reputation of being treacherous, warlike, fierce, and wily. They had killed a great many whites at different times. Several expeditions had been made against them, with commands much larger than mine, but this was the first time they were ever subdued. And strange to say, during this entire campaign I did not lose a single man killed, and only had one seriously wounded, Thos. Rourke. He was shot in the lungs, and when the arrow was pulled out, the head remained in his lungs. Although he suffered a great deal with it, when I saw him last, at the outbreak of the war, he was nearly well.
    The only way I can account for the few casualties I sustained was from the fact that we invariably charged right in their midst, and confused them, and had them miss me more than once at no greater distance than ten feet, whereas they could hit a man every time at sixty yards when not under excitement.
    These arrows in their hands were no insignificant weapons to contend against. At a distance of sixty yards, and even further, they could send an arrow through one's body so that the arrow head would project on the other side, and at this distance they could keep an arrow in the air all the time, whereas we had the old muzzle-loading rifle that took so long to reload.
    An arrow wound frequently was worse than a gunshot wound, for the latter would as a rule go through the body, whereas the arrow was so constructed that it had one or more short joints together with the head that were fastened together with a little moistened sinew. When it came in contact with the warm blood of your body, it came apart, so that when the arrow was pulled out these other parts were left in your body. Then, in addition, these Indians had the reputation of poisoning their arrows. Capt. A. J. Smith, 1st Dragoons, lost some three men and some horses in an engagement with these Indians some time previous by arrows he supposed were poisoned.
    The advent of the muzzle-loading gun in the hands of the Indians made them less formidable at close range than they were before, but it was the breech-loader that has entirely changed the Indian problem, and has made the Indians of today so formidable.
    After making peace with the Indians, it became irksome and monotonous to be lying around camp, so I frequently would take the most of my men out on hunts. We would be gone several days at a time. My favorite place to hunt was at the southeastern foot of Shasta Butte. The melting snows from this mountain sent down the most beautiful rills of ice-cold water which wound around amongst beautiful groves of pine and grassy parks, with large patches of whortle and blueberry bushes here and there, filled with luscious berries.
    The scenery was almost fairy-like here. We would pitch our tents and hunt as our fancies would dictate. Game abounded all through this country. Deer and blue grouse were the most plentiful, but there was an occasional elk, bear, or California lion to be seen, with plenty of mountain sheep high up in the mountains.
    One day while I was watching a fisher playing up and down a tree squirrel fashion, I saw a band of deer slipping out of a bunch of brush near by. I had my choice, so I shot a nice buck. We would take our surplus game in to the dragoons who were building the post.
    About the middle of September I received orders to repair to Fort Jones and straighten up my affairs, when I would proceed to the mouth of the Klamath River, there to establish a temporary post and settle some indifficulties [sic].
    I left this country that I had become so identified with in the last few months with many regrets. As we marched through Yreka we were treated as heroes.

5. I was ordered to organize a navy
    After finishing my business at Fort Jones, I took up my line of march down Scotts River to its junction with the Klamath, and followed down that river until we struck the trail leading over to Crescent City. Near the mouth of Scotts River was a big mining camp called Scottsburg. Next to Yreka it was the largest and liveliest place in all that country. Millions of dollars in gold had been taken out of the placer diggings there.
    Every few miles down the Klamath, as far as I went, were mining camps of more or less extent. Crescent City was a small place of a few hundred inhabitants, kept alive by being the port for some mining districts in the interior. Its harbor extended clear to China, being simply a little indentation in the coast. [Crook's geography here is somewhat confused.]
    From here our route was by trail, over broken bluffs to the mouth of the Klamath River, and up this river six miles by canoes poled and paddled by the natives. The Indian agency was situated on the right bank of the Klamath River, six miles from its mouth, on a piece of bottom ground well adapted for cultivation, called Wakello.
    I at once commenced searching for a suitable location to establish my post, one that would furnish the desired protection, and at the same time have the soldiers sufficiently removed from the agency so as not to cause any friction. I finally selected a beautiful, grassy flat, diagonally across and up the river. There was a small strip of woods running nearly all around the flat immediately on the bank of the river, while a dense forest of redwood furnished the background. This flat must have contained at least one hundred acres. The river was about one quarter of a mile wide, with a strong current, although the tide ran nearly up to it. The name of this flat was Ter-Waw.
    As soon as our baggage arrived, we commenced work, erecting our quarters, and in the meantime I was busy learning the Indian situation. I had about ninety men in my company, and, being the only officer with it, had to see personally to everything. I learned that the Indians indigenous to the river were called Al-a-gnas, and there had been a lot of Indians removed to this reservation from the Crescent City region, called Tol-a-nas. Although living so near each other, they were entirely different people and spoke a different language. These Indians were bitterly opposed to staying here; the Al-a-gnas were as bitterly opposed to having them remain, so everything pointed to an outbreak.
    I had most positive orders not to fight these Indians unless first attacked by them. I had not been there long before these Indians got up a conspiracy to murder me and destroy the boats that ferried the river, then kill the agent and his employees, sack the place, and then return to their own country. They reasoned that if I was killed the soldiers would be without a head, and they would have nothing to fear from them.
    One of the Klamath Indians who heard the conspiracy divulged the secret. By this time I knew enough about Indians to know that unless I took the initiative some of us would be killed. So I made up my mind to surround them at daylight after their plans had become more matured, and their guilt could be definitely fixed on them.
    That day some of the conspirators visited my camp, came up to my tent, felt its thickness, then would talk amongst themselves. They were particular in knowing whether I slept by myself. The soldiers' tents were some fifty or sixty yards from mine, all being in the edge of the redwoods. I never let on to them that I knew anything of their plot, nor did I say anything to the soldiers. But I laid my rifle on one side of me, and my shotgun on the other, with my pistol and bowie knife under my head. I also had a box of brasses belonging to the soldiers' accoutrements in my tent which I set just inside of the front of my tent, so that if they attempted to come in they would wake me up.
    I felt so confident that I would be more than a match for them that I hoped they would make the attack. I would be in the dark, while they would be between me and the sky light, which would give me a great advantage. But the next morning the whole thing was precipitated by some Indians making an attack on the agent.
    A runner came to me with a note from one of the employees to the effect that the agent had been killed. My men were scattered, more or less, collecting material for building purposes. Many were in the woods. I at once had the "long roll" beaten, and in less than half an hour I was at the agency with all my company except two. We made short work of the disaffected Indians, killing several of them. (The two men left behind were not long behind. They came to the river, and, finding the boats gone, swam it with their accoutrements and arms.)
    This put an end to the trouble. Most of the Tol-a-nas ran away, and shortly after the remainder were permitted to go, and all were allowed to remain in their own country.
    I now applied myself most assiduously to complete my post. I built the men's quarters first, and got all the post about completed when in the spring of 1858 I was ordered to Vancouver, W.T. to participate in a campaign which was then being inaugurated against the Indians who defeated Col. Steptoe's command the fall previous.
    I was relieved by 1st Lt. J. B. Collins with "B" Company of my regiment, from Humboldt, one of the same companies that I had accompanied in the spring of 1853 to Humboldt Bay, and who had been there ever since, doing nothing, while my company had never been idle.
    After reaching Vancouver, we proceeded up the Columbia River as far as The Dalles by boat, and from there we marched across land to the post of Simcoe, some sixty-five miles distant. I have forgotten to mention that Lt. T. E. Turner had joined my company before leaving Fort Ter-Waw, as the post was called; also that I had exchanged the Yaeger guns for the old musket, altered and rifled, and shot the Minie ball, a gun inferior to the Yaeger.
    We traveled from Vancouver to Simcoe with Capt. Frazier of the 9th Artillery, who was stationed at the latter place. His regiment was armed with the old Yaeger. I allowed myself to be imposed on by his telling me that they could hit the size of a man pretty nearly every time at the distance of 1,000 yards. I took a back seat, and said nothing more. He advised me to exchange my gun for the Yaegers. I told him that I had had the Yaegers, but preferred the present arms. He said our old guns could have been good, etc., etc.
    When we reached Simcoe, I learned that it was the custom of the old guard to fire at a target, and those who hit the bullseye were let off a tour of guard duty. The next morning after my arrival I very meekly went out to the target to see their men shoot, intending that if they were such superior shots to my men to say nothing about it.
    But after seeing them shoot, the next morning I took out with their old guard an equal number of my men. Capt. Frazier was present. Not a man of their guard hit the bullseye, while there was not a man of mine missed it. He at once applied to get guns like mine. I thought it strange that their men should so far beat my men shooting when I had taken such particular pains to instruct them, had taken them out hunting, etc., and generally had such a good sharp edge on them that they thought they could whip all the Indians in the country.
    Maj. Bob Garnett, of Rebel fame, who was killed at Cheat River soon after the breaking out of the rebellion, was in command of Simcoe with three companies of his, the 9th Regiment. Capt. Judah had also assembled here with his company of Forty Thieves for duty on the expedition, having marched from Fort Jones to Fort Vancouver. But with his usual ability to escape work he exchanged with one company of the 9th, and remained behind, much to my delight, for I had such contempt for him that his sight was obnoxious to me. He signaled the kindness shown him by Maj. Garnett by being drunk pretty much all the time during our absence.
    Our expedition was to punish the Indians who had defeated Col. Steptoe. A band of Indians had murdered a party of prospectors some time during the spring, and it was understood that they were scattered amongst the Yakimas, who were supposed to be friendly, and our expedition was also expected to kill or capture these murderers. The expedition consisted of three companies of the 9th, commanded by Captains Archer, Frazer and Black, and my company of the 4th, the whole commanded by Maj. Garnett.
    Our general route lay up the Columbia River. After several days' march from Simcoe, it was ascertained that there were some of the murderers in the camp of friendly Indians not far off. So Lt. Jesse K. Allen of Capt. Frazer's company was anxious to go after them. Capt. Frazer, who was detailed to go after them, let Allen go by himself. He started with a detachment of Frazer's company, to which he belonged, soon after dark, intending to attack the Indians at daylight the next morning. It seemed that in advancing to attack next morning, it was scarcely light yet, when Allen was in front, and, being mistaken by some of his men, was shot by mistake. His death cast a gloom over us all, and was a bad commencement for our expedition. His body was sent back to the post, and we continued our march.
    The country passed over was gently rolling, and covered with fine grass, and very fairly watered. We struck the Columbia River a little more than one hundred miles from the post. Game was scarce, except sage hens and a few sharp-tailed grouse. There was trout in most of the streams. We made a camp on the Wenatchee River.
    From here it was ascertained that there were some of the murderers about sixty miles up the river, with a band of Indians who were supposed to be friendly. I was detailed with my company to go in pursuit. So my company was mounted on pack mules with such saddles as could be raked together. We started just before dusk, with a couple of Indians for guides. Just after we got fairly under way, a heavy thunderstorm came up, and the night became pitch dark, so you could not see the man ahead of you. The guides went so fast that it was difficult to keep up with them.
    Finally we crossed over a ridge, and came suddenly on the banks of a roaring torrent. The guide bulged in, and we after him. It was the greatest wonder some of the men were not swept off, so strong and deep was the current, with large boulders on the bottom. By this time it had commenced raining. After crossing, we turned up its right bank, and had not gone far before we came to a bluff that made it necessary to leave the river bottom and wind around through the timber and brush to go over it.
    The night was so dark and the trail so circuitous, and the men got so tangled that we could not get through it and had to pull back to a little bottom and wait for daylight. In counting noses I found that there were ten men absent. I sent some men back to discharge their guns, so in case they lost their way this would enable them to find us. It rained a little, and was cloudy all night. We lay down, and tied the animals to our legs, but could sleep but little.
    Bright and early next morning we started on our journey up this stream. Shortly after daylight we recrossed the stream, and continued up its right bank. The trail lay mostly on bottom covered with a dense forest, a species of redwood; much fallen timber. Our trail was circuitous. For instance, we would come to a fallen tree at right angles to our direction, and would have frequently to go a hundred feet to get over the trunk and return again within ten feet of the place we started.
    When you add to this the soft condition of the ground, with frequent bog holes that our animals would almost go out of sight in, and every few yards a yellowjackets nest, the inmates of which would cause some grand and lofty tumbling amongst the men, you can form some idea of the fun we had that day.
    Towards midday we commenced getting on higher ground, where the country was more open. About two P.M. we suddenly came upon three animals, saddled, whose riders had evidently fled. Going a short distance further we came up to a young man standing alongside of the trail, leaning on his long "Queen Bess" rifle, a perfect picture for a statue. He kept his eyes gazing directly to his front, scarcely noticing us. It was some time before I could get him to talk.
    He finally warmed up sufficient to tell us that he was the Chief's son, that the horses we saw belonged to some of the murderers, that they knew we were after them, and that they were going to sell their lives as dearly as possible, that the camp of his father, with whom these Indians were staying, was a few miles ahead, and was on an island in a side stream that was difficult to approach, that these Indians had announced their intentions of ambushing us near the village, etc., etc.
    When we got within a couple of miles of their village, as I supposed, I dismounted most of my men, and deployed as skirmishers, going ahead, I leading them in person, so as to prevent surprise. We had traveled some distance in this way when I came to a little open spot, where I halted, having made up my mind just what plan I would pursue.
    The young chief was still with us. I reasoned that were we to attack the village, situated as it was, we could not expect to accomplish more than killing a few Indians at best, as we could not surround them. We could not tell who the murderers were, and we would more likely kill our friends than the ones we came after. Besides, the Indians were more numerous than we, and in case they should all turn on us, but few of us would be likely to get out of there alive.
    So I took this young chief out to one side, and explained to him what we had come for, the great risk they ran in harboring those men, that in a fight we would have to kill many of our friends, which we were anxious not to do, that they would lose all their stock and many of their families, camp equipage, etc., etc. I suggested that he go to the village and tell his father privately what I had told him, and also to have his father come with him to see me, and in the meantime to disabuse the minds of the murderers that we were there for any hostile intent.
    Not long after this the old chief came to see me with his son. So well had the young chief done his work that not long after my camp was filled with their Indians, and amongst them some of the murderers. I had a confidential talk with the old chief and his son. After going over about the same ground as I had with the son earlier, I pointed out to them the benefits which would come to them if they were to have all their Indians come into my camp the next morning to sell berries, etc., etc., when he could point out the murderers to me unobserved, and that I would make arrangements to nab them all without their being known. All of which they consented to do the next morning.
    We were encamped on the banks of the Wenatchee River--if it could be called a camp, as we had nothing with us except one blanket each behind our saddles, and a couple of days' cooked rations in our haversacks. The stream was swollen until its waters were flush with its banks. The overhanging boughs slushing backwards and forwards in the angry waters sounded like the rushing of many waters. The water looked like it had ashes tossed in it, so full of sediment was it.
    On the opposite side of the river, rocky crags rose abruptly over 1,000 feet above us, with shafts and pinnacles shooting still far above these again, all denuded of vegetation from the base of these crags. Some three or four hundred feet above us the detached rocks assumed their natural slope to the water's edge. It had rained often during the day, and now at dusk it commenced a steady pour. The whole scene made an impression not soon to be forgotten.
    I laid my blanket by the side of a huge log, spreading my saddle blanket from the top of the log to the ground as a roof. Soon after dark I changed my location to another log, so that in case of treachery they would not know where to find me. My blanket was soaking wet, the ground was sopping wet, and the rain all night made a little puddle about me, but soon I heated up the water, and I slept through till morning without awakening. I never had a sweeter sleep or felt more refreshed in the morning.
    The sky had cleared up in the morning, and soon after sunup the Indians came straggling into our camp. About ten A.M. the chief came. By that time our camp was full of them. As fast as the chief would point out one of the murderers, I had a noncommissioned officer and two men to shadow him, so as not to create an apprehension, and when they were all shadowed in this way, at a given signal they were to grab their man. So, at the signal given by me, four men were captured.
    The remainder of the Indians, except the chief and his son, suspecting treachery, flew to the bush like so many quail. You could have played checkers on their shirt tails, they stood out so straight. But as soon as the chief explained, they returned, and flocked around these four men and their guard, just the same as white men, out of idle curiosity.
    Amongst this crowd was another one of the murderers, who had not been pointed out. He came up to look on. He was also nabbed, and turned out to be the very worst one in the whole business, as he was a medicine man and was one of the ringleaders.
    I had them all pinioned, and then told them the object of my mission, and that I intended shooting them before I left. I wanted them to make any final preparations they wished, and reasonable time would be given them, etc., etc. They all acknowledged their guilt, but made the excuse that they were forced or persuaded by others, etc. Except the medicine man, who invoked all kinds of curses against us.
    He called his son to him, and gave him what few personal effects he had with him, and made a speech to him in his own tongue, which we did not understand. Just as we left on our return, it was interpreted to us. This son was to go to the village, get his gun, and go down the river in his canoe, and ambush us at each point where the trail neared the river, and kill as many as he could to avenge his death. The other four went through the form of prayers, the burden of which was that the soldiers had come and caught them, and that they were going to kill them.
    This whole business was exceedingly distasteful to me, and as my 2nd Lt. Turner rather enjoyed that kind of thing, I detailed him to execute them, which was done in the following manner. The Indians were set down in a line; twenty men were detailed to shoot them. Five of their guns were not loaded, so that no one knew whether his gun was loaded or not.
    Soon after the execution was performed, we mounted our already saddled animals, and just as we were starting the medicine man's message to his son was interpreted to us. It is useless to add that no file closers were needed on our return, nor were the yellowjackets' nests or the big bog holes any obstacles, either.
    We got through the soft bottom with the dense timber sometime in the afternoon, and went into camp. That evening one of the minor chiefs overtook us. He said that the son of the medicine man behaved very sensibly about the matter. He said his father was guilty, and that one of the family was enough to die, and he did not propose to lay himself liable. The next day we returned to the command.
    This was really the only thing accomplished on the entire trip. After this we prosecuted our march still further up the Columbia until we came to the mouth of the Okanagan River. After going nearly to the British line, we commenced retracing our steps. We found several canoes on the Okanagan River, dug out of pine trees. I was ordered to take twenty men and organize a navy to explore the Columbia River, as on our march up we had frequently made detours away from it to avoid impassable localities. The detour was so great that we had to camp away from it one night on "Lake Chelan."
    Up to this time I had marched in front with my company every foot of the way, except the side scout up the Wenatchee River. I was the only officer in the command who did it. I always contended an infantry officer should march on foot when his men did.
    At first we attempted to use the canoes as the Indians did, but after the first day, seeing my men dumped into the water at most every rough place we encountered, I concluded that they lacked the necessary skill to handle these delicate canoes, and that some of them would certainly be drowned before the trip ended. So that night I had two canoes lashed side by side, and in this way we could run all the rapids we encountered without serious difficulty. On several occasions our crafts nearly filled with water, but by having men ready with camp kettles and mess pans to bail out the water, we got along all right, as our boats could not upset as they did when single.
    The morning of the day the troops were to camp at Lake Chelan, I left camp with my flotilla at the same time the land forces did. They pretty soon commenced diverging from the river, and we were getting farther and farther away from each other.
    I had not gone far, when, turning a sharp bend in the river, we ran into a village of Indians encamped on the flat. They were saucy and ugly-looking. Many of the young braves had their hair roached, half of some of their faces painted white, while the other half were black, frequently with figures made in this paint.
    I ran the bows of our canoes on shore, when several stepped up and demanded my canoes as theirs. I showed a bold front, and went forward with my rifle, and threatened to shoot the first Indian who attempted to lay his hands on one of them. Things did not look very salubrious about there, and for fear of trouble, I lost no time in pulling out.
    The river today was full of rapids, so that our feet were kept wet by our boats taking water so often. Even between rapids the current was swift, so by two A.M. we were at the point where the command would join us the next day. I selected as a camp a nice clump of willows near the mouth of a little side stream that put into the river at this point. There was also one of the most beautiful landlocked harbors for our fleet to rest in that I ever saw. There was only one small entrance to it, just large enough for one of our craft to enter at a time. I don't think I could have found a better place for defense on the whole river. We were concealed from view in all directions. The trail up and down the river was but a few yards from us, but no one passing on it could see our camp.
    Not far from this trail was a rocky point from which a good lookout could be kept. It commanded a view of the trail for a mile or so down the river. After settling the camp, I went up into the rocks to keep a lookout. I had not been there long before I saw a dust coming up the river on the trail. The side creek had deep, sunken banks, covered with willows, so that a person coming up the trail could see nothing on the opposite side until they crossed the creek. I saw the persons making the dust were two Indians riding at the top of their speed. So I arranged my men in the shape of a bag in the low brush on the opposite bank from where they were coming.
    Their surprise can be better imagined than told when they ran into this bag, and had the soldiers rise up all around them. They proved to be friendly Indians, but they were so scared, and so gratified to find that we were not going to hurt them that they insisted on my being a big chief, and wanted to present me with two cows. This I respectfully declined, but referred them to Maj. Garnett. He asked me afterwards what I had done to so attach them to me. They insisted so upon his taking the cattle that he finally had to take one to get rid of them.
    After this little episode I again took up my watch in the rocks. I had not been there long before I thought I saw a figure across the river resembling an Indian, and at the same time I heard something that resembled a wolf howling. The figure was in a sitting position, and resembled the many rocks in the vicinity, so I thought I was mistaken. After a while I went down to the river and took a bath, and saw nothing.
    Toward evening while I was again in my lookout, I saw the same object again across the river. This time I was satisfied it was a squaw. I went to the water's edge, and called out to her what she was doing there, and what she wanted, etc. She indicated her wish to cross over to us. I sent one of our boats over after her. She seemed delighted to get with us. Her story was such a sad one that my heart went out to her.
    She said her home was on the lower Columbia River, that she was there among strangers who were not good to her, and she was anxious to return with us to her people. She said she had left the village we ran into above in the morning in company with a lot of other squaws to gather berries, roots, etc. She had dropped out and given them the slip, and came to us, having seen us, and thought we would take her with us. She had a small baby a couple of months old.
    I was not altogether free from the suspicion that she might be a spy, so I made her sleep near the fire where I slept, with the soldiers sleeping all around us. During the night I thought I would visit the sentinel who was posted in the brush near by. I hadn't more than gotten out of my blankets with my bare feet before a Mr. Rattlesnake struck his rattles. He was evidently coming to get in bed with me. I called the sentinel who killed him with the butt of his musket.
    Toward the afternoon of the next day the command came along, and went into camp a little lower down. I was very glad to welcome them, for I did not like my position there with twenty men with an unknown number of Indians all around us, presumably in vastly superior numbers. From here on down to Priest Rapids, where we left the river to go to Simcoe, I navigated the river with my fleet, much to the envy of the rest who had to trudge along on the dusty trail with the land forces.
    There was nothing of particular interest happened on this part of the journey. The scenery was magnificent, and our boats ran down at a great speed without any exertion on our part. We stopped whenever we wanted to, and examined any points of interest. The water was clear enough to see quantities of salmon floating around in the eddy places. The shore and bottom were covered with polished boulders from the size of a hen's egg to that of your head, of a variety of colors. It would make one's head swim to look down through the clear water at them when our boats would pass over them so rapidly.
    I abandoned my fleet at Priest Rapids with many regrets, as I don't know that ever in my life I enjoyed a trip with such keen zest and pleasure.
    Upon our near approach to Simcoe we learned of the death of Mrs. Garnett and child just before our return. We saw but little of him after our return, as his grief kept him to his house mostly. I don't know that I ever served under a commanding officer for whom I had such a high respect. He was strict, but just, and those who did their duty well were certain to be rewarded, while those who failed to do their duty were made to feel it. In this way the hard work was not all put on the willing officer.
    From here I was sent in advance in an ambulance. Our team gave out on the way, and we found a band of ponies on the way at a pond. We managed to catch some of them, get the harness on them, and made them pull us through. When I arrived at Fort Vancouver, Col. Newman S. Clarke, commanding the department, and his adjutant general were there, so I was ordered back to Fort Ter-Waw with my company.
    We took the steamer at Vancouver, and went around by Victoria to Crescent City, where we disembarked for the mouth of the Klamath. We arrived at Ter-Waw and relieved Lt. Collins, who returned with many regrets to his post, Fort Humboldt, as this was his first command and he liked it.

6. Little secrets of the inner Indian
    Lt. Collins had pushed the building of the quarters fairly, but the garden that we had expected so much from was a failure.
    Before leaving for the north, I had acquired some considerable knowledge of the Indian language of these Al-a-gnas, which was now renewed with additional vim, so that I acquired sufficient proficiency in language to be of immense benefit in understanding the Indian character, habits, etc.
    It is an easy matter for anyone to see the salient points of Indian character, namely that they are filthy, odoriferous, treacherous, ungrateful, pitiless, cruel, and lazy. But it is the fewest who ever get beyond this, and see his other side, which, I must admit, is small, and almost latent. To do this requires more than mere study and perception. Above all, you must get his confidence, which means more than I can tell here. There are few people who can get an Indian's confidence to the extent that he will tell you all his little "bedrock" secrets, especially those of a sacred character. Until you have all these little secrets of the inner Indian which control his baser part, you need not expect to manipulate him to good actions when his baser passions are aroused.
    These Indians were every-day visitors at Ter-Waw. The river made a bend around a flat upon which the post was situated, and as their travel up and down the river was by canoe, all except those absolutely necessary to pole the boat up the swift current would take the path across the flats. In this way we would see all the travelers who came into the country. Klamath River is virtually a cañon from its mouth to a point beyond Yreka.
    These Al-a-gnas lived along its banks, on little benches and flats, from the mouth to a point some fifty miles above, when came the Arrannas up the Klamath, and the Hoopas [Hupas] on a branch stream running into the Klamath at that point. Each of these villages was named, and had permanent huts erected out of large puncheon boards split out of the redwood with their crude implements.
    Their manner of building was to excavate the earth some three or four feet, set these boards on end, forming in this way the walls of the hut, either in square or rectangle. The boards would batten each other so as to be quite tight. Then the roofs would be made of the same material, in the fashion of the backwoods houses of the pioneers. One side of one of the roofs would project over the other, with a space between the two large enough for the exit of the smoke. The doors were frequently cut in one large upright in the gable end of the house, but more frequently were cut from the adjacent sides of two boards. The shape of the door was either round or oval.
    The fire was built on the floor, and in its center. Some of the houses had boulders of a green stone, which by long use were polished smooth and used for chairs.
    Their food consisted principally of acorns, fish, grass seed, roots, and occasionally a little venison. Like all Indians who live by their wits, they were expert in taking their game.
    Their government was entirely patriarchal; there were no chiefs beyond the heads of families. Their influence would depend on their wealth, which consisted of these large woodpecker scalps with the upper mandible attached, and these would be sewn on a nice piece of buckskin, dressed white. They also valued a long, conical shell found in Queen Charlotte Sound, which they called Ali-cachuck [probably a misreading of Crook's handwritten "Ali-cacheeck"--alequacheek] , not unlike the wampum of our eastern Indians of early date. Obsidian in large, knifelike shapes was also valuable, but a white deerskin would take all an Indian had. He would sell his own soul for one.
    On state occasions this wealth was paraded by being worn around the neck, generally by some member of the family.
    In addition to the above articles being hoarded as wealth, they had some sacred significance attached to them that I could never quite understand. For instance, they had a yearly ceremony in putting in a dam in the river at a place called Cappec, for the purpose of catching salmon. It was one of the occasions when all this wealth was paraded. All those who were present at that ceremony would have all their past feuds with each other wiped out.
    They were particularly superstitious. They believed firmly in the marvelous. Nothing that occurred, it made no difference how insignificant, but what they had some reason to account for it that was satisfactory to themselves. For instance, if they went out hunting and failed to see game, or if they saw some and failed to kill it, or if it rained while they were out, or if they lost something, and a thousand and one things like that, they would declare that some person had bewitched them, and generally they would tell you the person who did the mischief. I used to try to reason with them that the deer were not where they hunted, but they would answer that they saw so many deer there before, and they were there now, but someone had turned them into brush or rocks, and nothing could shake their belief.
    Most everything in their country had some legend connected with it. Some of them were very interesting and touching. They were very fond of these legends, and would tell you by the hour, if you would listen.
    They were firm believers in the devil. When asked if they ever saw the devil they would say no, but they had heard him, and such and such a one had seen him, so that there was no doubt of his existence. They said he had long claws, hooked bill, long tail, and was covered all over with pitch. He could be hidden behind a tree or rock, and when Mr. Indian would be coming along, suspecting nothing, the devil would reach out and take him in, and that would be the last Mr. Indian would ever know.
    They had a vague idea of a flood which once drowned everybody except one Indian and a coyote that got back on a high mountain from Fort Ter-Waw a few miles, and that all the Indians sprang from them.
    They also have a legend about the coming, years ago, of god and his son, who came from the East. The father, whom they called "Wa-peck-a-maw," was a very good man. He was continually doing good, while his son was a graceless scamp, who was very wild, and bad after women. Finally his excesses became so great that they could not stand him any longer, so they made up their minds to kill them both. They killed the son, but the father made his escape down the coast. The Indians followed him till he came to a tree, where they could find his trail no longer, and gave up the chase.
    The legend goes that he climbed up the tree, and willed the tree to grow over him, and when the Indians arrived they could see nothing of him. When the Indians left, and he saw that he was no longer in any danger, he cast around how to get out of the tree.
    Along came a small woodpecker, who agreed to do what he could to relieve him from his dilemma, but as his bill was small, and he could do but little execution, he made only part of his head red. Then came the crow, who in those days was rather a pretty bird, partially red and white. The Wa-peck-a-maw tried to strike up a bargain with him, but the crow was too exorbitant in his demands, saying that his bill was large, and could make great execution. He wanted to be made red all over, which terms were objected to. The father would consent to make his head and tail red, but that was indignantly refused, whereupon the Wa-peck-a-maw got angry, and dismissed him with a curse that he and his progeny should be black until the end of time, hence, why the crow is black.
    Then along came the large woodpecker, who went to work with a will, regardless of what he was to get, and as he did much execution, his scalp was made red, and that was why his was red, etc. When the Wa-peck-a-maw was released, he disappeared over the sea to the westward, and has never been seen since.
    The first white men these Indians saw were some prospectors who came from the East. They immediately thought they were some of Wa-peck-a-maw's people. They at first thought they were painted white. They would rub their fingers on their skin to see if it would rub off. At first they were glad to see the whites and met them with open arms. Afterwards, when the influx of miners overran their country and abused their hospitality by outraging their squaws and shooting them down on the slightest provocation, they became very much incensed and agreed amongst themselves that if they were to kill off all the whites in their country, that would be the last of them, and to this end a good many were killed.
    About then the steamers commenced plying up and down the coast, filled with passengers. They watched them for some time at the different ports, Crescent City and some others, and noticed that amongst all these people they never saw the same man twice. So they concluded that the whites were like the sand on the beach, they could not be counted, and so gave up their undertaking as hopeless.
    Most of their little legends I have forgotten, and, in fact, I fear I was not a very good listener. They were very much attached to their huts and villages. One told me of her ancestor's hut having once been burned, and the green "Cachon" or chair would not be burned, but took its flight spirally up in the heavens, singing like the "music of the spheres," and was never seen again. It was regarded as an insult to express any doubt as to the truth of these stories.
    Andrew Snider, who sutled at the post, and I used to hunt a great deal in the mountains. The trails were frequently so rough that we had to depend entirely upon the Indians to pack our traps in and our game out. It was on these occasions when they would spin their yarns. On one of these hunts we had a big, one-eyed Indian by the name of Sen Cren, who helped paddle our canoe up the river, and then up a mountain torrent high up in the mountains to a small village from where these Indians would help pack us up to the hunting ground.
    On the way up the Klamath, Sen Cren told us about his little daughter, how he loved her, and how sorry he was to go away from her, and he felt anxious for fear something might happen to him and he wouldn't get to see his child again, etc. He lost his sheath knife out of our boat, and wanted us to pay for it. We told him that our law was different, that the person contracting to do the service took all such chances at loss. He said their law was different.
    When we were going up Blue Creek, the mountain torrent, the mountains on either side were very steep, and consequently quite close to each other. In that country were small birds, "screech owls," that would utter a whistling note. One of these birds piped his little lay on our side of the steep, and was answered by his mate on the other, or else the echo, I forget now which.
    Mr. Sen Cren said he knew it was the devil, and no amount of argument would change his mind. He commenced sassing His Satanic Majesty, accusing him of all kinds of mean acts, of carrying off Indians, etc., telling him what a coward he was in attacking unprotected Indians. Why didn't he come down and attack him now that his white friends were with him, armed with guns. He wasn't afraid of all the devils put together. All this was shouted at the top of his voice.
    He continued this badinage clear to our landing place, which was below the village. After making our camp, we started off in different directions to hunt until dark, leaving Sen Cren to keep camp. I was the first to return from the hunt, just as it was getting dusk. I slipped up close to the camp unobserved, and hid behind a clump of brush. Sen Cren was standing by the fire, warming himself. I imitated this bird, and he sprang and seized a hand ax we had, and squared himself, telling the devil what a coward he was for refusing to tackle him when his friends were with him, but now, when he saw he was all alone, he was acting out his cowardly nature, but "Come on, I am ready for you." (Showed much more pluck than I thought was in him.)
    Just then I threw a rock from my cover. As it neared him he must have sprung ten feet, holding the ax ready for battle. When I showed myself, he experienced great relief. He told me how he thought he was gone, and how so many things had crowded on his mind. The first was that he would never see his little girl again, and how it would distress her, also that no one would know what had become of him. He frankly told me everything, and afterwards when everybody got to making such fun of him, he then declared he knew it was me all the time, etc.
    The next morning we went up to the hunting grounds, which was covered with snow. An old bummer joined the party, helping to do the packing on the prospect of getting his belly full of venison. His garb consisted of an old felt hat with all its rim minus except a little bill in front, and an old wool overcoat so rotten that it would scarcely hold together, the original color so faded that it was impossible to tell what it had been.
    When night came on, and we were standing around the campfire, the old fellow would outdistance Ananias in telling yarns. Many marvelous stories were told in connection with quite a celebrated Indian hunter amongst them by the name of Marucus, of whom this old fellow claimed to be a relative. He claimed that Marucus had killed a white elk once, etc., etc.
    Finally, when we turned in, he said he would make medicine so we would have good luck on tomorrow. (It was his making medicine that made Marucus so successful in killing the white elk.) He lay down by the fire and commenced singing his medicine song. Later I saw him all of a sudden shoot up in the air, and when he came down to the ground again, he commenced pounding his coat and regretting his luck.
    When the excitement cleared away and the damages were assessed, it was discovered that a strip of his coat had burned out from the collar to the tail, and only held together by what was left of the collar. To see him walking around the next morning with the two sides of his coat flying to the breeze, showing his back, you would suppose he had dropped out of a comical almanac.
    When our hunt was over, Snider had some tea left which he gave to this old fellow, who, not knowing what to do with it, seems, put it in his pipe and smoked it. Soon afterwards he hung himself, and the next time we were up there hunting they talked about lynching us for poisoning the old man. The old squaws perched on the tops of their houses, cawing like so many crows, abusing us to everything they could lay their tongues to.
    These Indians were very fond of whale blubber. Occasionally one of these monsters would wash ashore, dead. All the Indians far and near would flock to the carcass and gorge themselves on the blubber, and pack off what they could carry. The stench of the animal could be smelled for miles, so it was not desirable to have any Indians near you who had touched the flesh. They couldn't be made to understand that this odor was not pleasant. They would say that ham was just as offensive to their nostrils.
    The Indians were also fond of sea lion meat. The distance from bluff to bluff at the mouth of the Klamath River was over one mile. The heavy breakers from the ocean striking the current of the river had thrown up a bank of sand from bluff to bluff. The channel of the river cut its way through this bank of sand and discharged into the ocean with a swift current. Sometimes during a heavy storm this mouth would be closed up, and the river would cut out another channel through this bank, which was from one-fourth to one-half a mile wide, not always in the same place. So the channel had at times been in different places extending from one bluff to another.
    Opposite on these two bluffs were villages. The one on the left bank was called Wiltosquaw, the one on the opposite was called Recqua. From their villages the Indians had a commanding view of the beach between the two bluffs. I frequently used to take my rifle and shoot the sea lion when the tide was coming in, so their bodies would be rolled in by the tide. The breakers were also more or less heavy, and as they had to be shot in the head or neck in order to kill them, it required quick work and a good deal of skill to kill them.
    The Indians from both villages would keep a lookout, and just as soon as one of these animals made its appearance, they would break from both villages at the top of their speed, men, women, and children. The men armed with a knife from two to four feet long, made out of a saw blade, with the handle about one third of the distance from one of the ends. The blade at this point was narrowed down, so as to form an easy grip for the hand, and this was rounded by wrapping it with the hide of the lion. Both ends of the blade were tapered down to a point, and kept quite sharp.
    The squaws carried their baskets strapped to their heads, while the children went to see the fun. The buck would hack and saw away with his knife, and when a piece of meat was detached, he would give it a toss over his head, to be caught by his squaw, who had her eagle eye on him. In the basket it would go. It was a perfect pandemonium, all yelling at the top of their voices, quarreling, jostling, and trying to push each other away from the carcass. After it was all over they would quiet down, and talk and joke over the fun they had had. Some of them would have quite serious gashes on their hands and arms, but seemed to take it all as a good joke. At first I thought they were fighting sure enough, but when I understood it, I enjoyed the joke as much as they did.
    To illustrate their customs, laws, etc.--one of the Indians at Recqua had a harpoon given to him by a white man. To this harpoon was attached a long rope for the purpose of capturing sea lion by standing on the edge of the channel of this sand bank. The sea lions would follow the salmon in, and would frequently come near enough to be struck with this harpoon.
    One day the owner of this harpoon was going fishing, and suggested to two others that if they would go along and help hold on to the rope, he would share the meat with them. This was all right. The sea was rough, and a sea lion was struck pretty well aft, and being on the top of a breaker at the time, jerked the three into the current and made his escape, harpoon and all.
    Two of the Indians managed to get ashore, but the third one was carried out beyond the breakers. There was a very high sea on, and it was a foregone conclusion that it was impossible to rescue him. Before he was drowned, two Indians had a fight over who should have his knife. The relatives of this man demanded pay for the dead man from the owner of the harpoon, who acknowledged the justice of the law, but declined to pay the price asked, saying that the man was a poor, good-for-nothing fellow, and his commercial value was small, etc., etc. The affair finally culminated in the deceased man's friends killing two of the others, whereupon they retaliated and killed two of the other's friends. Then, after much bickering, they settled the matter.
    We frequently used to camp at the mouth of the river, fishing and hunting. We had a company seine that we used to catch salmon and other fish with. Once at the mouth of the river we caught over two ton and a half of porgie at one haul. There was a species of lamprey eel that the Indians caught in quantities that were very fine eating. They had but one entrail that ran through them like a crane's. I have seen the Indians catch in baskets, set something on the same principle as the set net, a canoe very near full of these squirming things.
    These Indians, as I before stated, were full of superstition. One night an Indian came to my house during the small hours, very much excited. He wanted me to hurry up to Sa-aitl, a village a couple of miles from the post. He said that some of the upriver Indians were going to kill them for being witches. I lost no time in getting to the river where he had a canoe waiting for me.
    When I reached the village, sure enough there were a lot of excited Indians from up the river who were clamoring for the lives of its inhabitants, declaring that they were witches, etc., that they had bewitched the salmon, and made them run through the mountains instead of up the river where they could catch them, and that their children were hungry, and crying for them. Like all such beliefs, the more unreasonable and absurd they were the more difficult it was to reason them out of them. By arguments and threats I finally prevailed on them to desist. Their whole life seemed to be made up on such small affairs. It was a practical illustration of how nearly all their worry and unhappiness came from their imagination, and not from reality.
    In the fall of 1859 I was sent to Rogue River Valley to inquire into some Indian difficulties reported. I had to go from Crescent City to Jacksonville by stage. The first night out from Crescent City we stopped all night at a mining town called "Sailor Diggins." I was taken with most violent pains in my stomach. There seemed to be a ball of fire in it. I ate little or no supper, thinking it was indigestion. I suffered more or less on the whole trip. Upon my return to Ter-Waw the doctor told me it was my liver that was the cause of my trouble. After giving me some strong medicine, as he said, the whole thing disappeared.
    Since my return from the expedition under Maj. Garnett in the fall of 1858, until the spring of 1861 when I left for the Presidio where part of the 4th and 9th Infantry were assembled, owing to the breaking out of the rebellion, all this was the first respite I had had from Indians since I entered the service.
    I had little or nothing to do after the building of the post was completed, and never in my life enjoyed myself so much. It was the happiest part of my life. I was free from care and responsibility. My rank and position did not interfere with the ambition and excite the jealousies of others who were in a position to make me feel it. I have learned since that what was commendable in me as a Lieutenant is just the reverse since I have become a General Officer. Success in those days was commendated by your superiors, but nowadays it depends on how much your actions interfere with the ambitions and jealousies of your superiors.
    In the fall of 1860 I went east by the overland stage from San Francisco to near Jeffersonville, Missouri. Our route lay through Los Angeles, Fort Yuma, Tucson, El Paso, and Fort Smith, Arkansas, and occupied twenty-one days and nights to make the trip. It was the severest ordeal I have ever experienced of the kind. The heat and dust for a great portion of the way was intense. It was impossible to get any refreshing sleep driving all the time. I lost six hats on the trip. I would doze off to sleep, and then would wake up to find my hat gone.
    The Indians were bad through Arizona. One station not far from where Fort Bowie stands now had just been taken by Indians. We changed our jaded horses at this station for four wild mules. After proceeding some four miles from this station, the mules became frightened, broke loose from the stage, and left us standing on the plain until the driver returned to the station for the horses that had hauled us to the station just previously.
    While awaiting for the return of our driver, the eastern stage came along. One of its passengers was inquiring in a loud voice if any person from San Francisco was aboard of our stage. Upon close inspection I found this individual to be Sylvester Mowry, who was a classmate of mine. I had not seen him since graduation, before he had left the service and had cast his fortunes with Arizona. He thought he was mining. He also had political ambitions as well.
    I stopped over at Sherman, Texas, for a few days, having some business there. There was a fair in full progress there. Of all the hard characters assembled there I had never seen in all my life, gamblers, cutthroats, thieves of all descriptions seemed to take the lead. There not being sufficient accommodations in the hotel, a traveling companion and myself were put in a bed together in a small outhouse. This small place was filled with beds, and during the night I heard the landlord come in with some guest to show him a bed.
    He had no light, but would grope his way from one bed to another, feeling the occupants, and talking aloud to himself. He would go to a bed and say, "Two in this," and next, "Two in this," until he came to a bed with only one in. He would tell the new guest to turn in there. It was the conversation I heard in this dark room that gave me my impression of the people there assembled.
    The next day my traveling companion left me for the country, which left me all alone in that hard crowd. I was determined, if possible, not to sleep with any of that bad lot, so I rolled a pair of blankets I had into about the size of a man, and lay them by my side. This had the desired effect, for some time during the night the landlord came around several times and felt my bed, saying there were two in this, etc. So I escaped the disagreeable necessity of having to sleep with these people. I had a malarious attack while here which caused me to take my departure with as little delay as possible.
    Our stage journey terminated at a little place called Syracuse, to which point the railroad had just been completed. Just as we arrived at the station, a train of cars came in. I thought I never did see anything so grand and majestic as the locomotive. I had been in California for eight years, and had just spanned the continent on stage, and a very poor and uncomfortable one at that. I from there proceeded to my home near Dayton, Ohio, saw my relatives, and from there went to New York, from where I was ordered out to San Francisco with recruits.
    Col. Merchant of one of the artillery regiments was in charge with several junior officers, amongst whom were Louis A. Armistead, Lts. Baker, Reilly, Mills, Kellogg, and myself.
    Doctor Shorb and his young wife were also aboard. From San Francisco Doctor Shorb, wife, and I took passage on the steamer Columbia for up the coast. The Doctor was going to Fort Umpqua near the mouth of the Umpqua River. We encountered a fearful storm as we neared the mouth of the Umpqua, and in crossing the bar before entering the harbor, a heavy wave struck us aft and combed at least fifteen feet above the deck, pouring down upon it like so much lead, sweeping everything before it. The railing, steering wheel, snubbing posts, lockers, and in fact everything on the deck was swept off, the two men at the wheel included.
    The davits from which the boats hung were bent as though they were so much lead. One of the men was afterwards picked up in one of the boats, badly ruptured, while the other poor fellow could be seen in the breakers, struggling for his life. At one time when the ship was in the trough of the sea, the man appeared on the top of the wave above us, and seemed as if he could have jumped down on deck. After that he was lost sight of.
    As soon as the water ran off the deck, the Captain ran with a relieving tackle, and made it fast to the steering apparatus just in time to save the ship from going ashore. We lay by the next day until late in the afternoon to make the necessary repairs and to wait for the sea to run down. The sea remained heavy all the way down to Crescent City, the point I was to land, and the strain on the ship had so wrenched her that she leaked all over. It was raining hard all the time, and the water ran through the deck like a sieve.
    The stateroom had several inches of water in there. When the ship would careen the water rushing back and forth had anything but a cheering sound. Sometime during the night a woman in the room next to me had evidently wakened out of a sleep, and, hearing this rushing of the water, and no lights visible, commenced calling the Captain. Getting no response, she called to the mate, and getting no response, commenced praying to be saved. I didn't blame her, for it was calculated to frighten the bravest.
    When we neared Crescent City, the sea was so rough that the ship could not venture within a mile of the shore, so we had to lay off until small boats came out to us. It was very difficult to transfer the passengers to the small boats. The woman of the night before was to get off here. She at first declined, but finally, by putting a rope around her waist, she was lowered into a small boat. Even the small boats would occasionally take water, so we were all glad when we reached terra firma.
    I was glad to get back to Ter-Waw. I found things about as I had left them.
    In the spring of 1861 I proceeded with my company to the Presidio of San Francisco, where I joined several other companies of the 4th and 9th Infantry.
    Shortly after I left, Capt. L. C. Hunt was ordered to Fort Ter-Waw to reap the fruits of my sowing, and, strange to say, it has been ever thus through my life. I have had to do the rough work for others afterwards to get the benefits from it. In this way I have been the pioneer of all the country on the Pacific Coast, from the British to the Mexican borders.
Martin F. Schmitt, ed., General George Crook, His Autobiography, 1946, pages 3-81



Last revised March 15, 2024