Reminiscences of a Pioneer

Reminiscences of a Pioneer

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Title: Reminiscences of a Pioneer
Author: Colonel William Thompson
Release Date: March 8, 2004 [EBook #11508]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK
REMINISCENCES OF A PIONEER ***

Produced by David A. Schwan

Reminiscences of a Pioneer

By Colonel William Thompson
Editor Alturas, Cal., Plaindealer

San Francisco 1912

Contents

Chapter I
Farewell to the Old Southern Home II First Winter in the Willamette
Valley III Indian Outbreak of 1855 IV In Which Various Experiences
Are Discussed V Taking Revenge on Marauding Snakes VI One Bad
Tale From Canyon City History VII Col. Thompson's First Newspaper
Venture VIII History of the Modoc Indians IX The Ben Wright
Massacre X Treaty With the Modocs Made XI Battle in the Lava Beds
XII The Peace Commission's Work XIII Three Days Battle In the Lava
Beds XIV Trailing the Fugitives XV The Great Bannock War XVI
Snake Uprising in Eastern Oregon XVII Bannocks Double on Their
Tracks XVIII Another Attack That Miscarried XIX Reign of the
Vigilantes XX Passing of the Mogans XXI The Lookout Lynching

Illustrations
Colonel William Thompson Frontispiece (From photo taken at close of
Bannock War) Typical Scene in the Lava Beds Runway and Fort in
Lava Beds Captain Jack's Cave in the Lava Beds Captain Jack (From
photo belonging to Jas. D. Fairchild, Yreka, Cal.) Colonel William
Thompson (From photo taken at close of Modoc War)

Foreword
So rapidly is the Far West changing character, our pioneers should feel
in duty bound to preserve all they can of its early history. Many of
them are giving relics of frontier days to museums and historical
societies. And they do well. Yet such collections are unfortunately
accessible to only the few. Hence they do better who preserve the living
narratives of their times. For however unpretentious from the cold
aspect of literary art, these narratives breathe of courage and fortitude
amid hardships and perils, and tell as nothing else can of the hopes and
dreams of the hardy pathfinders, and of the compensations and
pleasures found in their sacrifices.
It is with this end in view, to preserve the life of the old days in its
many colors, that these recollections are penned. There was more to
this life than has been touched by the parlor romancers or makers of
moving-picture films. Perhaps some day these memories may serve to

illumine the historian delving in the human records of the past. And
perhaps, also, and this is the author's dearest wish, they may inspire
young readers to hold to the hardy traditions of the 'Fifties and to keep
this spirit alive in a country destined soon to be densely peopled with
newcomers from the long-settled parts of the world.

Reminiscences of a Pioneer


Chapter I
.
Farewell to the Old Southern Home.
I have often wondered, when viewing a modern passenger coach, with
its palace cars, its sleeping and dining cars, if those who cross the
"Great American Desert," from the Mississippi to the Pacific in four
days, realize the hardships, dangers and privations of the Argonauts of
fifty-eight years ago. The "Plains" were then an unbroken wilderness of
three thousand miles, inhabited by hordes of wild Indians, and not too
friendly to the white man journeying through his country.
The trip then required careful preparation--oxen, wagons, provisions,
arms and ammunition must be first of all provided. These were
essentials, and woe to the hapless immigrant who neglected these
provisions. To be stranded a thousand miles from the "settlements" was
a fate none but the most improvident and reckless cared to hazard.
It is to recount some of the trials, adventures, hardships, privations, as I
remember them, that these lines are written. For truly, the immigrants
of the early 50's were the true "Conquerors of the Wilderness." Cutting
loose from home and civilization, their all, including their women and
children, loaded into wagons, and drawn by slow-moving ox teams,
they fearlessly braved three thousand miles of almost trackless
wilderness.
As a small boy I remember the first mention of California, the land of
gold. My father returned from New Orleans in January. On board the
steamer coming up the Mississippi river, he had fallen in with some
gentlemen "returning to the States." They had given him a glowing

description of the "land of gold," and almost the first words spoken
after the family greetings were over was, "We are