Reminiscences of a Pioneer | Page 9

exceedingly thin veneering
of civilization, and in the presence of such scenes of diabolical atrocity
would slip it off as a snake sheds his skin. I have seen men as kind and
gentle,--as humane--as yourself transformed into almost savages in the
presence of such scenes.
For a year previous to the great outbreak, the Indians would leave their
reservations in squads, and after murdering and pillaging the
settlements, would return with their plunder to the protection of the
agencies. Demands made for their surrender by the settlers were
answered by a counter demand for their authority, which required delay
and generally ended with the escape of the murderers. The result was
that squads of Indians off the reservations were attacked and sometimes
exterminated. Thus affairs grew from bad to worse until the final great
outbreak during the summer of 1855.
Geo. L. Curry, Governor of the Territory of Oregon, at once issued a
call to arms and volunteers from every part of the territory instantly
responded. A company of U. S. dragoons under command of Capt. A. J.
Smith, who subsequently achieved fame in the war of the States, was
stationed in Southern Oregon, and rendered all possible aid, but the
slow tactics of the regulars was illy calculated to cope with the savages.
The main reliance, therefore, must be placed in the citizen soldiery.
Every county in the Territory answered the call to arms, forming one or
more companies, the men, as a rule, supplying their own horses, arms,
ammunition, and at the beginning of the outbreak, their own blankets
and provisions. There was no question about pay. The men simply
elected their own officers and without delay moved to the front.
Linn county furnished one company under Capt. Jonathan Keeny and
went south to join Col. Ross' command and was joined by many of our
neighbors. My two brothers also went with this command, one as
teamster, the other shouldering the spare rifle. As previously remarked,
age was not considered, the boy of 14 marching side by side with the
gray haired man, armed with the rifles they brought from the States.

The ammunition consisted of powder, caps and molded bullets, nor was
the "patchen" for the bullet omitted. The powder was carried in a
powder horn, the caps in a tin box, the bullets in a shot pouch and
patchen for the bullets was cut out the proper size and strung on a stout
leather thong attached to and supporting the shot pouch and powder
horn.
In the fall after the departure of the first contingent, and at a time when
families were practically defenseless, news reached us by a tired rider
that 700 Indians had crossed the trail over the Cascade mountains and
were burning the homes and butchering the settlers on the Calapooya,
twenty miles away. The news reached us in the night, and one can
easily imagine the confusion and consternation that everywhere
prevailed. To realize our situation one must remember that most of the
men and about all of the guns had gone south. I shall never forget the
awful suspense and dread that prevailed in our home as the family sat
in a group through the long weary hours of that night, anxiously
awaiting the return of the day, yet dreading what the day might bring
forth. Horses were gathered and securely tied about the house, and such
arms as we possessed made ready for instant use. At last day broke, and
searching with the eye the almost boundless prairie, no enemy was in
sight.
As the sun rose above the rim of the distant mountains my father
determined to disprove or verify the rumor. Neighbors sought to
dissuade him, but mounting a swift horse he started for Brownsville on
the Calapooya. Meantime everything was in readiness for forting up
should it become necessary. The day wore on, still no news. In vain we
gazed from the house top over the prairie for a sight of a horseman.
Doubt and uncertainty as to the fate of my father and our own fate was
almost worse than death. The day wore on. Would father never
return--had he been killed? were the questions whispered one with
another. My mother alone was confident, relying on father's discretion
and the further fact that he was riding the swiftest horse in the Territory.
At last near sunset we descried him galloping leisurely toward home.
When within a short distance he settled into a walk, and we then knew
that the danger, at least for the present, was not imminent. The only
emotion manifested by my mother was a stray tear that coursed down
her pale and trouble-worn cheek. My father reported a false alarm,

originating in the overwrought imagination of settlers on the exposed
margin of the valley.
At