The Log School-House on the Columbia | Page 7

I will
educate the boy, and his father will protect the school. The Indian heart
is hot and revengeful, but it is honest and true. I intend to be honest
with the Indians in all things, and if there should occur a dance of the
evil spirits at the Potlatch, no harm will ever come to the log
school-house; and I do not believe that such a dance with evil intent to
the settlers will ever take place. Human nature is all one book
everywhere."
As he stood there that morning, with uncovered head, an unexpected
event happened. The children suddenly said:
"Look!" and "Umatilla!"
Out of the forest came an aged Indian, of gigantic stature--Umatilla,
one of the chiefs of the Cascades; and beside him walked his only son,
the Light of the Eagle's Plume, or, as he had been named by the English,
Benjamin.
Umatilla, like Massasoit, of the early colonial history of Plymouth, was
a remarkable person. Surrounded by warlike tribes, he had been a man
of peace. He was a lover of Nature, and every shining cloud to his eye
was a chariot. He personified everything, like the ancient Greeks. He
talked in poetic figures; to him the sky was alive, every event had a
soul, and his mind had dwelt upon the great truths of Nature until he
had become more of a philosopher than a ruler.
He had been the father of a large family, but six of his sons had died of
the plague, or rather of the treatment which the medicine-men had used

in the disease, which was to sweat the victims in hot earthen ovens, and
then plunge them into the Columbia.
His whole heart in his old age was fixed upon his only son, Benjamin.
The two were seldom separated. To make the boy happy was the end of
the old chief's life.
The two approached the courtly schoolmaster.
"White master," said the old chief, "I have brought to you the Light of
the Eagle's Plume. He is my heart, and will be the heart of my people
when my suns are all passed over and my stars gone out. Will you
teach him to be a good chief? I want him to know English, and how to
worship the Master of Life. Will you take him to your school lodge?"
The tall master bowed low, and took the Indian boy by the hand.
The boy was a princely youth. His figure would have held the eye of a
sculptor in long admiration. The chisel of a Phidias could hardly have
exceeded such a form. His features were like the Roman, his eye quick
and lustrous, and his lips noble and kindly. He wore a blanket over his
shoulders, gathered in a long sash, ornamented with shells, about his
loins, and a crest of eagle plumes and shells on his head indicated his
rank and dignity. He could speak some words of Chinook, and English
imperfectly. He had mingled much with the officers of the Hudson Bay
Company, and so had learned many of the customs of civilization.
"I am honored," said the courtly, tall schoolmaster, "in having such a
youth for my pupil. Chief of the Umatillas, I thank thee. All that is
good in me will I give to your noble boy. I live with my eye upon the
future; the work of my life is to lead people to follow their better
natures and to be true to their best selves. There is a good angel in all
men here"--he put his hand on his heart--"it leads men away from evil;
it seeks the way of life; its end is yonder with the Infinite. Chief of the
Umatillas, I will try to teach the young man to follow it. Do you
understand?"
The aged chief bowed. He caught the meaning of the thought, if not of

the rather formal words. He comprehended the idea that the tall
schoolmaster believed goodness to be immortal. The regions of the
Cascades were indeed beautiful with their ancient forests and gleaming
mountain walls, but he had been taught to believe that the great Master
of Life had provided eternal scenes that transcended these for those
who were worthy to receive them.
An unexpected turn came to this stately and pacific interview. Mrs.
Woods was piqued at the deference that the tall schoolmaster had
shown to the chief and his son. She walked about restlessly, cut a rod
from one of the trees with a large knife which she always carried with
her, and at last called the master aside again.
"Say, mister, here. You ain't going to take that young Injun into your
school, are you? There'll be trouble, now, if you do. Know Injuns--you
don't. You are young, but 'tain't best for