One hundred years ago little more was known of the Pacific coast than that the land ended at the edge of the wide ocean, already furrowed by the keels of explorers, whalers, and traders.

On the north, Alexander McKenzie had reached the salt water, and a dozen years later Lewis and Clark had come to the mouth of the Columbia. A few years after that came the Astor settlement at Astoria, soon—in 1813—to be handed over to the British, to the Northwest Company, which remained in control there until its consolidation with the Hudson Bay Company in 1821.

One of the first commercial adventurers to the Columbia River, and one of the first men engaged by John Jacob Astor for his far western fur-trading expeditions, was Alexander Ross, a Scotchman, who came to Canada in early life, spent more than forty-four years in the fur trade, and finally died in the Red River settlement in 1856. Unlike most fur traders, he had the energy and the interest, in the later years of his life, to set down an account of what he had seen and done during those early years of anxiety, hard work, and success. His story “is not an arm-chair narrative derived from hearsay tales, but the result of practical experience on the spot.” During most of the time while engaged in trading with the savage tribes west of the Rocky Mountains he was a leader; and the success or failure of his expeditions—often the lives of his men and himself—depended on what he thought, did, and said. He was a man of high courage, unfailing energy, and close observation. His was serious work, yet he possessed some sense of humor, which, however, he allows to appear only now and then in his books. As a close observer stationed in the midst of things and admirably acquainted with conditions, he saw the blunders made by Mr. Astor and criticised them freely; yet he was always loyal to his chief, and speaks with apparent contempt of those other men of the north, hired by Mr. Astor for their great experience in the fur trade, who, when the War of 1812 broke out and the Northwesters descended on Astoria, seemed glad to desert their employer and to renew their allegiance to the company that they had left for Astor’s higher pay and greater privileges.

Ross wrote three books which are extraordinarily full of information, and most useful as accurate descriptions of early conditions in the country which is now the Northwestern United States. These are Adventures on the Oregon or Columbia River, Fur Hunters of the Far West, and, finally, an account of The Red River Settlement. These three books give us in more or less connected form a history of the Columbia River and the region about Old Fort Garry—now Winnipeg—a history far better than anything that has ever been set down.

The first book deals chiefly with the history of Mr. Astor’s enterprise from its beginning in 1809 until the taking over of the trading-post by the Northwest Company, the change of name to Fort George, the sale of the property of the Astor Company, and the departure on April 3, 1814, of Mr. Hunt, Astor’s representative, and the few men that went with him. After this, the Pacific Fur Company now being at an end, Ross, Cox, and McLellan entered the service of the Northwest Company.

The American Fur Company, established by Mr. Astor, began operations in 1809. One after another, other fur-trading companies were absorbed, until Astor saw himself at the head of all the fur trade south of Canada, with the possible hope of reaching out for the trade of the northern country east of the Rocky Mountains. West of that range was a vast field as yet almost untouched. True, the Russians had trading-posts in what was then Russian America, and sent the furs gathered there direct to China. True, also, that some American coasting vessels on the Pacific secured a few furs which they took to China, but this hardly touched the possibilities of half a continent. Astor clearly saw that, if systematized and carefully managed, this desultory traffic would be enormously profitable, and this led him to organize the Pacific Fur Company, the chief station of which was to be at the mouth of the Columbia River. That station might be connected with others on the Atlantic water-shed by a chain of trading-posts across the continent, and such a combination, he believed, would control the whole American fur trade. Furs could be shipped in either direction—down the Missouri, eastward; or to the west, down the Oregon, to go to China.

Understanding the wide experience of the northern fur traders, and with a view also to lessening the friction which might exist between the British and the American governments along the border, Astor engaged as field-workers for this far western service a number of the retired partners of the Northwest Company. Such men as McKay, McKenzie, McDougall, and Stuart were glad to become interested with him in the enterprise. Astor furnished the capital, amounting to two hundred thousand dollars; there were ten partners. The agreement was for a period of twenty years, with the proviso that if the project proved impractical or unprofitable after five years it might be dissolved. For these first five years, however, Astor was to bear all the expenses and losses, the other partners furnishing only their time and labor. The nine partners outside of Mr. Astor and Mr. Hunt each held four shares of the stock of two thousand dollars each, while Astor held fifty, and Hunt, as his representative and chief manager, five. The remaining shares were reserved for such clerks as might join the concern as adventurers, without other remuneration than their chances of success at the end of five years’ trial. As was natural, Astor controlled the enterprise. His manager was Wilson Price Hunt, a man wholly without experience in the Indian trade, but energetic, active, and persevering.

Ross learned of the project from Mr. McKay, who asked him to go to Montreal to talk about the matter. Ross was asked to join the expedition, and was the first one to do so, and with Robert Stuart made so good a bargain that these two were promised their promotion at the end of three years. Soon after the arrangements were completed a party under Mr. Hunt started across the continent overland, while another party headed by McKay sailed, September 10, 1810, for the mouth of the Columbia River.

The sorrows of that voyage have often been described. Captain Thorn, in command of the “Tonquin,” appears to have been a man impossible to get along with. They went around the Horn, touched at the Sandwich Islands, and at last reached the mouth of the Columbia River. There had been continual quarrels between the captain, his passengers, and the officers of the ship.

At last, however, the “Tonquin” was off the mouth of the Columbia River, a rough and stormy spot, of many sand-bars and high surf, and the weather was worse in spring than at any other time of the year. It was now March or April. Here there was constant mismanagement; boats were sent out to reconnoitre, and people were lost; the ship two or three times struck the bottom, became unmanageable, and was finally carried by the tide into Baker’s Bay. There, sheltered from the sea, it was safe.

The fur traders got ashore and began to look for the missing boats and men. During this journey Ross learned something about the Indians’ management of their canoes.

“We had on this occasion a specimen of Chinooke navigation. While crossing the river in an Indian canoe, on our way back to the ship, we were suddenly overtaken by a storm, and our craft was upset in the middle of the passage. The expertness of the natives in their favorite element was here put to the test. At this time we were upwards of two miles from the shore, while eight persons unable to swim were floating in every direction; coats, hats, and everything else adrift, and all depending on the fidelity of the four Indians who undertook to carry us over; yet, notwithstanding the roughness of the water, and the wind blowing a gale at the time, these poor fellows kept swimming about like so many fishes, righted the canoe, and got us all into her again, while they themselves staid in the water, with one hand on the canoe and the other paddling. In this manner they supported themselves, tossing to and fro, till we bailed the water out of our frail craft, and got under way again. Here it was that the Indians showed the skill and dexterity peculiar to them. The instant the canoe rose on the top of a wave, those on the windward side darted down their long paddles to the armpits in the water to prevent her from upsetting; while those on the leeside at the same moment pulled theirs up, but kept ready as soon as the wave had passed under her to thrust them down again in a similar manner, and thus by their alternate movements they kept the canoe steady, so that we got safe to shore without another upset, and with the loss of only a few articles of clothing; but we suffered severely from wet and cold.

“During this time the Indians from the village which we had left, seeing our critical situation, had manned and sent off two canoes to our assistance. One of the boats from the ship was also despatched for the same purpose; but all would have proved too late had we not been fortunate enough of ourselves to weather the storm.”

A few days after this the long boat was swamped off Chinook Point, and ten persons were saved by these Chinooks.

The fur traders and their property being at last ashore, they began to look about for a place where their fort should be built. The site selected was a knoll about twelve miles from the mouth of the inlet, and between Point George on the west and Tonquin Point on the east. They went about their work with dogged energy, but not cheerfully. They were glad to be on shore and free from the tyranny of Captain Thorn, but saddened by the misfortunes they had met with—the loss of the men in landing. Duncan McDougall, an old Northwester, was in command. He was a man of great experience, but Ross calls him a man of only ordinary capacity and unfit to command men. He became famous some years later by having the credit of conniving with the Northwest Company to swindle Mr. Astor out of most of his property at Astoria.

The little company that settled down in a new country amid wholly unaccustomed surroundings had before it a difficult—almost an impossible—task.

“The place thus selected for the emporium of the west, might challenge the whole continent to produce a spot of equal extent presenting more difficulties to the settler: studded with gigantic trees of almost incredible size, many of them measuring fifty feet in girth, and so close together, and intermingled with huge rocks, as to make it a work of no ordinary labour to level and clear the ground. With this task before us, every man, from the highest to the lowest, was armed with an axe in one hand and a gun in the other; the former for attacking the woods, the latter for defence against the savage hordes which were constantly prowling about. In the garb of labourers, and in the sweat of our brow, we now commenced earning our bread. In this manner we all kept toiling and tearing away, from sunrise till sunset—from Monday till Saturday; and during the nights we kept watch without intermission....

“Many of the party had never handled an axe before, and but few of them knew how to use a gun, but necessity, the mother of invention, soon taught us both. After placing our guns in some secure place at hand, and viewing the height and the breadth of the tree to be cut down, the party, with some labour, would erect a scaffold round it; this done, four men—for that was the number appointed to each of those huge trees—would then mount the scaffold, and commence cutting, at the height of eight or ten feet from the ground, the handles of our axes varying, according to circumstances, from two and a half to five feet in length. At every other stroke, a look was cast round, to see that all was safe; but the least rustling among the bushes caused a general stop; more or less time was thus lost in anxious suspense. After listening and looking round, the party resumed their labour, cutting and looking about alternately. In this manner the day would be spent, and often to little purpose: as night often set in before the tree begun with in the morning was half cut down. Indeed, it sometimes required two days, or more, to fell one tree; but when nearly cut through, it would be viewed fifty different times, and from as many different positions, to ascertain where it was likely to fall, and to warn parties of the danger.”

The labor that they had undertaken was hard and unceasing, the climate one of constant rains and fogs, the food was merely fish and wild roots; the Indians were so troublesome that in two months three of their men had been killed by them, others wounded by the fall of trees, and one had his hand blown off by gunpowder. All this produced discontent—four men deserted and were captured by the Indians, and a little later six more deserted, but were brought back by a friendly Indian.

Food and shelter were scanty and poor in quality. Heretofore all remonstrances to the man in command had received no attention, but at last even he realized the situation and distributed tents among the sick, and made some effort to improve the food.

As time passed and the white men began to learn something of the Chinook nature, it was discovered that these people, their immediate neighbors, had been telling the more distant Indians that the white men were enemies, just as they had been telling the white people that these distant tribes were enemies. The result of this was that the Chinooks were purchasing furs from the distant tribes and selling them to the traders at a handsome profit. As soon as this discovery was made, parties were sent out to learn something of these more distant tribes, to gain their confidence and to discover what they could about the country farther off. These parties, though often in danger, finally succeeded in establishing friendly relations with those other tribes, but for a long time the impression given by the Chinooks did not wear off.

It was in May that they laid the foundation of their first building and named the establishment Astoria, in honor of the projector of the enterprise. The labor of building was extraordinary, for it was impossible for them to use the enormous trees close to the fort, and they were obliged to go back into the interior to find logs small enough for building. These logs were transported on their shoulders, or dragged along over the ground, and this last method was so effective that in six days eight men harnessed as a team brought to the site all the timber required for a building sixty feet long by twenty-six feet broad.

On the first of June the “Tonquin” left Astoria for a trading voyage to the north. She carried with her most of her cargo, only a little having been landed, the captain intending to complete the unloading on his return. A little later the ship was captured by the Indians and with all on board blown up, and the whole crew—among them McKay—were lost, and, of course, the cargo destroyed.

In mid-July the post received a visit from Mr. Thompson, a Northwester, who came down the Columbia in a light canoe with a crew of men, chiefly from Montreal. McDougall received him with great cordiality, somewhat to the astonishment of the former Northwesters, who, now in the service of the Pacific Fur Company, regarded the Northwesters as rivals, and so enemies. Toward the end of July a small expedition, fitted out with the view of establishing a trading-post in the interior, started up the Columbia River in company with the returning Mr. Thompson. Understanding very little about navigation and these new waters, and as little about the management of the Chinook canoe, the first day of their travel was one of constant toil, striving to avoid the dangers of running aground on sand-banks and of being thrown on the shore. During the next few days they passed Bellevue Point and Point Vancouver, and at the foot of the Cascades they found a great body of Indians waiting for them to talk and to smoke. The labor of the portage was extreme, and the Indians played all sorts of tricks on the white men, evidently trying to see just how far they would be allowed to go. Here is an example:

“Not being accustomed myself to carry, I had of course, as well as some others, to stand sentinel; but seeing the rest almost wearied to death, I took hold of a roll of tobacco, and after adjusting it on my shoulder, and holding it fast with one hand, I moved on to ascend the first bank; at the top of which, however, I stood breathless, and could proceed no farther. In this awkward plight, I met an Indian, and made signs to him to convey the tobacco across, and that I would give him all the buttons on my coat; but he shook his head and refused. Thinking the fellow did not understand me, I threw the tobacco down, and pointing to the buttons one by one, at last he consented, and off he set at a full trot, and I after him; but just as we had reached his camp at the other end, he pitched it down a precipice of two hundred feet in height, and left me to recover it the best way I could. Off I started after my tobacco; and if I was out of breath after getting up the first bank, I was ten times more so now. During my scrambling among the rocks to recover my tobacco, not only the wag that played me the trick, but fifty others, indulged in a hearty laugh at my expense; but the best of it was, the fellow came for his payment, and wished to get not only the buttons but the coat along with them. I was for giving him—what he richly deserved—buttons of another mould; but peace in our present situation was deemed the better policy: so the rogue got the buttons, and we saw him no more.”

At the end of the month Thompson left them to hurry on eastward, and in the first days of August they reached a point on the river where they met horse Indians in considerable numbers. With these people they arranged to have the goods carried over the portage, and the Indians accepted the offer, and were so swift to do it that “in less than ten minutes after the whole cavalcade, goods and all, disappeared, leaving us standing in suspense and amazement.” However, at the other end of the portage the property was found safe and the chiefs were guarding it. Nevertheless, that night was passed by the traders in some alarm, but the danger, whatever it was, was put off when they persuaded the chiefs of the Indians to come and sit within their circle, and to harangue to their people during the night.

This portage was nine miles long, and, although their goods had been transported, the canoes and the canoe tackle, boats, and cooking utensils remained to be carried over. Four times daily they had to make this journey, heavily loaded, under a burning sun.

The main camp of the Indians here was fully occupied only during the salmon season, at which time it held about three thousand people, but the constant inhabitants did not exceed one hundred persons, whom Ross called Wy-am-pams, a tribe of Shahaptin stock. These horse Indians were without doubt Nez PercÉs or their representatives.

The traders had no choice of roads in getting into the country; and in following up the Columbia River they followed the course of the salmon, on which the Indians depended for food, and came to camp after camp of people, many of whom had never before seen white men. By August 8 they had trouble. The canoes, sailing with a fair wind, were overtaken by a squall, and everything was wet. Very incautiously they commenced to spread out these wet things to dry them, and were at once surrounded by covetous Indians. They lost no time in bundling their stuff together and putting it into the canoes, and, “in order to amuse for a moment, and to attract the attention of the crowd, I laid hold of an axe, and set it up at the distance of eighty yards, then taking up my rifle, drove a ball through it.” This manoeuvre was successful, and while the Indians were staring at the marvel the canoes got off. Near the mouth of the Walla Walla the traders discovered a large body of men coming toward them, all armed and painted and preceded by three chiefs, who made elaborate speeches and smoked with them. These were various tribes of Shahaptin stock, fine people, well dressed and possessed of many horses, four thousand being within sight of the camp. They were extremely friendly, and their chief, now and at later times, was helpful to the traders.

The next day they came to the point where the two main forks of the Columbia join—Clark’s Fork on the north and Lewis Fork on the south—and there in the midst of the Indian camp stood a British flag, planted by Mr. Thompson, who had laid claim to the country north of the forks as British territory. He had left with the Indians a paper forbidding the subjects of other countries to trade north of this point, and the Indians seemed disposed to uphold this order. The Astorians wished to go up Clark’s Fork, and in the afternoon the chiefs held a council, at which Ross and Stuart were present, and consent to go forward was gained. The people were friendly, and Tummatapam, the chief before alluded to, was a kindly man and seemed really to like the fur traders, who treated him very well.

Journeying up the North Fork, they were overtaken after a time by three mounted Walla Walla Indians, who gave them a bag of shot which they had left behind at their encampment of the night before; but on this day they saw only a few Indians and set no guard at night. The next day they were early afloat.

“On the 17th, we were paddling along at daylight. On putting on shore to breakfast, four Indians on horseback joined us. The moment they alighted, one set about hobbling their horses, another to gather small sticks, a third to make a fire, and the fourth to catch fish. For this purpose, the fisherman cut off a bit of his leathern shirt, about the size of a small bean; then pulling out two or three hairs from his horse’s tail for a line, tied the bit of leather to one end of it, in place of a hook or fly. Thus prepared, he entered the river a little way, sat down on a stone and began throwing the small fish, three or four inches long, on shore, just as fast as he pleased; and while he was thus employed, another picked them up and threw them towards the fire while the third stuck them up round it in a circle, on small sticks; and they were no sooner up than roasted. The fellows then sitting down, swallowed them—heads, tails, bones, guts, fins, and all, in no time, just as one would swallow the yolk of an egg. Now all this was but the work of a few minutes; and before our man had his kettle ready for the fire, the Indians were already eating their breakfast. When the fish had hold of the bit of wet leather, or bait, their teeth got entangled in it, so as to give time to jerk them on shore, which was to us a new mode of angling; fire produced by the friction of two bits of wood was also a novelty; but what surprised us most of all, was the regularity with which they proceeded, and the quickness of the whole process, which actually took them less time to perform, than it has taken me to note it down.” A little later in the day came a pathetic example of the simplicity of the Indians and their extraordinary belief in the powers of the strange white people, when their parents brought to the fur-traders two dead children and asked that they restore them to life, for which favor a horse was to be given. At Priest Rapids the travellers were met by a large throng of Indians who were perfectly friendly, smoked with them, and performed the usual friendly acts of singing and dancing. The journey up the river continued to be strenuous, for the current was swift and the rapids many. Horses were plentiful here and the Indians were eager to sell them, but the traders, travelling by canoe, had no possible use for them and declined to purchase any more. A day or two after passing the Pisscow River, “the ibex, the white musk goat,” is mentioned, one of the early references to this species, and speaking of one of its striking characters. Now soon they met with Indians who had in their possession a gun, tobacco, and some other articles which they said had been purchased from white people, no doubt a party of Northwesters. The first of September had come, and it was now time to look out for winter-quarters, if buildings were to be erected which could be occupied during the winter. The situation chosen was near the mouth of the Oakinacken—Okanagan—River at the end of a range of high, rocky, wooded hills. Here a small dwelling-house was begun, but before it was finished four men were sent back to Astoria, and four others set off for the head-waters of the Okanagan,1 while Ross himself and one small dog called Weasel remained to hold the fort.

We may imagine that his situation was an uncomfortable one, and he fully appreciated its horrors, “alone in this unhallowed wilderness, without friend or white man within hundreds of miles of me, surrounded by savages who had never seen a white man, where every day seemed a week, every night a month. I pined, I languished, my head turned gray, and in a brief space ten years were added to my age. Yet man is born to endure, and my only consolation was in my Bible.”

As soon as the others were gone Ross began to patch up the house and put the few goods left him into a kind of cellar which he made; then he set to work to learn the language of the Indians, and wrote vocabulary after vocabulary. The task was hard and wearisome, but his progress was encouraging.

A crowd of inquisitive Indians visited the place to see this lonely white man. Ross associated with them, traded with them, and at last began to talk to them and finally to comprehend their speech, but the evenings were long and the winter dreary. Each night he primed his gun and pistol and barricaded his door, and the kindly Indians always left the house at dusk. On the other hand, the Indians themselves feared attacks by enemies, and often gave him to understand that there was danger.

“One night I was suddenly awakened out my sleep by the unusual noise and continual barking of Weasel, running backwards and forwards through the house. Half asleep, half awake, I felt greatly agitated and alarmed. My faithful gun and pistol were at hand, for they lay always at my side in bed; but then all was dark, I could see nothing, could hear nothing but the barking of Weasel, which was continually growing louder and louder. I then thought there must be somebody in the house; for I was ready to put the worst construction on appearances. In this perplexing dilemma I got my hand, with as little noise as possible, to the muzzle of my gun, and gradually drawing out the ramrod, tried, with my right arm stretched out, to stir up the embers, so that I might see; but here again a new danger presented itself; I was exposing myself as a mark to a ball or an arrow, without the chance of defending myself, for the light would show me to the enemy before I could see my object; but there was no alternative, and something must be done. Between hope and despair I managed to stir up the ashes, so that I could see little Weasel running to and fro to the cellar-door. I concluded that the enemy must be skulking in the cellar. I then, but not without difficulty, got a candle lighted. Holding the candle in my left hand, I laid hold of my pistol. With the lynx-eye and wary step of a cat ready to pounce on its prey, I advanced rather obliquely, with my right arm stretched out at full length holding the cocked pistol, till I got to the cellar-door, the little dog all the while making a furious noise; when, lo! what was there but a skunk sitting on a roll of tobacco! The shot blew it almost to atoms, and so delicately perfumed everything in the house that I was scarcely able to live in it for days afterwards; but that was not all, the trivial incident was productive of very bad consequences. Several hundreds of Indians being encamped about the place at the time, no sooner did they see the light, or hear the shot, than they all rushed into the house, thinking something serious had happened. So far, however, there were no great harm; but when they beheld two rolls of tobacco and two small bales of goods, it appeared such wealth in their eyes that they could scarcely recover from the surprise. These tempting articles I had endeavored all along to keep as much as possible out of their sight, and dealt them out with a sparing hand, and as long as the Indians did not see them in bulk all went well; but after the overwhelming exhibition of so much property there was no satisfying them. They became importunate and troublesome for some time, and caused me much anxiety. The time fixed for Mr. Stuart’s return had now arrived, and I most anxiously looked for him every hour. Often had I reason to curse the intrusion of the skunk into my house. After some time, however, things settled down again to their usual level, and good order and good feelings were again renewed between us.”

Stuart did not come, and the Indians became more bold, and loitered about the place. Strange Indians were constantly arriving, and the Indians held frequent councils. Ross called a feast and gave the Indians a reason for Stuart’s absence, suggesting that they should go to work and bring in furs, in order that when the goods came they might have something with which to buy them. Stuart was gone for 188 days, and finally returned March 22, 1812. During his absence Ross had secured 1,550 beaver, besides other furs, worth in the Canton market 2,250 pounds sterling and costing in the merchandise which had been exchanged for them only 35 pounds sterling—“a specimen of our trade among the Indians!”

Stuart had gone north to the head of the Okanagan and had crossed over to the south branch of the Fraser River and met “a powerful nation called the She Whaps.” There he had been detained by snow and had wintered with these people, among whom he had arranged to establish a trading-post. From the post at the mouth of the river came bad news. The little schooner “Dolly,” the frame of which had been sent out to Astoria in the “Tonquin,” was too small to be of any particular service, and being manned by people without much knowledge of seamanship was unlucky from the beginning, and was finally abandoned as useless for the purpose of getting about. There was complaint also of the quality of the trade goods sent out by Mr. Astor, but of all the news that came to the people up the river the most important was the rumor that the “Tonquin” had been destroyed with all on board. The story of this destruction, as told by Ross Cox, was given in an earlier volume.2 Not many tears were shed over the death of Captain Thorn at Astoria, we may feel sure, but that McKay should have been lost was a real sorrow and a genuine misfortune, for McKay was a man of great experience and of extraordinary force.

In the meantime, Wilson Price Hunt, Astor’s chief assistant, Donald McKenzie, and later Ramsay Crooks, started from St. Louis to make the journey overland to the coast. The original purpose was to strike the upper reaches of the Columbia River and go down that stream in canoes, but, as the courses and character of the river were wholly unknown, all sorts of difficulties were encountered, and the canoes were at last abandoned; the expedition split up into different parties, and a number of men were lost. At last McKenzie reached Astoria January 10, 1812, while Hunt’s party arrived in February.

At the end of March parties left Astoria, one under Mr. Reed for New York overland, another under Mr. Farnham to search for the goods left en cache by Hunt on his journey, and a third under Robert Stuart to Okanagan with supplies for that post. These all started together under the command of Mr. Stuart. At the Long Narrows they got into difficulties with the Indians, and McLellan killed two Indians and the others fled. Trouble was threatening, but peace was at last secured by the gift of six blankets and some other trifles. In the mÊlÉe the despatches which Reed was taking to New York were lost, and when they were lost that expedition was at an end.

A little later they were hailed in English by some one asking them to come on shore, and when they reached the bank they found standing, “like two spectres,” Crooks and John Day, who had been left among the Snake Indians by Mr. Hunt the preceding autumn. The story told by these two men was pathetic enough. They were starving most of the time, lived largely on roots, had been robbed of rifles, and would inevitably have perished had it not been for a good old man who treated them like a father—killed a horse to make dried meat for them, and was about to start them out on the journey to St. Louis that very day, when the canoes hove in sight.

Mr. Stuart rewarded the old man to whom these men owed their lives, took them along with him and returned to Astoria, where they found the company’s ship “Beaver” just arriving with a supply of goods and reinforcements of men. It was now May, and a number of the partners being at Astoria it was determined that David Stuart should return to Okanagan, work to the north, and establish another post between that and New Caledonia, that McKenzie should winter on Snake River, that Clark should winter at Spokane, that Robert Stuart should go overland to St. Louis with despatches for Mr. Astor, and that Mr. Hunt should go with the “Beaver” to the Russian settlements to the north. Sixty-two persons left Astoria for the interior on the 29th of June, it having been determined that all the land parties should travel together as far as the forks of the Columbia, where Lewis River and Clark River come together. These land parties were under the command of Mr. Clark. Nothing happened until they reached the Cascades, where a few arrows were shot at them, but at the Long Narrows the Indians were numerous and threatening. Mr. Clark, although usually a man of nerve, seems to have been frightened by this demonstration, and it required the determination of McKenzie and David Stuart to induce him to go forward. They got through the pass without molestation or loss.

In looking about through an Indian camp, McKenzie and Stuart saw in a lodge of one of the chiefs the rifle that had been taken away from Mr. Reed when he was wounded, and they were determined to have it. As soon as the Narrows had been safely passed, McKenzie took eight men and went direct to the chief’s lodge. He put four men at the door and with the other four entered and asked for the stolen rifle. The chief denied that it was in his lodge. McKenzie asked for it again and said he was determined to have it, and when it was not given up, he took his knife and began to turn over and cut up everything that came in his way and at last discovered the rifle, and after scolding the chief returned to the canoes. No time was wasted, and the Indians, though gathering in crowds, did nothing. The next day they camped at a point where Crooks and John Day had been robbed of their arms. The Indians were friendly enough, and among those who flocked about the white men was the one who had taken John Day’s rifle. He was at once captured and tied up, but a little later was set free.

At Walla Walla, Robert Stuart purchased ten horses from the Nez PercÉs and set out for St. Louis with five men, including Messrs. Crooks and McLellan, who had resigned from the company. David Stuart went up the Okanagan, and Ross remained at the post at its mouth, a Scotchman and a French Canadian being with him. Later, Ross followed Robert Stuart’s route of the previous winter, got to the She-Whaps, and established a good trade. They paid five leaves of tobacco for a beaver skin, and at last when their goods were exhausted and Ross had only one yard of white cotton remaining, one of the chiefs gave him twenty prime beaver skins for it.

This trading station was at what Ross calls Comeloups—of course, the Kamloops of our day.

On his return from this trip, Ross was formally appointed to the post of Okanagan, although, as a matter of fact, he had been in charge of it since its establishment. In early December he went to Fort Spokane, where he met Mr. Clark, who was in charge of a post there, and an opposition post of the Northwest Company was close by. The politics and secret quarrels of the two companies, each striving to get the most fur, were constant—and, of course, were not hidden from the Indians, who in every way strove to play on the traders tricks similar to those played on them. Ross left Spokane Fort a few days later, and on his way home had one of those experiences that so often came to travellers in those old days and that have so often proved fatal.

“In the evening of the 13th, not far from home, as we were ascending a very steep hill, at the top of which is a vast plain, I and my man had to walk, leaving our horses to shift for themselves, and climb up as they could; and so steep and intricate were the windings that I had to throw off my coat, which, together with my gun, I laid on one of the pack-horses. The moment we reached the top, and before we could gather our horses or look about us, we were overtaken by a tremendous cold snow storm; the sun became instantly obscured, and the wind blew a hurricane. We were taken by surprise. I immediately called out to the men to shift for themselves, and let the horses do the same. Just at this moment I accidentally came in contact with one of the loaded horses, for such was the darkness that we could not see three feet ahead; but, unfortunately, it was not the horse on which I had laid my coat and gun. I instantly cut the tyings, threw off the load, and mounting on the pack-saddle, rode off at full speed through the deep snow, in the hopes of reaching a well-known place of shelter not far off; but in the darkness and confusion I missed the place, and at last got so benumbed with cold that I could ride no farther; and, besides, my horse was almost exhausted. In this plight I dismounted and took to walking, in order to warm myself. But no place of shelter was to be found. Night came on; the storm increased in violence; my horse gave up; and I myself was so exhausted, wandering through the deep snow, that I could go no further. Here I halted, unable to decide what to do. My situation appeared desperate: without my coat; without my gun; without even a fire-steel. In such a situation I must perish. At last I resolved on digging a hole in the snow; but in trying to do so, I was several times in danger of being suffocated with the drift and eddy. In this dilemma I unsaddled my horse, which stood motionless as a statue in the snow. I put the saddle under me, and the saddle-cloth, about the size of a handkerchief, round my shoulders, then squatted down in the dismal hole, more likely to prove my grave than a shelter. On entering the hole I said to myself, ‘Keep awake and live; sleep and die.’ I had not been long, however, in this dismal burrow before the cold, notwithstanding my utmost exertions to keep my feet warm, gained so fast upon me that I was obliged to take off my shoes, then pull my trousers, by little and little, over my feet, till at last I had the waistband round my toes; and all would not do. I was now reduced to the last shift, and tried to keep my feet warm at the risk of freezing my body. At last I had scarcely strength to move a limb; the cold was gaining fast upon me; and the inclination to sleep almost overcame me. In this condition I passed the whole night; nor did the morning promise me much relief; yet I thought it offered me a glimpse of hope, and that hope induced me to endeavour to break out of my snowy prison. I tried, but in vain, to put on my frozen shoes; I tried again and again before I could succeed. I then dug my saddle out of the snow, and after repeated efforts, reached the horse and put the saddle on; but could not myself get into the saddle. Ten o’clock next day came before there was any abatement of the storm, and when it did clear up a little I knew not where I was; still it was cheering to see the storm abate. I tried again to get into the saddle; and when I at last succeeded, my half frozen horse refused to carry me, for he could scarcely lift a leg. I then alighted and tried to walk; but the storm broke out again with redoubled violence. I saw no hope of saving myself but to kill the horse, open him, and get into his body, and I drew my hunting-knife for the purpose; but then it occurred to me that the body would freeze, and that I could not, in that case, extricate myself. I therefore abandoned the idea, laid my knife by, and tried again to walk, and again got into the saddle. The storm now abating a little, my horse began to move; and I kept wandering about through the snow till three o’clock in the afternoon, when the storm abated altogether; and the sun coming out, I recognized my position. I was then not two miles from my own house, where I arrived at dusk; and it was high time, for I could not have gone much farther; and after all it was my poor horse that saved me, for had I set out on foot, I should never, in my exhausted condition, have reached the house.”

A little later he made another winter journey of great discomfort, suffering much from cold and hunger. His return to Okanagan was down what Ross calls the Sa-mick-a-meigh River,3 a region which twenty-five or thirty years ago abounded in mountain sheep and was often visited by Eastern sportsmen.

In his account of the journey of Mr. Clarke and his party to Spokane, made the August previous, Ross gives an account of the loss and recovery of Ross Cox, which that author has himself told in detail in his book referred to in a previous volume.4 Ross treats the adventure somewhat lightly, although he does remark that when he was at Spokane in the winter Cox had hardly recovered yet.

It was the next spring that Clarke, an old Northwester, who might have known better, committed the grave indiscretion of hanging an Indian who had stolen a silver goblet but afterward returned it. It was not until the deed had been done and the angry Indians had disappeared to carry the news in all directions and to assemble surrounding tribes to take revenge on the white men that Clarke appreciated what he had done. Fortunately the people were all packed up ready to start, and they hastily loaded their canoes and went on down the stream.

McKenzie, in the meantime, had reached the middle of the Nez PercÉs country and was wintering there, but he soon found that he was not in a trapping country. The Nez PercÉs hunted buffalo for food and went to war for glory. They did not like beaver trapping and made a poor trade. Now, McKenzie while on a visit to Fort Spokane learned from McTavish, a Northwester, of the war between Great Britain and the United States. He hurried back to his post there, put his goods in cache, and set out for Astoria, which he reached in 1813. At Astoria things were not cheerful. The ship had not returned, and McDougall and McKenzie felt that they were likely to be pushed out of the country by the Northwesters. However, McKenzie turned about and started up the river. When he reached his post he found that his cache had been raised. The older Indians admitted the robbery, and said that it had been done by young men whom they could not control. McKenzie was a man of great courage, and when the chiefs would not assist him in recovering his property he determined to recover it himself.

“Accordingly next morning, after depositing in a safe place the few articles he had brought with him, he and his little band, armed cap-a-pie, set out on foot for the camp. On their approach, the Indians, suspecting something, turned out in groups here and there, also armed. But McKenzie, without a moment’s hesitation, or giving them time to reflect, ordered Mr. Seaton, who commanded the men, to surround the first wigwam or lodge reached with charged bayonets, while he himself and Mr. Reed entered the lodge, ransacked it, turning everything topsy-turvy, and with their drawn daggers cutting and ripping open everything that might be supposed to conceal the stolen property. In this manner they went from one lodge to another till they had searched five or six with various success, when the chiefs demanded a parley, and gave McKenzie to understand that if he desisted they would do the business themselves, and more effectually. McKenzie, after some feigned reluctance, at last agreed to the chiefs’ proposition. They then asked him to withdraw; but this he peremptorily refused, knowing from experience that they were least exposed in the camp; for Indians are always averse to hostilities taking place in their camp, in the midst of their women and children. Had the Indians foreseen or been aware of the intention of the whites, they would never have allowed them within their camp. But they were taken by surprise, and that circumstance saved the whites. However, as soon as the chiefs undertook the business, McKenzie and his men stood still and looked on. The chiefs went from house to house, and after about three hours time they returned, bringing with them a large portion of the property, and delivered it to McKenzie, when he and his men left the camp and returned home, bearing off in triumph the fruits of their valour; and well pleased with their hairbreadth adventure; an adventure not to be repeated. And under all circumstances, it was at the time considered the boldest step ever taken by the whites on Columbian ground.”

However, the Indians determined to get even with McKenzie, and they did this by refusing to sell the horses which were absolutely necessary to the fur traders, since horses were the only food available, for they were not in a position to go out and run buffalo. McKenzie later got the best of them by this plan: When the whites had nothing to eat, the articles usually paid for a horse were tied up in a bundle; this done, McKenzie, with ten or twelve of his men, would sally forth with their rifles to the grazing ground of the horses, shoot the fattest they could find, and carry off the flesh to their camp, leaving the price stuck up on a pole alongside the head of the dead horse.

“This manoeuvre succeeded several times, and annoyed the Indians very much; some of them lost their best horses by it. Then it was that they combined to attack the whites in their camp. This news was brought McKenzie by one of his hired spies, and was confirmed by the fact of an Indian offering to sell a horse for powder and ball only. From various other suspicious circumstances there remained but little doubt in the minds of the whites but that there was some dark design in agitation. In this critical conjuncture, McKenzie again eluded their grasp by ensconcing himself and his party in an island in the middle of the river. There they remained, in a manner blockaded by the Indians; but not so closely watched but that they appeared every now and then with their long rifles among the Shahaptian horses; so that the Indians grew tired of their predatory excursions, and therefore sent a messenger to McKenzie. A parley ensued between the main land and the island; the result of which was, that the Indians agreed to sell horses to the whites at the usual price—the whites, on their part, to give up their marauding practices.”

The trade in horses now went on briskly, although McKenzie regarded the Indians with much suspicion. He procured food and bought eighty horses, which he sent off to Spokane. It was about this time that news came to them of Mr. Clark’s ill-advised punishment of the Indians. There was but one opinion among the traders, and they pursued the only possible course: took to their canoes, and went down the river to Astoria.

The journeyings of the party which had started overland to St. Louis the summer before were difficult enough. They starved and travelled, and travelled and starved; crossed the mountains, and wintered on their eastern flanks, and finally reached St. Louis April 30.

Mr. Hunt, after trading along the coast of Russian America, went to the Sandwich Islands and then to Canton. On his return Mr. Hunt waited for a time at the Sandwich Islands, hoping that a ship from New York might come to the relief of Astoria. He waited in vain, and finally chartering the ship “Albatross” he reached Astoria in August.

The war between Great Britain and the United States had led the Northwest Fur Company to believe that before long they could get possession of Astoria, and thus hold the whole trade on the Pacific coast, except that of the Russians. The Northwesters McTavish and Stuart were on their way to the mouth of the Columbia to meet the ship “Isaac Tod,” which was daily expected, and the Astorians had no means of defence. They could fight off the Northwesters, of course, but if a ship with guns came they would be helpless. McDougall seemed to have been quite willing to give up the post and to sell the furs to the Northwesters, and before long this took place. McDougall has generally been charged with secretly agreeing to swindle Mr. Astor by fixing absurdly low prices on the furs and goods. At all events, all of the goods on hand, wherever stationed, were delivered to the Northwest Company at ten per cent on cost and charges, while the furs were valued at so much per skin. Ross declared that the transaction was considered fair and equitable on both sides, but other men who were there speak of it in quite a different way. The Indians, who for the past year or two had declared themselves the firm friends of the fur traders, still wished to defend these friends from the attacks of their enemies. Old Come Comly even professed to be anxious to fight for them, but when the sloop-of-war “Raccoon” came into Baker’s Bay the Indian chief wholly changed his attitude, and declared that he was glad that he had lived long enough to see a great ship of his brother King George enter the river. He received a drink of wine, a flag, coat, hat, and sword, and became wholly British.

Captain Black, of the “Raccoon,” and his ship’s company had hoped to capture Astoria with all its furs—a rich prize—and he was much disappointed when he found that all these things had been sold to the Northwest Company by amicable agreement.

In the spring of 1814 Mr. Hunt, accompanied by several members of the Astoria party, took their final departure from Fort George. A number of those who had been Astorians, when freed from their contracts or agreements by Mr. Hunt, again took service with the Northwest Company, most of them receiving such work as they were qualified to perform. Ross was put in charge of the post at Okanagan, as he had been under the Pacific Fur Company. Stationed here now for some time, he gives an excellent picture of the life, and especially good accounts of the manners, ways, and customs of the Indians, and, with an interesting Chinook vocabulary and a table of weather at the mouth of the Columbia, closes the volume. As an account of the Astor project to control the fur trade of the Pacific coast and of the difficulties of establishing a trading post among the Indians of the Columbia River, the book is of extreme interest.