Leaving “The Dalles” early one morning in February, 1870, with Dr. W. C. McKay as guide, I set out on my first visit to Warm Springs Agency. Our route was over high grassy plains, undulating, and sometimes broken by deep caÑons, occasionally wide enough to furnish extensive farm lands. Tyghe valley is traversed by two rivers that flow eastward from the foot of the Cascade mountains. It was, originally, a very paradise for Indians. It is a paradise still; but not for them. “White men wanted it;” hence our present visit to Warm Springs.

In 1855 the several Indian tribes occupying the country east of the Cascade mountains, as far up as John Day’s, south of the Columbia river, and north of the Blue mountain, met in Treaty Council those who had been selected as the representatives of the Government.

The Indians confederated, settling all their difficulties as between different tribes, and also with the Government. They went into this council to avoid farther hostilities. From Dr. W. C. McKay I learned that a body of troops were present; that the Indians insisted on Tyghe valley as a home; that the Government refused, and that the council continued for several days; that, finally, under threats and intimidations, the Indians agreed to accept a home on what is now “Warm Springs Reservation,” the Government agreeing to do certain things by way of furnishing mills, shops, schools, farms, etc.

At this time certain members of the Tenino band were in possession of, and had made improvements of value near, “The Dalles.” Under special agreements in treaty council these improvements were to be paid for by the Government.

Nineteen years have passed, and John Mission and Billy Chinook have not yet received one dollar for the aforesaid improvements. These men were converts to Christianity under the ministration of Father Waller and others, who were sent out by the Methodist Church as missionaries. These Indians are still faithful to the vows then taken.

Here is a good subject for some humane, sentimental boaster of national justice to meditate upon.

Had these men broken their compact with the Government, they would have been punished; and, had they been like other Indians who have figured in history, they would have been at last rewarded; not because the Government is prompt to do them justice, but because they would have compelled justice to come to them, though filtered by blood through the bones of innocent settlers and sweetened by tears and groans of widows and orphans.

Strong language this, I admit; but history supports the declaration. For nineteen years have these two humble red-skinned men waited patiently for remuneration; for nineteen years have they waited in vain. Poor fellows, I pity you! Had you a vote to give, your claim might have been paid years ago. Then some ambitious politician, anxious to secure your suffrage, would have importuned the department at Washington to do you justice; and the department, anxious for influence in Congress, would have recommended payment, and some member would have found it to his interest to “log-roll” it through. But you are unfortunate; you cannot vote. You are no trouble; you are peaceable and faithful, and you dare not now make any noise about your claim. You are dependent on a Government that has so much more important business to look out for, you are unknown.

Rebel once against your masters, and millions would be expended to punish you. A few thousands would make you rich, and would redeem the honor of the other “high contracting power.” But you will not be made glad now in your old age, because you are but “Injuns,” and the good ones of your people “are all under ground.” So say your white brethren, who now own what was once your country. Be patient still. The God, of whom you learned from the lips of the honored dead, will yet compel a nation of conquerors to drink the bitter dregs of repentance, and though you may never handle one dollar of the money due you, your children may. And somewhere in the future your race may come upon the plane where manhood is honored without the question of ancestry being raised.

Climbing a steep bluff, going south from Tygh valley, we look out on an extensive plain, bordered by mountain ranges, facing us from the further side. Forty miles brings us, by slow and ever-increasing easy grades, to the summit of the plain, where the road leads down a mountain so steep, that two common-sized horses cannot even manage a light carriage without rough-locking the wheels. From the starting-point into the chasm below, a small stream, looking like a bright ribbon that was crumpled and ruffled, may be seen. Down, down we go. Down, still down, until, standing on the bank of Warm Springs river, we behold the ribbon transformed into a rapid rushing current of snow-water, whose very clearness deceives us in respect to its depth. We drive into it at a rocky ford, and we are soon startled with the quick breathing of our team, while the water seems to rise over their backs, and we, standing on the seat, knee deep, encourage our horses to reach the other shore.

For nineteen years has the business of this agency been transacted through this current. We are on the other side, vowing that “Uncle Sam” must and shall have this stream bridged. So vowed our predecessors, and so our successors, too, would have vowed had they ever passed that way. A few miles from the crossing and near our road we see steam ascending, as if some subterranean monster was cooking his supper and had upset his kettle on the fires where it is supposed wicked people go. The nearer we came to the caldron the more we were convinced that our conjectures were correct, and stronger was our resolve to keep away from such places. Brimstone in moderate quantities scattered along the banks of this stream adds to our anxiety to reach a meeting-house, where we may feel safe.

This spring gives name to the Reservation, though twelve miles from the agency; to reach which, we climb up, up, up once more to another high sterile plain, devoid of everything like vegetation save sage bush. Mile after mile we travel, until suddenly the team halts on a brink, and we, to ascertain the cause, alight. Looking down, away down below glimmer a dozen lights. Tying all the wheels of our vehicle together and walking behind our team for safety, we go down into this fearful opening in the surface of the earth, and find “Warm Springs Agency” at the bottom of the chasm.

The country comprising this Indian Reservation is desolate in the extreme; the only available farming lands being found in the narrow caÑons hemmed in by high bluffs. The soil is alkaline and subject to extreme drought.

The Indian farms are small patches, irregular in shape and size. They were originally enclosed by the Government at great expense.

Remnants of the old fences may be seen, bearing witness of the way in which Government fulfilled its promises: round blocks of wood, on some of which the decaying poles still lie, the blocks being from ten to twenty feet apart; above them other poles were staked, and thus the fences were made.

Calculation on the cost of this fencing would probably exhibit about five dollars per rod. In later years the Indians have rebuilt and improved fences and houses.

The department farm occupies the best portion of the valley, and is cultivated for the benefit of the department; seldom, if ever, furnishing supplies or seed for Indians. The government buildings are generally good, substantial and comfortable for the employÉs.

The schools are not well attended, and are of but little value to the Indians,—the fault, however, resting principally with the Indian parents, who seem to have but little control over their children, and do not compel attendance.

A large number of the Indians are professedly Christian, and are making progress in civilization. The remainder are followers of “Smoheller,” the great dreamer,—a wild, superstitious bigot,—whose teachings harmonize with the old religions of these people. The Christian Indians are anxious for their young men to learn trades, and become like white men in practices of life.

The others are tenaciously clinging to the old habits of wild Indians,—isolating themselves from the Christian Indians and the agent.

Thus a wide difference is manifest among these people, apparently growing out of their religions. This is the real cause of difference; but why this difference exists is a question that is not difficult to answer.

The Indians who were located near the agency, where they could attend Christian service, were almost all of them Christianized; while those whose houses were remote from the agency, thus left to care for themselves, were followers of “Smoheller.” Had these people been permitted to select Tygh valley, in 1855, all of them might have been civilized; because then all would have had productive farms and been under the immediate eye of the agent.

If, then, they were compelled to accept homes that did not furnish them the means of subsistence and employment, it is the natural conclusion and the legitimate result of the bad management of the Government when making the treaty under which the Indians accepted this great fraud in lieu of their own beautiful homes.

The climate of Warm Springs differs materially from that of Grand Round, Siletz, or Alsea, being sheltered by the Cascade mountains from the heavy rains of the Willamette valley, but, being much higher, is dryer, and in winter much colder. The mountains act as a great refrigerator; hence snows are common, though seldom to an extent that prevent cattle and horses from living through without being fed.

The people are somewhat different in physique and habit. They are braver, and more warlike, and, in times past, have demonstrated their right to that character. Since they became parties to the treaty of 1855, they have, in the main, been faithful to the compact, the exceptions being those who were led away by the religion of “Smoheller.” Nothing serious has yet grown out of this “new departure.” What may occur hereafter depends entirely on the management of the department.

In the treaty of 1855 the confederated bands of middle Oregon reserved the right to the fishery at “The Dalles,” of which I have written at some length, on a former page. In 1866 a supplemental treaty was made with them by my predecessor,—the late Hon. J. W. P. Huntington,—by which the Indians released all claim to said fishery. The consideration was paltry, but was promptly paid by the Government, and has long since been expended.

The Indians who were parties to the two treaties referred to declare, most emphatically, that they did not understand the terms of the latter one; that they only consented to relinquish, so far as the exclusive right to take salmon was considered; but that they supposed and understood that they were still to enjoy the privilege in common with other people. A careful examination of the said treaty discloses the fact that they had entirely alienated all their right and interest thereto.

When the lands covering these fisheries were surveyed and selected as State lands, they were taken up by white men and enclosed with fences, preventing the Indians and others from having access thereto except on payment of a royalty or rental. The Indians, not understanding the right of the parties in possession, opened the enclosure, and really, in violation of law, went to the grounds where they and their fathers had always enjoyed, what was to them almost as dear as life, the privilege of taking salmon.

A compromise was made, the Indian Department paying the claimant the damage done to the growing crops through which the Indians had passed to the fishery. I submitted the question of releasing this land to the department at Washington, and also to the State land officers. The Government, and State land agent, Col. Thos. H. Cann, manifested a willingness to do justice to the wards of the Government.

No further action was ever taken, to my knowledge, by the federal authorities. I suppose that it was overlooked and forgotten. The injustice stands yet a reproach to a forgetful government.

“A bargain is a bargain,” so says the white man; and truly enough it may be held right in a legal view to compel the Indians to submit to whatever they may agree to. But there was a wrong done them in this instance that ought to have been undone. The plea, that so long as they were permitted to make annual visits to the Columbia river to take fish, would interfere with their civilization, because of the bad influences of vicious white men with whom they came in contact, and urged in justification of the treaty whereby they yielded their rights in the premises, was a severe commentary on American Christian civilization, but may have been just.

It is a fact that cannot be questioned, that the virtue of the natives, until debauched by association with low whites, is far above that of the latter, and that the Indian suffers most by the contact. Had the commissioners who conducted the treaty of 1855 consented to select Tygh valley for a Reservation, no necessity would have existed for the Indians to obtain fish for subsistence.

Warm Springs Agency I have and ever will declare to be unfit for civilized Indians to occupy. Since they were compelled to take up their abode thereon, not one season in three, on an average, has been propitious for raising farm products. When a people hitherto accustomed to ramble unrestrained, are confined on a reservation that has not the necessary resources to sustain them, they should be permitted the privilege of going outside for subsistence.

Shame on a powerful people who would deny them this privilege; yet it is done. While these Indians on Warm Springs have had many hindering causes why they should not progress, they have nevertheless made decided advancement in the march from savage to civilized life. The fact of their living on unproductive soil has not been the only impediment in their way. To enable my readers to understand more fully this subject, I will introduce the subjoined letter from the present acting agent on Warm Springs Reservation,—Captain John Smith. Early in February, 1874, I addressed a letter to him, stating my purpose of writing this volume, and requested him to furnish me with such facts as he would be willing to have appear in my book over his own signature.