OVER THE FALLS—FIRST ELECTION. Taking up our narrative, let us resume our journey to Klamath Agency, accompanied by O-che-o and a few of his head men; Tah-home and Ka-ko-na taking charge of the loose stock, and riding, for once in their lives, a la white people, side by side. This was a sad day to them; they were, human-like, more ardently in love than ever, as the hour for departure approached. The route from Yai-nax to Klamath Agency follows down the valley of Sprague’s river for twenty miles, over rich prairies skirted with timber. To the eye it is a paradise, walled in on the north and south by ranges of mountains five miles apart, traversed by a stream of clear water, and covered with bunch-grass and wild flax. It is the natural pasture land of elk, who run in bands of fifty to one hundred over its beautiful plains. Leaving the river, the road crosses a range of low hills passing down to Williamson’s river,—a connecting link between the “Great Klamath Marsh” and “Big Klamath Lake.” At the crossing it is one hundred yards wide; the ford being on the crown of a rocky ledge of twenty feet in width, over which the water thirty inches’ depth runs very swiftly, and falls off about two feet into deeper water below. The Indians cross on their ponies without fear; but white men with trembling Soon the six mules and the driver were struggling in thirty or forty feet depth of water. The wagon rolled over and over down the water-covered, rocky slope, finally resting on the bottom. The driver and five mules were saved by the heroism of a quiet little fellow named Zip Williams. He had driven his team through, and was out of danger. Seeing the other going over the falls, he quitted his own, and throwing off his boots, drawing his knife and clasping it between his teeth, he rushed among the struggling mass of floundering mules, and succeeded in cutting the harness, thereby liberating five of the animals. The remaining one, attached to the wagon tongue, being tall, would touch the bottom with his hind feet occasionally, and, with his head and front feet out of water a portion of the time, would plead earnestly for succor; but his struggles were so furious that even the heroic Zip could not extricate him. Those present witnessed with regret this brave old mule sink beneath the flood. The wagon and part of the harness were recovered, and also the “big-wheel mule;” From Williamson river our route lay through a heavy forest. The agency is situated on the east side of a small river which rises at the foot of a long ridge extending west to the Cascade Mountains. This stream runs several thousand inches of water, and would afford immense power. The buildings were made of logs, and are arranged in a row, one hundred feet apart, resembling one side of a street. The long row of twenty whitewashed houses fronting east was a welcome sight for those of our party who had for three months been almost entirely out of society, and, in fact, away from civilization. Klamath Agency is new, it having been established in 1865; the Indians who occupy it numbering, in 1869 (the time of my first official visitation), fourteen hundred. They are “Klamaths,” “Modocs,” “Yahooshin,” “Snakes,” “Wal-pah-pas,” and “Shoshone Snakes.” The Klamaths number seven hundred. They were the original owners of the country; have never been engaged in wars against the white race. They are a brave, enterprising, and ambitious people. In former times they were often in the warpath against other Indian tribes; and among their ancient enemies are those who now occupy the country in common with them. The practice of calling the Indians together for a “big talk” on occasions of the visits of officials was also observed in this instance. This agency has been under the management of Lindsay Applegate, of Oregon,—a man who was He had taken charge of them when they were only savages; and, during the short time he was in power, he, with the assistance of his subordinates, had advanced them greatly in civilization. Under his tuition they had abandoned the old hereditary chieftainships, and had elected new chiefs by popular vote. They were slow to yield to the new plan; but when the election was ordered, they entered into the contest with earnestness and enthusiasm. The manner of voting did not admit of ballot-box stuffing,—no mistake could occur,—but so natural is it to cheat and corrupt the great franchise, that even those wild Indians made clumsy imitation of white demagogues. There were two candidates for the office of head chief,—each anxious for election, as in fact candidates always are, no matter of what race. They made promises,—the common stock in trade everywhere with people hunting office,—of favors and patronage, and even bought votes. This, the first election on this Reservation, was one of great excitement. There was wire-working and intriguing to the last minute. When the respective candidates walked out and called for votes, each one’s supporters forming in line headed by the candidate, the result was soon declared, and Bos-co-pa was the lucky man. Agent Applegate named him “David Allen;” but, Indian like, they transposed the names and called him “Allen David,” by which name he is known and has become, to some extent, identified with the recent He had met our party as we came in with O-che-o’s band of “Shoshone Snakes,” and, on our arrival at Yai-nax, had come on home in advance to prepare his people for the big council talk. He called them together the day after our arrival. The weather was cold,—the ground covered with a few inches of snow. Allen David’s people began to assemble. Look from the office window on the scene: here they come, of all ages less than a century; some very old ones, lashed on their horses to prevent them falling off; others who were blind, and one or two that had not enjoyed even the music of the thunder-storm for years; others, again, whose teeth were worn off smooth with the gums. Not one of the motley crowd was bald; indeed, I never saw an Indian who was. They came in little gangs and squads, or families, bringing with them camp equipages. As each party arrived they pitched their camps. In the course of the day several hundred had come to see the “New tyee.” Some were so impatient they did not wait to arrange camp, but hurried to pay honors to their new chief. They brought not only the old, the young, their horses and dogs, but also their troubles of all kinds,—old feuds to be raked up, quarrels to be reopened, and many questions that had arisen from time to time, and had been disposed of by the agent, whose verdict they hoped might be reversed. The camp at nightfall suggested memories of Methodist camp meetings in the West. Here and there were little tents or lodges, and in front of some of them, and in the centre of others, fires were built, and round them, sitting and standing, long-haired, dusky forms, and, in a few instances, the children lashed to boards or baskets. I have selected this agency and these people to quote and write from, with the intention of mentioning, more in detail, the characteristics of the real Indian, in preference to any other in Oregon, for the reason that minutes and reports in my possession, of the councils, are more complete; also, because the people themselves present all the traits peculiar to their race. To insure the comfort of the people large pine logs were hauled up with ox-teams, with which to build fires, the main one being one hundred feet in length, and several logs high, and when ablaze, lighted up the surrounding woods, producing a grand night-scene, with the swarthy faces on each side changing at the command of the smoke and flames. My reader may not see the picture because of my poverty of language to describe it. Suffice it to say, that these people were there to see and hear for themselves. Men, women and children came prepared to “stay and see it out,” as frontier people say. While preparations for the council were being made, a portion of the department teams, which we had used on the Snake expedition, was despatched for Warm Springs Reservation. A high dividing ridge of the Blue Mountains separates the waters of the Klamath basin from Des Chutes and Warm Spring country. The snows fall early on this ridge, and sometimes to great depth; hence it was necessary that the teams should leave without delay, otherwise they might get into a snow blockade, and be lost. Tah-home was ordered to accompany the train as a guide. He remonstrated, because he had about made up his mind to remain and join O-che-o’s band sooner than be separated from Ka-ko-na. I knew if he remained it would be to his disadvantage, and probable ruin; and for that reason refused him his request, after fairly explaining the reasons therefor. He acknowledged the validity of my arguments, and with a quick, quiet motion withdrew. I caught his eye, and read plainly what was in his mind. He had determined to take Ka-ko-na with him at every hazard. Half suppressing my own convictions of right in the premises, I shut my eyes to what was passing; in fact, I half relented in my determination to enforce the new law in regard to buying women. I felt that the trial was a little too severe on all the Indian parties to this transaction. The evening before the departure, in company with Capt. Knapp (the agent), I called at Tah-home’s tent, and found Ka-ko-na still weeping. Tah-home was downcast and sober-faced, and renewed his petition for the privilege of remaining. I confess that was tempted to suspend the new law, but steadied myself with the belief that some way, somehow, Tah-home would succeed without my aid, and without the retraction of the law, though I could not see just how. I was “borrowing trouble,” for, as I subsequently This mutual friend had satisfied O-che-o by giving him one of Tah-home’s horses, his rifle, and a pair of blankets, all of which had been sent off to O-che-o’s camp. The snow began falling before morning, and in the meantime Tah-home and Ka-ko-na silently left camp for Warm Springs. On the following morning, when the teams were drawn up to start, I missed Tah-home and Ka-ko-na. Of course I needed no one to tell me that at that moment they were miles away, towards the summit of the mountain. Having, at that time, no assurance that O-che-o had been “seen,” I hastened to his lodge. I found him sleeping, or pretending to sleep. On being aroused he sprang to his feet, and inquired the cause of my early visit. I think that no looker-on would have detected, in his looks or manner, anything but surprise and indignation, when the escape of Tah-home and his wife was made known to him. Reproach was in his eyes and his actions while he dressed himself. I was alarmed lest they should be pursued. A “mutual friend” is, sometimes, a handy thing in life; in this instance the “mutual,” seeing that I was in the dark, and liable to make some rash promises, touched me on the arm, and called me away. I followed him. O-che-o did not follow me. If my memory is correct, the matter was not again referred to by either of us; but there was considerable sly “Such is life.” We are living a lie when we seem most honest, and justify ourselves with the assurance that “of two evils choose the least,” will whitewash us over to all other eyes. To the present writing, conscience has not kept my eyes open when I wished to sleep, because I shut them on Tah-home and O-che-o’s trick. The grand council was opened by Allen David, the chief, saying, “Hear me, all my people—open your ears and listen to all the words that are spoken—I have been to the head of Sprague’s river, to meet the new tyee—I have looked into his eyes—I have seen his tongue—he talks straight. His heart is strong—he is a brave man—he will say strong words. His ears are large—he hears everything. He does not get tired. He does not come drunk with whiskey. What you have heard about him shaking hands with every one is true. His eye is good—he does not miss anything—he saw my heart. He washed my heart with a strong law—he brought some new laws that are like a strong soap. Watch close and do not miss his words—they are strong. We will steal his heart.” The subjoined report to my superior in office was made on my return to Salem, and since it is an official communication, written years ago, it may be worthy of a place in this connection; supplementing which I propose to write more in detail matters concerning this visit and the series of meetings referred to. I make this statement here, because I do not wish the readers to be confused by the mixing of dates, since Office Superintendent Indian Affairs, Salem, Oregon, Jan. 20th, 1870. Sir:—After the completion of the Snake expedition and previous to starting on the Modoc trip, I held a series of meetings and talks with the Klamaths. I understand, and have so represented on every occasion, that President Grant meant what he said in his inaugural address: that his policy in regard to Indians would be to prepare them by civilization for citizenship. Acting from this principle, so perfectly in accordance with my own judgment, I stepped out of the track of my predecessors, and said to them that my first business is to settle the financial affairs of the agency; then, to issue such goods as I had provided; and then to deliver a message from Mr. Parker to you; that I am ready to hear any and all complaints; settle any and all difficulties; decide any and all vexed questions; to tell you about the white people’s laws, customs, habits, religion, etc., etc.; in a word, I propose to remove the barrier that a condition has held between the different stations in life. Civilization may be yours—manhood—the American standard of worth. The course is clear and open to you Indian people—for the whole family of man. I had never stood, until now, before a people just emerging from the chrysalis of savage life, struggling earnestly and manfully to leave behind them the traditions and customs of an ancestry known only I would that I could portray these scenes: these dark-eyed men with long hair, women naturally good-looking, but so sadly debauched that virtue makes no pretensions among them; children of every shade,—all gathered around a huge fire of pine logs, in a forest of tall trees, in mid-winter, with the little camp fires here and there; and notwithstanding the ground was covered with snow and thermometer sometimes below zero, these people would sit, or stand, for hours, with eyes, ears, and hearts all open to hear; catching with great eagerness the story of my superior in office, to whom I made all my reports and from whom I received instructions, who, by his own energy, had elevated himself to a level with the great men of the age; and that he, Parker, was of “their own race.” The Klamath chief, Allen David, arose to reply amid surroundings characteristic of Indian life,—a perfect solemn silence broken only by his voice. I then heard the notes of natural oratory, coming in wild, but well-measured words, and recognized for the first time fully that nature does sometimes produce noble men without the line of civilized life. I send you a verbatim report of his speech as taken by Dr. McKay; because I understand we are all trying to solve the problem of civilization for Indians. I am not, myself, longer sceptical on that subject; but I know that a large proportion of our public men are; and you would not wonder, either, could you visit some reservations and see for yourself the inside workings of moral law. But I assert that the Indians are not to blame; Said Allen David,—“I see you. All my people see you.—I saw you at Sprague river.—I watched your mouth.—I have seen but one tongue.—I have looked into your eyes.—I have seen your heart.—You have given me another heart.—All my people will have white hearts.—When I was a little boy I lived here.—I have always lived here.—A long time ago a white man told me I could be like him. I said my skin is red, it cannot change; it must be my heart, my brain, that is to be like a white man.—You think we are low people.—May be we are in your eyes.—Who made us so?—We do not know much; we can learn.—Some of the officers at the fort (referring to Fort Klamath, six miles from the agency) have been good men—some of them have been bad men.—Do you think a good white man will take an Indian wife?—A white man that will take an Indian wife is worse blood than Indian.—These things make our hearts sad.—We want you to stop it.... Your ears are large.—Your heart is large.—You see us.—Do not let your heart get sick. “Take a white man into the woods, away from a store; set him down, with nothing in his hands, in the woods, and without a store to get tools from; and what could he do? “When you lay down before us the axes, the saws, the iron wedges and mauls you have promised us, and “Give us strong law; we will do what your law says. We want strong law—we want to be like white men. You say that Mr. Parker does not want bad men among our people.—Is B. a good man?—he took Frank’s wife—is that good? We do not want such men. Is —— a good man?—he took Celia from her husband—is that right?—Applegate gave us good laws—he is a good man.—Applegate told us not to gamble. Capt. —— won thirty-seven horses from us. He says there is no law about gambling.—Applegate said there was.—Which is right?”... Mr. Meacham said, “You need not be afraid to talk—Keep nothing back. Your people are under a cloud. I see by their eyes that their hearts are sick; they look sorrowful. Open your hearts and I will hear you; tell me all, that I may know what to do to make them glad.” Allen David said, “I will keep nothing back.—I have eyes—I can see that white men have white hands.—Some white men take our women—they have children—they are not Indian—they are not white—they “Our women go to the fort—they make us feel sick—they get goods—sometimes greenbacks.—We do not want them to go there—we want the store here at the agency; then our women will not go to the fort.... Last Sunday some soldiers went to Pompey’s—they talked bad to the women.—We do not want soldiers among our women.—Can you stop this? Our women make us ashamed.—We may have done wrong—give us strong law.”... Joe Hood (Indian), at a talk seven days after, said: “Meacham came here. Parker told him to come. He brought a strong law. It is a ‘new soap,’ it washed my heart all clean but a little place about as big as my thumb-nail. Caroline’s (his wife) heart may not all be white yet. If it was, my own would be white like snow. Parker’s law has made us just like we were new married. I told these Indians that the law is like strong soap; it makes all clean. I do not want but one wife any more.”... Allen David said: “You say we are looking into a camp-fire; that we can find moonlight. You say there is a road that goes toward sunrise. Show me that stone road. I am now on the stone road. I will follow you to the top of the mountain. You tell me come on. I can see you now. My feet are on the road. I will not leave it. I tell my people follow me, and I will stay in the stone road.”... I have given you a few extracts, that you may judge from their own mouths whether they can I am conscious that this is strong talk, but it is surely true. I have not overdrawn this side of the case; nor will I attempt to show what has been done, or will be done, with superintendents, agents, and employÉs in charge placed there as a reward for political service. The past tells the story too plainly to be misapprehended. While I am responsible for the advancement of these people, I beg to state my views and make known the result of observation and experience. As a subordinate officer of the Government, I expect to have my official acts scrutinized closely. I respectfully ask that I may be furnished the funds to keep faith with a people so little understood,—people so much like children that when they are I have now no longer any doubts about President Grant’s “Quaker Policy,” if it is applied to Indians once subjugated. These people have mind, soul, heart, affection, passion, and impulses, and great ambition to become like white men. There are more or less men in each reservation who are already superior to many of the white men around them. At Klamath they are now working under civil law of trial by jury,—with judge, sheriff, civil marriage, divorce; in fact, are fast assuming the habiliments of citizenship. I spent seven days, talking, and listening, and making laws, marrying and divorcing, naming babies, settling difficulties, etc., and finally started, accompanied on my journey by a large delegation of Klamaths, who insisted that I should come again and remain longer, and make laws, and that I would build the mills, and tell them more about our religion; all of which I promised, if possible; but realizing fully and feeling deeply how much depended on the man who is in immediate charge of these poor, struggling people. I am, very respectfully, Your obt. servt., A. B. MEACHAM, Supt. Indian Affairs. Hon. E. S. Parker, Commissioner, Washington, D. C. In Allen David’s speech, he refers to the “Fort,” meaning Fort Klamath, six miles distant from the agency. It was established for the protection of the settlers on the Klamath frontier. Two and sometimes three companies have been stationed at this fort for several years. The remarks of this chief need no comment; they tell the tale. If confirmation was wanting of the crimes intimated in his speech, a visit to Klamath Indian Agency, and even a casual glance at the different complexions of the young and rising generation, would proclaim the correctness of Allen David’s charges. |