Image provided by: University of Oregon Libraries; Eugene, OR
About The west shore. (Portland, Or.) 1875-1891 | View Entire Issue (Dec. 1, 1886)
368 THE WEST SHORE. THE QUEEN OF THB KLIOKITATS. mIOME and Bj)onJ Christmas with me. I hoar you intend going to Oregon, nml we will Inlk it over." That in tlio message Unit greets ray eye to-day, as I open and read a yellow note sheet, Hint time has 'ttot iU shadow upon tlieHO many years; for it is a memento of a very ploasnnt occasion, and brings back associations that were cheerful and kind in their dny. My nnclo wns a man who had seen tho world during a youth that was passod in travel, though it was not nearly so convenient to see the szs world then as it is to-dny. He was in his "v- ft '-'It prime, and at his Iwst at tho time of which I write, and that was in days when Oregon was new. I accepted the nviUition, and as I look at the yellow note the pleasant memories return. I hoar tho music, the laughter, tho merry jests and reparto, and recall the story that enraptured tho youngsters and pleasantly en tertained tho elders, which I introduco by this prelude as my Christmas offering for lKKfi. At my uncle's Iiouho was an old friend of his, an En glish gentleman of tho olden time, who happened to be in this country on business, and accepted his friend's in vitation, as he could not sond his "Merry Christmas" iu his own homo. Ho and uncle had been fellow-travelers in younger days, though sulwoqucnt to the exploits recounted hero. It was Cliristmas Eve, and tho elders were met in one of tho parlors, while the youngHters were iu great glee not far away. When tho conversation lagged my uncle said " Ionmlale, why can't you tell us that story of your Indian queen, that you havo so often promised? " Mr. Ijonsdnle protested that it would occupy the evening and trespass on tho occasion, and he was by no means a romancer. The little audience drew quietly round his easy chair, and assumed a waiting xwition so natural that the guest laughed and blushed by turns. Then making the best of tho matter, lie concluded to surrender to give up the story, at least and did it so politely and unassumingly as to win good opinions before he spoke. Somehow, the news of a story being told crept into the children's room, and the littlo shavers, catching the words " story of an Indian quoen," came stealing in, tak ing refuge behind their best friends, until the room was closely filled. Another scuttlo of coal was poured into tho glowing grate, the lamps were placed vhore they would "do the most good," and all eyes turned toward the etubamasod stranger. "Mr. Avery," said he, bowing to the host, "joined our expedition about starting toward the Orient, but was not with us during the previous year when we were dar. ing dangers and seeking adventures in the wilderness of the Occident It iB only a story of savage life and ways, and not worth your listening, but I will tell it as bost I can. " In our seeking for adventures, ab Englishmen al ways have, and ever will, my friend and luysulf hud reached tho country known as Oregon. We had visited the Snndwich islands, and from there had reached Cali fornia. But the now famous nnmr, San Franoisco, was not then heard, and instead was Yerba Buenn. From there we outfitted, and joined a party of fur traders and trappers who were bound for the Columbia. We went there because of the presence of the Hudson's Bay Com pany in that wilderness, not thinking that in this pleas ant parlor, quarter of a century gone, I would be telling my Oregon adventures in the presence of one about to become a citizen of that Btate. Time's changes are in deed strange. "Reaching the headquarters of the Hudson's Bay Company, after numerous fights with tribes of Indians that lined our overland way, losing one member of our company and having several wounded, from which I carry the only scar received in all my ' raids,' we enjoyed ourselves awhile, making excursions through the western valleys of Oregon, and finally determined to make a journey east of the Cascade mountains, to view the tree less stretches of landscapes, the arid plains, and the up lands that wave with billowing grasses, as well as the grand mountain scenery. Before our departure, some difficulty had occurred between the fur company people and the Indians, who guarded the pass of the river through the hoart of the Cascade range. These were Klickitats, a powerful nation that owned the vast plains north of the Columbia and the mountains west to the middlo of the range. This was the romantic spot where the Cascades foam, valuable to them as a fishing ground As owners of this pass they could also collect tribute from all passers by. It was on this account there was a difference, and the British had temporarily withdrawn the small trading post that had been planted at the Up per Cascades. We passed on above that point, and our Indian guide accompanied us to the foot of Mi Adams. We knew the return route, and knowing he hnd a family near by, let him go, not dreaming that he was in collu sion with the Klickitat queen, as at that time the nation had a Zonobia in place of her father, who was king. " Roturning to the mouth of the Klickitat river, we loosened and launched our canoe and had loaded it with our plunder, when Zip, my dog, by barking, told of dan ger coming near. Pushing off in haste, we cleared the bank and had. gotten but a short distance away when there came a flight of feathered arrows, which fell but little short of the canoe. We saw that the shore we had left whs lined with painted savages. Some uncommonly strong arm drew a powerful bow that sent an arrow whizzing past us, so we dipped our paddles and pulled away out of shooting distance for bows, at least A sullen war-whoop told us that our fears of pursuit were oon to be realized- The shores at that point are