ground to hunt up some stray horses.
_Friday, June 15th._—Early this morning Lieutenant Gracie sent off the
Indian guide to the Dalles, as he had no further use for him. Mr.
Cut-mouth John has apparently served us faithfully, though being a
Cayuse, we cannot tell how deeply he has been implicated in the
plottings of his countrymen this summer, or what part he would have
taken, had their projected outbreak ripened into action.
To-day Lieutenant Gracie began to have his drills for the men, one
before breakfast and the other after supper. At the early drill they are
exercised in shooting at a target. This evening, at Mr. McKay's, we met
the old Chief, Stechus, who had stopped there on an expedition after
some missing cattle. He seemed quite pleased to see us. While there,
General Palmer and his party also arrived from the Council ground.
_Saturday, June 16th._—After drill we rode over to Mr. McKay's and found
General Palmer's party still encamped there, as he was taken ill this
morning. He probably needs rest both of body and mind, and on the
plains, this is the great prescription, as the remedies which the
hunters can give are comprised in a list of very few simples. Nature is
generally expected to perform the cure. Had his illness come on at the
Council, he could have had the "medicine men" of our friends, the Nez
Percés, to prescribe for him. Their prescriptions, however, are always
the same, whatever may be the disease, whether ague or fever, or small
pox. The patient is shut up in a small close lodge, called a "sweating
house," where he is subjected, until almost stifled, to a vapor bath
produced by water slowly poured on red hot stones.
_Sunday, June 17th._—My last Sunday on the plains, and it passed quietly
enough. After Lieutenant Gracie had finished inspection and we had taken
our usual bath in the river, we rode over to General Palmer's encampment
to enquire after his health. We found him still too unwell to travel.
The rest of the day was spent in reading, for we have found a small
supply of books at Mr. McKay's, which have proven quite a treasure in
the wilderness.
_Monday, June 18th._—Lieutenant Gracie has commenced practising the men
at skirmish drill for an hour a day, and is thus preparing them for
their Snake country expedition. It has become too hot, except in the
morning and evening, to move about with comfort, and after the drill,
our ride over to Mr. McKay's and our bath in the Umatilla, we are
content to spend the remainder of the day in lounging and reading under
the shelter of our tent. In an encampment on the plains, during the dead
silence of a sultry noon, with no conventional restraints of
civilization about us, we realize more fully than in any other place,
the truth of the Neapolitan maxim—_Dolce far niente_.
We had to-day a visit from five of the Cayuse Indians, two of whom had
been accustomed to visit us at Walla-Walla.
_Tuesday, June 19th._—Before we were up we had an arrival of another
party of the Cayuse tribe. Their lodges are in a valley about eight
miles from the camp. They smoked the "pipe of peace" and probably this
time with sincerity, as they knew we had force enough with us to defeat
any attempt they might make. The principal Chief of the Umatillas also
came into our camp and some strange Indians whom we had never before
seen.
As Lieutenant Gracie is obliged to remain at this camping ground, and it
may be some days before the command arrives from the Dalles, I have
determined myself to proceed on to that post to-morrow in company with
Mr. McKay. I therefore this evening rode over to his place and made my
arrangements for setting off the next morning.
_Wednesday, June 20th._—This morning a messenger arrived from the Dalles
with papers and the latest news—the latter having been almost forgotten
by this time in the settlements.
After early drill I took my final leave of the camp. Lieutenant Gracie
rode with me over to Mr. McKay's, where I left my horse, as he belonged
to the command, transferring my saddle and bridle to one of Mr. McKay's,
which I am to ride. And here Lieutenant Gracie and I parted. We have
been companions for weeks by day and night, and in this his first
independent command, (in many incidents which I could not relate in this
brief journal,) he has established, with those at the Council who were
accustomed to military expeditions in the Indian country, a character
for decision and energy which gives the promise of distinction in much
wider and more responsible scenes of action in the future.
We set off about half-past nine o'clock. Mr. McKay and myself, with two
boys whose business was to drive the pack mules. Our traveling
arrangements were made in the old Spanish-California style, still common
in those parts of the country where horses are plenty. Besides those we
rode, were seven or eight which ran loose and were driven by the boys,
to be used when our own began to flag.
We crossed the Umatilla at once, and on the opposite side striking the
trail on which we had gone into the interior, commenced our return
westward. After riding for about twenty miles we reached the Indian
Agency. Here, two of the other horses were caught, our saddles and
bridles transferred to them, and the tired ones turned loose to follow
with the rest. Then, on we went until five in the evening when we
encamped for the night at Wells' Springs, having traveled during the day
fifty-five miles.
_Thursday, June 21st._—We were on our way this morning by five o'clock.
On the trail we passed every little while solitary graves, the last
resting places of some unfortunate emigrants. The road from Missouri to
the Rocky Mountains can almost be traced by these sad memorials, and no
human language can convey an idea of the sorrow and suffering which has
taken place on the plains, caused by this rush to the land of gold.
About ten miles on our way we met a portion of the 4th Infantry and 3d
Artillery under Lieutenants Day, Hodges and Mendell. At noon we halted
at Willow Creek, (seventeen miles from Wells' Springs,) for several
hours, to rest our horses. We then pushed on until eight in the evening,
when we reached John Day's River, where a refreshing bath recompensed us
for our long and hot ride. We had ridden to-day about forty-five miles.
_Friday, June 22d._—We left John Day's River about seven o'clock, and
after riding twelve miles, met Major Haller, (Commander of the
expedition,) and Captain Russell, 4th Infantry, with their escort, with
whom we stopped for a short time. Soon afterwards we met another
detachment of troops, with two or three wagons, each drawn by six mules.
About noon we struck the Columbia River, whose solitary banks were quite
enlivened by the long trains of wagons containing the provisions of the
detachment. We counted twenty-four, half of which were on one side of
the river and half on the other. The different detachments and wagons
will all meet at the camping ground on the Umatilla where we left
Lieutenant Gracie. There will be about one hundred and fifty mounted men
besides the packers and wagoners. After resting for a couple of hours on
the Columbia, we set out for the Dalles, where we arrived at five
o'clock. Here we found Lieutenant Dryer, who is to set out to-morrow
morning and join the command as Quarter Master.
And thus ended my expedition into the wilderness. It has shown me the
rough side of army life, and yet the time has passed pleasantly from the
very novelty and freshness of everything. And now, amid all the
refinements of civilization, I cannot but look back with something like
regret to the freedom of our little camp on the quiet plains, where no
sound was heard to break our slumber, but the steady tread of our
sentinel or the rippling of the Umatilla.
_FINIS_
Transcriber's Notes.
Some punctuation, accentuation, spacing, hyphenation and spelling have
been corrected, but where the original spelling variations appear more
than once they have been retained.
Italicized words and phrases are presented by surrounding the text with
underscores.